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LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU 
 
LADY MARY 
 
 WORTLEY MONTAGU 
 
 SELECT PASSAGES FROM HER LETTERS ^ 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ARTHUR R. ROPES, M.A 
 
 LATE FELLOW OF KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE 
 
 With Nine Portraits 
 after SiR Godfrey Kneller and other Artists 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 743-745 BROADWAY 
 

 O O S b 
 
 [. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 LHAI'TER PAGE 
 
 I, INTRODUCTORY SKETCH - - - - - I 
 
 , II, EARLY LIFE AND MARRIAtlE - - - - "34 
 
 III. THE EMBASSY TO TURKEY - - - - - 62 
 
 ^IV. LIFE IN ENGLAND ...... 105 
 
 V. TRAVELS IN ITALY AND FRANCE .... 137 
 
 VI, RESIDENCE AT LOVERE ..... 174 
 
 VII. LETTERS ON ENGLISH NOVELS .... 202 
 
 VIII. THOU(iHTS ON EDUCATION ..... 227 
 
 IX. LAST YEARS AND DEATH . . . . , 261 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 f ASE 
 
 Lady Mvrv Wortley Montagu, after Sir G. Ivneller Frontisf^iece 
 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, after Sir G. Kneller - - - 50 
 The Princess Caroline, after Sir G. Kneller -•■-']% 
 
 Alexander Pope, after Sir G. Kneller 106 
 
 William CoNGREVE, a//6'r Sir G. Kneller - - ■ - - 114 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, Junior, after \V. Peters, R.A, - 162 
 Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, after Sir G. Kneller - - 204 
 
 Dean Swift, after C. Jervas 214 
 
 Samuel Richardson, ^/'(?;- J. Highmore 220 
 
 * f' The portraits of Lady Mary and her husband are engraved^ by kind 
 ■fiermission, from pictures in the possession of the Marquis of Bute and the 
 /• art of Wharnclife. 
 
\ 
 
 ^^ UNIVERSITY 
 
 LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY SKETCH 
 
 Introduction — Lady Mary's Birth and Family — Early Days — The 
 Kit-Cat Club — Courtship and Marriage — The Embassy to Con- 
 stantinople — Turkish Letters — Life in England —Family Troubles 
 — Rdmond and Lady Mar— Quarrel with Pope — Lady Mary goes 
 Abroad — Travels in Italy and Savoy — Stay at Avignon — Journey 
 to Italy — Count Palazzo — Settlement at Lovere — Life at Venice 
 — Return to England — Last Days and Death — Editions of her 
 Letters — Character discussed — Style. 
 
 " The last pleasure that came in my way was Madame 
 Sevigne's letters," wrote Lady Mary Wortley Montagu 
 to her . sister ; ''very pretty they are, but I assert, 
 without the least vanity, that mine will be full as 
 entertaining forty years hence." '' In most of them," 
 said Horace Walpole, fresh from reading a bundle of 
 Lady Mary's letters, " the wit and style are superior 
 to any letters I ever read but Madame Sevigne's." 
 It is curious that the somewhat flattering opinion 
 expressed by the writer of the letters herself should 
 have been so nearly endorsed by one who was her 
 
 I 
 
2 Introdtictory Sketch 
 
 enemy by hereditary and personal feeling, and never 
 alludes to her without a sneer; but Horace Walpole 
 knew the craft of letter-writing, and *' in spite of spite " 
 could recognise the merit of another in his own 
 favourite art. 
 
 These letters, then, as to whose merit author and 
 author's enemy alike agree, need no apology for their 
 presentment in the form of a selection. Neither they 
 nor their writer, indeed, have been neglected. There 
 have been plenty of editions of Lady Mary's works, 
 and her name at once awakens a crowd of varied 
 associations. She is remembered as the first English- 
 woman who sent back accounts of the miysterious and 
 magnificent East ; as the friend and then the enemy 
 of Pope ; as the courageous introducer of inocula- 
 tion ; as the strong-minded, independent, eccentric 
 traveller. Alike to friends and enemies, she has ever 
 stood out as a strong, original figure — a personality 
 among so many who are only names to us now, and 
 were little more in their own time. 
 
 But though, for all who have the time and the taste, 
 there is no pleasure greater than consulting the mass 
 of the original letters, yet there are many who might 
 be repelled by the bulk of the matter, by the super- 
 fluity of contemporary gossip, much of which must 
 be a tedious riddle to a modern reader, or even by 
 the occasional bluntness of thought and coarseness 
 of expression which Lady Mary shared with nearly all 
 the writers of her time. For such readers, then, I 
 have tried to select some of the more entertaining: 
 
Introductory Sketch 3 
 
 passages from the letters, stringing them together 
 with a thread of explanation where necessary. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu belonged to the great 
 Whig aristocracy that ruled England for half the 
 eighteenth century. Her father was Evelyn Pierre- 
 pont, the youngest of three brothers who successively 
 became Earls of Kingston. Evelyn was so called 
 from the maiden name of his mother, a cousin of the 
 famous John Evelyn. He married Mary Fielding, 
 daughter of that Earl of Denbigh from one of whose 
 brothers Fielding the novelist was descended. Lady 
 Mary was born in 1689, and her baptism was registered 
 on May 20 of that year. She was the eldest child, the 
 others being Frances (afterwards Countess of Mar), 
 Evelyn (afterwards Lady Gower), and one son, 
 William. In i6go Evelyn Pierrepont became Earl 
 of Kingston, and in 1692 his wife died. He did not 
 marry again till 1714, when all his children were 
 settled in life. He was busily engaged in public 
 affairs, and met with his reward from the victorious 
 Whigs, being made Marquis of Dorchester in 1706 
 (a title already granted by Charles I. to one of his 
 family), and Duke of Kingston in 1715. His only 
 son, William, died in 1713, leaving a son who succeeded 
 to the dukedom in 1726, and whose after-life was made 
 notorious by being linked with that of the famous Eliza- 
 beth Chudleigh, who was tried by the Peers for bigamy. 
 
 This early loss of her mother must have had 
 considerable influence on Lady Mary's life. Her 
 father, a public man and a man of pleasure, seems to 
 
 I — 2 
 
4 Introd^utory Sketch 
 
 have taken but little heed of his children's education. 
 Lady Mary was left to grow up much at her ow^n will, 
 being given in charge to a pious old person who had 
 been nurse to her mother, and who, if we may trust 
 her pupil's later account, taught her little but to read 
 and write, besides filling her head with superstitious 
 stories, w^hich found poor welcome there ; for no one 
 could be more destitute of illusions than Lady Mary. 
 One pleasurable recollection she had of Lord Kingston's 
 fondness, which I will leave her grand-daughter. Lady 
 Louisa Stuart, to tell. "A trifling incident, which 
 Lady Mary loved to recall, will prove how much she 
 w^as the object of Lord Kingston's pride and fondness 
 in her childhood. As a leader of the fashionable world, 
 and a strenuous Whig in party, he of course belonged 
 to the Kit-Kat Club. One day, at a meeting to choose 
 toasts for the year, a whim seized him to nominate 
 her, then not eight years old, a candidate ; alleging 
 that she was far prettier than any lady on their list. 
 The other members demurred, because the rules of the 
 club forbade them to elect a beauty whom they had 
 never seen. * Then you shall see her,' cried he ; and 
 in the gaiety of the moment sent orders home to have 
 her finely dressed and brought to him at the tavern, 
 where she was received with acclamations, her claim 
 unanimously allowed, her health drunk by everyone 
 present, and her name engraved in due form upon a 
 drinking-glass. The company consisting of some of 
 the most eminent men of England, she went from the 
 lap of one poet, or patriot, or statesman, to the arms of 
 
Introductory Sketch 5 
 
 another, was feasted with sweetmeats, overwhelmed 
 with caresses, and, what perhaps already pleased her 
 better than either, heard her wit and beauty loudly 
 extolled on every side. Pleasure, she said, was too 
 poor a word to express her sensations ; they amounted 
 to ecstasy : never again, throughout her whole future 
 life, did she pass so happy a day. Nor, indeed, could 
 she ; for the love of admiration, which this scene was 
 calculated to excite or increase, could never again be 
 so fully gratified ; there is always some allaying ingre- 
 dient in the cup, some drawback upon the triumphs of 
 grown people. Her father carried on the frolic, and, 
 we may conclude, confirmed the taste, by having her 
 picture painted for the club-room, that she might be 
 enrolled a regular toast." 
 
 Still, this single instance of fondness did not blind 
 Lady Mary's eyes in after-years to the neglect with 
 which she had been treated in childhood ; and when 
 her father died, in 1726, we find her writing with 
 almost brutal directness to her sister, ^^ Au hout du 
 compte, I don't know why filial piety should exceed 
 fatherly fondness. So much by way of consolation." 
 
 Lady Mary's precocity, however marked, did not (as 
 her first biographer erroneously stated) induce her 
 father to give her a course of classical study with her 
 brother ; and her early education, as she herself said, 
 was *'one of the worst in the world." But she had 
 the run of her father^s library, and there browsed 
 in the pastures of French romance, Englished by 
 " persons of quality," the Astree and the whole baggage 
 
6 Introductory Sketch 
 
 of the Scuderys and their school. As she grew up, 
 she extended the range of her reading ; and it was on 
 the common ground of learning that she first met — by 
 her own account, when she was only fourteen — the 
 man who was to be her husband. 
 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, or Edward Wortley as 
 he was more often styled in the earlier part of his life, 
 was the son of the Hon. Sidney Wortley Montagu, 
 second son of Admiral Montagu, first Earl of Sand- 
 wich, well known in the Dutch wars of Charles II. 
 Sidney Montagu took the name of Wortley on marrying 
 the heiress of Sir Francis Wortley. One of Lady Mary 
 Pierrepont's closest friends in girlhood was Anne 
 Wortley, Edward's favourite sister ; and whether 
 through her, or in some other way, the two were soon 
 acquainted. If, as Lady Mary stated, she was only 
 fourteen then, he must have been ten or eleven years 
 older than herself; but he was at once struck by her 
 intelligence and wit. Himself a scholar and a man of 
 literary tastes, the friend of Addison and Steele, he 
 directed her studies, and encouraged her to persevere 
 in teaching herself Latin ; and some help she also 
 derived from the celebrated Bishop Burnet, to whom 
 she dedicated a translation (through the Latin) of the 
 *■' Enchiridion " of Epictetus. With Anne Wortley, 
 Lady Mary corresponded ; and, as Anne's letters were 
 often written really by her brother — a fact of which the 
 recipient of them could hardly have been ignorant — 
 these letters formed a sort of indirect correspondence 
 between Edward Wortley and Lady Mary. After a 
 
Introductory Sketch 7 
 
 time hints of courtship appeared in the letters, and on 
 Anne Wortley's death, in 1709, the correspondence 
 was continued directly between Edward and his 
 sister's friend. A number of her letters, and one of 
 his, have been printed ; they form a curious piece of 
 love-making between two clear-headed, intellectual, un- 
 romantic lovers, who yet could not refrain from loving 
 each other. The bulk of the love-letters given might 
 be said to consist in enumerations of the excellent 
 reasons existing for putting an end to the attachment. 
 
 At last Edward Wortley formally asked the Marquis 
 of Dorchester for the hand of his eldest daughter ; but 
 although in birth, fortune and tastes the two were 
 well matched, the Marquis insisted on a settlement 
 being made in favour of the children of the marriage. 
 This Mr. Wortley flatly refused to do. He objected 
 on principle to settling a large amount on a son who 
 might turn out a fool or a villain ; and in fact he had 
 furnished the materials and the plan from which the 
 essay in the Tailev, attacking settlements, was written : 
 he had also, at all times, a strong sense of the value of 
 money, and thought a dowry too dearly purchased if 
 he must put a considerable part of his estate out of 
 his own control. Thereupon the Marquis broke off 
 the negotiation ; but the lovers continued their corre- 
 spondence, and, by the help of good - natured Sir 
 Richard Steele and other friends, they sometimes met. 
 At last Lord Dorchester brought matters to a crisis 
 by ordering his daughter to accept the addresses of 
 a certain '' Mr. K.," as her letters call him, who had 
 
8 Introdiictory Sketch 
 
 estates in Ireland, and liberal views as to settlements. 
 Edward Wortley still refused to consent to a settle- 
 ment and outbid his rival, and Lady Mary approved 
 of his firmness ; so the only way for her to escape the 
 unwelcome suitor was to run away with the man of 
 her choice. After some difficulties, the lovers eloped 
 in 1712 — probably August — and were married. 
 
 For some time, though never in financial straits, the 
 two lived very quietly in the country, either in York- 
 shire (but not at Wharncliffe Lodge, which had as 
 many as it could hold already, and was described by 
 Horace Walpole as '* a wretched hovel"), at Hinchin- 
 broke, Lord Sandwich's residence, or at Huntingdon, a 
 town which the Wortley Montagu family long repre- 
 sented in Parliament. In 1713 their son Edward was 
 born. By Lady Mary's letters he seems to have been 
 very weakly at first, and caused her much anxiety. In 
 1714 the death of Queen Anne plunged the country into 
 a frenzy of political excitement. What with the fears 
 of a Jacobite rising, the hopes of favour with the new 
 King, the sudden overthrow of the Tory Administration, 
 there was enough to think of Edward Wortley as a 
 Whig, and a relation of Lord Halifax, was in the way 
 of advancement, and his wife's letters to him at this 
 time are full of a feverish eagerness to have him chosen 
 for Parliament, so that he might be borne on to fortune 
 on the crest of the party wave. It was not till 1715 
 that he was elected for Westminster ; but he did not 
 lack promotion, for he was made a Commissioner of 
 the Treasury; and his wife, coming up with him to the 
 
Introdtictory Sketch 9 
 
 Court of George I., and becoming a brilliant figure 
 among its ladies, had material for writing an amusing 
 and rather caustic sketch of the chief actors in the 
 rather unlovely comedy of the Hanoverian Court. 
 
 In 1716 Edward Wortley was named as Ambassador 
 to Turkey and Consul-General of the Levant — a post 
 always of high eminence, and now of especial import- 
 ance, as England was trying to mediate a peace 
 between the Porte and the Emperor Charles VI. 
 Accordingly, Mr. Wortley, with his wife and child, 
 travelled to Vienna, then — a hitch occurring in the 
 negotiations — went to Hanover, where George I. 
 was, and returned to Vienna, but after winter had 
 set in. Previous British Ambassadors had either 
 gone by sea, or down the Danube by boat from 
 Vienna ; and many friends urged Lady Mary to stay 
 at Vienna rather than venture in the middle of winter 
 through a desolate country and across the seat of war. 
 However, the mission was urgent, and Lady Mary 
 chose to accompany her husband. They arrived 
 without mishap at Belgrade, then in Turkish hands, 
 and thence went on by Nish and Sofia to Adrianople, 
 where they stayed some time and then journeyed to 
 Constantinople. Here, or near here, they stayed 
 about a year ; here, in 1718, their second child, Mary, 
 afterwards Countess of Bute, was born ; and here 
 Lady Mary devoted herself to learning all she could of 
 Oriental ways and languages. Among other researches, 
 she inquired into the method of inoculation practised- 
 by the Turks. It is impossible for those who have 
 
lo Introductory Sketch 
 
 grown up in an age of vaccination and sanitary im- 
 provement to realize the part played by the small-pox 
 in the history of the eighteenth century, and the dread 
 felt, especially among the highest society, lest the 
 inevitable disease should take away life, or, what was 
 even worse, destroy beauty. One of Lady Mary's 
 Town Eclogues, describing the sorrows of the hapless 
 and disfigured Flavia, was said to have reflected her 
 own feelings while recovering from small-pox about 
 1715, though she escaped with the comparatively 
 slight sacrifice of her eyelashes. She had her own 
 children ''engrafted," as she calls it, with satisfactory 
 results. And besides all these varied interests, she 
 found time to write many letters, corresponding with 
 her two sisters, both now married, with Caroline, 
 Princess of Wales, the poets Congreve and Pope, and 
 several other friends. Pope, indeed, made her the 
 object of one of those curious epistolary and merely 
 literary courtships in which his soul delighted ; and 
 though she did not reply in kind to his hyperbolical 
 adoration, neither she nor her husband was offended 
 by them. 
 
 The Embassy, however, was a failure. The Emperor, 
 for whom Prince Eugene had won victory after victory, 
 was too exacting; the Turks, who had wrested the 
 Morea from Venice, were too stubborn ; and probably 
 Edward Wortley himself was not cut out for a success- 
 ful diplomatist. In one of the very few despatches of 
 his preserved at the Record Office, he prides himself 
 on telling the Turks " plain truths," a method not apt 
 
Tntrodticto7y Sketch 1 1 
 
 to soothe wounded susceptibilities. In 1718, his friend 
 Addison, now Secretary of State, intimated to him his 
 recall, softening it by the prospect of a lucrative office ; 
 and embarking on the Preston man-of-war, he and his 
 family sailed to Genoa, touching at Tunis on the way. 
 Mr. Wortley's successors in the negotiation, abler or 
 more fortunate, succeeded in making the Peace of 
 Passarowitz. No monument of his own Embassy 
 remained but his wife's letters, and even these, as we 
 have them, do not represent her real correspondence. 
 Mr. Moy Thomas, her latest and best editor, in his 
 researches in the Wortley papers, came upon a list of 
 her letters written during part of the period of the 
 Embassy, with notes of their contents. The published 
 letters correspond only very imperfectly to this precis, 
 and only two are indexed as " copied at length." It 
 is, therefore, likely that such of the letters actually 
 written as had been copied were reproduced by Lady 
 Mary with some alteration, and that the rest were 
 reconstructed from the diary in which she was ac- 
 customed to note the events and thoughts of every 
 day, and from which she doubtless had drawn freely 
 for the original correspondence. Thus these letters 
 are not the real correspondence, but a more or less 
 "doctored" reconstruction of it; and it is curious in 
 this connection to see how Horace Walpole, himself an 
 eminent letter-writer, passed over these letters with 
 faint praise or positive contempt, either as ''not un- 
 interesting," or as containing " no merit of any sort," 
 while he gave high praise to the letters to Lady Mar, 
 
I 2 Intro due toi'y Sketch 
 
 which he saw as they were originally penned. The 
 ''Turkish Letters," though not published till after the 
 death of the writet, were evidently prepared for 
 publication, and seem to have been handed round in 
 MS. among a few friends in 1724 or 1725. They bear 
 prefaces of these dates by one " M. A.," said to be 
 Maiy Astell, a friend of Lady Mary's, and an early 
 enthusiast for the rights of women. 
 
 On her return to England Lady Mary again mingled 
 in society, and was one of the acknowledged beauties 
 and wits of the time. She had many friends, and made 
 not a few enemies. In that brilliant and frivolous 
 society, where everyone dabbled in literature and could 
 turn a couplet, every social event or scandal was 
 greeted by a witticism, a satire, or a ballad. Of these, 
 Lady Mary (whose poetical faculty, though hardly high, 
 was above that of other ladies of the time) was respon- 
 sible for some, and had many more attributed to her. 
 Among her friends were, at first. Pope himself, and 
 some of Pope's future enemies, Philip, Duke of Wharton, 
 Pope's '' Clodio," and John, Lord Hervey, known as 
 the author of the *' Memoirs of the Reign of George II.," 
 and better known as '' Lord Fanny " and " Sporus." 
 
 The friendship with Pope, always more or less of a 
 literary make-believe, did not long survive Lady Mary's 
 return. P^or a time, indeed, he continued his adora- 
 tion ; partly at Pope's request, she sat ta Kneller for a 
 portrait, and some of the sittings took place at Pope's 
 house at Twickenham — though the portrait, it is hardly 
 necessary to state, was executed for Mr. Wortley and 
 
Introductory Sketch 13 
 
 paid for by him. Pope, also, was the agent between 
 the Wortleys and Sir Godfrey Kneller for the letting 
 of a house of Kneller's to his friends ; and he gave Lady 
 Mary advice as to the South Sea stock-jobbing, in which 
 she unluckily dabbled. But after a time the friendship 
 cooled, and the correspondence died out. Although 
 Lady Mary and her husband came to live at Twicken- 
 ham, she apparently saw less and less of the poet, and 
 she remarks, in a letter, that she never visited his famous 
 grotto. What was the real cause of the final quarrel 
 between them — a quarrel not creditable to Lady Mary, 
 and very discreditable to Pope — it seems impossible to 
 determine. Perhaps there was no one special cause 
 for it. It seems hardly likely that (as Lady Louisa 
 Stuart said) Pope hazarded a passionate, though 
 doubtless strictly platonic, declaration to Lady Mary, 
 and was answered only by a fit of laughter that reminded 
 the sensitive poet too painfully of the contrast between 
 his high-flown language and his deformed person. 
 Such an incident might have occurred, if the friendship 
 between the two had grown closer ; but all the facts as 
 known point to an opposite conclusion. And, indeed, 
 it was only to be expected that such a friendship 
 should have cooled. Pope had now gone over to the 
 Tories, and the Wortleys were stanch and influential 
 Whigs. Mr. Moy Thomas thinks that the final quarrel 
 dates from 1724, when the manuscript volumes of 
 Lady Mary's letters from the East began to be handed 
 about among her friends. The last of these letters, 
 nominally dashed off in haste in an inn at Dover on 
 
1 4 Introdiicfory Sketch 
 
 her return, is an answer to I^ope's celebrated epistle on 
 the Lovers Struck by Lightning, for which he had so 
 great a fondness as to send it in various forms to a 
 number of his friends. Lady Mary brings the poet 
 back to reahty, reducing his high-flown epitaphs to 
 matter-of-fact doggerel, and his pastoral lovers to two 
 bumpkins whose death mattered little to any but 
 themselves. The date affixed to this answer by the 
 writer is after the day on which the newspapers assure 
 us she had returned to London ; so that we can hardlv 
 be wrong in regarding her letter as written aprh coup. 
 If this were so, and Pope came to know of it, we need 
 seek no further for a cause of quarrel. The mere 
 suspicion of a far less wrong on the part of a far closer 
 friend was enough to make him wTite his famous 
 character of Atticus. And though he could afford to 
 despise the coarse and blundering attacks of his 
 Dunces, he would keenly feel this clever parody of 
 his loved pastoral. 
 
 Other rumours were current, then and afterwards, as 
 to the cause of the quarrel. Pope's own account of it 
 was that Lady Mary " had too much wit for him," 
 which seems to point to an exercise of that wit at his 
 expense. But, in fact, some such quarrel was inevit- 
 able from the first. Pope, sooner or later, quarrelled 
 with most of his friends ; his sensitive, suspicious and 
 spiteful nature was never long without a grievance, and 
 resented the merest shadow of a slight ; while Lady 
 Mary could seldom resist the temptation of ridiculing 
 the weaknesses of her friends, and yet displayed a 
 
Introductory Sketch 15 
 
 curiously innocent surprise when they resented her 
 witticisms by any means in their power. 
 
 Even before the final breach with Pope, her social 
 triumphs were often obscured by troubles due to her 
 own imprudence or her misfortune ; and in all of 
 these Pope found pegs on which to hang his spiteful 
 allusions. One of Lady Mary's greatest annoyances 
 came from a certain French witling and poetaster, one 
 M. Remond, who had opened a correspondence of the 
 usual hyperbolical sham love-making with her, and 
 had persuaded her, against her will, to invest his 
 available property for him. The money was ventured 
 once successfully in the South Sea stock ; a second 
 time most of it went the way of so much more when 
 the bubble broke. Remond believed, or affected to 
 believe, that Lady Mary still retained the money, and 
 claimed the return of the whole, threatening to disclose 
 the whole transaction to Mr. Wortley, and to print her 
 letters. Lady Mary, knowing her husband's objection 
 to speculation and his carefulness in money matters, 
 dreaded his learning of her imprudence ; she may also 
 have naturally feared the wit and the scandal of 
 which she would now be the object. How the matter 
 ended, we know not ; but probably Remond told Mr. 
 Wortley, and Lady Mary justified herself to her 
 husband by producing Remond's letters, for they seem 
 to have passed under Mr. Wortley's eyes. 
 
 Other troubles Lady Mary had which were not due 
 to her own faults. Her son Edward, as he grew up, 
 was a constant source of anxiety. He ran away from 
 
1 6 Introductory Sketch 
 
 school to Oxford when thirteen ; then next year ran 
 away again, and was discovered at Gibraltar, after a 
 series of adventures as a chimney-sweep and in other 
 capacities, such as those related in a dull and 
 scandalous so-called memoir of him published at 
 Dublin in 1779, and several times republished since. 
 It is curious to note that in the hand-bill offering 
 twenty pounds for his discovery, he is mentioned as 
 having the inoculation marks on his arm. This 
 practice Lady Mary had striven to introduce into 
 England, and with much success ; though the oppo- 
 sition to the novelty, both from the prejudiced and 
 the medical profession, was great, and the introducer 
 of inoculation did not escape obloquy. It is remark- 
 able that in hardly any of the letters written after her 
 return from the East does she refer to the subject. 
 Perhaps the reception of her labours had disgusted 
 her ; though her friend Caroline, Princess of Wales, 
 afterwards Queen Caroline, stood by her. 
 
 Another domestic trouble also served as a theme 
 for Pope's attacks. Lady Mary had little happiness 
 in her family relations. Her father, who never quite 
 forgave her for disobeying him, died in 1726, and there 
 seem to have been troubles over his property wdth his 
 second wife. His only son had died in 1713. In 1727 
 Lady Mary's youngest sister. Lady Gower, died ; and 
 not long after her other sister. Lady Mar, went out 
 of her mind. She seems to have been wretched with 
 her husband, the doubly treacherous ** Bobbing John," 
 now strongly suspected of betraying the Jacobites 
 
IntrodMctory Skelch 17 
 
 whom he had led to defeat. Lady Mar was brought 
 over to England and placed in charge of her sister ; 
 but she had some property, and on Mar's death his 
 unscrupulous brother, Lord Grange, tried to get hold of 
 his sister-in-law. He was helped in his endeavours by 
 Lady Hervey, jealous of her husband's friendship with 
 Lady Mary, and by Mrs. Murray, who had vowed 
 revenge on her for a scandalous ballad she was 
 supposed to have written. Failing, however, to secure 
 Lady Mar by legal means. Lord Grange had her 
 carried off; but she was brought back, and remained 
 in her sister's charge until her daughter, Lady Frances 
 Erskine, was old enough to take care of her, when, at 
 Edward Wortley's request, Lady Mary gave up her 
 charge a little while before leaving England. Grange 
 was loud in his complaints that Lady Mary ill-used 
 and starved her sister ; and from him Pope seems to 
 have borrowed the charge, though Lady Mar herself 
 apparently knew nothing of such ill-usage. 
 
 Pope's first open attack on Lady Mary is often taken 
 to consist in two lines from the " Dunciad " : 
 
 " Whence hapless Monsieur much complains at Paris 
 Of wrongs from Duchesses and Lady Marys." 
 
 This is held to allude to Remond's story. However, 
 I think it doubtful whether Pope meant it so. The 
 context refers to the way in which worthless women 
 gulled simple foreigners by assuming titles of rank or 
 the names of noted beauties, and the reference, though 
 hardly friendly, still in strictness means no more than 
 that Lady Mary was a well-known beauty. But in 
 
 2 
 
i8 Introductory Sketch 
 
 Pope's own notes of 1729 to the " Dunciad," the allusion 
 is direct and insulting. *' This passage was thought 
 to allude to a famous lady, who cheated a French wit 
 out of ;f 5,000 in the South Sea year;" and Pope goes 
 on to explain that he meant to satirize ** all bragging 
 travellers," and all "cheats under the name of fine 
 ladies," heightening the insult by affecting to explain 
 it away. Worse than this followed. Pope suspected 
 Lady Mary of being concerned in some of the libels 
 showered on him in answer to the " Dunciad," especially 
 in "A Pop upon Pope," giving an account of a sup- 
 posed whipping of the poet by some of those whom he 
 had attacked. In his " Imitation of the First Satire of 
 Horace's Second Book," a vile couplet on " Sappho " 
 was generally applied to Lady Mary ; and henceforth, 
 under this or other names, she was constantly the 
 mark for malignant allusion. How far she was con- 
 cerned in writing the " Verses addressed to the Imitator 
 of Horace," is doubtful. In a letter to Arbuthnot, she 
 declared that the lines were entirely the work of Lord 
 Hervey, whom Pope had satirized as " Lord Fanny." 
 Yet the verses are so much better than Lord Hervey's 
 avowed answer to Pope, that there must still be con- 
 siderable doubt as to whether Lady Mary had not a 
 share in them. The piece first appeared as "By a 
 Lady." Pope evidently felt its coarse allusions to his 
 physical defects and " birth obscure," and was at great 
 pains to disprove the latter accusation in the epistle to 
 Dr. Arbuthnot prefixed to his "Satires." From that 
 time he never left the Wortley Montagus alone. The 
 
Introductory Sketch 1 9 
 
 frugality and care about money which Lady Mary 
 shared with her husband, and which seems to have 
 come at times near to stinginess, was satirized as the 
 most sordid avarice under the names of Worldly (an 
 obvious perversion of Wortley), Avidien, Gripus, etc. 
 The carelessness of Lady Mary's dress is sometimes 
 alluded to, and she is obliquely charged with profligacy 
 under the title of Sappho. Her troubles with Remond 
 and Lady Mar are included in a double-barrelled 
 allusion in the couplet, 
 
 " And at a peer or peeress shall 1 fret, 
 Who starves a sister, or denies a debt ?" 
 
 as Horace Walpole carefully explains. 
 
 All these attacks may easily have disgusted Lady 
 Mary with English society and England. The Court 
 of George H., sordid without economy and dull without 
 virtue, was hardly an attractive scene for a woman of 
 intellect. Edward Wortley Montagu, while a sound 
 Whig, was always hostile to the all-powerful Walpole, 
 and, indeed, led some of the fierce attacks on him when 
 his credit was waning. The marriage of Lady Mary's 
 daughter to the Earl of Bute, Groom of the Stole to 
 Frederick, Prince of Wales, and then to his son, and 
 afterwards the favourite Minister of George HL, must 
 have tended still further to connect the mother with 
 the Opposition, and may help to account for the indif- 
 ference that she afterwards displayed to the great 
 victories of the Seven Years' War. There was now 
 nothing left to occupy her attention in England ; her 
 daughter was married, the care of her sister given up, 
 
 2 — 2 
 
20 Introductory Sketch 
 
 her son, after a youth of folly and vice, had ruined his 
 career by marrying in the Pleet a woman of low life (a 
 washerwoman, the scandalous memoir calls her), who 
 was too cunning to give him a pretext for divorce. He 
 usually resided abroad, too, so that there were no 
 duties to keep Lady Mary at home. Her husband and 
 she, though all their letters seem to prove that they 
 retained their respect and affection for each other, 
 seem to have found their tastes and ways incompatible ; 
 and it is possible that Edward Wortley Montagu keenly 
 felt the unenviable notoriety w^hich Pope had bestowed 
 on him merely because his wife and Pope had 
 quarrelled. 
 
 Lady Mary was fifty years old when, in 1739, she 
 determined to go abroad for a lengthened residence ; 
 and she did not return to England till she came back, 
 in 1762, to die. It is these twenty-two or twenty-three 
 years that form the most interesting part of Lady Mary's 
 life to later times. Her letters from the East are too 
 laboured, too plainly "doctored" for the public; her 
 letters to Lady Mar are too full of petty gossip. The 
 later correspondence, mostly with her daughter. Lady 
 Bute, is both worthier in subjects and more natural in 
 tone. 
 
 In leaving for the Continent, Lady Mary apparently 
 expected her husband to follow her. He was detained, 
 however, by business, and she went on her way alone ; 
 and gradually, whether by mutual understanding or by 
 the mere effect of time and habit, all thought of their 
 meeting again was given up. Mr. Wortley Montagu 
 
Introdttctory Sketch 2 1 
 
 often wrote to his wife in terms that imply that she 
 still enjoyed his full confidence ; he entrusted her with 
 the task of seeing her son, trying to reclaim him, and 
 furnishing him with the necessary funds ; but though 
 he left England twice on journeys, he never saw his 
 wife again. Occasional glimpses of him and his son 
 are to be caught from the letters of Horace Walpole, 
 who, however, saw the whole family with unfriendly 
 eyes. The elder Wortley Montagu he depicts as a 
 morose miser, with no indulgence but his daily glass 
 of tokay, hoarding '' money and health " with such 
 success that he died at the age of eighty-three worth 
 half a million. The son, a weak and worthless fellow, 
 had and misused every advantage. He sat for some 
 years for the family seat of Huntingdon ; was put in 
 prison in Paris for a discreditable gambling affair ; was 
 chosen a member of the Royal Society on the strength 
 of a curious iron wig ; outlived both parents, and came 
 into ;f 2,000 a year ; travelled in the East, and sent 
 home an account of the Written Mountains of Sinai ; 
 adopted Armenian dress, married many wives, turned 
 Roman Catholic, turned Mohammedan, and finally 
 died, in 1776, at Padua. 
 
 In the summer of 1739, then, Lady Mary went 
 abroad. Avoiding Paris, she journeyed through Dijon 
 and Turin to Venice. Next summer she set out for 
 Florence, where she met her friend Lady Pomfret, also 
 Lady Walpole, wife of Sir Robert's eldest son. Horace 
 Walpole met her there, and gives a picture of her which 
 seems to have some truth, though a good deal of spite. 
 
oo 
 
 Introdtictory Sketch 
 
 " Did I tell you," he writes to Conway, " Lady Mary 
 Wortley is here ? She laughs at my Lady Walpole, 
 scolds my Lady Pomfret, and is laughed at by the 
 whole town. Her dress, her avarice, and her im- 
 pudence must amuse anyone that never heard her 
 name. She wears a foul mob that does not cover 
 her greasy black locks, that hang loose, never combed 
 or curled ; an old mazarine blue wrapper, that gapes 
 open and discovers a canvas petticoat. Her face 
 swelled violently on one side, partly covered with a 
 plaister, and partly with white paint, which for cheap- 
 ness she has bought so coarse that you would not use 
 it to wash a chimney." 
 
 From Florence she went to Rome, visited Naples, 
 and returned through Rome, Leghorn, and Genoa to 
 Chambery in Savoy. The outbreak of the War of the 
 Austrian Succession in Italy, and Sardinia's resolve to 
 take the side of Maria Theresa, made her fear a French 
 invasion, and she removed to Avignon, then, and until 
 the French Revolution, a Papal possession. After a 
 journey to Valence to see her son, she settled down at 
 Avignon for four years. The declaration of war be- 
 tween France and England, and still more the influx 
 of Jacobites into Avignon after the insurrection of 
 1745, made the place disagreeable to her. She deter- 
 mined to betake herself to the dominions of almost the 
 only civilized neutral state in Europe — Venice. Her 
 journey was not free from peril ; she went by Genoa, 
 and outside that city met the retreating army of the 
 Infante Don Philip, whose troops, with their French 
 
Introductory Sketch 23 
 
 allies, had been beaten at Piacenza by the Austrians 
 and Sardinians. Lady Mary pushed on through both 
 armies, and reached Brescia in safety, but while stay- 
 ing with the mother of Count Palazzo, the Italian noble- 
 man who had escorted her thither, she was seized by 
 severe illness and had to remain in their house for some 
 time. It seems possible, from a legal document in 
 Italian, which Lord Wharncliffe says he saw among 
 Lady Mary's papers, that either from officious friend- 
 ship or desire for gain, this detention was continued 
 longer than she desired ; and though it was not for long, 
 it gave rise to a scandalous story, eagerly gathered by 
 Horace Walpole, of her having been detained by some 
 Italian lover, determined to secure her wealth. The 
 rumour seems to have been widely spread, and to have 
 lasted long, for when Lady Mary came to Venice in 
 1756, I find the English Minister there, Mr. Murra}^ 
 writing home : " She has been for some years past, 
 and still continues, in the hands of a Brescian Count, 
 who, it is said, plunders her of all her riches." There 
 seems, however, no foundation in fact for this view of 
 the incident. 
 
 In the summer of 1747 Lady Mary went to Lovere, 
 a little place on the north shore of Lake Iseo, famed for 
 its medicinal waters. Here she hired and then bought 
 outright for a hundred pounds an old *' shell of a 
 palace," which she partly repaired and fitted up as a 
 residence, and in which she led a retired life, amusing 
 herself with a dairy, a poultry-yard, silkworms, bees, and 
 the English novels of the day, forwarded to her by Lady 
 
24 hiirodtictory Sketch 
 
 Bute. She wrote often to her husband and daughter, 
 hearing from them sometimes details of the society she 
 still remembered. In particular, she was interested 
 in the works of Richardson and her cousin Henry 
 Fielding. 
 
 She paid brief visits to places in the neighbourhood. 
 At Gotolengo she stayed some time, but \\'as recalled 
 to the healing streams of Lovere by illness. In 1756 she 
 moved to Padua, and between this city and Venice she 
 spent the next few years. Her peace was troubled by 
 the persecutions of Mr. Murra}', the British Minister at 
 Venice. I hare not been able to discover from his 
 despatches the reason for this quarrel ; but his first 
 notice of Lady Mary seems to show that he thought 
 badly of her, and her first description of him is as " such 
 a scandalous fellow, in every sense of that w^ord, he is 
 not to be trusted to change a sequin, despised by the 
 Government for his smuggling, which was his original 
 profession." So perhaps the quarrel was ready-made. 
 Sir James Steuart, of Coltness, the economist, then an 
 exile through his share in the '45, came to Venice wath 
 his wife, and both formed a warm friendship w^ith Lady 
 Mary, who exerted her influence with Lord Bute to 
 get Sir James recalled. Murray, who seems from his 
 despatches to have been nervously anxious not to com- 
 promise himself, refused to receive Sir James, and 
 apparently thought Lady Mary a dangerous character 
 for associating with the Steuarts. 
 
 In 1761 came the news of Mr. Wortley Montagu's 
 death, and Lady Mary resolved, at her daughter's 
 
Introductory Sketch 25 
 
 request, to return to England to help in the settle- 
 ment of his affairs. He had left his widow ^1,200 
 a year, with reversion to her son, and ;f 1,000 a year to 
 the son ; the rest of his large fortune went to Lady 
 Bute. In a hard winter, and herself already smitten 
 with an incurable disease. Lady Mary journeyed to 
 England through Germany and Holland, France being 
 still at war with England. In January, 1762, she 
 arrived, and Horace Walpole gives a lively and spite- 
 ful account of his meeting with her. '' But I will tell 
 you who is come too — Lady Mary Wortley. I went 
 last night to visit her ; I give you my honour, and you, 
 who know me, would credit me without it, the follow- 
 ing is a faithful description. I found her in a little 
 miserable bedchamber of a ready-furnished house, with 
 two tallow candles, and a bureau covered with pots and 
 pans. On her head, in full of all accounts, she had an 
 old black-laced hood, wrapped entirely round, so as to 
 conceal all hair or want of hair. No handkerchief, but 
 up to her chin a kind of horseman's coat, made of a 
 dark green (green I think it had been) brocade, with 
 coloured and silver flowers, and lined with furs ; bodice 
 laced, a foul dimity petticoat sprig'd, velvet muffeteens 
 on her arms, gray stockings and slippers. Her face 
 less changed in twenty years than I could have im- 
 agined ; I told her so, and she was not so tolerable 
 twenty years ago that she needed have taken it for 
 flattery, but she did, and literally gave me a box on the 
 ear. She is very lively, all her senses perfect, her lan- 
 guage as imperfect as ever, her avarice greater. She 
 
26 Introductory Sketch 
 
 receives all the world, who go to homage her as Queen 
 Mother, and crams them into this kennel."' 
 
 Horace Walpole seems to have imagined that Lady 
 Mary would try to make use of her position as mother- 
 in-law of George III.'s favourite Minister, but he was 
 mistaken ; and though he apprehended all kinds of 
 troubles from her interference with Lady Bute, he was 
 compelled later on to admit that " she is much more 
 discreet than I expected, and meddles with nothing." 
 Indeed, knowing that she was dying. Lady Mary could 
 hardly have brought herself to take much interest in 
 affairs. It was soon known that she had cancer in the 
 breast. '^She behaves with great fortitude," writes 
 Walpole, '' and says she has lived long enough." She 
 died in London, on August 21st, 1762, over seventy- 
 three years of age. By her will, one or two remem- 
 brances were left to friends, legacies to servants, and 
 the rest of her separate property, not much in amount, 
 to her daughter. To her son, who seems to have 
 caused her sorrow to the end, she left one guinea ; but, 
 by her husband's will, her income went to him on her 
 death. 
 
 Her letters had a curious fate, and their history is 
 hardly less complicated than that of Pope's correspond- 
 ence. She undoubtedly prepared for publication those 
 written during the Embassy, and they had been in 
 existence in manuscript ever since 1724, which is the 
 date of Mrs. Mary Astell's first gushing preface. Yet 
 they were known only to a few friends ; and Horace 
 Walpole had not seen them, though he had been 
 
rntrodiictory Sketch 27 
 
 allowed to read some of the letters to Lady Mar. Oq 
 her last journey to England, Lady Mary was delayed 
 at Rotterdam, and while there seems to have given 
 two volumes of manuscript, containing the "Turkish 
 Letters," to the Rev. Benjamin Sowden, an English 
 clergyman, at Rotterdam. The fact of the gift is 
 confirmed by an inscription on the first volume, in 
 Lady Mary's hand, dated December 11, 1761. Lady 
 Bute, hearing, after her mother's death, that some of 
 her letters were in the hands of a stranger, desired to 
 get them into her own hands. Horace Walpole hoped 
 that she would not succeed. '' Though I do not 
 doubt," he writes, ''but they" (the letters) "are an 
 olio of lies and scandal, I should like to see them. 
 She had parts, and had seen much." Eventually Mr. 
 Sowden gave up the volumes, whether freely, as his 
 friends said, or for ;f 500, as Lady Louisa Stuart says, 
 or for a Crown living ; and in 1763 these very letters 
 appeared in three volumes, with Mary Astell's two 
 prefaces and a note by the editor^ who is said to have 
 been John Cleland, a man notorious as an editor and 
 fabricator of the correspondence of noted persons. 
 Naturally Sowden was charged with bad faith, though 
 not, it seems, justly; for Mr. Moy Thomas assures us 
 that the edition of 1763 agrees not with the Sowden 
 manuscript (which does not contain the prefaces), but 
 with another copy, given by Lady Mary to Mr. Moles- 
 worth. However, it is not impossible that the editor 
 was telling the truth when he informed his readers that 
 his selection was " transcribed from the original manu- 
 
2 8 Introductory Sketch 
 
 script of her ladyship at Venice." Another volume of 
 letters, attributed to Lady Mary, came out in 1767, 
 but these are probably fabrications of Cleland's own ; 
 for though Lady Bute accepted them as genuine on 
 the strength of their style alone, yet their similarity to 
 the authentic letters does not seem beyond the reach 
 of a practised literary forger. No originals of the 
 letters of 1767 have ever come to hand ; and it is 
 perhaps unfortunate that the lady known in letters as 
 Camille Selden, in her study of Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montagu, has been misled by Lord Wharncliffe's 
 uncritical acceptance into quoting as especially charac- 
 teristic some of these very letters. 
 
 The '* Letters from the Levant," as they were 
 often called, were popular; and eventually the family 
 of Lady Mary resolved to give a further instalment 
 to the world, and employed the Rev. Mr. Dallaway 
 as editor. In 1S03 appeared his volumes, containing 
 the bulk of the Letters now known to the public, but 
 altered and arranged in an arbitrary fashion, and 
 preceded by a memoir really remarkable for its absence 
 of accurate information. Even as Dallaway left them, 
 however, the Letters proved interesting, and several 
 editions were called for ; the fifth, in 1805, contained 
 a number of additional letters. In 1S37 Lord Wharn- 
 cliffe edited Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's Letters 
 and Works, in three volumes, preceded by Dallaway 's 
 memoir, and an interesting series of introductory 
 anecdotes, by Lady Louisa Stuart, grand-daughter 
 of Lady Mary. Finally, in 1S61, appeared a new 
 
Iiitrodtictory Sketch 29 
 
 edition of Lord Wharncliffe's selection, completely re- 
 edited by Mr. W. Moy Thomas from the Wortley 
 papers ; and it is unlikely that any further editor will 
 find anything of importance to add to his careful and 
 thorough work. Besides her Letters and compositions 
 in prose and verse, Lady Mary left behind her a 
 voluminous Diary, the earlier part of which was read 
 by Lady Louisa Stuart, who gives some interesting 
 details about it. But this Diary — recording as it did 
 the events, rumours, and scandals of every day — was 
 thought too likely to make trouble if published ; and 
 accordingly Lady Bute destroyed it shortly before her 
 own death, in 1794. How far the loss is a serious one 
 it is impossible to judge ; but I should conjecture that 
 most probably the Diary, where it contained full 
 descriptions of events or places, was drawn upon for 
 the Letters, and that we have the cream of the journal 
 in the correspondence. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's character is depicted 
 too plainly in her Letters to stand in need of much 
 comment or explanation. No doubt the rumours and 
 traditions that have depicted her as a sort of modern 
 Sappho, a woman of extraordinary intellect and still 
 more extraordinary shamelessness, a strolling Semi- 
 ramis, are more striking and melodramatic than the 
 rather humdrum details told in the Letters ; but it is 
 the misfortune of true history to be hardly ever com- 
 pletely romantic, and but seldom as scandalous as we 
 would fain think it. The aspersions on Lady Mary's 
 morality have no other visible foundation than the 
 
30 Introductory Sketch 
 
 malignity of Pope or the spiteful gossip of Horace 
 Walpole ; and the latter was at least as ready to 
 believe ill reports of Lady Mary as the former to 
 invent or aggravate them. The somewhat coarse 
 freedom of expression in some of her letters is merely 
 the tone of her time — a time when a fastidious invalid 
 like Pope wrote letters glowing with apparent passion 
 or deeply tainted with grossness, to ladies of un- 
 blemished fame, and was not even thought to have 
 failed in courtesy or respect. The fact seems to have 
 been that Lady Mary, like many of the men of the 
 eighteenth century, had developed the intellectual and 
 practical side of her nature at the expense of the 
 emotions. There is no proof that she w^as ever in love 
 with anyone but her husband ; and her affection for 
 him began in intellectual companionship, and consisted 
 to a considerable extent in respect, with a touch of 
 fear. Her love-letters are full of business details, 
 plain speaking, and close reasoning. Her lover gives 
 her up rather than violate his principles as to marriage 
 settlements, and she heartily approves him. All this 
 is very sensible, but it is hardly the note of passion, 
 even allowing for the undemonstrative character of 
 the age. Family affection was not strongl}^ deve- 
 loped in Lady Mary : her father's death leaves little 
 impression on her. He had neglected her; why should 
 she mourn for him ? Her religion, again, was the 
 Whig Christianity of the day, the moderately 
 rationalistic, tolerant half -deism of the Georgian 
 Bishops : she never speaks but with contempt of past 
 
Introductory Sketch 31 
 
 mystics or present Methodists. Patriotism had Httle 
 hold on her — she was cosmopoHtan ; and though 
 English defeats galled her a little, English victories 
 left her cold. All her failings — coarseness of phrase, 
 coldness of feeling, want of consideration in the use of 
 her wit, even the slovenliness of dress into which she 
 fell — are the faults of a nature too merely intellectual. 
 One may say that she was all her days a traveller, 
 regarding the world of life as she did the lands through 
 which she journeyed. The joys of existence were but 
 the chance of a fine day, or a good inn on the road ; 
 its griefs but the breaking of a wheel, the discomfort 
 of a hovel — all alike to be borne with quietly, because 
 they would be gone and almost forgotten to-morrow. 
 Friends, relations even, were but travelling-companions 
 — here to-day, gone to-morrow. A trashy novel was 
 just as good as a grave and instructive work; the 
 former served to while away a tedious hour of the 
 long journey, and the latter could do no more. 
 
 Madame Camille Selden speaks of Lady Mary's life 
 as a failure, and blames her, or at least deplores her for 
 having neglected her womanly duties to please herself 
 in isolation and independence. Yet, what mission was 
 therefor her to adopt, what duties to perform at home? 
 Her son had proved himself irreclaimably vicious, and 
 — what she probably despised far more — irredeemably 
 weak ; her daughter was happily married. She was 
 long past the age of beauty and social success, and her 
 name was soiled by the attacks of the first poet of the 
 time. Her husband apparently could get on best 
 
-2 2 hitroductory Sketch 
 
 o- 
 
 without her, as he and she ahke seem to have reahzed 
 with the merciless good sense they had in common. 
 Doubtless, with her talents, her wealth, her position, 
 she might have been the leading spirit of some social 
 reform, some political change, some religious move- 
 ment ; but to engage in any of these enterprises she 
 must have changed her temperament, and ceased to be 
 the Lady Mary that we know — a change that might 
 conceivably have been very much for the worse. Of 
 philanthropists, past and present, we have great plenty, 
 many of them fulfilling the cynical definition by "doing 
 good that evil may come " — but of letter-writers whose 
 letters bear reading, not many. Lady Mary in her last 
 twenty years of lonely travel at least entertained 
 herself and her correspondents, and hurt no one in 
 particular ; and if she did not found a church or 
 inaugurate a movement, she wrote some charming 
 letters, and taught the country-folk by Lake Iseo how 
 to make good butter and mince-pies, also cheese-cakes, 
 so that they would have set up her statue as that of a 
 public benefactress, but she declined the honour. This 
 is something to have done, and not a little, as the 
 average of human achievement goes ; even though her 
 arts of persuasion could not bend North Italian ortho- 
 doxy to approve of the "unnatural mixture" known as 
 " sillabub." 
 
 About the style of the letters of Lady Mary it is not 
 necessary to say much. Her work speaks for itself. 
 We have it on the testimony of her relations that she 
 wrote with ease and fluency, never having occasion to 
 
Inti'oductory Sketch 33 
 
 wait for words or exercise careful revision. About 
 grammar and spelling she was no more careful than 
 other writers of her time ; but her deviations from 
 strict rule have still an ease and good breeding which lift 
 them out of the category of vulgar blunders. The dis- 
 tinguished and elegant carelessness of past times was 
 far removed from the ignoble lapses of modern cheap 
 novelists and pushing journalists, who write '' different 
 to " and spell Sphinx with a y. Yet, while disdaining 
 elaboration or pedantic accuracy of style, Lady Mary 
 never forgot that she was writings nor, apparently, that 
 what she wrote might be seen by after generations. 
 She seldom, if ever, talks on paper. There is little 
 tenderness or playfulness in her style. Kind and 
 affectionate as are her letters to her daughter, their 
 prevailing note is good sense, clear reasoning. Seem- 
 ingly incapable of very strong emotion, Lady Mary 
 repressed with a truly English thoroughness what 
 emotion she felt, and rather than yield to what she 
 considered a weakness (''sentiments," she "says, ''are 
 extreme silly "), affected a cold and stoical indifference 
 which she did not always feel. In this, as in other 
 respects, she was of her time — the first half of the 
 eighteenth century. Not till after her death began the 
 time of vague aspirations, of questioning discontent, of 
 unrest and unsettlement, of theories and philosophies, 
 of cosmopolitan and humanitarian ideas — the time 
 which ended in the French Revolution. Lady Mary 
 lived under the reign of Sense, not yet dethroned by 
 Sensibility. 
 
 3 
 
34 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 EARLY LIFE AND MARRIAGE 
 
 Letters without Dates — Letters to Mrs. Hewet — The "New 
 Atalantis" — NicoHni — Letters to Anne Wortley— Lady Mary's 
 Studies — Edward Wortley as the "Cambridge Doctor" — In- 
 direct Love-making — Death of Anne Wortley — Correspond- 
 ence with Edward Wortley — Strange Courtship — Trouble over 
 Settlements — Ideal of Happiness — Paternal Despotism — The 
 Elopement — Stay at Walling Wells — Old Letters— Proclamation 
 of George I. — Standing for Parliament — The New Court — 
 George I. and his Son — Lady Mary's Adventure with Mr. Craggs. 
 
 The letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu are often 
 difficult to identify, nor is it always easy to tell to 
 whom or when they were sent. In her time the post- 
 office was far from safe, even in England ; in other 
 countries, especially in time of wars and rumours of 
 wars, it was almost the exception for a letter to get 
 through. Hence comes a practice of leaving letters 
 unsigned, and alluding to persons by initials only, 
 which is at times troublesome to modern readers; and 
 even more vexatious is Lady Mary's habit of omitting 
 to date her letters — a defect which she seems to have 
 transmitted to her descendants and her first editors, 
 since neither Lord Wharncliffe nor Mr. Dallawayknew 
 
Early Life and Marriage 35 
 
 the year of her birth. The earliest letters which we 
 can date are to Mrs. Hewet, wife of the Surveyor- 
 General to George I., and to Anne, sister of Edward 
 Wortley. The letters to Mrs. Hewet are of com- 
 paratively slight interest. They turn mostly on the 
 books which the two friends sent to each other— novels 
 chiefly, and novels of the day, for which Lady Mary 
 always had an unlimited appetite. Mrs. Manley's 
 *' New Atalantis " is the chief of them. 
 
 *' I am very glad," Lady Mary writes, ''you have the 
 second part of the * New Atalantis ': if you have read it, 
 will you be so good as to send it to me? and in return, I 
 promise to get you the key to it. I know I can. But 
 do you know what has happened to the unfortunate 
 authoress ? People are offended at the liberty she 
 uses in her memoirs, and she is taken into custody. 
 Miserable is the fate of writers : if they are agreeable, 
 they are offensive ; and if dull, they starve. I lament 
 the loss of the other parts which we should have had ; 
 and have five hundred arguments at my fingers' ends 
 to prove the ridiculousness of those creatures that 
 think it worth while to take notice of what is only 
 designed for diversion. After this, who will dare to 
 give the history of Angella ? I was in hopes her faint 
 essay would have provoked some better pen to give 
 more elegant and secret memoirs ; but now she will 
 serve as a scarecrow to frighten people from attempt- 
 ing anything but heavy panegyric ; and wx shall be 
 teazed with nothing but heroic poems, with names at 
 length, and false characters, so daubed with flattery, 
 
36 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 that they are the severest kind of lampoons, for they 
 both scandaHze the writer and the subject, hke that 
 vile paper the Tatlev.'" 
 
 Yet again we find Lady Mary studying Italian, 
 going to the opera, seeing " Nicolini strangle a lion 
 with great gallantry" (as inimitably ridiculed in the 
 Spectator), in a highly realistic suit of tights, " which 
 convinced me that those prudes who would cry fie ! 
 fie ! at the word naked, have no scruples about the 
 thing." 
 
 The letters to Anne Wortley are, from the outset, 
 more serious. Beginning with the exaggerations of 
 girl-friendship, they soon pass into that veiled and 
 indirect love-making which was mentioned before. 
 Anne Wortley's first printed letter refers to "an humble 
 servant of yours, who is arguing so hotly about 
 marriage that I cannot go on with my letter." 
 
 The answer seems written in breathless haste. 
 Evidently the post was at its tricks again. '' I shall 
 run mad — with what heart can people write, when 
 they believe their letters will never be received ? I 
 have already writ you a very long scrawl, but it 
 seems it never came to your hands ; I cannot bear to 
 be accused of coldness by one whom I shall love all my 
 life. This will, perhaps, miscarry as the last did ; how 
 unfortunate am I if it does ! You will think I forget 
 30U, who are never out of my thoughts. You will 
 fancy me stupid enough to neglect your letters, when 
 they are the only pleasures of my solitude ; in short, 
 you will call me ungrateful and insensible, when I 
 
Early Life and Marriage 37 
 
 esteem 3'ou as I ought, in esteeming you above all the 
 world. If I am not quite so unhappy as I imagine, 
 and you do receive this, let me know it as soon as you 
 can ; for till then I shall be in terrible uneasiness ; and 
 let me beg you for the future, if you do not receive 
 letters very constantly from me, imagine the post-boy 
 killed, imagine the mail burnt, or some other strange 
 accident ; you can imagine nothing so impossible as 
 that I forget you, my dear Mrs. Wortley. I know no 
 pretence I have to your good opinion but my hearty 
 desiring it ; I wish I had that imagination you talk of, 
 to render me a fitter correspondent for you, who can 
 write so well on every thing. I am now so much 
 alone, I have leisure to pass whole days in reading, 
 but am not at all proper for so delicate an employment 
 as choosing you books. Your own fancy will better 
 direct you. My study at present is nothing but 
 dictionaries and grammars. I am trying whether it 
 be possible to learn without a master ; I am not certain 
 (and dare hardly hope) I shall make any great progress; 
 but I find the study so diverting, I am not only easy, 
 but pleased with the solitude that indulges it. I forget 
 there is such a place as London, and wish for no 
 company but yours. You see, my dear, in making my 
 pleasures consist of these unfashionable diversions, I 
 am not of the number who cannot be easy out of the 
 mode. I believe more follies are committed out of 
 complaisance to the world, than in following our own 
 inclinations — Nature is seldom in the wrong, custom 
 always ; it is with some regret I follow it in all the 
 
^S Early Life and Marriage 
 
 impertinences of dress ; the compliance is so trivial it 
 comforts me ; but I am amazed to see it consulted 
 even in the most important occasions of our lives ; and 
 that people of good sense in other things can make 
 their happiness consist in the opinions of others, and 
 sacrifice everything in the desire of appearing in 
 fashion. I call all people who fall in love with 
 furniture, clothes, and equipage, of this number and 
 I look upon them as no less in the wrong than when 
 they were five years old, and doted on shells, pebbles, 
 and hobby-horses : I believe you will expect this letter 
 to be dated from the other world, for sure I am you 
 never heard an inhabitant of this talk so before. I 
 suppose you expect, too, I should conclude with 
 begging pardon for this extreme tedious and very 
 nonsensical letter ; quite contrary, I think you will be 
 obliged to me for it. I could not better show my 
 great concern for your reproaching me with neglect I 
 knew myself innocent of, than proving myself mad in 
 three pages." 
 
 The learned designs of Lady Mary met with a 
 flattering rejoinder from xVnne Wortley, or rather 
 from her brother, who, it is needless to say, was the 
 *' Cambridge Doctor." 
 
 "Dear Lady Mary will pardon my vanity ; I could 
 not forbear reading to a Cambridge Doctor that was 
 with me at Thoresby, a few of those lines that did not 
 make me happy till this week : where you talk of 
 turning over dictionaries and grammars, he stopped 
 me, and said the reason why you had more wit than 
 
Early Life and Marriage 39 
 
 any man, was that your mind had never been en- 
 cumbered with those tedious authors ; that Cowley 
 never submitted to the rules of grammar, and therefore 
 excelled all of his own time in learning, as well as wit ; 
 that without them, you would read with pleasure in 
 two or three months ; but if you persisted in the use 
 of them, you would throw away your Latin after a 
 year or two, and the commonwealth would have 
 reason to mourn ; whereas, if I could prevail with you, 
 it would be bound to thank me for a brighter ornament 
 than any it can boast of." 
 
 Gradually Lady Mary was drawn on further by 
 artful hints that she was in love with someone or 
 other, which she repudiated with playful scorn. 
 
 ** After giving me imaginary wit and beauty, you 
 give me imaginary passions, and you tell me I'm in 
 love : if I am, 'tis a perfect sin of ignorance, for I don't 
 so much as know the man's name : I have been study- 
 ing these three hours, and cannot guess who you mean. 
 I passed the days of Nottingham races, [at] Thoresby, 
 without seeing or even wishing to see one of the sex. 
 Now, if I am in love, I have very hard fortune to 
 conceal it so industriously from my own knowledge, 
 and yet discover it so much to other people. 'Tis 
 against all form to have such a passion as that, without 
 giving one sigh for the matter. Pray tell me the name 
 of him I love, that I may (according to the laudable 
 custom of lovers) sigh to the woods and groves here- 
 abouts, and teach it to the echo. You see, being I am 
 [szc] in love, I am willing to be so in order and rule : I 
 
40 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 have been turning over God knows how many books to 
 look for precedents. Recommend an example to me ; 
 and, above all, let me know whether 'tis most proper to 
 walk in the woods, increasing the winds with my sighs, 
 or to sit by a purling stream, swelling the rivulet with 
 my tears; maybe, both may do well in their turns." 
 
 Then Anne Wortley mentioned the suspected lover, 
 with the result of eliciting an incautious avowal from 
 her friend : ^^ To be capable of preferring the despicable 
 wretch you mention to Mr. Wortley, is as ridiculous, if 
 not as criminal, as forsaking the Deity to worship a 
 calf" — which was exactly the result for which Edward 
 Wortley, under the mask of his sister, had been playing. 
 Anne Wortley must have died towards the end of 1709, 
 for in the spring of 1710 comes the first letter Lady 
 Mary wrote directly to her lover. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll be surprised at this letter ; I have 
 had many debates with myself before I could resolve 
 on it. I know it is not acting in form, but I do not 
 look upon you as I do upon the rest of the world, and 
 by what I do iox yoii, you are not to judge my manner 
 of acting with others. You are brother to a woman I 
 tenderly loved ; my protestations of friendship are not 
 like other people's, I never speak but what I mean, 
 and when I say I love, 'tis for ever. I had that real 
 concern for Mrs. Wortley, I look with some regard on 
 every one that is related to her. This and my long 
 acquaintance with you may in some measure excuse 
 what I am now doing. I am surprised at one of the 
 Tatlcrs you send me ; is it possible to have any sort 
 
EaiHy Life and Marriage 41 
 
 of esteem for a person one believes capable of having 
 such trifling inclinations? Mr. Bickerstaff* has very 
 WTong notions of our sex. I can say there are some of 
 us that despise charms of show, and all the pageantry 
 of greatness, perhaps with more ease than any of the 
 philosophers. In contemning the world, they seem to 
 take pains to contemn it ; we despise it, without taking 
 the pains to read lessons of morality to make us do it. 
 At least, I know I have always looked upon it with 
 contempt, without being at the expense of one serious 
 reflection to oblige me to it. I carry the matter yet 
 farther ; was I to choose of two thousand pounds a 
 year or twenty thousand, the first would be my choice. 
 There is something of an unavoidable embarras in 
 making what is called a great figure in the world ; [it] 
 takes off from the happiness of life ; I hate the noise 
 and hurry inseparable from great estates and titles, 
 and look upon both as blessings that ought only to be 
 given to fools, for 'tis only to them that they are 
 blessings. The pretty fellows you speak of, I own 
 entertain me sometimes ; but is it impossible to be 
 diverted with what one despises ? I can laugh at a 
 puppet-show ; at the same time I know there is nothing 
 in it worth my attention or regard. General notions 
 are generally wrong. Ignorance and folly are thought 
 the best foundations for virtue, as if not knowing what 
 a good wife is was necessary to make one so. I confess 
 that can never be my way of reasoning ; as I always 
 
 * Isaac Bickerstaff was the fictitious personality of the Tatle?'^ 
 written chiefly by Steele and Addison. 
 
42 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 forgive an iyvjury when I think it not done out of malice, 
 I can never think myself obliged by what is done without 
 design. Give me leave to say it (I know it sounds 
 vain), I know how to make a man of sense happy ; but 
 then that man must resolve to contribute something 
 towards it himself. I have so much esteem for you, I 
 should be very sorry to hear you was unhappy ; but for 
 the world I would not be the instrument of making 
 you so ; which (of the humour you are) is hardly to be 
 avoided if I am your wife. You distrust me — I can 
 neither be easy, nor loved, where I am distrusted. 
 Nor do I believe your passion for me is what you 
 pretend it ; at least, I am sure was I in love I could 
 not talk as you do. Few women would have spoke 
 so plainly as I have done ; but to dissemble is among 
 the things I never do. I take more pains to approve 
 my conduct to myself than to the world ; and would 
 not have to accuse myself of a minute's deceit. I wish 
 I loved you enough to devote myself to be for ever 
 miserable, for the pleasure of a day or two's happiness. 
 I cannot resolve upon it. You must think otherwise of 
 me, or not at all." 
 
 However, the reasons against the marriage were of 
 little moment ; we soon find Lady Mary discussing 
 future arrangements— of course in a purely hypothet- 
 ical way. " As to travelling, ^tis what I should do with 
 great pleasure, and could easily quit London upon your 
 account ; but a retirement in the country is not so dis- 
 agreeable to me, as I know a few months would make 
 it tiresome to you. Where people are tied for life, 'tis 
 
Early Life and Marriage 43 
 
 their mutual interest not to grow weary of one another. 
 If I had all the personal charms that I want, a face is 
 too slight a foundation for happiness. You would be 
 soon tired with seeing every day the same thing. 
 Where you saw nothing else, you would have leisure 
 to remark all the defects ; which would increase in pro- 
 portion as the novelty lessened, which is always a great 
 charm. I should have the displeasure of seeing a cold- 
 ness, which, though I could not reasonably blame you 
 for, being involuntary, yet it would render me uneasy ; 
 and the more because I know a love may be revived 
 which absence, inconstancy, or even infidelity, has 
 extinguished ; but there is no returning from a dcgoiit 
 given by satiety." She closes by recommending him 
 to ask her family to consent to the marriage. 
 
 Edward Wortley Montagu complied with the sugges- 
 tion, and asked the Marquis of Dorchester for his 
 daughter's hand ; but, as already mentioned, a dis- 
 agreement arose over the settlement, and the lover 
 started for the Continent. He seems to have put too 
 much of his disappointment into the tone of his parting 
 letter, to judge by Lady Mary's reply : 
 
 *' Kindness, you say, would be your destruction. In 
 my opinion, this is something contradictory to some 
 other expressions. People talk of being in love just as 
 widows do of afiiiction. Mr. Steele has observed, in 
 one of his plays, the most passionate among them have 
 always calmness enough to drive a hard bargain with 
 the upholders.* I never knew a lover that would not 
 '" /. ^., the undertakers. 
 
44 Early Life and Mai'viage 
 
 willingly secure his interest as well as his mistress ; or, 
 if one must be abandoned, had not the prudence (among 
 all his distractions) to consider, a woman was but a 
 woman, and money was a thing of more real merit than 
 the whole sex put together. Your letter is to tell me, 
 you should think yourself undone if you married me ; 
 but if I would be so tender as to confess I should break 
 my heart if you did not, then you'd consider whether 
 you would or no; but yet you hoped you should-not. 
 I take this to be the right interpretation of — even your 
 kindness can't destroy me of a sudden — I hope I am 
 not in your power — I would give a good deal to be 
 satisfied, etc." 
 
 However, her natural resentment at the suspicion 
 of her lover did not last long, and on his return in the 
 autumn of 1710 the negotiations were to be resumed, 
 as we see from the following letter : 
 
 " I am going to comply with your request, and write 
 with all the plainness I am capable of. I know what 
 may be said upon such a proceeding, but am sure 3'ou 
 will not say it. Why should you always put the worst 
 construction upon my words ? Believe me what you 
 will, but do not believe I can be ungenerous or un- 
 grateful. I wish I could tell you what answer you will 
 receive from some people, or upon what terms. If my 
 opinion could sway, nothing should displease you. No- 
 body ever was so disinterested as I am. I would not 
 have to reproach myself (I don^t suppose you would) 
 that I had any way made you uneasy in your circum- 
 stances. Let me beg you (which I do with the utmost 
 
Early Life and Marriage 45 
 
 sincerity) only to consider yourself in this affair ; and, 
 since I am so unfortunate to have nothing in my own 
 disposal, do not think I have any hand in making 
 settlements. People in my way are sold like slaves ; 
 and I cannot tell what price my master will put on me. 
 If you do agree, I shall endeavour to contribute, as 
 much as lies in my power, to your happiness. I so 
 heartily despise a great figure, I have no notion of 
 spending money so foolishly ; though one had a great 
 deal to throw away. If this breaks off, I shall not 
 complain of you : and as, whatever happens, I shall 
 still preserve the opinion 3'ou have behaved yourself 
 well. Let me entreat you, if I have committed any 
 follies, to forgive them ; and be so just to think I would 
 not do an ill thing." 
 
 Yet neither humility nor • resentment could cure 
 Edward Wortley of his habit of finding fault, whether, 
 as Mr. Moy Thomas thinks, it was an ungenerous 
 device for drawing fresh avowals from Lady Mary, or 
 — as I am inclined to conjecture — a necessity of his 
 temperament. Sometimes we find her bidding him 
 " adieu for ever," with what sincerity we may perhaps 
 guess, on the ground of his inveterate suspicion. '' I 
 begin to be tired of my humility," she says : *' I have 
 carried my complaisances to you further than I ought. 
 You make new scruples ; you have a good deal of 
 fancy ; and your distrusts being all of your own 
 making, are more immovable than if there was some 
 real ground for them." And certainly the one love-letter 
 of Mr. Wortley Montagu's printed in the corre- 
 
46 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 spondence is of a provoking character. He complains 
 of having disobHged an influential friend to meet her, 
 and of her cutting short the interview, and plainly 
 declares that he thinks it wisest not to marry her. 
 " What need I add ? I see what is best for me, I 
 condemn what I do, and yet I fear I must do it." 
 Truly a romantic lover ! And yet we find him in the 
 same letter elaborately arranging half a dozen \yays of 
 meeting Lady Mary by the help of Mrs. Steele. In 
 spite of their epistolary differences, the pair were 
 always coming together again. It is curious to read 
 Lady Mary's conception of wedded happiness : 
 
 " Happiness is the natural design of all the world ; and 
 everything we see done, is meant in order to attain it. 
 My imagination places it in friendship. By friendship I 
 mean an entire communication of thoughts, wishes, inte- 
 rests, and pleasures, being undivided ; a mutual esteem, 
 which naturally carries with it a pleasing sweetness of 
 conversation, and terminates in the desire of making 
 one or another happy, without being forced to run into 
 visits, noise, and hurry, which serve rather to trouble 
 than compose the thoughts of any reasonable creature. 
 There are few capable of a friendship such as I have 
 described, and 'tis necessary for the generality of the 
 world to be taken up with trifles. Carry a fine lady 
 and a fine gentleman out of town, and they know no 
 more what to say. To take from them plays, operas, 
 and fashions, is taking away all their topics of dis- 
 course ; and they know not how to form their thoughts 
 on any other subjects. They know very well what it is 
 
Early Life and Marriage 47 
 
 to be admired, but are perfectly ignorant of what it is to 
 be loved. I take you to have sense enough not to think 
 this scheme romantic : I rather choose to use the word 
 friendship than love ; because, in the general sense 
 that word is spoke, it signifies a passion rather founded 
 on fancy than reason ; and when I say friendship, I 
 mean a mixture of tenderness and esteem, and which 
 a long acquaintance increases, not decays : how far I 
 deserve such a friendship, I can be no judge of myself. 
 I may want the good sense that is necessary to be 
 agreeable to a man of merit, but I know I want the 
 vanity to believe I have [it] ; and can promise you 
 shall never hke me less upon knowing me better ; and 
 that I shall never forget you have a better understand- 
 ing than myself." 
 
 Events were now coming to a crisis, for in 1712 the 
 objectionable " Mr. K." with his offers of liberal settle- 
 ments, appeared on the scene, and Lord Dorchester 
 ordered his daughter to accept him. The long letter 
 in which Lady Mary gives an account of her attempt 
 to shake her father's resolution is a striking picture 
 of the way in which ladies of high rank were disposed 
 of. The father, careless as he had been of his 
 daughter's education, would never hear of his not 
 having full power to bestow her hand ; and her plea to 
 be allowed to remain single at least was met by threats. 
 She writes to Edward Wortley Montagu : 
 " I wanted courage to resist at first the will of my 
 relations ; but as every day added to my fears, those, at 
 last, grew strong enough to make me venture the dis- 
 
48 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 obliging them. A harsh word damps my spirits to 
 a degree of silencing all I have to say. I knew the 
 folly of my own temper, and took the method of writing 
 to the disposer of me. I said every thing in this letter 
 I thought proper to move him, and proffered, in atone- 
 ment for not marrying whom he would, never to marry 
 at all. He did not think fit to answer this letter, but 
 sent for me to him. He told me he was very much sur- 
 prised that I did not depend on his judgment for my 
 future happiness; that he knew nothing I had to com- 
 plain of, etc. ; that he did not doubt I had some other 
 fancy in my head, which encouraged me to this disobedi- 
 ence; but he assured me, if I refused a settlement he had 
 provided for me, he gave me his word, whatever pro- 
 posals were made him, he would never so much as enter 
 into a treaty with any other ; that, if I founded any 
 hopes upon his death, I should find myself mistaken, he 
 never intended to leave me any thing but an annuity 
 of ;^400 per annum ; that, though another would pro- 
 ceed in this manner after I had given so just a pretence 
 for it, yet he had [the] goodness to leave m}^ destiny yet 
 in my own choice, and at the same time commanded 
 me to communicate my design to my relations, and ask 
 their advice. As hard as this may sound, it did not 
 shock my resolution ; I was pleased to think, at any 
 price, I had it in my power to be free from a man 
 I hated. I told my intention to all my nearest re- 
 lations. I was surprised at their blaming it, to the 
 greatest degree. I was told, they were sorry I would 
 ruin myself; but, if I was so unreasonable, they could 
 
Early Life and Mar^'iage 49 
 
 not blame my F. [father] whatever he inflicted on me. 
 I objected I did not love him. They made answer, 
 they found no necessity of loving ; if I lived well with 
 him, that was all was required of me ; and that if I 
 considered this town, I should find very few women in 
 love with their husbands, and yet a many happy. It 
 was in vain to dispute with such prudent people ; they 
 looked upon me as a little romantic, and I found it im- 
 possible to persuade them that living in London at 
 liberty was not the height of happiness. However, they 
 could not change my thoughts, though I found I was to 
 expect no protection from them. When I was to give 
 
 my final answer to ,* I told him that I preferred a 
 
 single life to any other ; and, if he pleased to permit 
 me, I would take that resolution. He replied, he could 
 not hinder my resolutions, but I should not pretend 
 after that to please him ; since pleasing him was only to 
 be done by obedience ; that if I would disobey, I knew 
 the consequences ; he would not fail to confine me, 
 where I might repent at leisure ; that he had also con- 
 sulted my relations, and found them all agreeing in his 
 sentiments. He spoke this in a manner hindered my 
 answering. I retired to my chamber, where I writ a 
 letter to let him know my aversion to the man proposed 
 was too great to be overcome, that I should be miserable 
 beyond all things could be imagined, but I was in his 
 hands, and he might dispose of me as he thought fit. 
 He was perfectly satisfied with this answer, and pro- 
 ceeded as if I had given a willing consent. — I forgot to 
 * This blank evidently refers to her father. 
 
 4 
 
50 Early Life a?id Marriage 
 
 tell you, he named you, and said, if I thought that way, 
 I was very much mistaken ; that if he had no other 
 engagements, yet he would never have agreed to your 
 proposals, having no inclinations to see his grand- 
 children beggars. 
 
 "J do not speak this to endeavour to alter your opinion, 
 but to shew the improbability of his agreeing to it. I 
 confess I am entirely of your mind. I reckon it among 
 the absurdities of custom that a man must be obliged 
 to settle his whole estate on an eldest son, beyond his 
 power to recall, whatever he proves to be, and make 
 himself unable to make happy a younger child that may 
 deserve to be so. If I had an estate myself, I should 
 not make such ridiculous settlements, and I cannot 
 blame you for being in the right . . ." 
 
 Lady Mary's father took her submission as a consent 
 to the marriage he proposed, and began to provide 
 wedding clothes to the amount of ;f 400. A plan for an 
 elopement was concerted between the lovers — or rather 
 several plans. A friendly lady would lend her house, and 
 the lover was to call there with the license and a coach 
 and six. This plan failed, and Lady Mary was sent with 
 her brother to West Dean in Wiltshire; and, perhaps 
 with his help, she eventually escaped and joined Edward 
 Wortley Montagu, and they were married some time in 
 August, 1712. Her first letter as a wife is dated from 
 Walling Wells in Nottinghamshire, where she was 
 staying with her friends the Whites, while her husband 
 went to Durham on business. 
 
 *' I don't know very well how to begin ; I am 
 

Early Life and Marriage 51 
 
 perfectly unacquainted with a proper matrimonial style. 
 After all, I think 'tis best to write as if we were not 
 married at all. I lament your absence, as if you was 
 still my lover, and I am impatient to hear you are got 
 safe to Durham, and that you have fixed a time for 
 your return. 
 
 " I have not been very long in this family ; and I 
 fancy myself in that described in the Spectator. The 
 good people here look upon their children with a 
 fondness that more than recompenses their care of 
 them. I don't perceive much distinction in regard to 
 their merits; and when they speak sense or nonsense, 
 it affects the parents with almost the same pleasure. 
 My friendship for the mother, and kindness for Miss 
 Biddy, make me endure the squalling of Miss Nanny 
 and Miss Mary with abundance of patience ; and my 
 foretelling the future conquests of the eldest daughter, 
 makes me very well with the family — I don't know 
 whether you will presently find out that this seeming 
 impertinent account is the tenderest expressions of my 
 love to you ; but it furnishes my imagination with 
 agreeable pictures of our future life ; and I flatter 
 myself with the hopes of one day enjoying with you the 
 same satisfactions ; and that, after as many years 
 together, I may see you retain the same fondness for 
 me as I shall certainly mine for you, and the noise of a 
 nursery may have more charms for us than the music 
 of an opera." 
 
 But these high spirits soon passed away, when the 
 answer to her letter did not come at the first oppor- 
 
 4—2 
 
52 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 tunity. Her next note is full of complaints and fears, 
 the secret of which is perhaps found in her being 
 shortly after laid up with a swelled face, an ailment 
 which we find frequently recurring in her life, and for 
 which the dentistry of that time had no remedy. 
 Though the name of ''neuralgia" was not invented, the 
 complaint probably existed. However, we soon find 
 Lady Mary at Hinchinbrook, ransacking the house for 
 books, failing to find any, but discovering in an old 
 trunk the letters of the first Earl of Sandwich, and '' in 
 hopes that those from his lady will tend much to my 
 edification, being the most extraordinary lessons of 
 economy that ever I read in my life. ... I walked 
 yesterday two hours on the terrace. These are the 
 most considerable events that have happened in your 
 absence; excepting that a good-natured robin red- 
 breast kept me company almost all the afternoon, with 
 so much good humour and humanity as gives me faith 
 for the piece of charity ascribed to these little creatures 
 in the ' Children in the Wood,' which I have hitherto 
 thought only a poetical ornament to that history." 
 
 In 1713 her first child was born, and her only brother 
 died, and her sister Frances was married in 1714 to 
 the Earl of Mar. There are frequent notices of the 
 health of young Edward Wortley. While she was stay- 
 ing at ^liddlethorpe, in Yorkshire, her husband being 
 then in London, came the surprising news of the death 
 of Queen Anne and the proclamation of George L *' I 
 went with my cousin to-day," she writes, '* to see the 
 King proclaimed, which was done ; the archbishop 
 
Early Life and Marriage 53 
 
 walking next the lord mayor, all the country gentry 
 following, with greater crowds of people than I believed 
 to be in York^ vast acclamations, and the appearance 
 of a general satisfaction. The Pretender afterwards 
 dragged about the streets and burned. Ringing of 
 bells, bonfires, and illuminations, the mob crying, 
 ' Liberty and Property!' and ' Long live King George !' 
 This morning all the principal men of any figure took 
 post for London, and we are alarmed with the fear of 
 attempts from Scotland, though all Protestants here 
 seem unanimous for the Hanover succession. The 
 poor young ladies at Castle Howard are as much 
 afraid as I am, being left all alone, without any hopes 
 of seeing their father again (though things should 
 prove well) this eight or nine months.* They have 
 sent to desire me very earnestly to come to them, and 
 bring my boy ; 'tis the same thing as pensioning in a 
 nunnery, for no mortal man ever enters the doors in 
 the absence of their father, who is gone post. During 
 this uncertainty, I think it will be a safe retreat ; for 
 Middlethorpe stands exposed to plunderers, if there be 
 any at all." There was much anxiety as to the pro- 
 spects of a rising against the Hanoverian succession. 
 A fleet was said to be off Scotland; and Lady Mary's 
 brother-in-law, the Earl of Mar, was receiving suspi- 
 cious letters. Soon, however, the first alarm passed 
 off; and Lady Mary's anxiety was chiefly directed 
 
 * The young ladies were the daughters of the Earl of Carlisle, 
 who had been chosen one of the Lords Justices till George I.'s 
 arrival. 
 
54 Early Life and Maniage 
 
 towards securing for her husband a seat in the new 
 Pariiament and a share in the honour and profit of the 
 great Whig victory. Her letters about this time read 
 Hke those of an election-agent. Could Lord Pelham 
 (afterwards the famous Duke of Newcastle) be per- 
 suaded, as he is " very silly, but very good-natured," 
 that he was bound in honour to put Mr. Wortley 
 Montagu in for Aldburgh ? Would his father insist 
 on standing for the family seat at Huntingdon ? Then, 
 again, he is urged to stand for York, but does not 
 decide in time ; perhaps he will have to buy a Cornish 
 borough. Is there a chance at Newark? — and so on, 
 a certain feverish impatience being manifest in the 
 tone of the letters. *' 'Tis surprising to me that you 
 are all this while in the midst of your friends without 
 being sure of a place, when so many insignificant 
 creatures come in without any opposition." 
 
 Lord Halifax had now made Edward Wortley the 
 offer of being a Commissioner of the Treasur}^, but the 
 latter was very doubtful whether he would accept the 
 post. His wife urged him strongly to do so. " I am 
 glad you think of serving your friends ; I hope it will 
 put you in mind of serving yourself. I need not 
 enlarge upon the advantages of money ; everything we 
 see, and everything we hear, puts us in remembrance 
 of it. If it was possible to restore liberty to your 
 country, or limit the encroachments of the pre — ve 
 [prerogative], by reducing yourself to a garret, I 
 should be pleased to share so glorious a poverty with 
 you ; but as the world is, and will be, 'tis a sort of 
 
Early Life and Marriage 55 
 
 duty to be rich, that it may be in one's power to do 
 good ; riches being another word for power, towards 
 the obtaining of which the first necessary quahfication 
 is impudence, and (as Demosthenes said of pronuncia- 
 tion in oratory) the second is impudence, and the 
 third, still, impudence. No modest man ever did or 
 ever will make his fortune. Your friend Lord 
 H [alifa]x, R. W[alpol]e, and all other remarkable 
 instances of quick advancement, have been remarkably 
 impudent. The Ministry is like a play at Court ; 
 there's a little door to get in, and a great crowd 
 without, shoving and thrusting who shall be foremost ; 
 people who knock others with their elbows, disregard 
 a little kick of the shins, and still thrust heartily 
 forwards, are sure of a good place. Your modest man 
 stands behind in the crowd, is shoved about by every 
 body, his cloaths tore, almost squeezed to death, and 
 sees a thousand get in before him, that don't make so 
 good a figure as himself. I don't say it is impossible 
 for an impudent man not to rise in the world ; but a 
 moderate merit, with a large share of impudence, is 
 more probable to be advanced than the greatest 
 qualifications without it." 
 
 There is a tone of pique in her reference to the 
 matter in the lively sketch of the Court of George I., 
 written not long after. *' I was then in Yorkshire : 
 Mr. W. [Wortley] (who had, at that time, that sort of 
 passion for me that would have made me invisible to 
 all but himself, had it been in his power) had sent 
 me thither. He stayed in town on the account of 
 
56 Eaj'ly Life and Marriage 
 
 some business, and the Queen's death detained him 
 there. Lord Hahfax, his near relation, was put at the 
 head of the Treasury; and, wilHng to have the rest of 
 the commissioners such as he thought he could depend 
 on, named him for one of them. It will be surprising 
 to add that he hesitated to accept of it, at a time when 
 his father was alive and his present income very small; 
 but he had that opinion of his own merit as made him 
 think any offer below that of Secretary of State not 
 worth his acceptance, and had certainly refused it if he 
 had not been persuaded to the contrary by a rich old 
 uncle of mine. Lord Pierrepont, whose fondness for me 
 gave him expectations of a large legacy." Possibly she 
 was offended by her husband paying more attention to 
 Lord Pierrepont's advice than to her own letters. 
 
 From whatever reason, the post was accepted ; and 
 Lady Mary came up to London, though not till the 
 new Court had all arrived. Her lively pen gives an 
 amusing character of George L and his son in the 
 sketch already quoted. Certainly she had no ideas of 
 any divinity hedging a king. ''The King's character 
 may be comprised in very few words. In private life 
 he would have been called an honest blockhead ; and 
 Fortune, that made him a king, added nothing to his 
 happiness, only prejudiced his honesty, and shortened 
 his days. No man was ever more free from ambition ; 
 he loved money, but loved to keep his own, without 
 being rapacious of other men's. He would have grown 
 rich by saving, but was incapable of laying schemes 
 for getting ; he was more properly dull than lazy. 
 
Eaidy Life and Marriage 57 
 
 and would have been so well contented to have re- 
 mained in his little town of Hanover, that if the 
 ambition of those about him had not been greater than 
 his own, we should never have seen him in England ; 
 and the natural honesty of his temper, joined with the 
 narrow notions of a low education, made him look 
 upon his acceptance of the crown as an act of usurpa- 
 tion, which was always uneasy to him. But he was 
 carried by the stream of the people about him, in that 
 as in every other action of his life. He could speak 
 no English, and was past the age of learning it. Our 
 customs and laws were all mysteries to him, which he 
 neither tried to understand nor was capable of under- 
 standing if he endeavoured it. He was passively 
 good-natured, and wished all mankind enjoyed quiet 
 if they would let him do so." 
 
 It is noteworthy that Lady Mary seems to have been 
 a favourite not only with George I., but — which was 
 unusual — with his son and his son's wife. Princess 
 Caroline, afterwards the stanch ally of Walpole. 
 Yet we do not find either of them spared any more 
 than George I. Perhaps the sketch was written 
 before the author was on intimate terms with Princess 
 Caroline ; yet its language shows in a small compass 
 how Lady Mary contrived to make enemies. It 
 would be hard to write more contemptuously than 
 she does ; still she had certainly no cause of enmity 
 towards the royal family, and their sole defect was 
 stupidity, for which she had a natural intolerance. 
 
 *' I have not yet given the character of the Prince. 
 
58 Early Life and Marriage 
 
 The fire of his temper appeared in every look and 
 gesture ; which, being unhappily under the direction of 
 a small understanding, was every day throwing him 
 upon some indiscretion. He was naturally sincere, 
 and his pride told him that he was placed above con- 
 straint ; not reflecting that a high rank carries along 
 with it ' a necessity of a more decent and regular 
 behaviour than is expected from those who are not 
 set in so conspicuous a light. He was so far from 
 being of that opinion, that he looked on all the men 
 and women he saw as creatures he might kick or kiss 
 for his diversion ; and, whenever he met with any 
 opposition in those designs, he thought his opposers 
 impudent rebels to the will of God, who created them 
 for his use, and judged of the merit of all people by 
 their ready submission to his orders, or the relation 
 they had to his person. And in this view he looked 
 upon the Princess as the most meritorious of her sex ; 
 and she took care to keep him in that sentiment by all 
 the arts she was mistress of. He had married her by 
 inclination ; his goOjd-natured father had been so com- 
 plaisant to let him choose a wife for himself. She was 
 of the house of Anspach, and brought him no great 
 addition either of money or alliance ; but was at that 
 time esteemed a German beauty, and had that genius 
 which qualified her for the government of a fool, and 
 made her despicable in the eyes of all men of sense ; I 
 mean a low cunning, which gave her an inclination to 
 cheat all the people she conversed with, and often 
 cheated herself in the first place, by showing her the 
 
Early Life and Marriage 59 
 
 wrong side of her interest, not having understanding 
 enough to observe that falsehood in conversation, hke 
 red on the face, should be used very seldom and very 
 sparingly, or they destroy that interest and beauty they 
 are designed to heighten. 
 
 " Her first thought on her marriage was to secure to 
 herself the sole and whole direction of her spouse ; and 
 to that purpose [she] counterfeited the most extrava- 
 gant fondness for his person ; yet, at the same time, so 
 devoted to his pleasures (which she often told him were 
 the rule of all her thoughts and actions), that whenever 
 he thought proper to find them with other women, she 
 even loved whoever was instrumental to his entertain- 
 ment, and never resented anything but what appeared 
 to her a want of respect for him ; and in this light she 
 really could not help taking notice that the presents 
 made to her on her wedding were not worthy of his 
 bride, and at least she ought to have had all his 
 mother's jewels. This was enough to make him lose 
 all respect to his indulgent father. He downright 
 abused his ministers, and talked impertinently to his 
 old grandmother, the Princess Sophia ; which ended in 
 such a coldness towards all his family as left him en- 
 tirely under the government of his wife." 
 
 We owe to Lady Louisa Stuart, who alone, besides 
 her mother, seems to have been allowed to look into 
 Lady Mary's Diary, the account of a curious adventure 
 at one of the little evening parties which George L 
 held with his German favourites : 
 
 *' She [Lady Mary] had on one evening a par- 
 
6o Early Life and Marriage 
 
 ticular engagement that made her wish to be dis- 
 missed unusually early ; she explained her reasons 
 to the Duchess of Kendal, and the Duchess informed 
 the King, who, after a few complimentary remonstrances, 
 appeared to acquiesce. But when he saw her about to 
 take her leave, he began battling the point afresh, de- 
 claring it was unfair and perfidious to cheat him in 
 such a manner, and saying n:iany other fine things, in 
 spite of which she at last contrived to escape. At the 
 foot of the great stairs she ran against Secretary Craggs 
 just coming in, who stopped her to inquire what was 
 the matter — were the company put off? She told him 
 why she went away, and how urgently the King had 
 pressed her to stay longer ; possibly dwelling on that 
 head with some small complacency. Mr. Craggs made 
 no remark ; but, when he had heard all, snatching her 
 up in his arms as a nurse carries a child, he ran at full 
 speed with her upstairs, deposited her within the ante- 
 chamber, kissed both her hands respectfully (still not 
 saying a word), and vanished. The pages seeing her 
 returned, they knew not how, hastily threw open the 
 inner doors, and, before she had recovered her breath, 
 she found herself again in the King's presence. ^ Ah ! 
 la rcvoila /' cried he and the Duchess, extremely pleased, 
 and began thanking her for her obliging change of 
 mind. The motto on all palace-gates is * Hush I' as 
 Lady Mary very well knew. She had not to learn that 
 mystery and caution ever spread their awful wings over 
 the precincts of a Court ; where nobody knows what 
 dire mischief may ensue from one unlucky syllable 
 
Early Life and Marriage 6i 
 
 blabbed about anything, or about nothing, at a wrong 
 time. But she was bewildered, fluttered, and entirely 
 off her guard ; so, beginning giddily with * Oh Lord, 
 sir, I have been so frightened !' she told his majesty the 
 whole story exactly as she would have told it to anyone 
 else. He had not done exclaiming, nor his Germans 
 wondering, when again the door flew open, and the 
 attendants announced Mr. Secretary Craggs, who, but 
 that moment arrived, it should seem, entered with the 
 usual obeisance, and as composed an air as if nothing 
 had happened. ^ Mais comment done, Monsieur Craggs,'' 
 said the King, going up to him, * est-ce que c'est I'usage de 
 ce pays de porter des belles dames comme un sac de froment?^ 
 ' Is it the custom of this country to carry about fair 
 ladies like a sack of wheat ?' The minister, struck 
 dumb by this unexpected attack, stood a minute or 
 two not knowing which way to look ; then, recovering 
 his self-possession, answered with a low bow, ' There is 
 nothing I would not do for your majesty's satisfaction.' 
 This was coming off tolerably well ; but he did not for- 
 give the tell-tale culprit, in whose ear, watching his oppor- 
 tunity when the King turned from them, he muttered a 
 bitter reproach, with a round oath to enforce it ; 'which 
 I durst not resent,' continued she, ' for I had drawn it 
 upon myself; and indeed I was heartily vexed at my 
 own imprudence.' " 
 
 But in the Hanoverian Court, which, if not decorous, 
 was certainly dull. Lady Mary was not long to remain. 
 She was destined to see and recount far more interest- 
 ing scenes. 
 
62 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE EMBASSY TO TURKEY 
 
 The Letters during the Embassy — Journey to Vienna — Rotterdam 
 — Relics at Cologne — Free Cities and Despotism — Etiquette at 
 Ratisbon — Letters from Pope — Viennese Houses — Opera at 
 Vienna — Court Dress — The Empress — Vienna Etiquette — 
 Journey to Dresden — The Post in Germany— Hanover and the 
 Court — Stoves — Return to Vienna — Journey through Hungary — 
 — Hungarian Peasants — A Liberal Turk— A Letter to Princess 
 Caroline — The Baths at Sofia— The Sultan — The Janissaries — 
 Pastoral . Scenes at Adrianople — Theocritus and Homer — 
 Inoculation — The Fair Fatima — Procession of the Trades — 
 Constantinople — Greek Antiquities — Village of Belgrade — 
 — Climate of Pera — Turkish Women — The Seraglio — Turkish 
 Palaces — Voyage to Genoa — The Court of Turin — Mont Cenis 
 — Misery of France — Perilous Crossing — The Lady and her 
 Lace — Home again — Pope's " Lovers struck by Lightning." 
 
 The letters written by Lady Mary during the embassy 
 to Constantinople are not perhaps the most interest- 
 ing part of her correspondence ; for they give rather 
 too much useful information and too little of the 
 personality of their writer ; and there is reason for 
 supposing them to be somewhat altered, or indeed 
 re-written, for publication. Still, they probably re- 
 present the substance of the letters actually sent, since 
 they were reconstructed from the Diary, which must 
 
The Embassy to Turkey 63 
 
 have related the same things in much the same way as 
 the letters written from day to day. 
 
 In the summer of 1716 Mr. Edward Wortley 
 Montagu set out with his wife, child and suite, for the 
 long journey to Constantinople. As at first intended, 
 he was to go to Vienna, and after having been placed in 
 possession of the views of the Emperor's Ministers, to 
 proceed to Turkey, and, if possible, arrange for the close 
 of the war then raging. As so many English travellers 
 have done since, Lady Mary went to Rotterdam, and 
 was charmed with the Dutch neatness and cleanliness, 
 ,: '* My arrival at Rotterdam presented me a new 
 scene of pleasure. All the streets are paved with broad 
 stones, and before the meanest artificer's doors seats of 
 various-coloured marbles, and so neatly kept, that, I 
 will assure you, I almost walked all over the town 
 yesterday, incognita, in my slippers, without receiving 
 one spot of dirt ; and you may see the Dutch maids 
 washing the pavement of the streets with more applica- 
 tion than ours do our bed-chambers. The town seems 
 so full of people, with such busy faces, all in motion, 
 that I can hardly fancy that it is not some celebrated 
 fair ; but I see it is every day the same. 'Tis certain 
 no town can be more advantageously situated for com- 
 merce. Here are seven large canals, on which the 
 merchants' ships come up to the very doors of their 
 houses. The shops and warehouses are of a surprising 
 neatness and magnificence, filled with an incredible 
 quantity of fine merchandise, and so much cheaper 
 than what we see in England, I have much ado to 
 
64 The Embassy to T2L7'key 
 
 persuade myself I am still so near it. Here is neither 
 dirt nor beggary to be seen. One is not shocked with 
 those loathsome cripples, so common in London, nor 
 teazed with the importunities of idle fellows and wenches, 
 that choose to be nasty and lazy. The common servants 
 and little shopwomen here are more nicely clean than 
 most of our ladies ; and the great variety of neat dresses 
 (every woman dressing her head after her own fashion) is 
 an- additional pleasure in seeing the town."^ 
 
 From Rotterdam she went by Nimeguen, which re- 
 minded her greatly of Nottingham, to Cologne, where 
 the profusion of relics aroused very mundane sentiments 
 in her. 
 
 *' Having never before seen anything of that nature, 
 I could not enough admire the magnificence of the 
 altars, the rich images of the saints (all massy silver), 
 and the enchassures of the relics ; though I could not 
 help murmuring, in my heart, at that profusion of 
 pearls, diamonds, and rubies^ bestowed on the adorn- 
 ment of rotten teeth, dirty rags, etc. I own that I 
 had wickedness enough to covet St. Ursula's pearl 
 necklaces ; though perhaps it was no wickedness at 
 all, an image not being certainly one's neighbour ; but I 
 went yet farther, and wished even she herself converted 
 into dressing-plate, and a great St. Christopher I 
 imagined would have looked very well in a cistern." 
 
 Her Whig principles were evidently strengthened 
 by the contrast between the '' free cities " of the 
 empire and the towns under princely rule. '' I have 
 already passed a large part of Germany, have seen all 
 
The Embassy to Turkey 65 
 
 that is remarkable in Cologne, Frankfort, Wurtsburg, 
 and this place [Nuremberg], and 'tis impossible not to 
 observe the difference between the free towns and 
 those under the government of absolute princes, as all 
 the Httle sovereigns of Germany are. In the first, 
 there appears an air of commerce and plenty. The 
 streets are well built, and full of people neatly and 
 plainly dressed. The shops loaded with merchandise, 
 and the commonalty clean and cheerful. In the other, 
 a sort of shabby finery, a number of dirty people of 
 quality tawdered out ; narrow, nasty streets out of 
 repair, wretchedly thin of inhabitants, and above half 
 of the common sort asking alms." 
 
 Lady Mary was compelled by a cold to stay some 
 days at Ratisbon, where the Diet of the empire then 
 sat. She seems to have been much amused by the 
 ridiculous formalities of German diplomatic society. 
 
 I "You know that all the nobility of this place are 
 envoys from different states. Here are a great number 
 of them, and they might pass their time agreeably 
 enough, if they were less delicate on the point of 
 ceremony. But, instead of joining in the design of 
 making the town as pleasant to one another as they 
 can, and improving their little societies, they amuse 
 themselves no other way than with perpetual quarrels, 
 which they take care to eternise, by leaving them 
 to their successors ; and an envoy to Ratisbon receives, 
 regularly, half a dozen quarrels among the perquisites 
 of his employment. 
 
 " You may be sure the ladies are not wanting, on 
 
 5 
 
66 The Ejnbassy to Tit7'key 
 
 their side, in cherishing and improving these important 
 piques, which divide the town almost into as many 
 parties as there are famihes, and they choose rather to 
 suffer the mortification of sitting almost alone on their 
 assembly nights, than to recede one jot from their 
 pretensions. I have not been here above a week, and 
 yet I have heard from almost every one of them the 
 whole history of their wrongs, and dreadful complaints 
 of the injustice of their neighbours, in hopes to draw 
 me to their party. But I think it very prudent to 
 remain neuter, though, if I was to stay among them, 
 there would be no possibility of continuing so, their 
 quarrels running so high, they will not be civil to those 
 that visit their adversaries. The foundation of these 
 everlasting disputes turns entirely upon place, and the 
 title of Excellency, which they all pretend to ; and, 
 what is very hard, will give it to nobody. For my 
 part, I could not forbear advising them (for the public 
 good) to give the title of Excellency to every body, 
 which would include receiving it from every body ; but 
 the very mention of such a dishonourable peace was 
 received with as much indignation as Mrs. Blackacre* 
 did the notion of a reference ; and I began to think 
 myself ill-natured, to offer to take from them, in a 
 town where there are so few diversions, so entertaining 
 an amusement. I know that my peaceable disposition 
 already gives me a very ill-figure, and that it is publicly 
 whispered, as a piece of impertinent pride in me, that 
 I have hitherto been saucily civil to everybody, as if I 
 * A litigious lady in Wycherley's comedy, " The Plain Dealer." 
 
The E)} lb assy to Tiirkey 67 
 
 thought nobody good enough to quarrel with. I should 
 be obliged to change my behaviour if I did not intend 
 to pursue my journey in a few days." / 
 
 From Ratisbon down the Danube to Vienna the 
 party travelled by boat ; and what seems to have 
 struck Lady Mary most at Vienna was the custom of 
 occupying " flats " in the houses — a thing then un- 
 heard of in England. 
 
 ''This town, which has the honour of being the 
 Emperor's residence, did not at all answer my ideas 
 of it, being much less than I expected to find it ; the 
 streets are very close, and so narrow, one cannot 
 observe the fine fronts of the palaces, though many 
 of them very well deserve observation, being truly 
 magnificent, all built of fine white stone, and excessive 
 high, the town being so much too little for the number 
 of the people that desire to live in it, the builders seem 
 to have projected to repair that misfortune, by clapping 
 one town on the top of another, most of the houses 
 being of five, and some of them of six stories. You may 
 easily imagine, that the streets being so narrow, the 
 upper rooms are extremely dark ; and, what is an 
 inconveniency much more intolerable, in my opinion, 
 there is no house that has so few as five or six families 
 in it. The apartments of the greatest ladies, and even 
 of the ministers of state, are divided but by a partition 
 from that of a tailor or a shoemaker ; and I know no- 
 body that has above two floors in any house, one for 
 their own use, and one higher for their servants. Those 
 that have houses of their own, let out the rest of them 
 
 5—2 
 
68 TJie Embassy to Turkey 
 
 to whoever will take them ; thus the great stairs (which 
 are all of stone) are as common and as dirty as the 
 street. "Tis true, when you have once travelled through 
 them, nothing can be more surprisingly magnificent 
 than the apartments. They are commonly a suite of 
 eight or ten large rooms, all inlaid, the doors and 
 windows richly carved and gilt, and the furniture such 
 as is seldom seen in the palaces of sovereign princes in 
 other countries — the hangings the finest tapestry of 
 Brussels, prodigious large looking-glasses in silver 
 frames, fine Japan tables, beds, chairs, canopies, and 
 window curtains of the richest Genoa damask or 
 velvet, almost covered with gold lace or embroidery. 
 The whole made gay by pictures, and vast jars of 
 Japan china, and almost in every room large lustres of 
 rock crystal. 
 
 " I have already had the honour of being invited to 
 dinner by several of the first people of quality ; and 
 I must do them the justice to sa}^ the good taste and 
 magnificence of their tables very well answers to that of 
 their furniture. I have been more than once entertained 
 with fifty dishes of meat, all served in silver, and well 
 dressed ; the dessert proportionable, served in the finest 
 china. But the variety and richness of their wines is 
 what appears the most surprising. The constant way 
 is, to lay a list of their names upon the plates of the 
 guests, along with the napkins ; and I have counted 
 several times to the number of eighteen different sorts, 
 all exquisite in their kinds." 
 
 At Vienna she seems to have received a letter of 
 
llie Embassy to Turkey 69 
 
 adoration from Pope, whose friendship for her was 
 probably of very recent date. The poet protested that 
 all his letters were ''the most impartial representations 
 of a free heart," a mere '' thinking aloud." What affects 
 to be the answer to this letter on Lady Mary's part 
 passes over slightly the protestations of Pope, and goes 
 on to give an account of the gaieties of Vienna — an 
 account probably copied out of the Diary later on. 
 
 *' I have so far wandered from the discipline of the 
 Church of England to have been last Sunda}^ at the 
 opera, which was performed in the garden of the 
 Favorita ; and I was so much pleased with it, I have 
 not yet repented my seeing it. Nothing of that kind 
 ever was more magnificent ; and I can easily believe 
 what I am told, that the decorations and habits cost 
 the Emperor thirty thousand pounds sterling. The 
 stage was built over a very large canal, and, at the 
 beginning of the second act, divided into two parts, 
 discovering the water, on which there immediately 
 came, from different parts, two fleets of little gilded 
 vessels, that gave the representation of a naval fight. 
 It is not eas}^ to imagine the beauty of this scene, 
 which I took particular notice of But all the rest 
 were perfectly fine in their kind. The story of the 
 opera is the Enchantments of Alcina, which gives 
 opportunity for a great variety of machines, and 
 changes of the scene, which are performed with a 
 surprising swiftness. The theatre is so large, that it 
 is hard to carry the eye to the end of it ; and the habits 
 in the utmost magnificence, to the number of one 
 
70 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 hundred and eight. No house could hold such large 
 decorations ; but the ladies all sitting in the open air, 
 exposes them to great inconveniences, for there is but 
 one canopy for the imperial family; and the first night 
 it was represented, a shower of rain happening, the 
 opera was broken off, and the company crowded away 
 in such confusion, I was almost squeezed to death." 
 
 As soon as her Court dress was ready. Lady Mary 
 went to call on the beautiful Elizabeth of Brunswick, 
 wife of the Emperor Charles VI. 
 
 " In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in a 
 gown, and adorned with a gorget and the other imple- 
 ments thereunto belonging : a dress very inconvenient, 
 but which certainly shows the neck and shape to great 
 advantage. I cannot forbear in this place giving you 
 some description of the fashions here, which are more 
 monstrous and contrary to all common sense and 
 reason than 'tis possible for you to imagine. They 
 build certain fabrics of gauze on their heads about a 
 yard high, consisting of three or four stories, fortified 
 with numberless yards of heavy ribbon. The founda- 
 tion of this structure is a thing they call a Bourle, which 
 is exactly of the same shape and kind, but about four 
 times as big as those rolls our prudent milk-maids make 
 use of to fix their pails upon. This machine they 
 cover with their own hair, which they mix with a great 
 deal of false, it being a particular beauty to have their 
 heads too large to go into a moderate tub. Their hair 
 is prodigiously powdered, to conceal the mixture, and 
 set out with three or four rows of bodkins (wonderfully 
 
The Embassy to Tm^key 71 
 
 large, that stick [out] two or three inches from their 
 hair), made of diamonds, pearls, red, green, and yellow 
 stones, that it certainly requires as much art and 
 experience to carry the load upright as to dance upon 
 May-day with the garland. Their whalebone petti- 
 coats outdo ours by several yards' circumference, and 
 cover some acres of ground. 
 
 '' You may easily suppose how much this extra- 
 ordinary dress sets off and improves the natural ugli- 
 ness with which God Almighty has been pleased to 
 endow them all generally. Even the lovely Empress 
 herself is obliged to comply in some degree with these 
 absurd fashions, which they would not quit for all the 
 world. I had a private audience (according to cere- 
 mony) of half an hour, and then all the other ladies 
 were permitted to come [and] make their court. I was 
 perfectly charmed with the Empress : I cannot, how- 
 ever, tell you that her features are regular ; her eyes 
 are not large, but have a lively look, full of sweetness ; 
 her complexion the finest I ever saw ; her nose and 
 forehead well made, but her mouth has ten thousand 
 charms that touch the soul. When she smiles, 'tis 
 with a beauty and sweetness that force adoration." 
 
 And so on, in a rather rapturous strain. Her com- 
 ments on the course of love, true or otherwise, at 
 Vienna are, perhaps, more entertaining, though too 
 free in tone to quote at length. The passion for pre- 
 cedence seems to have been as great there as at 
 Ratisbon. 
 
 '' Even their amours and their quarrels are carried 
 
72 TJie Embassy to Turkey 
 
 on with a surprising temper, and they are never Uvely 
 but upon points of ceremony. There, I own, they show 
 all their passions ; and 'tis not long since two coaches, 
 meeting in a narrow street at night, the ladies in them 
 not being able to adjust the ceremonial of which should 
 go back, sat there with equal gallantry till two in the 
 morning, and were both so fulh' determined to die 
 upon the spot, rather than yield in a point of that im- 
 portance, that the street would never have been cleared 
 till their deaths if the Emperor had not sent his guards 
 to part them ; and even then the}' refused to stir, till 
 the expedient was found out of taking them both out in 
 chairs exactly at the same moment ; after which it was 
 with some difficulty the pas. was decided between the 
 two coachmen, no less tenacious of their rank than the 
 ladies." 
 
 The plan of Mr. Wortley Montagu's journey was 
 changed, and instead of going from Vienna to Leghorn 
 and thence by sea, he travelled to Hanover, to see 
 George I., and then returned to Vienna. The journey 
 through Prague to Dresden was not without its perils, 
 as the following extract shows : 
 
 '' You may imagine how heartily I was tired with 
 twenty-four hours' post travelling, without sleep or 
 refreshment (for I can never sleep in a coach, however 
 fatigued). We passed by moonshine the frightful pre- 
 cipices that divide Bohemia from Saxony, at the bottom 
 of which runs the ri\er Elbe ; but I cannot say that I 
 had reason to fear drowning in it, being perfectly con- 
 vinced that, in case of a tumble, it was utterly impos- 
 
The Embassy to Tui^key 73 
 
 sible to come alive to the bottom. In many places the 
 road is so narrow that I could not discern an inch of 
 space between the wheels and the precipice. Yet I was 
 
 so good a wife not to wake Mr. W , who was fast 
 
 asleep by my side, to make him share in my fears, 
 since the danger was unavoidable, till I perceived, by 
 the light of the moon, our postilions nodding on horse- 
 back, while the horses were on a full gallop, and I 
 thought it very convenient to call out to desire them to 
 look where they were going. My calling waked Mr. 
 
 W , and he was much more surprised than myself 
 
 at the situation we were in, and assured me that he had 
 passed the Alps five times in different places without 
 ever having gone on a road so dangerous. I have been 
 told since it is common to find the bodies of travellers 
 in the Elbe ; but, thank God, that was not our destiny; 
 and we came safe to Dresden, so much tired with fear 
 and fatigue it was not possible for me to compose my- 
 self to write." 
 
 One detail of this journey throws an interesting light 
 on the postal arrangements of the time. '* I can assure 
 you the pacquet at Prague was tied behind my chaise, 
 and in that manner conveyed to Dresden. The secrets 
 of half the country were at my mercy, if I had had 
 any curiosity for them." 
 
 Hanover was crowded with the Court of George I., 
 whose new greatness as King of England was over- 
 large for the Electoral capital. The German beauties 
 seem to have been somewhat monotonous. 
 
 " All the women have literally rosy cheeks, snowy 
 
74 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 foreheads and bosoms, jet eye-brows, and scarlet lips, 
 to which they generally add coal-black hair. These 
 perfections never leave them till the hour of their 
 deaths, and have a very fine effect by candle-light ; but 
 I could wish they were handsome with a little more 
 variety. They resemble one another as much as Mrs. 
 Salmon's Court of Great Britain,* and are in as much 
 danger of melting away by too near approaching the 
 fire, which they for that reason carefully avoid, though 
 it is now such excessive cold weather that I believe 
 they suffer extremely by that piece of self-denial." 
 
 The German stoves particularly charmed Lady 
 Mar}', and she was resolved to introduce them into 
 England on her return. 
 
 ** I was particularly surprised at the vast number of 
 orange trees, much larger than I have ever seen in 
 England, though this climate is certainly colder. But 
 I had more reason to wonder that night at the King's 
 table. There was brought to him from a gentleman of 
 this countr}^ two large baskets full of ripe oranges and 
 lemons of different sorts, many of which were quite new 
 to me ; and, what I thought worth all the rest, two ripe 
 ananas, which, to my taste, are a fruit perfectly delicious- 
 You know they are naturally the growth of Brazil, and 
 I could not imagine how they could (iome there but by 
 enchantment. Upon enquiry, I learnt that they have 
 brought their stoves to such perfection, they lengthen 
 the summer as long as they please, giving to every plant 
 the degree of heat it would receive from the sun in its 
 * The Madame Tussaud's of the period. 
 
The Ejiibassy to Turkey 75 
 
 native soil. The effect is very near the same ; I am 
 surprised we do not practise in England so useful an 
 invention. 
 
 "This reflection naturally leads me to consider our 
 obstinacy in shaking with cold six months in the year, 
 rather than make use of stoves, which are certainly one 
 of the greatest conveniences of life; and so far from 
 spoiling the form of a room, they add very much to the 
 magnificence of it, when they are painted and gilt, as at 
 Vienna, or at Dresden, where they are often in the 
 shape of china jars, statues, or fine cabinets, so 
 naturall}^ represented, they are not to be distinguished." 
 
 From Hanover, instead of returning to England, as 
 her friends hoped, Lady Mary accompanied her hus- 
 band to Vienna. "Is Eurydice once more snatched 
 to the shades ?" mourned Pope. " If ever mortal had 
 reason to hate the King it is I ; for it is my particular 
 misfortune to be almost the only innocent man whom 
 he has made to suffer, both by his government at home 
 and his negotiations abroad " — Pope being subject to 
 disabilities as a Roman Catholic, and robbed of his 
 friend by the mission to Constantinople. The Embassy 
 reached Vienna at the end of 1716, and Mr. Wortley 
 Montagu determined to lose no time, but proceed 
 through Hungary. The Danube being frozen, the 
 journey had to be made by land, and the great Prince 
 Eugene of Savoy and all Lady Mary's other friends 
 charged her earnestly not to set out till spring ; but she 
 was determined to go. The journey proved far less 
 terrible than was anticipated, and the account of it is 
 
76 The Embassy to Ttirkey 
 
 therefore uninteresting, being a collection of historical 
 notes and descriptions too much savouring of a guide- 
 book. Hungary at that time was an unknown wilder- 
 ness to English people, and such details were new. 
 Some of the descriptions, however, ma}- be still of 
 interest : 
 
 ''The few people that inhabit Hungary live easily 
 enough ; they have no money, but the woods and 
 plains afford them provision in great abundance : the}^ 
 were ordered to give us all things necessary, even what 
 
 horses we pleased to demand, gratis; but Mr. W 
 
 [Wortley] would not oppress the poor country people 
 by making use of this order, and always paid them the 
 full worth of what we had from them. They were so 
 surprised at this unexpected generosity, w^hich they are 
 very little used to, they always pressed upon us, at 
 parting, a dozen of fat pheasants, or something of that 
 sort, for a present. Their dress is very primitive, being 
 only a plain sheep's skin, without other dressing than 
 being dried in the sun, and a cap and boots of the same 
 stuff. You may imagine this lasts them for many winters ; 
 and thus they have very little occasion for money.'" 
 
 After some delay at Peterwaradein, occupied in 
 arranging for the reception of the Embassy by the 
 Turks, the Ambassador and his train arrived at Bel- 
 grade, then held by the Turks, though next year it was 
 captured by Prince Eugene, after the greatest of his 
 victories. At Belgrade Lady Mary fell in with one of 
 those Europeanized modern Turks who have become 
 more common since. 
 
The Embassy to Ttirkey yj 
 
 " My only diversion is the conversation of our host, 
 Achmet Beg, a title something like that of Count in 
 Germany. His father w^as a great Pasha, and he has 
 been educated in the most polite Eastern learning, being 
 perfectly skilled in the Arabic and Persian languages, 
 and is an extraordinary scribe, which they call effendi. 
 This accomplishment makes way to the greatest pre- 
 ferments ; but he has had the good sense to prefer an 
 easy, quiet, secure life, to all the dangerous honours of 
 the Porte. He sups with us every night, and drinks 
 wine very freely. You cannot imagine how much he is 
 delighted with the Uberty of conversing with me. He 
 has explained to me many pieces of Arabian poetry, 
 which, I observed, are in numbers not unlike ours, 
 generally alternate verse, and of a very musical sound. 
 Their expressions of love are very passionate and lively. 
 I am so much pleased with them, I really believe I 
 should learn to read Arabic if I was to stay here a few 
 months. He has a very good library of their books of 
 all kinds ; and, as he tells me, spends the greatest part 
 of his life there. I pass for a great scholar with him, 
 by relating to him some of the Persian tales, which I 
 find are genuine."^ At first he believed I understood 
 Persian. I have frequent disputes with him concerning 
 the difference of our customs, particularly the confine- 
 ment of women. He assures me there is nothing at all 
 in it ; only, says he, we have the advantage, that when 
 our wives cheat us nobody knows it. He has wit, and 
 is more polite than many Christian men of quality. I 
 * Translated by Petit de la Croix. 
 
yS The Embassy to Ttirkcy 
 
 am very much entertained with him. He has had the 
 curiosity to make one of our servants set him an 
 alphabet of our letters, and can already write a good 
 Roman hand." 
 
 After awaiting orders some time at Belgrade, the 
 Embassy moved on by Nish, Sofia, and Philippopolis 
 to Adrianople, a country, as it seemed to Lady Mary, 
 "the finest in the world." ''But this climate," so she 
 writes in a rather stiff letter to Princess Caroline, "as 
 happy as it seems, can never be preferred to England, 
 with all its snows and frosts, while we are blessed with 
 an easy government, under a King who makes his own 
 happiness consist in the liberty of his people, and 
 chooses rather to be looked upon as their father than 
 as their master." Perhaps Lady Mary expected this 
 letter to be opened in the post ; for we may imagine 
 that this was hardly her private opinion of George I., 
 still less the opinion of his daughter-in-law. 
 
 Somewhat curious is Lady Mary's first experience of 
 a Turkish bath, sent ostensibly to a lady unnamed : 
 
 " I won't trouble you with a relation of our tedious 
 journey; but I must not omit what I saw remarkable 
 at Sophia, one of the most beautiful towns in the 
 Turkish empire, and famous for its hot baths, that are 
 resorted to both for diversion and health. I stopped 
 here one day on purpose to see them. Designing to go 
 incognita, I hired a Turkish coach. These voitures are 
 not at all like ours, but much more convenient for the 
 country, the heat being so great that glasses would be 
 very troublesome. They are made a good deal in the 
 

The Embassy to Turkey 79 
 
 manner of the Dutch coaches, having wooden lattices 
 painted and gilded ; the inside being painted with 
 baskets and nosegays of flowers, intermixed commonly 
 with little poetical mottoes. They are covered all over 
 with scarlet cloth, lined with silk, and very often richly 
 embroidered and fringed. This covering entirely hides 
 the persons in them, but may be thrown back at 
 pleasure, and the ladies peep through the lattices. 
 They hold four people very conveniently, seated on 
 cushions, but not raised. 
 
 ** In one of these covered waggons, I went to the 
 bagnio about ten o^clock. It was already full of women. 
 It is built of stone, in the shape of a dome, with no 
 windows but in the roof, which gives light enough, 
 There were five of these domes joined together, the 
 outmost being less than the rest, and serving only as a 
 hall, where the portress stood at the door. Ladies of 
 quality generally give this woman the value of a crown 
 or ten shillings ; and I did not forget that ceremony. 
 The next room is a very large one paved with marble, 
 and all round it, raised, two sofas of marble, one above 
 another. There were four fountains of cold water in 
 this room, falling first into marble basins, and then 
 running on the floor in little channels made for that 
 purpose, which carried the streams into the next room, 
 something less than this, with the same sort of marble 
 sofas, but so hot with steams of sulphur proceeding 
 from the baths joining to it, it was impossible to stay 
 there with one's clothes on. The two other domes were 
 the hot baths, one of which had cocks of cold water 
 
^o The EiJibassy to Turkey 
 
 turning into it, to temper it to what degree of warmth 
 the bathers have a mind to. 
 
 " I was in my travelling habit, which is a riding 
 dress, and certainly appeared very extraordinary to 
 them. Yet there was not one of them who showed the 
 least surprise or impertinent curiosity, but received me 
 with all the obliging civility possible. I know no 
 European Court where the ladies would have behaved 
 themselves in so polite a manner to a stranger. I be- 
 lieve, in the whole, there were two hundred women, 
 and yet none of those disdainful smiles, or satiric 
 whispers, that never fail in our assemblies when any- 
 body appears that is not exactly in the fashion. They 
 repeated over and over to me, ' Uzelle, pek uzelle,' 
 which is nothing but ' Charming, very charming.' The 
 first sofas w^ere covered with cushions and rich carpets, 
 on w^hich sat the ladies ; and on the second, their 
 slaves behind them. There w^ere many amongst 
 them as exactly proportioned as ever any goddess 
 was drawn by the pencil of Guido or Titian — and 
 most of their skins shiningly white, only adorned by 
 their beautiful hair divided into many tresses, hanging 
 on their shoulders, braided either with pearl or ribbon, 
 perfectly representing the figures of the Graces. 
 , '* Some were in conversation, some working, others 
 drinking coffee or sherbet, and many negligently 
 lying on their cushions, while their slaves (generally 
 pretty girls of seventeen or eighteen) were employed in 
 braiding their hair in several pretty fancies. In short, 
 it is the women's coffee-house, where all the news of 
 
The Embassy to Ttir/cey 8i 
 
 the town is told, scandal invented, etc. They generally 
 take this diversion once a-week, and stay there at least 
 four or five hours, without getting cold by immediate 
 coming out of the hot bath into the cold room, which 
 was very surprising to me." 
 
 Lady Mary saw the Sultan, Achmet III., at Adrian- 
 ople, where he was residing in the spring of 1717. 
 
 ** I went yesterday with the French Embassadress* 
 to see the Grand Signiorf in his passage to the mosque. 
 He was preceded by a numerous guard of janissaries, 
 with vast white feathers on their heads, spahis and 
 bostangees (these are foot and horse guard), and the royal 
 gardeners, which are a very considerable body of men, 
 dressed in different habits of fine lively colours, that, at 
 a distance, they appeared like a parterre of tulips. 
 After them the aga of the janissaries, in a robe of purple 
 velvet, lined with silver tissue, his horse led by two 
 slaves richly dressed. Next him the kyzldr-aga (your 
 ladyship knows this is the chief guardian of the seraglio 
 ladies) in a deep yellow cloth (which suited very well 
 to his black face) lined with sables, and last his Sub- 
 limity himself, in green lined with the fur of a black 
 Muscovite fox, which is supposed worth a thousand 
 pounds sterling, mounted on a fine horse, with furniture 
 embroidered with jewels. Six more horses richly fur- 
 nished were led after him ; and two of his principal 
 courtiers bore, one his gold, and the other his silver 
 coffee-pot, on a staff; another carried a silver stool on 
 his head for him to sit on. 
 
 ^ Madame de Bonnac. f Sultan Achmet III. 
 
 6 
 
82 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 *' It would be too tedious to tell your ladyship the 
 various dresses and turbans by which their rank is dis- 
 tinguished ; but they were all extremely rich and gay, to 
 the number of some thousands ; [so] that, perhaps, 
 there cannot be seen a more beautiful procession. The 
 Sultan appeared to us a handsome man of about forty, 
 with a very graceful air, but something severe in his 
 countenance, his eyes very full and black. He hap- 
 pened to stop under the window where we stood, and 
 (I suppose being told who we were) looked upon us very 
 attentively, [so] that we had fall leisure to consider him^ 
 and the French Embassadress agreed with me as to his 
 good mien : I see that lady very often ; she is young, 
 and her conversation would be a great relief to me, if 1 
 could persuade her to live without those forms and 
 ceremonies that make life formal and tiresome. But 
 she is so delighted with her guards, her four-and-twenty 
 footmen, gentlemen ushers, etc., that she would rather 
 die than make me a visit without them : not to reckon a 
 coachful of attending damsels yclep'd maids of honour. 
 What vexes me is, that as long as she will visit with a 
 troublesome equipage, I am obliged to do the same : 
 however, our mutual interest makes us much together. 
 
 '' I went with her the other day all round the town, 
 in an open gilt chariot, with our joint train of atten- 
 dants, preceded by our guards, who might have sum- 
 moned the people to see what they had never seen, nor 
 ever would see again — two young Christian embassa- 
 dresses never yet having been in this country at the 
 same time, nor I believe ever will aq'ain. Your ladv- 
 
TJie Embassy to Turkey 83 
 
 ship may easily imagine that we drew a vast crowd of 
 spectators, but all silent as death. If any of them had 
 taken the liberties of our mob upon any strange sight, 
 our janissaries had made no scruple of falling on them 
 with their scimitars, without danger for so doing, being 
 above law. Yet these people have some good quali- 
 ties ; they are very zealous and faithful where they 
 serve, and look upon it as their business to fight for 
 you upon all occasions. Of this I had a very pleasant 
 instance in a village on this side Philippopolis, where we 
 were met by our domestic guard. I happened to 
 bespeak pigeons for my supper, upon which one of my 
 janissaries went immediately to the cadi (the chief civil 
 officer of the town), and ordered him to send in some 
 dozens. The poor man answered, that he had already 
 sent about, but could get none. My janissary, in the 
 height of his zeal for my service, immediately locked 
 him up prisoner in his room, telling him he deserved 
 death for his impudence, in offering to excuse his not 
 obeying my command ; but, out of respect to me, he 
 would not punish him but by my order, and accord- 
 ingly, came very gravely to me, to ask what should be 
 done to him ; adding, by way of compliment, that if I 
 pleased he would bring me his head. — This may give 
 you some idea of the unlimited power of these fellows, 
 who are all sworn brothers, and bound to revenge the 
 injuries done to one another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo, 
 or any part of the world ; and this inviolable league 
 makes them so powerful, the greatest man at the Court 
 never speaks to them but in a flattering tone ; and in 
 
 6 — 2 
 
84 The Embassy to Ttirkey 
 
 Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himself a 
 janissary, to secure his estate." 
 
 At Adrianople she also adopted the Turkish dress, 
 which she described to her sister at length, from 
 slippers to aigrette. 
 
 Her classical recollections were awakened by the 
 pastoral simplicity and Greek customs of the countr3\ 
 
 *' I am at this present writing in a house situated on 
 the banks of the Hebrus, which runs under my chamber 
 window. My garden is full of tall cypress-trees, upon 
 the branches of which several couple of true 
 turtles are saying soft things to one another from 
 morning to night. How naturally do boughs and 
 vows come into my head at this minute ! and must 
 not you confess, to my praise, that 'tis more than 
 ordinary discretion that can resist the wicked sugges- 
 tions of poetry, in a place where truth, for once, fur- 
 nishes all the ideas of pastoral? The summer is 
 already far advanced in this part of the world ; and, 
 for some miles round Adrianople, the whole ground is 
 laid out in gardens, and the banks of the river set with 
 rows of fruit-trees, under which all the most consider- 
 able Turks divert themselves every evening ; not with 
 walking, that is not one of their pleasures, but a set 
 party of them choose out a green spot, where the shade 
 is very thick, and there they spread a carpet, on which 
 they sit drinking their coffee, and generally attended 
 by some slave with a fine voice, or that plays on some 
 instrument. Every twenty paces you may see one of 
 these little companies listening to the dashing of the 
 
The Embassy to Titrkey 85 
 
 river ; and this taste is so universal, that the very 
 gardeners are not without it. I have often seen them 
 and their children sitting on the banks, and playing on 
 a rural instrument, perfectly answering the description 
 of the ancient fisUila, being composed of unequal reeds 
 with a simple but agreeable softness in the sound."" 
 
 This extract is from a letter supposed to be written 
 to Pope; and as his translation of the "Iliad" was 
 now appearing, his correspondent must, of course, refer 
 to those Greek poets of wliom her knowledge was but 
 slight — as appears by her reference to Theocritus, in 
 which she seems to forget that the pastoral life he de- 
 scribed was that of Sicily. 
 
 " I no longer look upon Theocritus as a romantic 
 writer; he has only given a plain image of the way of 
 life amongst the peasants of his country ; who, before 
 oppression had reduced them to want, were, I suppose, 
 all employed as the better sort of them are now. I 
 don't doubt, had he been born a Briton, his Idylliiims 
 had been filled with descriptions of threshing and 
 churning, both which are unknown here, the corn 
 being all trod out by oxen ; and butter (I speak it with 
 sorrow) unheard of. 
 
 " I read over your Homer here with an infinite 
 pleasure, and find several little passages explained, 
 that I did not before entirely comprehend the beauty 
 of; many of the customs, and much of the dress then 
 in fashion, being yet retained, and I don't wonder to 
 find more remains here of an age so distant, than is to 
 be found in any other country, the Turks not taking 
 
86 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 that pains to introduce their own manners as has been 
 generally practised by other nations, that imagine them- 
 selves more polite. It would be too tedious to you to 
 point out all the passages that relate to the present 
 customs. But I can assure you that the princesses and 
 great ladies pass their time at their looms, embroider- 
 ing veils and robes, surrounded by their maids, which 
 are always very numerous, in the same mianner as we 
 find Andromache and Helen described. The descrip- 
 tion of the belt of Menelaus exactly resembles those 
 that are now worn by the great men, fastened before 
 with broad golden clasps, and embroidered round with 
 rich work. The snowy veil that Helen throws over 
 her face is still fashionable ; and I never see (as I do 
 very often) half a dozen of old pashas with their reverend 
 beards, sitting basking in the sun, but I recollect good 
 King Priam and his counsellors. Their manner of 
 dancing is certainly the same that Diana is sung to 
 have danced on the banks of the Eurotas. The great 
 lady still leads the dance, and is followed by a troop of 
 young girls, who imitate her steps, and, if she sings, 
 make up the chorus. The tunes are extremely gay and 
 lively, yet with something in them wonderfully soft. 
 The steps are varied according to the pleasure of her 
 that leads the dance, but always in exact time, and 
 infinitely more agreeable than any of our dances, at 
 least in my opinion. I sometimes make one in the 
 train, but am not skilful enough to lead ; these are 
 Grecian dances, the Turkish being very different." 
 It is in a letter from Adrianople, dated like the rest. 
 
The E7nbassy to Turkey 87 
 
 April I, 1 7 17 (old style), Lady Mary gives an account 
 of the process of inoculation for the small-pox, which 
 she afterwards introduced into England. She calls the 
 practice "ingrafting." 
 
 "/I propos of distempers, I am going to tell you a 
 thing that I am sure will make you wish yourself here. 
 The small-pox, so fatal, and so general amongst us, is 
 here entirely harmless by the invention of ingrafting, 
 which is the term they give it. There is a set of old 
 women who make it their business to perform the 
 operation every autumn, in the month of September, 
 when the great heat is abated. People send to one 
 another to know if any of their family has a mind to 
 have the small-pox : they make parties for this purpose, 
 and when they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen 
 together), the old woman comes with a nut-shell full of 
 the matter of the best sort of small- pox, and asks what 
 veins you please to have opened. She immediately 
 rips open that you offer to her with a large needle 
 (which gives you no more pain than a common scratch), 
 and puts into the vein as much venom as can lie upon 
 the head of her needle, and after binds up the little 
 wound with a hollow bit of shell ; and in this manner 
 opens four or five veins. The Grecians have com- 
 monly the superstition of opening one in the middle of 
 the forehead, in each arm, and on the breast, to mark 
 the sign of the cross ; but this has a very ill effect, all 
 these wounds leaving little scars, and is not done by 
 those that are not superstitious, who choose to have 
 them in the legs, or that part of the arm that is con- 
 
88 TJie Embassy to Tu7'key 
 
 cealed. The children or young patients play together 
 all the rest of the day, and are in perfect health to the 
 eighth. Then the fever begins to seize them, and they 
 keep their beds two days, very seldom three. They 
 have very rarely above twenty or thirty in their faces, 
 which never mark ; and in eight days' time they are as 
 well as before their illness. Where they are wounded, 
 there remain running sores during the distemper, which 
 I don't doubt is a great relief to it. Every year thou- 
 sands undergo this operation : and the French Embas- 
 sador says pleasantly, that they take the small-pox here 
 by way of diversion, as they take the waters in other 
 countries." 
 
 If Lady Louisa Stuart's account of the grudging 
 reception of inoculation by the medical profession is 
 correct. Lady Mary's letter was indeed prophetic. 
 
 '* I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this 
 useful invention into fashion in England ; and I should 
 not fail to write to some of our doctors very particularly 
 about it, if I knew any one of them that I thought had 
 virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch of 
 their revenue for the good of mankind. But that dis- 
 temper is too beneficial to them not to expose to all 
 their resentment the hardy wight that should under- 
 take to put an end to it. Perhaps, if I live to return, 
 I may, however, have courage to war with them." 
 
 While Mr. Wortley Montagu was negotiating with 
 the Grand Vizier, Azem, and telling the Turks " plain 
 truths," his wife paid visits to the great Turkish ladies, 
 not, indeed, being admitted to the harem of the Grand 
 
The Embassy to Turkey 89 
 
 Signior, though more or less scandalous rumours after- 
 wards asserted that she had enjoyed that privilege. 
 But she visited the wife of the Grand Vizier and also 
 the fair Fatima, wife of the '' Kiyaya," or deputy of the 
 Vizier. With the latter lady she was quite enraptured. 
 '' I was met at the door by two black eunuchs, who led 
 me through a long gallery between two ranks of 
 beautiful young girls, with their hair finely plaited, 
 almost hanging to their feet, all dressed in fine light 
 damasks, brocaded with silver. I was sorry that 
 decency did not permit me to stop to consider them 
 nearer. But that thought was lost upon my entrance 
 into a large room, or rather pavihon, built round with 
 gilded sashes, which were most of them thrown up, 
 and the trees planted near them gave an agreeable 
 shade, which hindered the sun from being troublesome. 
 The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted round 
 their trunks, shedding a soft perfume, increased by a 
 white marble fountain playing sweet water in the lower 
 part of the room, which fell into three or four basins 
 with a pleasing sound. The roof was painted with all 
 sort of flowers, falling out of gilded baskets, that seemed 
 tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and 
 covered with fine Persian carpets, sat the Kiyaya's lady, 
 leaning on cushions of white satin, embroidered ; and 
 at her feet sat two young girls, the eldest about twelve 
 years old, lovely as angels, dressed perfectly rich, and 
 almost covered with jewels. But they were hardly 
 seen near the fair Fatima (for that is her name), so 
 much her beauty effaced everything. I have seen all 
 
QO The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 that has been called lovely either in England or 
 German}', and must own that I never saw anything so 
 gloriously beautiful, nor can I recollect a face that 
 would have been taken notice of near hers. She stood 
 up to receive me, saluting me after their fashion, 
 putting her hand upon her heart with a sweetness full 
 of majesty, that no Court breeding could ever give. 
 She ordered cushions to be given to me, and took care 
 to place me in the corner, which is the place of honour. 
 I confess, though the Greek lady had before given me 
 a great opinion of her beauty, I was so struck with 
 admiration, that I could not for some time speak to 
 her, being wholly taken up in gazing. That surprising 
 harmony of features! that charming result of the 
 whole ! that exact proportion of body ! that lovely 
 bloom of complexion unsullied by art ! the unutterable 
 enchantment of her smile ! But her eyes! — large and 
 black, with all the soft languishment of the blue ! every 
 turn of her face discovering some new charm." 
 
 The Sultan soon moved his camp from Adrianople, 
 in readiness for the campaign of 1717 ; but before 
 moving there was a procession of the tradesmen of 
 Adrianople, who were forced by custom to m.ake a 
 present to the Sultan when he took the field in person. 
 The description purports to be written to the Abbe 
 Conti, an Italian man of letters, whose acquaintance 
 Lady Mary had made in England. 
 
 " I took the pains of rising at six in the morning to 
 see that ceremon}-, which did not, however, begin till 
 eight. The Grand Signior was at the seraglio window, 
 
The E7nbassy to Tttrkty 91 
 
 to see the procession, which passed through all the 
 principal streets. It was preceded by an effendi 
 mounted on a camel, richly furnished, reading aloud 
 the Alcoran, finely bound, laid upon a cushion. He 
 was surrounded by a parcel of boys, in white, singing 
 some verses of it, followed by a man dressed in green 
 boughs, representing a clean husbandman sowing seed. 
 After him several reapers, with garlands of ears of corn, 
 as Ceres is pictured, with scythes in their hands, 
 seeming to mow. Then a little machine drawn by 
 oxen, in which was a windmill, and boys employed in 
 grinding corn, followed by another machine, drawn by 
 buffaloes, carrying an oven, and two more boys, one 
 employed in kneading the bread, and another in draw- 
 ing it out of the oven. These boys threw little cakes 
 on both sides among the crowd, and were followed by 
 the whole company of bakers, marching on foot, two 
 and two, in their best clothes, with cakes, loaves, 
 pasties, and pies of all sorts on their heads, and after 
 them two buffoons, or jack-puddings, with their faces 
 and clothes smeared with meal, who diverted the mob 
 with their antic gestures. In the same manner followed 
 all the companies of trade in their empire ; the nobler 
 sort, such as jewellers, mercers, etc., finely mounted, 
 and many of the pageants that represented their trades 
 perfectly magnificent ; among which the furriers' made 
 one of the great figures, being a very large machine, 
 set round with the skins of ermines, foxes, etc., so well 
 stuffed, the animals seemed to be alive, followed by 
 music and dancers. I believe they were, upon the 
 
92 The Embassy to Tiirkey 
 
 whole, at least twenty thousand men, all ready to 
 follow his highness if he commanded them. The rear 
 was closed by the volunteers, who came to beg the 
 honour of dying in his service. This part of the show 
 seemed to me so barbarous, I removed from the window 
 upon the first appearance of it. They were all naked 
 to the middle. Some had their arms pierced through 
 with arrows, left sticking in them. Others had them 
 sticking in their heads, the blood trickling down their 
 faces, and some slashed their arms with sharp knives, 
 making the blood spout out upon those that stood 
 near ; and this is looked upon as an expression of their 
 zeal for glory. I am told that some make use of it to 
 advance their love ; and, when they are near the window 
 where their mistress stands (all the women in town 
 being veiled to see this spectacle), they stick another 
 arrow for her sake, who gives some sign of approbation 
 and encouragement to this gallantry. The whole show 
 lasted near eight hours, to my great sorrow, who was 
 heartily tired, though I was in the house of the widow 
 of the Capitain-pasha (Admiral), who refreshed me with 
 coffee, sweetmeats, sherbet, etc., with all possible 
 civility." 
 
 When the camp moved from Adrianople,the Embassy 
 went on to Constantinople, where Lady Mary was 
 lodged in the ambassadorial palace at Pera. She was 
 eager to investigate not only the manners and customs 
 of the day, but all antiquities she could find, but without 
 much help from local antiquaries. 
 
 '* I have already made some progress in a collection 
 
The Embassy to Ttti^key 93 
 
 of Greek medals. Here are several professed anti- 
 quaries who are ready to serve any body that desires 
 them. But you cannot imagine how they stare in my 
 face when I inquire about them, as if nobody was per- 
 mitted to seek after medals till they were grown a 
 piece of antiquity themselves. I have got some very 
 valuable of the Macedonian kings, particularly one of 
 Perseus, so lively, I fancy I can see all his ill qualities 
 in his face. I have a porphyry head, finely cut, of the 
 true Greek sculpture, but who it represents is to be 
 guessed at by the learned when I return. For you are 
 not to suppose these antiquaries, who are all Greeks, 
 know anything. Their trade is only to sell. They 
 have correspondents at Aleppo, Grand Cairo, in 
 Arabia and Palestine, who send them all they can 
 find, and very often great heaps that are only fit to 
 melt into pans and kettles. They get the best price 
 they can for any of them, without knowing those that 
 are valuable from those that are not. Those that 
 pretend to skill generally find out the image of some 
 saint in the medals of the Greek cities. One of them, 
 showing me the figure of a Pallas, with a victory in 
 her hand on a reverse, assured me it was the Virgin 
 holding a crucifix. The same man offered me the 
 head of a Socrates on a sardonyx, and, to enhance 
 the value, gave him the title of St. Augustin." 
 
 When the summer heats set in. Lady Mary retired 
 to the village of Belgrade, near Constantinople ; as 
 she writes to Pope : 
 
 "The heats of Constantinople have driven me to 
 
94 ^/^^ Embassy to Turkey 
 
 this place, which perfectly answers the description of 
 the Elysian fields. I am in the middle of a wood, 
 consisting chiefly of fruit-trees, watered by a vast 
 number of fountains, famous for the excellency of 
 their water, and divided into many shady walks upon 
 short grass that seems to be artificial, but, I am 
 assured, is the pure work of nature ; within view of 
 the Black Sea, from whence we perpetually enjoy the 
 refreshment of cool breezes, that make us insensible 
 of the heat of the summer. The village is only in- 
 habited by the richest amongst the Christians, who 
 meet every night at a fountain forty paces from my 
 house to sing and dance, the beauty and dress of the 
 women exactly resembling the ideas of the ancient 
 nymphs as they are given us by the representations 
 of the poets and painters. But what persuades me 
 more fully of my decease is the situation of my own 
 mind, the profound ignorance I am in of what passes 
 among the living (which only comes to me by chance), 
 and the great calmness with which I receive it. Yet 
 I have still a hankering after my friends and acquaint- 
 ance left in the world, according to the authority of 
 that admirable author : 
 
 " 'That spirits departed are wondrous kind 
 To friends and relations left behind : 
 
 Which nobody can deny ' 
 
 — of which solemn truth I am a dead instance. 1 
 think Virgil is of the same opinion, that in human 
 souls there will still be some remains of human pas- 
 sions : 
 
 " ' Cura: non ipsa in morte relinquunt.' 
 
The Embassy to Tiirkey 95 
 
 And 'tis very necessary, to make a perfect Elysium, 
 that there should be a river Lethe, which I am not 
 so happy to find." 
 
 Some of Lady Mary's English correspondents were 
 rather exacting in their commissions to her, and had 
 a wide and vague idea of the resources of the East. 
 Pope's request for a Circassian beauty with every 
 possible accomplishment was not meant to be taken 
 seriously ; but some other friend seems to have asked 
 for a Greek slave, which gave occasion for a disserta- 
 tion on the position of the rayahs. The *' balm of 
 Mecca " was also much in demand for the complexion, 
 though Lady Mary tried it on her own face with dis- 
 astrous results. 
 
 In wandering about Constantinople in Turkish dress, 
 in antiquarian research or Oriental study, the year 
 1717 passed away pleasantly. The terrors of an 
 English winter were unknown at Pera. 
 
 *' The climate is delightful in the extremest degree. 
 I am now sitting, this present fourth of January, with 
 the windows open, enjoying the warm shine of the sun, 
 while you are freezing over a sad sea-coal fire, and my 
 chamber set out with carnations, roses and jonquils 
 fresh from my garden. I am also charmed with many 
 points of the Turkish law, to our shame be it spoken, 
 better designed and better executed than ours, par- 
 ticularly the punishment of convicted liars (triumphant 
 criminals in our country, God knows) : they are burnt 
 in the forehead with a hot iron, being proved the 
 authors of any notorious falsehood. How many white 
 
g6 The Embassy to Tiirkey 
 
 foreheads should we see disfigured, how many fine 
 gentlemen would be forced to wear their wigs as low 
 as their eyebrows, were this law in practice with us !" 
 
 Early in 1718 was born Lady Mary's daughter 
 Mary, afterwards Countess of Bute. By this time 
 her husband must have been preparing to depart soon, 
 as he had received an intimation of his recall from 
 his friend Addison in the autumn of 1717. His delay 
 at Constantinople till his successor should arrive gave 
 Lady Mary the opportunity of renewing her acquaint- 
 ance with the fair Fatima, and of calling on the 
 Sultana Hafiten, favourite of the late Sultan, whose 
 dress and diamonds defied valuation. 
 
 These visits gave her an opinion of the position of 
 Turkish women far different from that stated by most 
 travellers of the time : 
 
 " 'Tis very pleasant to observe how tenderly all the 
 voyage-writers lament the miserable confinement of the 
 Turkish ladies, who are perhaps freer than any ladies in 
 the universe, and are the onlv women in the world that 
 lead a life of uninterrupted pleasure exempt from cares; 
 their whole time being spent in visiting, bathing, or the 
 agreeable amusement of spending money, and inventing 
 new fashions. A husband would be thought mad that 
 exacted any degree of economy from his wife, whose 
 expenses are no way limited but by her own fancy. 'Tis 
 his business to get money, and hers to spend it : and 
 this noble prerogative extends itself to the very meanest 
 of the sex. Here is a fellow that carries embroidered 
 handkerchiefs upon his back to sell, as miserable a 
 
The Embassy to Turkey 97 
 
 figure as you may suppose such a mean dealer, yet I'll 
 assure you his wife scorns to wear anything less than 
 cloth of gold ; has her ermine furs, and a very hand- 
 some set of jewels for her head. They go abroad when 
 and where they please. 'Tis true they have no public 
 places but the bagnios, and there can only be seen by 
 their own sex ; however, that is a diversion they take 
 great pleasure in." 
 
 The seraglio, however, she did not enter, though 
 she gleaned what particulars she could from her 
 Turkish friends. '' I have taken care," she writes to 
 her friend the Countess of Bristol, "to see as much 
 of the seraglio as is to be seen. It is on a point of 
 land running into the sea — a palace of prodigious 
 extent, but very irregular. The gardens [take in] a 
 large compass of ground, full of high cypress-trees, 
 which is all I know of them ; the buildings all of white 
 stone, leaded on top, with gilded turrets and spires, 
 which look very magnificent ; and, indeed, I beheve 
 there is no Christian king's palace half so large." 
 
 Other palaces, however, of almost as great magni- 
 ficence as the Sultan's, Lady Mary was admitted to see, 
 as the following description proves : 
 
 " Human grandeur being here yet more unstable 
 than anywhere else, 'tis common for the heirs of a 
 great three-tailed pasha not to be rich enough to keep 
 in repair the house he built ; thus, in a few years, they 
 all fall to ruin. I was yesterday to see that of the late 
 Grand Vizier, who was killed at Peterwaradein. It was 
 built to receive his royal bride, daughter of the present 
 
 7 
 
98 The Embassy to Ttcrkey 
 
 Sultan, but he did not live to see her there. I have a 
 great mind to describe it to you ; but I check that in- 
 chnation, knowing very well that I cannot give you, 
 with my best description, such an idea of it as I ought. 
 It is situated on one of the most delightful parts of the 
 canal, wath a fine wood on the side of a hill behind it. 
 The extent of it is prodigious ; the guardian assured me 
 there are eight hundred rooms in it ; I will not answer 
 for that number, since I did not count them ; but 'tis 
 certain the number is very large, and the whole adorned 
 with a profusion of marble, gilding, and the most 
 exquisite painting of fruit and flowers. The windows 
 are all sashed with the finest crystalline glass brought 
 from England ; and all the expensive magnificence that 
 you can suppose in a palace founded by a vain young 
 luxurious man, with the wealth of a vast empire at his 
 command. But no part of it pleased me better than 
 the apartments destined for the bagnios. There are 
 two built exactly in the same manner, answering to one 
 another ; the baths, fountains, and pavements, all of 
 white marble, the roofs gilt, and the walls covered with 
 Japan china ; but adjoining to them, two rooms, the 
 upper part of which is divided into a sofa ; in the four 
 corners falls of water from the very roof, from shell to 
 shell of white marble, to the lower end of the room, 
 where it falls into a large basin, surrounded with pipes, 
 that throw up the water as high as the room. The 
 walls are in the nature of lattices ; and, on the outside 
 of them, vines and woodbines planted, that form a sort 
 of green tapestry, and give an agreeable obscurity to 
 these delightful chambers. 
 
The EiJidassy to Turkey 99 
 
 " I should go on and let you into some of the other 
 apartments (all worthy your curiosity) ; but, 'tis yet 
 harder to describe a Turkish palace than any other, 
 being built entirely irregular. There is nothing can be 
 properly called front or wings ; and though such a con- 
 fusion is, I think, pleasing to the sight, yet it would be 
 very unintelligible in a letter. I shall only add, that 
 the chamber destined for the Sultan, when he visits his 
 daughter, is wainscoted with mother-of-pearl fastened 
 with emeralds like nails. There are others of mother- 
 of-pearl and olive wood inlaid, and several of Japan 
 china. The galleries, which are numerous and very 
 large, are adorned with jars of flowers, and porcelain 
 dishes of fruit of all sorts, so well done in plaster, and 
 coloured in so lively a manner, that it has an enchant- 
 ing effect. The garden is suitable to the house, where 
 arbours, fountains, and walks, are thrown together in 
 an agreeable confusion. There is no ornament want- 
 ing, except that of statues. Thus, you see, sir, these 
 people are not so unpolished as we represent them. 
 'Tis true their magnificence is of a different taste from 
 ours, and perhaps of a better. I am almost of opinion 
 they have a right notion of life ; while they consume 
 it in music, gardens, wine, and delicate eating, we are 
 tormenting our brains with some scheme of politics, or 
 studying some science to which we can never attain, or, 
 if we do, cannot persuade people to set that value upon 
 it we do ourselves." 
 
 In such rambles round Constantinople the time 
 passed till the Preston man-of-war came to take the 
 
 7—2 
 
lOO The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 Ambassador away. On June 6/17, 1718, according 
 to the MS. book of letters — on July 4/11, according 
 to the more trustworthy announcement of Mr. Stanyan, 
 the new Ambassador — Lady Mary and her husband 
 and family sailed from Constantinople. They put in 
 at Sigaeum, where Lady Mary copied the inscription 
 of the Sigsean tomb for her husband ; *' but the 
 Greek is too ancient for Mr. W.'s interpretation." 
 
 The long letter giving an account of the journey is 
 a sort of " Childe Harold " in prose, and full as weari- 
 some. The vessel called at Tunis, and landed the 
 passengers at Genoa August 15/26. Thence the journey 
 followed the usual route, through Turin, and over the 
 Mont Cenis into France. Lady Mary called on the 
 wife of Victor Amadeus, the adventurous prince who 
 first grasped the royal title for Savoy. The Queen of 
 Sicily — as her style then ran — " entertained me with 
 a world of sweetness and affability, and seemed mis- 
 tress of a great share of good sense. ... I returned 
 her civility by giving her the title of majesty as often 
 as I could, which, perhaps, she will not have the 
 comfort of hearing many months longer." Alberoni's 
 plans for recovering the provinces taken from Spain 
 at Utrecht were having effect, and the Spanish forces 
 were now conquering Sicily ; but the royal title was 
 not lost to the House of Savoy, though they had to 
 take poor Sardinia in exchange for rich Sicily. The 
 journey over Mont Cenis was not especially pleasant, 
 though a certain appreciation of Alpine scenery is 
 shown in the letter recounting it. 
 
The Embassy to Turkey loi 
 
 "The prodigious prospect of mountains covered 
 with eternal snow, clouds hanging far below our feet, 
 and the vast cascades tumbling down the rocks with 
 a confused roaring, would have been solemnly enter- 
 taining to me if I had suffered less from the extreme 
 cold that reigns here ; but the misty rain which falls 
 perpetually penetrated even the thick fur I was wrapped 
 in ; and I was half dead with cold before we got to the 
 foot of the mountain, which was not till two hours 
 after 'twas dark. This hill has a spacious plain on the 
 top of it, and a fine lake there ; but the descent is so 
 steep and slippery, 'tis surprising to see these chairmen 
 go so steadily as they do. Yet I was not half so much 
 afraid of breaking my neck, as I was of falling sick ; 
 and the event has shewed that I placed my fears in the 
 right place." 
 
 For the fatigue of travelling brought on a serious 
 fever at Lyons ; though, in spite of the doctors. Lady 
 Mary pushed on as soon as possible to Paris. 
 
 " The air of Paris has already had a good effect on 
 me ; for I was never in better health, though I have 
 been extremely ill all the road from Lyons to this 
 place. You may judge how agreeable the journey has 
 been to me ; which did not need that addition to make 
 me dislike it. I think nothing so terrible as objects of 
 misery, except one had the God-like attribute of being 
 capable to redress them ; and all the country villages 
 of France shew nothing else. While the post-horses 
 are changed, the whole town comes out to beg, with 
 such miserable starved faces, and thin tattered clothes, 
 
I02 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 they need no other eloquence to persuade [one of] the 
 wretchedness of their condition. This is all the French 
 magnificence till you come to Fontainebleau. There 
 you begin to think the kingdom rich when you are 
 shewed one thousand five hundred rooms in the King's 
 hunting-palace." 
 
 In Paris Lady Mary met her sister, the Countess 
 of Mar, who now lived there for the most part with 
 her exiled husband. Then in October, 1718, she 
 crossed over to England, after a last peril in the 
 packet. 
 
 " I arrived this morning at Dover, after being tossed 
 a whole night in the packet-boat, in so violent a 
 manner, that the master, considering the weakness 
 of his vessel, thought it prudent to remove the mail, 
 and gave us notice of the danger. We called a little 
 fisher boat, which could hardly make up to us ; while 
 all the people on board us were crying to Heaven ; and 
 'tis hard to imagine one's self in a scene of greater 
 horror than on such an occasion ; and yet, shall I 
 own it to you ? though I was not at all willing to be 
 drowned, I could not forbear being entertained at the 
 double distress of a fellow-passenger. She was an 
 English lady that I had met at Calais, who desired 
 me to let her go over with me in my cabin. She had 
 bought a fine point head, which she was contriving 
 to conceal from the custom-house officers. When the 
 wind grew high, and our little vessel cracked, she fell 
 very heartily to her prayers, and thought wholly of 
 her soul. When it seemed to abate, she returned to 
 
The Embassy to Turkey 103 
 
 the worldly care of her head-dress, and addressed her- 
 self to me : ' Dear madam, will you take care of this 
 
 point ? if it should be lost ! Ah, Lord, we shall all 
 
 be lost! Lord have mercy on my soul! Pray, 
 
 madam, take care of this head-dress.' This easy 
 transition of her soul to her head-dress, and the 
 alternate agonies that both gave her, made it hard 
 to determine which she thought of greatest value. 
 But, however, the scene was not so diverting but I 
 was glad to get rid of it, and be thrown into the little 
 boat, though with some hazard of breaking my neck. 
 It brought me safe hither; and I cannot help looking 
 with partial eyes on my native land. That partiality 
 was certainly given us by nature, to prevent rambling, 
 the effect of an ambitious thirst after knowledge, which 
 we are not formed to enjoy. All we %^i by it is a fruit- 
 less desire of mixing the different pleasures and con- 
 veniences which are given to different parts of the 
 world, and cannot meet in any one of them. After 
 having read all that is to be found in the languages 
 I am mistress of, and having decayed my sight by 
 midnight studies, I envy the easy peace of mind of 
 a ruddy milkmaid, who, undisturbed by doubt, hears 
 the sermon with humility every Sunday, having not 
 confused the sentiments of natural duty in her head 
 by the vain enquiries of the schools, who may be more 
 learned, yet, after all, must remain as ignorant. And, 
 after having seen part of Asia and Africa, and almost 
 made the tour of Europe, I think the honest English 
 squire more happy, who verily believes the Greek wines 
 
I04 The Embassy to Turkey 
 
 less delicious than March beer ; that the African fruits 
 have not so fine a flavour as golden pippins ; and the 
 becafiguas of Italy are not so well tasted as a rump 
 of beef; and that, in short, there is no perfect enjoy- 
 ment of this life out of Old England. I pray God I 
 may think so for the rest of my life ; and, since I must 
 be contented with our scanty allowance of daylight, 
 that I may forget the enlivening sun of Constantin- 
 ople." 
 
 The letter to Pope, that closes the series of letters 
 during the Embassy _, has already been mentioned ; it 
 is dated from Dover, some weeks (according to the 
 newspapers) after Lady Mary was safe in London ; 
 and on the whole it seems evident that it was not 
 really sent in answer to Pope's famous epistle on the 
 "Lovers struck by Lightning." The fun made of Pope's 
 artificial pastoral is clever, and must have been annoy- 
 ing to him, even with the concluding couplet of the 
 epitaph : 
 
 " Now they are happy in their doom, 
 For Pope has wrote upon their tomb." 
 
 But in ail probability it was years before Pope saw it. 
 Had it been otherwise, that final breach between him 
 and Lady Mary might, perhaps, have taken place at 
 once, instead of being led up to by some ten years of 
 waning friendship. 
 
Life in England 105 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 LIFE IN ENGLAND 
 
 Gap in the Letters — Pope's Friendship — Kneller's Portrait — South 
 Sea Stock — M. Rdmond and his Money — Loss of the Money — ■ 
 Behaviour of Remond — Letters to Lady Mar — The Herveys — 
 Threats against Remond — "Mrs. Murray's Affair" — Pope's 
 Verses on his Garden — Abundance of Poets— Open ImmoraHty 
 of Society — The Schemers — Duke of Wharton — Quarrel with 
 Mrs. Murray — Auction of Kneller's Pictures — Death of Lady 
 Mary's Father — Family Disputes — Escapades of her Son — 
 Mankind Fools and Knaves — Coronation- of George IL — Letters 
 to Arbuthnot on the Quarrel with Pope — Verses to the Imitator 
 of Horace — Letters to Lady Pomfret— Gossip — Lady Herbert's 
 MesalUa7ice — Flattery of Lady Pomfret — Ladies storm the House 
 of Lords. 
 
 After Lady Mary's return to England, in 1718, there 
 is a gap of some years in her pubHshed letters. No 
 doubt, being in London for the most part and seeing 
 the friends to whom she was accustomed to write, she 
 had little need for correspondence. Her husband had 
 his Parliamentary duties, and she had the training of 
 her daughter, and her social engagements. Her son 
 was sent to school, from which he took every opportu- 
 nity of running away, as we shall see in later letters. 
 In 1720, however, we begin to get glimpses of her, 
 
io6 Life in E^igland 
 
 though rather through the letters of others than her 
 own. We find her sitting to Sir Godfrey Kneller for 
 her portrait, apparently at Pope's suggestion, and the 
 poet writing to her in the old vein of adoration. 
 *' The picture dwells really at my heart, and I have 
 made a perfect passion of preferring your present face 
 to your past. I know and thoroughly esteem yourself 
 of this year : I know no more of Lady Mary Pierre- 
 pont, than to admire at what I have heard of her, or 
 be pleased with some fragments of hers as I am with 
 Sappho's. But now — I can't say what I would say of 
 you now. Only still give me cause to say you are 
 good to me, and allow me as much of your person as 
 Sir Godfrey can help me to. Upon conferring with 
 him yesterda3% I find he thinks it absolutely necessary 
 to draw the face first, which he says can never be set 
 right on the figure, if the drapery and posture be 
 finished before. To give you as little trouble as 
 possible, he proposes to draw your face with crayons, 
 and finish it up at your own house in a morning ; from 
 whence he will transfer it to the canvas, so that you 
 need not go to sit at his house. This, I must observe, 
 is a manner in which they seldom draw any but 
 crowned heads ; and I observe it with secret pride 
 and pleasure." But the picture in question was 
 certainly ordered and paid for by Mr. Wortley 
 Montagu. Pope also tried to find out a house at 
 Twickenham for his friends. 
 
 The year 1720 was the year of the South Sea 
 Company's rise and fall ; and the universal gambling 
 

 
Life in England 107 
 
 mania that had seized on England did not leave Lady 
 Mary untouched. We find the younger Craggs, then 
 Secretary of State, promising to insert her name in 
 the next subscription for stock ; we find the usually 
 prudent Pope writing that he has heard from the best 
 sources that the stock will rise. Lady Mary took the 
 advice, if not on her own account, at least with regard 
 to the money placed in her hands by M. Remond, her 
 French adorer, who had been over to England, appa- 
 rently, in 1720. In the letter to her sister, Lady Mar, 
 in which she gives an account of the transaction, she 
 varies from singular to plural in speaking of Remond, 
 but seems to forget this device (intended probably to 
 deceive anyone who opened the letter in the post) as 
 she goes on. 
 
 " It came into my head, out of a high point of 
 generosity (for which I wished myself hanged), to do 
 this creature all the good I possibly could, since 'twas 
 impossible to make them happy their own way. I 
 advised him very strenuously to sell out of the sub- 
 scription,* and in compliance to my advice he did so ; 
 and in less than two days saw he had done very 
 prudently. After a piece of service of this nature, I 
 thought I could more decently press his departure, 
 which his follies made me think necessary for me. 
 He took leave of me with so many tears and grimaces 
 (which I can't imagine how he could counterfeit) as 
 really moved my compassion ; and I had much ado to 
 keep to my first resolution of exacting his absence, 
 ■^ For South Sea Stock. 
 
io8 Life in England 
 
 which he swore would be his death. I told him that 
 there was no other way in the world I would not be 
 glad to serve him in, but that his extravagances made 
 it utterly impossible for me to keep him company. 
 He said that he would put into my hands the money 
 I had won for him, and desired me to improve it, 
 saying that if he had enough to buy a small estate, and 
 retire from the world, ^twas all the happiness he hoped 
 for in it. I represented to him that if he had so little 
 money as he said, 'twas ridiculous to hazard it all. He 
 replied that 'tvvas too little to be of any value, and he 
 would either have it double or quit. After many 
 objections on my side and replies on his, I was so 
 weak to be overcome by his entreaties, and flattered 
 myself also that I was doing a very heroic action, in 
 trying to make a man's fortune though I did not care 
 for his addresses. He left me with these imaginations, 
 and my first care was to employ his money to the best 
 advantage. I laid it all out in stock, the general dis- 
 course and private intelligence then scattered about 
 being of a great rise. You may remember it was two 
 or three days before the fourth subscription,* and you 
 were with me when I paid away the money to Mr. 
 Binfield. I thought I had managed prodigious well 
 in selling out the said stock the day after the shutting 
 the books (for a small profit) to Cox and Cleeve, gold- 
 smiths of very good reputation. When the opening 
 of the books came, my men went off, leaving the stock 
 upon my hands, which was already sunk from near 
 
 * August, 1720. 
 
Life in England 109 
 
 nine hundred pounds to four hundred pounds. I 
 immediately writ him word of this misfortune, with 
 the sincere sorrow natural to have upon such an occa- 
 sion, and asked his opinion as to the selling the stock 
 remaining in. He made me no answer to this part of 
 my letter, but a long eloquent oration of miseries of 
 another nature. I attributed this silence to his dis- 
 interested neglect of his money; but, however, resolved 
 to make no more steps in his business without direct 
 orders, after having been so unlucky. This occasioned 
 many letters to no purpose ; but the very post after 
 you left London, I received a letter from him, in which 
 he told me that he had discovered all my tricks ; that 
 he was convinced I had all his money remaining un- 
 touched ; and he would have it again, or he would 
 print all my letters to him; which though, God knows, 
 very innocent in the main, yet may admit of ill con- 
 structions, besides the monstrousness of being exposed 
 in such a manner. I hear from other people that he 
 is liar enough to publish that I have borrowed the 
 money of him ; though I have a note under his hand, 
 by which he desires me to employ it in the funds, and 
 acquits me of being answerable for the losses that may 
 happen. At the same time I have attestations and 
 witnesses of the bargains I made, so that nothing can 
 be clearer than my integrity in this business ; but that 
 does not hinder me from being in the utmost terror for 
 the consequences (as you may easily guess) of his 
 villainy ; the very story of which appears so monstrous 
 to me, I can hardly believe myself while I write it ; 
 
iio Life in England 
 
 though I omit (not to tire you) a thousand aggravating 
 circumstances." 
 
 The next letter of Lady Mary's is dated from 
 Twickenham, where she now had a house. She is 
 still in great anxiety about Remond, offering to submit 
 to any sort of investigation that may convince him of 
 her honesty, if only her husband does not hear of the 
 matter. The purchase seems to have been of five 
 hundred pounds' stock, which, as the price was *' near 
 nine hundred," must have cost Remond over four 
 thousand pounds ; and his delay in giving orders to 
 sell out probably prevented Lady Mary from disposing 
 of the shares till they were down to three hundred 
 pounds each ; for when Remond afterwards offered to 
 compromise for two thousand pounds, she declared 
 that would be " sending him several hundreds out of 
 her own pocket." Thus, if ''hapless Monsieur" was 
 not " cheated of five thousand pounds in the South 
 Sea year," he certainly lost more than half that sum. 
 He may therefore be excused for feeling some annoy- 
 ance at the loss of his property, though his methods of 
 procedure were hardly in accordance with his national 
 gallantry. Lady Mary was thrown into a panic by 
 finding that he had written to her husband. '' I have 
 actually, in my present possession, a formal letter 
 directed to Mr. W., to acquaint him with the whole 
 business. You may imagine the inevitable eternal 
 misfortunes it would have thrown me into, had it been 
 delivered by the person to whom it was entrusted." 
 For a time there was a lull in the dispute, and Lady 
 
Life in England 1 1 r 
 
 Mary could find time to write a letter without refer- 
 ence to R^mond, whimsically complaining of the 
 wearisome affection of her friend Mr. Hervey (after- 
 wards better known as Lord Hervey) and his wife, 
 the beautiful Molly Lepel. " They visited me twice or 
 thrice a day, and were perpetually cooing in my rooms. 
 I was complaisant a great while ; but (as you know) 
 my talent has never lain much that way; I grew at last 
 so weary of those birds of paradise, I fled to Twicken- 
 ham, as much to avoid their persecutions as for my 
 own health, which is still in a declining way." But 
 the *' monster " again returned to the charge, and 
 threatened to come over to England — a step which 
 called for strong measures. 
 
 " I desire you would assure him that my first step 
 shall be to acquaint my Lord Stair * with all his 
 obligations to him, as soon as I hear he is in London ; 
 and if he dares to gives me further trouble, I shall take 
 care to have him rewarded in a stronger manner than 
 he expects ; there is nothing more true than this ; and 
 I solemnly swear, that if all the credit or money that I 
 have in the world can do it, either for friendship or 
 hire, I shall not fail to have him used as he deserves ; 
 and since I know his journey can only be designed to 
 expose me, I shall not value what noise is made. 
 Perhaps you may prevent it ; I leave you to judge of 
 
 ''' Lord Stair had been the English Ambassador at Paris, and 
 seems to have employed Remond. Possibly Remond had played 
 him false. In any case, Stair's influence in France was very great, 
 and his enmity would be serious for Remond. 
 
112 Life in England 
 
 the most proper method ; 'tis certain no time should 
 be lost ; fear is his predominant passion, and I believe 
 you may fright him from coming hither, where he will 
 certainly find a reception very disagreeable to him." 
 
 The threat seems to have been effectual in keeping 
 Remond away ; but he was still not to be appeased, 
 and threatened '' to print I know not what stuff against 
 me. I am too well acquainted with the world (of 
 which poor Mrs. Murray's affair is a fatal instance), 
 not to know^ that the most groundless accusation is 
 always of ill consequence to a w^oman." 
 
 *' Mrs. Murray^s affair" happened on October i, 1721, 
 which may serve to date the letter in which the refer- 
 ence occurs, for Lady Mary had not mended her habit 
 of leaving out the dates of her letters, in spite of Pope's 
 appeals. Mrs. Murray's footman, Arthur Grey, entered 
 her bedroom one night with a pistol, and declared his 
 passion for her ; she called for help, he was seized, 
 and, after trial, transported. Such an occurrence, as 
 may readily be believed, gave rise to much scandal ; 
 and it is curious that Lady Mary herself wrote a 
 poetical *' Epistle from Arthur Grey in Newgate " — 
 which, though only complimentary to Mrs. Murray, 
 yet added to the publicity of the affair — and was more 
 than suspected of writing a ballad on the case, more 
 lively than proper. 
 
 After this there is an interval of some months 
 without a published letter. Probably the disclosure of 
 the Remond affair to Mr. Wortley Montagu took place 
 in this interval ; for it is never mentioned again by 
 
Life in England 113 
 
 Lady Mary. The Countess of Mar seems to have 
 been a bad correspondent, or else, Mar being suspected 
 by the Jacobites of betraying them, letters to him or 
 his wife were intercepted. Still, however. Lady Mary 
 continued to send the gossip of the day. It seems that 
 Pope had already begun to cool in his friendship. 
 
 " I see sometimes Mr. Congreve, and very seldom 
 Mr. Pope, who continues to embellish his house at 
 Twickenham. Pie has made a subterranean grotto, 
 which he has furnished with looking-glass, and they 
 tell me it has a very good effect. I here send you 
 some verses addressed to Mr. Gay, who wrote him a 
 congratulatory letter on the finishing his house. I 
 stifled them here, and I beg they may die the same 
 death at Paris, and never go further than your closet : 
 
 " ' Ah, friend, 'tis true — this truth you lovers know — 
 In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow, 
 In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes 
 Of hanging mountains, and of sloping greens : 
 Joy lives not here ; to happier seats it flies, 
 And only dwells where W casts her eyes. 
 
 " ' What is the gay parterre, the chequer'd shade, 
 The morning bower, the ev'ning colonnade, 
 But soft recesses of uneasy minds, 
 To sigh unheard in, to the passing winds ? 
 So the struck deer in some sequestrate part 
 Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart ; 
 There, stretch'd unseen in coverts hid from day, 
 Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life away.' " 
 
 It seems a little singular, however, if W here 
 
 stands for Wortley, that Pope should not have asked 
 the deity to '' cast her eyes " on his garden and grotto. 
 
 8 
 
114 Life in England 
 
 Perhaps, in his thrifty way, he made the verses do 
 duty for several ladies whose names had the proper 
 number of syllables. 
 
 Lady Mary discovered in 1723, after losing '' at least 
 five-and-forty letters," that her sister did not get what 
 she wrote. The post was so unsafe, that she had to 
 find a private messenger for her budget of gossip and 
 scandal, including all the matches made or making in 
 high life, 
 n" This is, I think, the whole state of love ; as to that 
 of wit, it splits itself into ten thousand branches ; poets 
 increase and multiply to that stupendous degree, you 
 see them at every turn, even in embroidered coats and 
 pink-coloured top-knots ; making verses is almost as 
 common as taking snuff, and God can tell what miser- 
 able stuff people carry about in their pockets, and offer 
 to all their acquaintances, and you know one cannot 
 refuse reading and taking a pinch. This is a very 
 great grievance, and so particularly shocking to me, 
 that I think our wise lawgivers should take it into 
 consideration, and appoint a fast - day to beseech 
 Heaven to put a stop to this epidemical disease, as 
 they did last year for the plague with great success." ) 
 
 The general immorality of high society at the time 
 seems to have gone beyond Lady Mary's rather easy 
 tolerance, though she speaks of the scandals of the age 
 with the freedom of the age. 
 
 " The v.'orld improves in one virtue to a violent 
 degree, I mean plain-dealing. Hypocrisy being as the 
 Scripture declares, a damnable sin, I hope our pubhcans 
 
!!7tA'y,ji7i/ruM.e/u/u/njoc/. 
 
 ^oMf^xyn^ ^lA./^. 
 
 yK'UcWT-ruV^c 
 
 ^oria/b& 
 
 2/<e/. 
 
Life in England 115 
 
 and sinners will be saved by the open profession of the 
 contrary virtue. I was told by a very good author, 
 who is deep in the secret, that at this very minute 
 there is a bill cooking-up at a hunting-seat in Norfolk,* 
 to have not taken out of the commandments and 
 clapped into the creed, the ensuing session of Parlia- 
 ment. This bold attempt for the liberty of the subject 
 is wholly projected by Mr. Walpole, who proposed it to 
 the secret committee in his parlour. William Young 
 seconded it, and answered for all his acquaintance 
 voting right to a man : Dodingtonf very gravely 
 objected, that the obstinacy of human nature was such, 
 that he feared when they had positive commandments 
 to do [so], perhaps people would not commit adultery 
 and bear false witness against their neighbours with 
 the readiness and cheerfulness they do at present. 
 This objection seemed to sink deep into the minds of 
 the greatest politicians at the board ; and I don't know 
 whether the bill won't be dropped, though it is certain 
 it might be carried with great ease, the world being 
 entirely revenue du [sic] bagatelle, and honour, virtue, 
 reputation, etc., which we used to hear of in our 
 nursery, is as much laid aside and forgotten as 
 crumpled riband." 
 
 In the same letter Lady Mary satirically affects to 
 be ashamed of her own respectability: "You may 
 imagine we married women look very silly ; we have 
 
 * Houghton, the house of Mr. —afterwards Sir Robert — Walpole. 
 
 t George Bubb Dodington, one of the most corrupt politicians of 
 the time. The same objection to the same proposal was satirically 
 made by Swift. 
 
 8—2 
 
ii6 I-if<^ ^^^ England 
 
 nothing to excuse ourselves, but that it was done a 
 great while ago, and we were very young when we did 
 it." In the follies of the time, her friend the Duke of 
 Wharton (" Clodio, the scorn and wonder of our 
 days") figured largely, as the following extract proves : 
 
 '' In general, gallantry never was in so elevated a 
 figure as it is at present. Twenty very pretty fellows 
 (the Duke of Wharton being president and chief 
 director) have formed themselves into a committee of 
 gallantry. They call themselves Schemers ; and meet 
 regularly three times a week, to consult on gallant 
 schemes for the advantage and advancement of that 
 branch of happiness. ... I consider the duty of a true 
 EngHshwoman is to do what honour she can to her 
 native country ; and that it would be a sin against the 
 pious love I bear the land of my nativity, to confine the 
 renown due to the Schemers within the small extent of 
 this little island, which ought to be spread wherever 
 men can sigh, or woman wish. 'Tis true they have 
 the envy and curses of the old and ugly of both sexes, 
 and a general persecution from all old womiCn ; but 
 this is no more than all reformations must expect in 
 their beginning. . . ." 
 
 The very next letter published chronicles the Duke's 
 sudden, but too temporary, conversion ; and shortly 
 afterwards we learn that " Sophia [her nickname for 
 the Duke] and I have been quite reconciled, and are 
 now quite broke, and I believe not likely to piece up 
 again." Soon after he openly took the Jacobite side 
 and fled to the Continent. 
 
Life in England 1 1 7 
 
 All this whirl of fashionable life Lady Mary affected 
 to look on with a philosophic indifference. " For my 
 part, as it is my established opinion, that this globe 
 of ours is no better than a Holland cheese, and the 
 walkers about in it mutes, I possess my mind in 
 patience, let what will happen ; and should feel toler- 
 ably easy, though a great rat came and ate half of it 
 up." But an old sin of hers seems to have found her 
 out in 1725 — the ballad which she seems practically to 
 acknowledge having made on the affair of Arthur 
 Grey: 
 
 " Among the rest a very odd whim has entered the 
 little head of Mrs. Murray : do you know she won't 
 visit me this winter? I, according to the usual 
 integrity of my heart, and simplicity of my manners, 
 with great naivete desired to explain with her on the 
 subject, and she answered that she was convinced that 
 I had made the ballad upon her, and was resolved 
 never to speak to me again. I answered (which was 
 true), that I utterly defied her to have any one single 
 proof of my making it, without being able to get any- 
 thing from her, but repetitions that she knew it. I 
 cannot suppose that any thing you have said should 
 occasion this rupture, and the reputation of a quarrel 
 is always so ridiculous on both sides, that you will 
 oblige me in mentioning it to her, for 'tis now at that 
 pretty pass, she won't curtsey to me whenever she 
 meets me, which is superlatively silly (if she really 
 knew it) after a suspension of resentment for two years 
 together." 
 
ii8 Life in England 
 
 This quarrel caused 5^et further annoyance, as may 
 be seen from an extract from a letter of 1726 : 
 
 " Mrs. Murray is in open wars [s/c] with me in such 
 a manner as makes her very ridiculous without doing 
 me much harm ; my moderation having a very bright 
 pretence of shewing itself. Firstl}^ she was pleased to 
 attack me in very Billingsgate at a masquerade, where 
 she was as visible as ever she was in her own clothes. 
 I had the temper not only to keep silence myself, but 
 enjoined it to the person with me; who would have 
 been very glad to have shewn his great skill in sousing 
 upon that occasion. She endeavoured to sweeten him 
 by very exorbitant praises of his person, which might 
 even have been mistaken for making love from a 
 woman of less celebrated virtue ; and concluded her 
 oration with pious warnings to him, to avoid the con- 
 versation of one so unworthy his regard as myself, who 
 to her certain knowledge loved another man. This 
 last article, I own, piqued me more than all her pre- 
 ceding civilities. The gentleman she addressed herself 
 to had a very slight acquaintance with me, and might 
 possibly go away in the opinion that she had been 
 confidante in some very notorious affair of mine. 
 However, I made her no answer at the time, but you 
 may imagine I laid up these things in my heart ; and 
 the first assembly I had the honour to meet her at, 
 with a meek tone of voice, asked her how I had 
 deserved so much abuse at her hands, which I assured 
 her I would never return. She denied it in the spirit 
 of lying ; and in the spirit of folly owned it at length. 
 
Life in Eiigland 119 
 
 I contented myself with telling her she was ver}^ ill 
 advised, and thus we parted. But two days ago^ when 
 Sir G. K.'s* pictures were to be sold, she went to my 
 sister Gower, and very civily asked if she intended to 
 bid for your picture ; assuring her that, if she did, she 
 would not offer at purchasing it. You know crimp 
 and quadrille incapacitate that poor soul from ever 
 buying any thing ; but she told me this circumstance ; 
 and I expected the same civility from Mrs. Murray, 
 having no way provoked her to the contrary. But she 
 not only came to the auction, but with all possible 
 spite bid up the picture, though I told her that, if you 
 pleased to have it, I would gladly part with it to you, 
 though to no other person. This had no effect upon 
 her, nor her malice any more on me than the loss of 
 ten guineas extraordinary, which I paid upon her 
 account. The picture is in my possession, and at your 
 service if you please to have it. She went to the mas- 
 querade a few nights afterwards, and had the good sense 
 to tell people there that she was very unhappy in not 
 meeting me, being come there on purpose to abuse me. 
 What profit or pleasure she has in these ways I cannot 
 find out. This I know, that revenge has so few joys for 
 me, I shall never lose so much time as to undertake it." 
 The death of her father, which happened in March, 
 1726, seems to have affected Lady Mary but little ; 
 and there were unpleasant pecuniary disputes with his 
 
 "f" Sir Godfrey Kneller died in 1723, and some of his pictures, 
 unclaimed by those who had ordered them, were sold at auction in 
 1726, and among them, apparently, Lady Mar's portrait. 
 
I20 Life in England 
 
 second wife, who seems to have been ahve to her own 
 interests. The tone of the references to the subject is 
 very cold : '' I received yours, dear sister, this minute, 
 and am very sorry both for your past ilhiess and 
 affliction ; though, an hout die compte, I don't know why 
 fiUal piety should exceed fatherly fondness. So much 
 by way of consolation. As to the management at that 
 time — I do verily believe, if my good aunt and sister 
 had been less fools, and my dear mother-in-law less 
 mercenary, things might have had a turn more to your 
 advantage and mine too ; when we meet, I will tell you 
 many circumstances which would be tedious in a letter. 
 I could not get my sister Gower to join to act with me, 
 and mamma and I were in an actual scold when my 
 poor father expired ; she has shewn a hardness of heart 
 upon this occasion that would appear incredible to any 
 body not capable of it themselves." 
 
 The fortunes of her family Lady Mary regarded with 
 the same indifference as the '' wars and rumours of 
 wars " distracting public attention from the time of the 
 formation of the rival alliances of Vienna and Hanover, 
 in 1725. 
 
 " All that I had to say to you was that my F. [father] 
 really expressed a great deal of kindness to me at last, 
 and even a desire of talking to me, which my Lady 
 Duchess would not permit ; nor my aunt and sister shew 
 anything but a servile complaisance to her. This is the 
 abstract of what you desire to know, and is now quite 
 useless. 'Tis over and better to be forgot than remem- 
 bered. The Duke of Kintrston has hitherto had so ill 
 
Life in England 1 2 1 
 
 an education, 'tis hard to make any judgment of him ; 
 he has spirit, but I fear will never have his father's good 
 sense. As young noblemen go, 'tis possible he may 
 make a good figure amongst them. Wars and rumours 
 of wars make all the conversation at present. The 
 tumbling of the stocks, one way or other, influences 
 most people's affairs. For my own part, I have no 
 concern there or anywhere, but hearty prayers that 
 what relates to myself may ever be exactly what it is 
 now. Mutability of sublunary things is the only 
 melancholy reflection I have to make on my own 
 account. I am in perfect health, and hear it said I 
 look better than ever I did in my life, which is one of 
 those lies one is always glad to hear. However, in 
 this dear minute, in this golden now, I am tenderly 
 touched at your misfortune, and can never call myself 
 quite happy till you are so." 
 
 Lady Mary's niece Frances, sister of the new Duke of 
 Kingston, seems to have been a bone of contention in the 
 family ; but Lady Mary herself had enough trouble with 
 her own son not to care for more family worries. 
 
 *' I have been emhourhee in family affairs for this last 
 fortnight. Lady F. [Frances] Pierrepont having four 
 hundred pounds per annum for her maintenance, has 
 awakened the consciences of half her relations to take 
 care of her education ; and (excepting myself) they 
 have all been squabbling about her ; and squabble to 
 this day. My sister Gower carries her off to-morrow 
 morning to Staffordshire. The lies, twaddles, and 
 contrivances about this affair are innumerable. I 
 
122 Life in England 
 
 should pity the poor girl, if I saw she pitied herself. The 
 Duke of Kingston is in France, but is not to go to 
 your capital ; so much for that branch of your family. 
 My blessed offspring has already made a great noise 
 in the world. That young rake, my son, took to his 
 heels t'other day and transported his person to Oxford ; 
 being in his own opinion thoroughly qualified for the 
 University. After a good deal of search we found and 
 reduced him, much against his will, to the humble con- 
 dition of a schoolboy. It happens very luckily that the 
 sobriety and discretion is of my daughter's side ; I am 
 sorry the ugliness is so too, for my son grows extreme 
 handsome." 
 
 The second running away, however, in 1727, was a 
 more serious matter. " I am vexed to the blood," she 
 writes, *' by my young rogue of a son ; who has con- 
 trived at his age to make himself the talk of the whole 
 nation. He is gone knight-erranting, God knows 
 where ; and hitherto 'tis impossible to find him." In 
 spite of an offered reward of £20, he did not turn up 
 for some months. 
 
 The Duchess of Kingston, indeed, did not long sur- 
 vive her husband, though so much younger. As Lady 
 Mary rather brutally put it : '' The Duchess of Kingston 
 grunts on as usual, and I fear will put us in black 
 bombazine soon, which is a real grief to me." In June, 
 1727, died Lady Gower, from whom her sister seems to 
 have been somewhat estranged, in consequence of the 
 squabbles on the death of the Duke of Kingston. ''We 
 are now but two in the world," wrote Lady Mary to 
 
Life ill E7iglaiid 123 
 
 her remaining sister, Lady Mar, " and it ought to 
 endear us to one another." It was under the influence 
 of this loss, and probably still more under the vexation 
 of her son's running away, that Lady Mary wrote the 
 following letter : 
 
 " This is a vile world, dear sister, and I can easily 
 comprehend, that whether one is at Paris or London, 
 one is stifled with a certain mixture of fool and knave, 
 that most people are composed of. I would have 
 patience with a parcel of polite rogues, or your down- 
 right honest fools ; but father Adam shines through his 
 whole progeny. So much for our inside, — then our out- 
 ward is so liable to ugliness and distempers, that we 
 are perpetually plagued with feeling our own decays 
 and seeing those of other people. Yet, sixpennyworth 
 of common-sense, divided among a whole nation, 
 would make our lives roll away glibly enough ; but 
 then we make laws, and we follow customs. By the 
 first we cut off our own pleasures, and by the second 
 we are answerable for the faults and extravagances of 
 others. All these things, and five hundred more, con- 
 vince me (as I have the most profound veneration for 
 the Author of Nature) that we are here in an actual 
 state of punishment ; I am satisfied I have been one of 
 the condemned ever since I was born ; and, in submission 
 to the Divine justice, I don't at all doubt but I deserved 
 it in some pre-existent state. I will still hope that I 
 am only in purgatory ; and that after whining and 
 grunting a certain number of years, I shall be trans- 
 lated to some more happy sphere, where virtue will be 
 
124 Life in England 
 
 natural, and custom reasonable ; that is, in short, 
 where common-sense will reign. I grow very devout, 
 as you see, and place all my hopes in the next life, 
 being totally persuaded of the nothingness of this. 
 Don't you remember how miserable we were in the 
 little parlour at Thoresby ? We then thought marry- 
 ing would put us at once into possession of all we 
 wanted. Then came being with child, etc., and you 
 see what comes of being with child. Though, after all, 
 I am still of opinion that it is extremely silly to submit 
 to ill-fortune. One should pluck up a spirit, and live 
 upon cordials when one can have no other nourish- 
 ment. These are my present endeavours, and I run 
 about, though I have five thousand pins and needles 
 running into my heart. I try to console myself with a 
 small damsel, who is at present everything I like — but, 
 alas ! she is yet in a white frock. At fourteen, she may 
 run away with the butler : — there's one of the blessed 
 consequences of great disappointments ; you are not 
 only hurt by the thing present, but it cuts off all future 
 hopes, and makes your future expectations melancholy. 
 Quelle vie! ir 
 
 Can this be the letter Horace Walpole refers to 
 when he quotes from memory one of the letters to 
 Lady Mar ? — *' We all partake of father Adam's folly 
 and knavery, who first eat the apple like a sot and then 
 turned informer like a scoundrel." The sentiment is 
 the same. 
 
 The last of the letters to Lady Mar is a description 
 of George IL's coronation, in her usual critical vein : 
 
Life in England 125 
 
 " I cannot deny, but that I was very well diverted on 
 the Coronation day. I saw the procession much at my 
 ease, in a house which I filled with my own company, 
 and then got into Westminster Hall without trouble, 
 where it was very entertaining to observe the variety 
 of airs that all meant the same thing. The business of 
 every walker there was to conceal vanity and gain 
 admiration. For these purposes some languished and 
 others strutted ; but a visible satisfaction was diffused 
 over every countenance, as soon as the coronet was 
 clapped on the head. But she that drew the greatest 
 number of eyes, was indisputably Lady Orkney.* She 
 exposed behind, a mixture of fat and wrinkles ; and 
 before, a very considerable protuberance which pre- 
 ceded her. Add to this, the inimitable roll of her eyes, 
 and her gray hairs, which by good fortune stood 
 directly upright, and 'tis impossible to imagine a 
 more delightful spectacle. She had embellished all this 
 with considerable magnificence, which made her look 
 as big again as usual ; and I should have thought her 
 one of the largest things of God's making if my Lady 
 St. John had not displayed all her charms in honour of 
 the day. The poor Duchess of Montrose crept along 
 with a dozen of black snakes playing round her face ; 
 and my Lady Portlandt (who is fallen away since her 
 dismission from Court) represented very finely an 
 
 * Lady Orkney must have been old, as she had been the 
 favourite of William III. 
 
 t Lady Portland had been appointed by George L to take 
 charge of his grand-children against the wish of their father ; hence 
 the latter, on succeeding to the throne, at once dismissed her. 
 
126 Life in England 
 
 Egyptian mummy embroidered over with hierogly- 
 phics. In general, I could not perceive but that the 
 old were as well pleased as the young ; and I, who 
 dread growing wise more than anything in the world, 
 was overjoyed to find that one can never outlive one's 
 vanity." 
 
 Shortly after this letter was sent, Lady Mar went 
 out of her mind ; and in March, 1728, she was brought 
 to England, and remained in charge of her sister till 
 her daughter. Lady Frances Erskine, was old enough 
 to take over her care. 
 
 After Lady Mar became insane there is another 
 great gap in her sister's published correspondence. 
 From 172S to 173S there is hardly a letter of hers 
 printed ; the few that are, relate chiefly to the quarrel 
 with Pope, and are by no means favourable specimens 
 of the author's style. x\s already mentioned^ Pope 
 suspected her of being concerned in some of the 
 answers to the ''Dunciad," notably ''A Pop upon Pope" 
 and "One Epistle to Mr. Alexander Pope," both of a 
 scurrilous character — the latter libelling Swift and 
 Esther Vanhomrigh, as well as Pope. The authorship 
 of this Lady Mary indignantly denied. 
 
 '' I am told," she wrote to Arbuthnot, with whom she 
 remained on friendly terms, *' Pope has had the sur- 
 prising impudence to assert he can bring the lampoon 
 when he pleases to produce it, under my own hand ; 
 I desire he may be made to keep to this offer. If he is 
 so skilful in counterfeiting hands, I suppose he will not 
 confine that great talent to the gratifying his malice, 
 
Life in Engla^td 127 
 
 but take some occasion to increase his fortune by the 
 same method, and may I hope (by such practices) to see 
 him exalted according to his merit, which nobody will 
 rejoice at more than myself. I beg of you, sir (as an 
 act of justice), to endeavour to set the truth in an open 
 light, and then I leave to your judgment the character 
 of those who have attempted to hurt mine in so bar- 
 barous a manner. I can assure you (in particular) you 
 named a lady to me (as abused in this libel) whose 
 name I never heard before, as I never had any ac- 
 quaintance with Dr. Swift, am an utter stranger to all 
 his affairs and even his person, which I never saw to 
 my knowledge, and am now convinced the whole is 
 a contrivance of Pope's to blast the reputation of one 
 who never injured him." 
 
 The savage attack on her as " Sappho," in Pope's 
 '^ Imitations of Horace," drew forth a fresh remon- 
 strance to Arbuthnot — or, rather, a somewhat spiteful 
 and ineffective rejoinder to Pope. 
 
 " Sir, — I have perused the last lampoon of your 
 ingenious friend, and am not surprised you did not 
 find me out under the name of Sappho, because there 
 is nothing I ever heard in our characters or circum- 
 stances to make a parallel, but as the town (except 
 you, who know better) generally suppose Pope means 
 me, whenever he mentions that name, I cannot help 
 taking notice of the horrible malice he bears against 
 the lady signified by that name, which appears to be 
 irritated by supposing her writer of the verses to the 
 Imitator of Horace. Now I can assure him they 
 
128 Life in England 
 
 were wrote (without my knowledge) by a gentleman of 
 great merit, whom I very much esteem,* who he will 
 never guess, and who, if he did know, he durst not 
 attack ; but I own the design was so well meant, and 
 so excellently executed, that I cannot be sorry they 
 were written. I wish you would advise poor Pope to 
 turn to some more honest livelihood than libelling ; I 
 know he will allege in his excuse that he must write to 
 eat, and he is now grown sensible that nobody will buy 
 his verses except their curiosity is piqued to it, to see 
 what is said of their acquaintance ; but I think this 
 method of gain so exceeding vile that it admits of no 
 excuse at all." 
 
 Such tricks of fence were hardly calculated to parry 
 the thrusts of Pope's satire. Nor were the verses of 
 Lady Mary or her ally sharp enough weapons to make 
 the conflict equal, though some lines of them have 
 survived, and may be worth quoting here : 
 
 " In two large columns on thy motley page, 
 Where Roman wit is strip'd with English rage ; 
 Where ribaldry to satire makes pretence, 
 And modern scandal rolls with ancient sense : 
 W^hilst on one side we see how Horace thought. 
 And on the other how he never wrote ; 
 Who can believe, who view the bad, the good, 
 That the dull copyist better understood 
 That spirit he pretends to imitate, 
 Than heretofore that Greek he did translate ? 
 
 Thine is just such an image of his pen. 
 As thou thyself art of the sons of men, 
 Where our own species in burlesque we trace, 
 
 * Lord Hervey. 
 
Life in England 129 
 
 A sign-post likeness of the human race, 
 That is at once resemblance and disgrace. 
 
 Horace can laugh, is delicate, is clear, 
 You only coaisely rail, or darkly sneer ; 
 His style is elegant, his diction pure. 
 Whilst none thy crabbed numbers can endure ; 
 Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure. 
 
 If he has thorns, they all on roses grow ; 
 Thine all like thistles, and mean brambles show ; 
 With this exception, that, though rank the soil, 
 Weeds as they are, they seem produc'd by toil. 
 
 Satire should, like a polish'd razor, keen, 
 Wound with a touch, that's scarcely felt or seen : 
 Thine is an oyster-knife, that hacks and hews ; 
 The rage, but not the talent to abuse ; 
 
 'k "k ^ ^ 'k 
 
 Neither to folly, nor to vice confin'd. 
 The object of thy spleen is humankind : 
 It preys on all who yield, or who resist : 
 To thee 'tis provocation to exist." 
 
 When we again meet with a letter from Lady Mary, 
 she is already contemplating a flight from England. 
 Herfriend Lady Pomfret had gone abroad after thedeath 
 of her royal mistress Queen Caroline in 1737. Lady 
 Mary corresponded with her for some time, and at last, in 
 1739, followed her abroad, eventually meeting her in 
 Florence, as chronicled by Horace Walpole in a passage 
 already quoted. The few letters written before Lady 
 Mary's own departure give the gossip of the time in 
 much the same way as those to Lady Mar : 
 
 " The Bath is the present scene of gallantry and 
 magnificence, where many caresses are bestowed, not 
 from admiration of the present, but from spite to the 
 absent. The most remarkable circumstance I hear is 
 a coolness in the Earl of Chesterfield, which occasions 
 
 9 
 
I 30 Life in England 
 
 much speculation ; it must be disagreeable to play an 
 
 under-part in a second-rate theatre. To me that have 
 
 always been an humble spectator, it appears odd, to 
 
 see so few desirous to quit the stage, though time and 
 
 infirmities have disabled them from making a tolerable 
 
 figure there. Our drama is at present carried on by 
 
 such whimsical management, I am half inclined to 
 
 think we shall shortly have no plays at all. I begin to 
 
 be of opinion that the new Northern actress * has very 
 
 good sense ; she hardly appears at all, and by that 
 
 conduct almost wears out the disapprobation of the 
 
 public. I believe you are already tired with this long 
 
 dissertation on so trifling a subject; I wish I could 
 
 enliven my letter with some account of literature ; but 
 
 wit and pleasure are no more, and people play the 
 
 fool with great impunity ; being very sure there is not 
 
 spirit enough left in the nation to set their follies in a 
 
 ridiculous light. Pamphlets are the sole productions 
 
 of our modern authors, and those profoundly stupid. 
 
 To you that enjoy a purer air, and meet at least with 
 
 vivacity whenever you meet company, this may appear 
 
 extraordinary ; but recollect, dear madam, in what 
 
 condition you left us ; and you will easily believe to 
 
 what state we are fallen." 
 
 In another letter Lady Mary again complains of this 
 universal preoccupation with politics : 
 
 '' I hope, dear madam, you find at least some amuse- 
 ment in your travels, and though I cannot wish you to 
 forget those friends in England, who will never forget 
 
 * Madame Walmoden, mistress of George II. 
 
Life in Evglajid 131 
 
 you, yet I should be pleased to hear you were so far 
 entertained as to take off all anxiety from your mind. 
 I know you are capable of many pleasures that the herd 
 of mankind are insensible of; and wherever you go I 
 do not doubt you will find some people that will know 
 how to taste the happiness of your conversation. We 
 are as much blinded in England by politics and views 
 of interest as we are by mists and fogs, and 'tis necessary 
 to have a very uncommon constitution not to be tainted 
 with the distempers of our climate. I confess myself 
 very much infected with the epidemical dulness ; yet, 
 as 'tis natural to excuse one's own faults as much as 
 possible, I am apt to flatter myself that my stupidity is 
 rather accidental than real ; at least, I am sure that I 
 want no vivacity when I think of my Lady Pomfret, 
 and that it is with the warmest inclination as well 
 as the highest esteem that I am ever affectionately 
 yours." 
 
 One item of the gossip in the letters may be extracted 
 as showing Lady Mary's views on alliances between 
 the operatic stage and the aristocracy. Perhaps, 
 however, she was too severe on Mr. Beard, who seems 
 to have been ''very respectable." 
 
 '' Lady Harriet Herbert " (Lady Mary writes) " fur- 
 nished the tea-tables here with fresh tattle for the last 
 fortnight. I was one of the first informed of her 
 adventure by Lady Gage, who was told that morning 
 by a priest, that she had desired him to marry her the 
 next day to Beard, who sings in the farces at Drury 
 Lane. He refused her that good office, and imme- 
 
 9—2 
 
132 Life in England 
 
 diately told Lady Gage, who (having been unfortunate 
 in her friends) was frighted at this affair and asked my 
 advice. I told her honestly, that since the lady was 
 capable of such amours, I did not doubt if this was 
 broke off she would bestow her person and fortune on 
 some hackney-coachman or chairman ; and that I 
 really saw no method of saving her from ruin, and her 
 family from dishonour, but by poisoning her ; and 
 offered to be at the expense of the arsenic, and even 
 to administer it with m}' own hands, if she would invite 
 her to drink tea with her that evening. But on her 
 not approving that method, she sent to Lady Monta- 
 cute, Mrs. Dunch, and all the relations within the 
 reach of messengers. They carried Lady Harriet to 
 Twickenham ; though I told them it was a bad air for 
 girls. She is since returned to London, and some 
 people believe her to be married ; others, that he is too 
 much intimidated by Mr. Waldegrave's * threats to 
 dare to go through the ceremony ; but the secret is 
 now public, and in what manner it will conclude I 
 know not. Such examples are very detrimental to our 
 whole sex ; and are apt to influence the other into a 
 belief that we are unfit to manage either liberty or 
 money." 
 
 In return for these instalments of gossip, Lady Pom- 
 fret returned descriptions of her travels, probably much 
 in the same vein as her published letters to Lady Hert- 
 ford. Tedious as these epistles probably were. Lady 
 Mary either found or affected to find them welcome. 
 
 * A brother of Lady Herbert, who was the daughter of the Earl 
 of Waldegrave. 
 
Life in England 133 
 
 " I will say nothing of your complaints of your own 
 dulness ; I should say something very rough if I did ; 
 'tis impossible to reconcile them to the sincerity that I 
 am willing to flatter myself I find in the other parts of 
 your letter. 'Tis impossible you should not be con- 
 scious that such letters as yours want not the trimmings 
 of news, which are only necessary to the plain Spital- 
 fields style, beginning with hoping you are in good health, 
 and concluding pray believe me to he, etc., etc. You give 
 me all the pleasure of an agreeable author ; and I really 
 wish you had leisure to give me all the length too, and 
 that all your letters were to come to me in twelve tomes. 
 You will stare at this impudent wish ; but you know 
 imagination has no bounds ; and 'tis harder for me to 
 be content with a moderate quantity of your writing, 
 than it was for any South Sea director to resolve to get 
 no more. This is a strange way of giving thanks ; 
 however, 'tis the clearest proof of my tasting my 
 happiness in your correspondence, to beg so earnestly 
 not only the continuance but the increase of it." 
 
 The last letter of any note to Lady Pomfret before 
 Lady Mary's own journey abroad gives an amusing 
 description of a raid made by certain noble ladies of 
 the Opposition on the House of Lords. Politics were 
 just now at fever-heat, as Sir Robert Walpole's power 
 was tottering under ceaseless attacks from the so-called 
 " Patriots " ; and Mr. VVortley Montagu was zealous 
 among the assailants. 
 
 " Here is no news to be sent you from this place, 
 which has been for this fortnight and still continues 
 
134 ^l/^ ^^^ Englana 
 
 overwhelmed with poHtics, and which are of so 
 mysterious a nature, one ought to have some of the 
 gifts of Lilly or Partridge * to be able to write about 
 them ; and I leave all those dissertations to those 
 distinguished mortals who are endowed with the talent 
 of divination ; though I am at present the only one of 
 my sex who seems to be of that opinion, the ladies 
 having showm their zeal and appetite for knowledge in 
 a most glorious manner. At the last warm debate in 
 the House of Lords, it was unanimously resolved there 
 should be no crowd of unnecessary auditors ; con- 
 sequently the fair sex were excluded, and the gallery 
 destined to the sole use of the House of Commons. 
 Notwithstanding which determination, a tribe of dames 
 resolved to show on this occasion that neither men nor 
 laws could resist them. These heroines were Lady 
 Huntingdon, "f the Duchess of Queensberry, the Duchess 
 of Ancaster, Lady Westmoreland, Lady Cobham, 
 Lady Charlotte Edwin, Lady Archibald Hamilton and 
 her daughter, Mrs. Scott, and Mrs. Pendarves, and 
 Lady Frances Saunderson. I am thus particular in 
 their names, since I look upon them to be the boldest 
 assertors, and most resigned sufferers for liberty, I ever 
 read of. They presented themselves at the door at 
 nine o'clock in the morning, w^here Sir William 
 Saunderson respectfully informed them the Chancellor 
 
 * Well-known astrologers and compilers of prophetic almanacs. 
 It was on Partridge that Swift played his celebrated joke of 
 announcing and describing his death. 
 
 t Foundress of the " Countess of Huntingdon's Connection." 
 
Life m England 135 
 
 had made an order against their admittance. The 
 Duchess of Queensberr}-, as head of the squadron, 
 pished at the ill-breeding of a mere lawyer, and desired 
 him to let them upstairs privately. After some modest 
 refusals, he swore by G — he would not let them in. 
 Her grace, wath a noble warmth, answered, by G — 
 they would come in in spite of the Chancellor and the 
 whole House. This being reported, the Peers resolved 
 to starve them out ; an order was made that the doors 
 should not be opened till, they had raised their siege. 
 These Amazons now showed themselves qualified for 
 the duty even of foot soldiers ; they stood there till 
 five in the afternoon, without sustenance, every now 
 and then playing volleys of thumps, kicks, and 
 raps against the door, with so much violence 
 that the speakers in the House were scarce heard. 
 When the Lords were not to be conquered by this, 
 the two Duchesses (very well apprised of the use of 
 stratagems in war) commanded a dead silence of half 
 an hour ; and the Chancellor, who thought this a 
 certain proof of their absence (the Commons also being 
 very impatient to enter), gave order for the opening of 
 the door ; upon which they all rushed in, pushed aside 
 their competitors, and placed themselves in the front 
 rows of the gallery. They stayed there till after eleven, 
 when the House rose ; and during the debate gave 
 applause, and showed marks of dislike, not only by 
 smiles and winks (which have always been allowed in 
 these cases), but by noisy laughs and apparent con- 
 tempts ; which is supposed the true reason why poor 
 
136 Life in England 
 
 Lord Hervey spoke miserably. I beg your pardon, 
 dear madam, for this long relation ; but 'tis impossible 
 to be short on so copious a subject ; and you must own 
 this action very well worthy of record, and I think not 
 to be paralleled in history, ancient or modern. I look 
 so little in my own eyes (who was at that time in- 
 gloriously sitting over a tea-table), I hardly dare 
 subscribe myself even, 
 
 " Yours." 
 A few months later Lady Mary was following in the 
 steps of her friend, and had left England, only to 
 return thither to die. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 137 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TRAVELS IN ITALY AND FRANCE 
 
 Lady Mary sets out — Prosperity of France — Company on the Way 
 — Advantages of Venice— Freedom of Society — Uncertainty of 
 Plans— English Youths at Venice — Excuses for not joining 
 Lady Pomfret — The Electoral Prince of Saxony — Festivities at 
 Venice — Great Regatta — Lady Mary joins Lady Pomfret at 
 Florence— Paper Money at Rome — A Roman Chaise- Spanish 
 Ways at Naples — Vain Attempts to see Herculaneum— Ignor- 
 ance of the Court of Naples — The Pretender at Rome— Lady 
 Mary's Influence over the English there — Changes in Italian 
 Manners — Customs of Genoa — English Policy a Laughing- 
 stock — Mr. Villette at Turin— Stay at Chambdry — Cheapness 
 in Savoy — Arrangements for an Interview with her Son — 
 Journey to Avignon — Interview with her Son — His Weakness 
 of Mind — Lady Mary's Belvedere at Avignon — Persecuted 
 Protestants at Nimes — Plan of a French Descent on England 
 
 — Government of Avignon— Pope's Death — Avignon becomes 
 disagreeable — Influx of Jacobites— Lady Mary leaves Avignon 
 
 — Count Palazzo — The Defeated Spanish Army — A German 
 Escort— Arrival at Brescia. 
 
 On the 26th of July (o.s.), 1739, Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montagu arrived at Dover to embark for France. She 
 sent a note to her husband at every stage of the 
 journey, and received rather stiff but never unkindly 
 letters in reply ; so that it is plain that there was no 
 
138 Travels hi Italy and France 
 
 quarrel between the two as a prelude to her departure. 
 France w^as much changed from when Lady Mary had 
 returned home in 1718. The long peace, only broken 
 by the short and easy war of the Polish Succession, 
 had effaced the misery of the last years of Louis XIV. 
 Cardinal Fleury, the chief Minister of Louis XV., was 
 as notoriously pacific as Walpole in England. 
 
 " France is so much improved, it is not to be known 
 to be the same country we passed through twenty years 
 ago. Everything I see speaks in praise of Cardinal 
 Fleury ; the roads are all mended, and the greatest 
 part of them paved as well as the streets of Paris, 
 planted on both sides like the roads in Holland ; and 
 such good care taken against robbers, that you may 
 cross the country with your purse in your hand : but 
 as to travelling incognito, I may as well walk i^icogniio 
 in the Pail-Mall. There is not any town in France 
 where there is not English, Scotch, or Irish families 
 established ; and I have met with people that have 
 seen me (though often such as I do not remember to 
 have seen) in every town I have passed through ; and 
 I think the farther I go, the more acquaintance I 
 meet." 
 
 And again, in the same letter : 
 
 *' The French are more changed than their roads ; 
 instead of pale, yellow^ faces, WTapped up in blankets, 
 as we saw them, the villages are all filled with fresh- 
 coloured lusty peasants, in good cloth and clean linen. 
 It is incredible the air of plenty and content that is 
 over the whole countrv." 
 
Travels in Italy a7id France 139 
 
 This letter was written at Dijon ; and from there 
 Lady Mary went on by Lyons to Turin, and deter- 
 mined to proceed to Venice for the carnival, in 
 hopes of meeting Lady Pomfret, whose son. Lord 
 Lempster, she had met at Lyons. Lord Carlisle, 
 whose son was detained by serious illness, also came 
 in her way ; and friends or acquaintances were met at 
 every turn. She writes to her husband on her arrival 
 at Venice : 
 
 " I met nothing disagreeable in my journey but too 
 much company. I find (contrary to the rest of the 
 world) I did not think myself so considerable as I am ; 
 for I verily believe, if one of the pyramids of Egypt 
 had travelled, it could not have been more followed ; 
 and if I had received all the visits that have been 
 intended me, I should have stopped at least a year in 
 every town I came through." 
 
 With Venice Lady Mary was charmed, and recom- 
 mended it warmly to her friend Lady Pomfret, who 
 had not yet arrived : 
 
 *' I like this place extremely, and am of opinion you 
 would do so too : as to cheapness, I think 'tis impos- 
 sible to find any part of Europe where both the laws 
 and customs are so contrived purposely to avoid 
 expenses of all sorts ; and here is a universal liberty 
 that is certainly one of the greatest agrcmens in life. 
 We have foreign ambassadors from all parts of the 
 world, who have all visited me. I have received visits 
 from many of the noble Venetian ladies ; and upon the 
 whole I am very much at my ease here. If I was 
 
140 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 writing to Lady Sophia,* I would tell her of the 
 comedies and operas which are every night, at very 
 low prices ; but I believe even you will agree with me 
 that they are ordered to be as convenient as possible, 
 every mortal going in a mask, and consequently no 
 trouble in dressing, or forms of any kind. I should be 
 very glad to see Rome, which was my first intention 
 (I mean next to seeing yourself) ; but am deterred 
 from it by reasons that are put into my head by all 
 sorts of people that speak to me of it. There are 
 innumerable little dirty spies about all English ; and I 
 have so often had the ill-fortune to have false witness 
 borne against me, I fear my star on this occasion." 
 
 And a few days later she returned to the charge on 
 the same topic : 
 
 " Upon my word, I have spoken my real thoughts in 
 relation to Venice ; but I will be more particular in my 
 description, lest you should find the same reason of 
 complaint you have hitherto experienced. It is im- 
 possible to give any rule for the agreeableness of con- 
 versation ; but here is so great a variety, I think 'tis 
 impossible not to find some to suit every taste. Here 
 are foreign ministers from all parts of the world, who, 
 as they have no Court to employ their hours, are over- 
 joyed to enter into commerce with any stranger of 
 distinction. As I am the only lady here at present, I 
 can assure you I am courted, as if I was the only one 
 in the world. As to all the conveniences of life, they 
 
 * Lady Sophia Fermor. sister of Lord Pomfret. and a noted 
 beauty. She afterwards married Lord Carteret. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 141 
 
 are to be had at very easy rates ; and for those that 
 love public places, here are two playhouses and two 
 operas constantly performed every night, at exceeding 
 low prices. But you will have no reason to examine 
 that article, no more than myself; all the ambassadors 
 having boxes appointed them ; and I have every one of 
 their keys at my service, not only for my own person, 
 but whoever I please to carry or send. I do not make 
 much use of this privilege, to their great astonishment. 
 It is the fashion for the greatest ladies to walk the 
 streets, which are admirably paved ; and a mask, price 
 sixpence, with a little cloak, and the head of a domino, 
 the genteel dress to carry you everywhere. The greatest 
 equipage is a gondola, that holds eight persons, and is 
 the price of an English chair. And it is so much the 
 established fashion for everybody to live their own way, 
 that nothing is more ridiculous than censuring the ac- 
 tions of another. This would be terrible in London, 
 where we have little other diversion ; but for me, who 
 never found any pleasure in malice, I bless my destiny 
 that has conducted me to a part where people are 
 better employed than in talking of the affairs of their 
 acquaintance. It is at present excessive cold (which is 
 the only thing I have to find fault with) ; but in recom- 
 pense we have a clear bright sun, and fogs and factions 
 things unheard of in this climate." 
 
 Lady Pomfret, however, did not come, and appar- 
 ently desired Lady Mary to come to her, to which the 
 latter demurred, not knowing (she said) what her hus- 
 band's wishes might be. 
 
142 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 *' You have put me to a very difficult choice ; yet, 
 when I consider we are both in Italy, and yet do not 
 see one another, I am astonished at the capriciousness 
 of my fortune. My affairs are so uncertain, I can 
 answer for nothing that is future. I have taken some 
 pains to put the inclination for travelling into Mr. 
 Wortley's head, and was so much afraid he would 
 change his mind, that I hastened before him in order 
 (at least) to secure my journey. He proposed following 
 me in six wxeks, his business requiring his presence at 
 Newcastle. Since that, the change of scene that has 
 happened in England has made his friends persuade 
 him to attend Parliament this session : so that what 
 his inclinations, which must govern mine, will be next 
 spring, I cannot absolutely foresee. For my own part, 
 I like my own situation so well that it will be a dis- 
 pleasure to me to change it. To postpone such a con- 
 versation as yours a whole twelvemonth is a terrible 
 appearance ; on the other hand, I would not follow 
 the example of the first of our sex, and sacrifice for 
 a present pleasure a more lasting happiness. In short, 
 I can determine nothing on the subject. When you 
 are at Florence, we may debate it over again." 
 
 This decision to stay at Venice till summer seems 
 to have caused some dispute with Lady Pomfret ; but 
 the winter and spring were too inclement for Lady 
 Mary to venture over the Apennines^ much as she pro- 
 fessed to long for the Countess's conversation in the 
 following letter : 
 
 * I am impatient to hear good sense pronounced in 
 
Travels in Italy and France 143 
 
 my native tongue ; having only heard my language out 
 of the mouths of boys and governors* for these five 
 months. Here are inundations of them broke in upon 
 us this carnival, and my apartment must be their 
 refuge ; the greater part of them having kept an in- 
 violable fidelity to the languages their nurses taught 
 them ; their whole business abroad (as far as I can 
 perceive) being to buy new clothes, in which they 
 shine in some obscure coffee-house, where they are 
 sure of meeting only one another. ... I find the spirit 
 of patriotism so strong in me every time I see them, 
 that I look on them as the greatest blockheads in 
 nature ; and, to say truth, the compound of booby 
 and petit maitre makes up a very odd sort of animal." 
 
 Thus, in spite of the importunities of Lady Pomfret 
 and her son Lord Lempster, who came to Venice, Lady 
 Mary resolved to remain, excusing herself as she best 
 could : 
 
 "To suspect me of want of desire to see you, is 
 accusing at once both my taste and my sincerity ; and 
 you will allow that all the w^orld are sensible upon these 
 subjects. But you have now given me an occasion to 
 thank you, in sending me the most agreeable young 
 man I have seen in my travels.^ I wish it was in my 
 \oower to be of use to him ; but what little services I 
 
 
 im able to do him, I shall not fail of performing with 
 |;reat pleasure. I have already received a very consider- 
 able one from him in a conversation where you was the 
 
 * Private tutors travelling with their pupils. 
 t Lord Lempster, Lady Pomfret's son. 
 
144 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 subject, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him talk 
 of 3'ou in a manner that agreed with my own way of 
 thinking. I wish I could tell you that I set out for 
 Florence next week ; but the winter is yet so severe, 
 and by all report, even that of our friends, the roads so 
 bad, it is impossible to think of it. We are now in the 
 midst of carnival amusements, which are more than 
 usual, for the entertainment of the Electoral Prince 
 of Saxony, and I am obliged to live in a hurry very 
 inconsistent with philosophy, and extreme different 
 from the hfe I projected to lead. But 'tis long since 
 I have been of Prior's opinion, who, I think, somewhere 
 compares us to cards, who are but pla3^ed with, do not 
 play. At least such has been my destiny from my youth 
 upwards ; and neither Dr. Clarke nor Lady Sundon* 
 could ever convince me that I was a free agent ; for 
 I have always been disposed of more by little accidents, 
 than either my own inclinations or interest." 
 
 The writer repeats the same excuse in a later letter 
 to Lady Pomfret : 
 
 " I send you this letter by so agreeable a companion,-!* 
 that I think it a very considerable present. He will tell 
 you that he has pressed me ver}^ much to set out for 
 Florence immediately, and I have the greatest inclina- 
 tion in the world to do it ; but, as I have already said, 
 I am but too well convinced that all things are relative, 
 and mankind was not made to follow their own inclina- 
 
 * Dr. Samuel Clarke was in favour with Queen Caroline, who 
 studied philosophy with him and her confidante Lady Sundon. 
 t Lady Pomfret's son, Lord Lempster. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 145 
 
 tions. I have pushed as fair for liberty as any one ; I 
 have most philosophically thrown off all the chains of 
 custom and subjection ; and also rooted out of my 
 heart all seeds of ambition and avarice. In such a 
 state, if freedom could be found, that lot would sure be 
 mine ; yet certain atoms of attraction and repulsion 
 keep me still in suspense ; and I cannot absolutely set 
 the day of my departure, though I very sincerely wish 
 for it, and have one reason more than usual : this town 
 being at present infested with English, who torment 
 me as much as the frogs and lice did the palace of 
 Pharaoh, and are surprised that I will not suffer them 
 to skip about my house from morning till night ; me, 
 that never opened my doors to such sort of animals in 
 England. I wish I knew a corner of the world inac- 
 cessible to petits-maitres and fine ladies. I verily believed 
 when I left London I should choose my own company 
 for the remainder of my days ; which I find more diffi- 
 cult to do abroad than at home ; and with humility I 
 sighing own, 
 
 " ' Some stronger power eludes the sickly will, 
 Dashes my rising hope with certain ill, 
 And makes me with reflective trouble see, 
 That all is destin'd that I fancy'd free.' " 
 
 Venice was a scene of much gaiety, the Electoral 
 Prince of Saxony (son of the Elector of Saxony, who 
 was also King of Poland) having come there. He was 
 a cripple, and was " carried about in a chair, though 
 a beautiful person from the waist upwards : it is said 
 his family design him for the Church.'' However, the 
 
 10 
 
146 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 Prince afterwards succeeded his father as Elector in 
 1763, but died the same year. His " governor," Count 
 Wackerbarth, was an old friend of Lady Mary's, who 
 consequently saw a good deal of the Prince's party, 
 and came in for the festivities given in his honour, 
 which she could not well avoid. As she writes in 
 April, 1740, to Lady Pomfret : 
 
 ** I have nothing to complain of here but too much 
 diversion, as it is called ; and which literally diverts 
 me from amusements much more agreeable. I can 
 hardly believe it is me dressed up at balls, and stalking 
 about at assemblies ; and should not be so much 
 surprised at suffering any of Ovid's transformations ; 
 having more disposition, as I thought, to harden into 
 stone or timber, than to be enlivened into these 
 tumultuary entertainments, where I am amazed to 
 find myself seated by a sovereign prince, after travel- 
 ling a thousand miles to establish myself in the bosom 
 of a republic, with a design to lose all memory of kings 
 and courts." 
 
 The shows arranged in honour of the Electoral 
 Prince culminated in a great regatta, which Lady 
 Mary witnessed from the windows of her friend the 
 Procurator Grimani, and of which she sent a full 
 description to her husband. 
 
 " You seem to mention the regatta in a manner as 
 if you would be pleased with a description of it. It 
 is a race of boats : they are accompanied by vessels 
 which they call Piotes, and Bichones, that are built 
 at the expense of the nobles and strangers that have 
 
Travels in Italy and France 147 
 
 a mind to display their magnificence ; they are a sort 
 of machines adorned with all that sculpture and gild- 
 ing can do to make a shining appearance. Several of 
 them cost one thousand pounds sterling, and I believe 
 none less than five hundred ; they are rowed by gon- 
 doliers dressed in rich habits, suitable to what they 
 represent. There was enough of them to look like a 
 little fleet, and I own I never saw a finer sight. It 
 would be too long to describe every one in particular ; 
 I shall only name the principal : — the Signora Pisani 
 Mocenigo's represented the Chariot of the Night, 
 drawn by four sea-horses, and showing the rising of 
 the moon, accompanied with stars, the statues on each 
 side representing the hours to the number of twenty- 
 four, rowed by gondoliers in rich liveries, which were 
 changed three times, all of equal richness, and the 
 decorations changed also to the dawn of Aurora and 
 the mid-day sun, the statues being new dressed every 
 time, the first in green, the second time red, and the 
 last blue, all equally laced with silver, there being 
 three races. Signor Soranzo's represented the kingdom 
 of Poland, with all the provinces and rivers in that 
 dominion, with a concert of the best instrumental 
 music in rich Polish habits ; the painting and gilding 
 were exquisite in their kinds. Signor Contarini's 
 piote showed the Liberal Arts ; Apollo was seated on 
 the stern upon Mount Parnassus, Pegasus behind, and 
 the Muses seated round him : opposite was a figure 
 representing Painting, with Fame blowing her trumpet; 
 and on each side Sculpture and Music in their proper 
 
 10—2 
 
148 Travels m Italy and France 
 
 dresses. The Procurator Foscarini's was the Chariot 
 of Flora guided by Cupids, and adorned with all sorts 
 of flowers, rose-trees, etc. Signor Julio Contarini['s] 
 represented the Triumphs of Valour ; Victory was on 
 the stern, and all the ornaments warlike trophies of 
 every kind. Signor Correri's was the Adriatic Sea 
 receiving into her arms the Hope of Saxon}^ Signor 
 Alvisio Mocenigo's was the Garden of Hesperides ; 
 the whole fable was represented by different statues. 
 Signor Querini had the Chariot of Venus drawn by 
 doves, so well done, they seemed ready to fly upon the 
 water ; the Loves and Graces attended her. Signor 
 Paul Doria had the Chariot of Diana, who appeared 
 hunting in a large wood : the trees, hounds, stag, and 
 nymphs, all done naturally : the gondoliers dressed like 
 peasants attending the chase : and Endymion, lying 
 under a large tree, gazing on the goddess. Signor 
 Angelo Labbia represented Poland crowning of Saxony, 
 waited on by the Virtues and subject Provinces. Signor 
 Angelo Molino was Neptune waited on by the Rivers. 
 Signor Vicenzo Morosini's piote showed the Triumphs 
 of Peace : Discord being chained at her feet, and she 
 surrounded with the Pleasures, etc." 
 
 At last, after numerous delays. Lady Mary succeeded 
 in leaving Venice, though suffering herself, as she seems 
 often to have done, from a swelled face, which she still 
 had when she joined Lady Pomfret and Lady Walpole 
 at Florence, and was visited by Horace Walpole. 
 
 The beauties of Florence and its artistic treasures 
 she admired, but apparently left to Lady Pomfret to 
 
Travels ifi Italy and France 149 
 
 describe ; though the compiler of the volume of 
 letters of 1767 duly supplied a long and dull descrip- 
 tion, which is written rather in the style of a bad imi- 
 tation of Dr. Johnson than in Lady Mary's own livelier 
 and less polysyllabic manner. After nearly two months 
 at Florence she passed on to Rome, which was suffer- 
 ing under too great an emission of Papal paper-money. 
 As she writes to her husband : 
 
 '' Belloni, who is the greatest, banker not only of 
 Rome but all Italy, furnished me with fifty sequins, 
 which he solemnly swore was all the money he had in 
 the house. They go to market with paper, pay the 
 lodgings with paper, and, in short, there is no specie 
 to be seen, which raises the price of everything to the 
 utmost extravagance, nobody knowing what to ask for 
 their goods. It is said the present Pope* (who has a 
 very good character) has declared he will endeavour a 
 remedy, though it is very difficult to find one. He was 
 bred a lawyer, and has passed the greatest part of his 
 life in that profession ; and is so sensible of the misery 
 of the State, that he is reported to have said, that he 
 never thought himself in want till since his elevation. 
 He has no relations which he takes any notice of. The 
 country belonging to him, which I have passed, is al- 
 most uninhabited, and in a poverty beyond what I ever 
 saw." 
 
 The chaise which she purchased to take her to 
 Naples was no more firm than the credit of the Papal 
 States, and collapsed promptly on the second day of 
 * Benedict XIV., but recently chosen. 
 
150 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 the journey. However, it was cobbled together suffi- 
 ciently to reach Naples, where Lady Mary thought of 
 settling, preferring the manners of the Neapolitans to 
 those of the Romans and Florentines, in spite of their 
 worse reputation. She writes to her husband : 
 
 '* I like the climate extremely, which is now so soft, 
 I am actually sitting without any want of a fire. I do 
 not find the people so savage as they were represented 
 to me. I have received visits from several of the prin- 
 cipal ladies ; and I think 1 could meet with as much 
 company here as I desire ; but here is one article both 
 disagreeable and incommodious, which is the grandeur 
 of the equipages. Two coaches, two running footmen, 
 four other footmen, a gentleman usher, and two pages, 
 are as necessary here as the attendance of a single 
 servant is at London. All the Spanish customs are 
 observed very rigorously. I could content myself with 
 all of them except this : but I see plainly, from my own 
 observation as well as intelligence, that it is not to be 
 dispensed with, \vhich I am heartily vexed at. 
 
 ''The affairs of Europe are now so uncertain, it 
 appears reasonable to me to wait a Httle, before I fix 
 my residence, that I may not find myself in the theatre 
 of war, which is threatened on all?sides." 
 
 However, the Spanish formality kept up by the 
 Spanish Bourbon prince on the throne (Charles, after- 
 wards Charles HL of Spain) repelled her; and the 
 death of the Emperor Charles VL in October, 1740, 
 had thrown European politics into such confusion, 
 owing to the impending struggle for the inheritance 
 
Travels in Italy and France 151 
 
 of the Austrian domains, that it was hard to say where 
 or when war might break out. Meanwhile, to gratify 
 her own taste and that of her husband for classical 
 antiquities, she tried to see the ruins of Herculaneum. 
 
 '' The town lately discovered is at Portici, about 
 three miles from this place. Since the first discovery, 
 no care has been taken, and the ground fallen in, [so] 
 that the present passage to it is, as I am told by every- 
 body, extreme dangerous, and for some time nobody 
 ventures into it. I had been assured by some English 
 gentlemen, that were let down into it the last year, 
 that the whole account given in the newspapers is 
 literally true. Probably great curiosities might be 
 found there ; but there has been no expense made, 
 either by propping the ground, or clearing a way into 
 it ; and as the earth falls in daily, it will possibly be 
 soon stopped up, as it was before." 
 
 She wrote again a fortnight later to her husband : 
 '" I did not write to you last post, hoping to have 
 been able to have given you an account in this of 
 everything I had observed at Portici, but I have not 
 yet obtained the King's license, which must be had 
 before I can be admitted to see the pictures, and frag- 
 ments of statues which have been found there, and has 
 been hitherto delayed on various pretences, it being at 
 present a very singular favour. They say that some 
 English carried a painter with them the last year to 
 copy the pictures, which renders it more difficult at 
 present to get leave to see them. I have taken all 
 possible pains to get information of this subterranean 
 
152 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 building, and am told 'tis the remains of the ancient 
 city of Hercolana, and by what I can collect, there was 
 a theatre entire, with all the scenes and ancient decora- 
 tions : they have broke it to pieces by digging irre- 
 gularly. I hope in a few days to get permission to go, 
 and will then give yoM the exactest description I am 
 capable of." 
 
 The permission, however, was refused — a circum- 
 stance which by no means raised Lady Mary's opinion 
 of the King of the Two Sicilies. 
 
 '' I returned hither last night," she wrote from Rome, 
 in January, 1741, " after six weeks' stay at Naples ; 
 great part of that time was vainly taken up in endea- 
 vouring to satisfy your curiosity and my own, in rela- 
 tion to the late-discovered town of Hercolana. I 
 wasted eight days, in hopes of permission to see the 
 pictures and other rarities taken from thence, which is 
 preserved in the King's palace at Portici ; but I found 
 it was to no purpose, his majesty keeping the key in 
 his own cabinet, which he would not part with, though 
 the Prince de Zathia (who is one of his favourites), I 
 believe, very sincerely tried his interest to obtain it for 
 me. He is son to the Spanish Ambassador I knew at 
 Venice, and both he and his lady loaded me with 
 civilities at Naples. The Court in general is more 
 barbarous than any of the ancient Goths. One proof 
 of it, among many others, was melting down a beautiful 
 copper statue of a vestal found in this new ruin, to 
 make medallions for the late solemn christening. The 
 whole Court follow the Spanish customs and politics. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 153 
 
 I could say a good deal on this subject if I thought my 
 letter would come safe to your hands; the apprehen- 
 sion it may not, hinders my answering another inquiry 
 you make, concerning a family here, of which, indeed, I 
 can say little, avoiding all commerce with those that 
 frequent it." 
 
 The " family " referred to was, of course, that of the 
 Pretender James, or the Chevalier, as he was called by 
 those who wished to be neutral. He was now re- 
 siding at Rome with his two sons, Charles Edward and 
 Henry. As a good Whig, Lady Mary carefully avoided 
 them, though she saw the two young Stuarts once at a 
 ball. 
 
 '' I never saw the Chevalier during my whole stay 
 at Rome. I saw his two sons* at a public ball in 
 masque ; they were very richly adorned with jewels. 
 The eldest seems thoughtless enough, and is really not 
 unlike Mr. Lyttelton in his shape and air. The youngest 
 is very well made, dances finely, and has an ingenuous 
 countenance ; he is but fourteen years of age. The 
 family live very splendidly, yet pay everybody, and 
 (wherever they get it) are certainly in no want of 
 money." 
 
 At Rome she spent the rest of the winter, and 
 seems to have had a sort of " salon " for the English 
 then at Rome, to keep them out of the way of mischief, 
 moral or political. She wrote about it long afterwards 
 to her daughter. Lady Bute. 
 
 * Charles Edward, the Young Pretender, and Henry, afterwards 
 Cardinal of York. 
 
154 Travels in Italy and FraJice 
 
 '' The winter I passed at Rome there was an unusual 
 concourse of Enghsh, many of them with great estates, 
 and their own masters : as they had no admittance to 
 the Roman ladies, nor understood the language, they 
 had no way of passing their evenings but in my apart- 
 ment, where I had always a full drawing-room. Their 
 governors encouraged their assiduities as much as they 
 could, finding I gave them lessons of economy and good 
 conduct ; and my authority was so great, it was a 
 common threat amongst them, I'll tell Lady Mary what 
 you say. I was judge of all their disputes, and my 
 decisions always submitted to. While I stayed, there 
 was neither gaming, drinking, quarrelling, nor keeping. 
 The Abbe Grant (a very honest, good-natured North 
 Briton, who has resided several years at Rome) was so 
 amazed at this uncommon regularity, he would have 
 made me believe I was bound in conscience to pass my 
 life there, for the good of my countrymen. I can 
 assure you my vanity was not at all raised by this 
 influence over them, knowing very well that had Lady 
 Charlotte de Roussi* been in my place, it would have 
 been the same thing. There is that general emulation 
 in mankind, I am fully persuaded if a dozen young 
 fellows bred a bear amongst them, and saw no other 
 creature, they would every day fall out for the bear's 
 favours, and be extremely flattered by any mark of 
 distinction show^n by that ugly animal." 
 
 But this stay at Rome can have lasted only some five 
 
 * A French Protestant lady, governess to George II.'s children, 
 and apparently rather a dull person. 
 
Travels in Italy and F7'ance 155 
 
 or six weeks ; for at the end of F'ebruary, 1741, Lady 
 Mary had gone to Leghorn to meet her baggage, which 
 had come by sea from England. From here, after 
 some uncertainty, she went to Genoa and Turin. The 
 change in Itahan manners since she had passed through 
 Genoa with her husband in 1718, much impressed her, 
 as she wrote to Mr. Wortley Montagu. 
 
 '' The manners of Italy are so much altered since we 
 were here last, the alteration is scarce credible. They 
 say it has been by the last war. The French, being 
 masters, introduced all their customs, which were 
 eagerly embraced by the ladies, and I believe will 
 never be laid aside ; yet the different governments 
 make different manners in every state. You know, 
 though the republic is not rich, here are many private 
 families vastly so, and live at a great superfluous ex- 
 pense : all the people of the first quality keep coaches 
 as fine as the Speaker's, and some of them two or three, 
 though the streets are too narrow to use them in the 
 town ; but they take the air in them, and their chairs 
 carry them to the gates. The liveries are all plain : 
 gold or silver being forbidden to be worn within the 
 walls, the habits are all obliged to be black, but they 
 wear exceeding fine lace and linen ; and in their country- 
 houses, which are generally in the faubourg, they dress 
 very rich, and have extreme fine jewels. Here is nothing 
 cheap but houses. A palace fit for a prince may be 
 hired for fifty pounds per annum : I mean unfurnished. 
 All games of chance are strictly prohibited, and it seems 
 to me the only law they do not try to evade : they play at 
 
156 Travels in Italy and Fraiue 
 
 quadrille, piquet, etc., but not high. Here are no regular 
 public assemblies. I have been visited by all of the 
 first rank, and invited to several fine dinners, particu- 
 larly to the wedding of one of the house of Spinola, 
 where there were ninety-six sat down to table, and 
 I think the entertainment one of the finest I ever saw. 
 There was the night following a ball and supper for the 
 same company, with the same profusion. They tell me 
 that all their great marriages are kept in the same 
 public manner. Nobody keeps more than two horses, 
 all their journeys being post ; the expense of them, in- 
 cluding the coachman, is (I am told) fifty pounds per 
 annum. A chair is very near as much ; I give eighteen 
 francs a week for mine. The senators can converse 
 with no strangers during the time of their magistracy, 
 which lasts two years. The number of servants is 
 regulated, and almost every lady has the same, which 
 is two footmen, a gentleman-usher, and a page, who 
 follows her chair." 
 
 From Turin Lady Mary had an opportunity of 
 sending by a friend to her husband, and hence 
 ventured to touch on the politics of the time. 
 England was now engaged in a war with Spain 
 over commercial and colonial disputes; and France 
 was expected to join with Spain in virtue of the 
 Bourbon Family Compact of 1733. The Queen of 
 Spain, Elizabeth Farnese, second wife of Philip V,, 
 having placed her eldest son Charles on the throne of 
 Naples, was about to take advantage of the disputed 
 state of the Austrian succession to seize Milan for her 
 
Travels in Italy and France 157 
 
 second son Philip. Lady Mary seems to suggest that 
 by threatening to excite a revolt in Naples, which the 
 Spaniards had only held since 1735, the English 
 Government could bring Spain to terms — forgetting, 
 apparently, that Naples was nominally at peace with 
 England. This means was afterwards employed to 
 prevent the Neapolitan army from joining the 
 Spaniards. 
 
 " The English politics are the general jest of all the 
 nations I have passed through ; and even those who 
 profit by our follies cannot help laughing at our 
 notorious blunders ; though they are all persuaded that 
 the Minister* does not act from weakness but corrup- 
 tion, and that the Spanish gold influences his measures. 
 I had a long discourse with Count Mahony on this 
 subject, who said, very freely, that half the ships sent 
 to the coast of Naples, that have lain idle in our ports 
 last summer, would have frightened the Queen of Spain 
 into a submission to whatever terms we thought proper 
 to impose. The people, who are loaded with taxes, hate 
 the Spanish Government, of which I had daily proofs, 
 hearing them curse the English for bringing their King 
 to them,-|- whenever they saw any of our nation : but I 
 am not much surprised at the ignorance of our 
 Ministers, after seeing what creatures they employ to 
 send them intelHgence. Except Mr. Villette, at this 
 
 * Sir Robert Walpole, then near his fall from power. 
 
 t The English had not brought Charles to Naples, but had 
 brought him to Tuscany, in consequence of the Treaty of Seville, 
 1729 ; and this establishment of the Spaniards in Italy helped 
 them to conquer Naples later on. 
 
158 Travels in Italy and Frame 
 
 Court,* there is not one that has common sense : I say 
 this without prejudice, all of them having been as civil 
 and serviceable to me as they could." 
 
 Sardinia was making preparations for the impending 
 struggle for Milan. Her position holding the Alps, 
 between France and the Austrian possession of Milan, 
 made her courted by both sides. 
 
 From Turin Lady Mary went on to Geneva, where 
 the people were more to her taste than the prices. In 
 spite of the Republican simplicity, living was as dear 
 as in London, all provisions being brought in from out- 
 side. This and the *' sharpness of the air " soon drove 
 her to Chambery, in Savoy, where everything was as 
 cheap as it was dear at Geneva. 
 
 '' Here is the most profound peace and unbounded 
 plenty that is to be found in any corner of the universe; 
 but not one rag of money. For my part, I think it 
 amounts to the same thing, whether one is obliged to 
 give several pence for bread, or can have a g^reat deal 
 of bread for a penny, since the Savoyard nobility here 
 keep as good tables, without money, as those in London, 
 who spend in a week what would be here a considerable 
 yearly revenue. Wine, which is equal to the best Bur- 
 gundy, is sold for a penny a quart, and I have a cook 
 for very small wages, that is capable of rivalling Chloe.t 
 Here are no equipages but chairs, the hire of which is 
 
 * Mr. Villette was English Minister at the Sardinian Court. 
 He was afterwards of great service in keeping Sardinia on the 
 Austrian side. 
 
 t Monsieur Chlo^ was a celebrated French cook in the service 
 of the Duke of Newcastle. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 159 
 
 about a crown a week, and all other matters propor- 
 tionable. I can assure you I make the figure of the 
 Duchess of Marlborough, by carrying gold in my purse; 
 there being no visible coin but copper. Yet we are all 
 people that can produce pedigrees to serve for the Order 
 of Malta. Many of us have travelled, and 'tis the 
 fashion to love reading. We eat together perpetually, 
 and have assemblies every night for conversation. To 
 say truth, the houses are all built after the manner of the 
 old English towns ; nobody having had money to build 
 for two hundred years past. Consequently the walls 
 are thick, the roofs low, etc., the streets narrow, and 
 miserably paved." 
 
 At Chamb^ry Lady Mary spent the winter ; but in 
 the spring of 1742, fearing the outbreak of war and a 
 French invasion of Savoy, she moved to Lyons. Here 
 she received a letter from her husband, asking her to 
 arrange an interview with their son, Edward Wortley 
 Montagu, who had been rusticating in Holland and had 
 come back to England for three months. He (it 
 seems) was very anxious to get free from his Fleet 
 wife, making and breaking countless promises of re- 
 formation, and wanting to go into the army. To this 
 interview Lady Mary consented, and arranged for her 
 son, under an assumed name, to meet her at Valence. 
 She writes to her husband : 
 
 *' On recollection (however inconvenient it may be 
 to me on many accounts), I am not sorry to converse 
 with my son. I shall at least have the satisfaction of 
 making a clear judgment of his behaviour and temper, 
 
i6o Travels m Italy and France 
 
 which I shall deliver to you in the most sincere and un- 
 prejudiced manner. You need not apprehend that I 
 shall speak to him in passion. I do not know that I 
 ever did in my life. I am not apt to be over-heated in 
 discourse, and am so far prepared, even for the worst 
 on his side, that I think nothing he can say can alter the 
 resolution I have taken of treating him with calmness. 
 Both nature and interest (were I inclined to follow 
 blindly the dictates of either) would determine me to 
 wish him your heir rather than a stranger ; but I think 
 myself obliged both by honour, conscience, and my 
 regard for you, no way to deceive you ; and I confess, 
 hitherto I see nothing but falsehood and weakness 
 through his whole conduct."* 
 
 Before arranging the meeting, however, Lady Mary, 
 desirous of avoiding any possible theatre of w^ar, and 
 unwilling to remain in France when a war with Eng- 
 land was imminent, established herself in Avignon, then, 
 and until the Revolution, a papal possession, though 
 surrounded by French territory. She wrote to the 
 Countess of Pomfret on arriving there : 
 
 " I have changed my situation, fearing to find myself 
 blocked up in a besieged town ; and not knowing where 
 else to avoid the terrors of war, I have put myself under 
 the protection of the Holy See. Your ladyship being 
 well acquainted with this place, I need not send you a 
 description of it ; but I think you did not stay in it long 
 enough to know many of the people. I find them very 
 polite and obliging to strangers. We have assemblies 
 every night, ^which conclude with a great supper ; and 
 
Travels m Italy aiid France i6i 
 
 comedies which are tolerably well acted. In short, I 
 think one may while away an idle life with great tran- 
 quillity ; which has long since been the utmost of my 
 ambition." 
 
 From Avignon Lady Mary went to Orange, where 
 she had directed her son to meet her. Mr. Wortley 
 Montagu had heard a rumour that his son had been 
 " made an enthusiast in Holland," the eighteenth- 
 century equivalent of joining the Salvation Army 
 to-day. Lady Mary's account was reassuring on that 
 topic, if on no other : 
 
 ** I am just returned from passing two days with our 
 son, of whom I will give you the most exact account I 
 am capable of. He is so much altered in his person, I 
 should scarcely have known him. He has entirely lost 
 his beauty, and looks at least seven years older than he 
 is ; and the wildness that he always had in his eyes is 
 so much increased it is downright shocking, and I am 
 afraid will end fatally. He is grown fat, but is still 
 genteel, and has an air of politeness that is agreeable. 
 He speaks French like a Frenchman, and has got all 
 the fashionable expressions of that language, and a 
 volubility of words which he always had, and which 
 I do not wonder should pass for wit with inconsiderate 
 people. His behaviour is perfectly civil, and I found 
 him very submissive ; but in the main, no way really 
 improved in his understanding, which is exceedingly 
 weak ; and I am convinced he will always be led by the 
 person he converses with either right or wrong, not 
 being capable of forming any fixed judgment of his 
 
 II 
 
i62 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 own. As to his enthusiasm, if he had it, I suppose 
 he has already lost it ; since I could perceive no turn 
 of it in all his conversation. But with his head I 
 believe it is possible to make him a monk one day and 
 a Turk* three days after. He has a flattering, insinu- 
 ating manner, which naturally prejudices strangers in 
 his favour. He began to talk to me in the usual 
 silly cant I have so often heard from him, which I 
 shortened by telling him I desired not to be troubled 
 with it ; that professions were of no use where actions 
 were expected ; and that the only thing could give 
 me hopes of a good conduct was regularity and truth." 
 
 The topic of their son often turns up in the letters 
 between Lady Mary and her husband ; but no satis- 
 factory or lasting reformation was to be looked for from 
 him. From these and occasional allusions in Horace 
 Walpole's letters we get glimpses of him, flitting 
 between London and Paris, blazing out in splendid 
 dresses on a scanty allowance, put in prison at Paris 
 over a discreditable gambling quarrel with a Jew of 
 several names, running away with ''the famous Miss 
 Ashe," and adding her "to the number of his wives." 
 Perhaps the idea that he was hardly sane is the truest 
 as well as most charitable way of accounting for his 
 adventures. His mother was glad to turn from his 
 affairs to more grateful topics. 
 
 ** You may, perhaps, hear of a trifle which makes a 
 
 great noise in this part of the world, which is, that I 
 
 * It was believed that he did turn Mohammedan after the death 
 of his parents. 
 
(bdoc^au/ TraM^yu^ c ii/nitaa/iiy .^^ 
 
 moh' 
 
V-^ OF THE '^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
Travels in Italy and France i6 
 
 v) 
 
 am building ; but the whole expense which I have con- 
 tracted for is but twenty-six pounds sterling. You know 
 the situation of this town is on the meeting of the Rhone 
 and Durance. On one side of it, within the walls, wa^ 
 formerly a fortress built on a very high rock ; they say 
 it was destroyed by lightning : one of the towers was 
 left part standing, the walls being a yard in thickness : 
 this was made use of some time for a public mill, but 
 the height making it inconvenient for the carriage of 
 meal, it has stood useless many years. Last summer, 
 in the hot evenings, I walked often thither, where I 
 always found a fresh breeze, and the most beautiful 
 land-prospect I ever saw (except Wharncliffe*) ; being 
 a view of the windings of two great rivers, and over- 
 looking the whole country, with part of Languedoc and 
 Provence. I was so much charmed with it, that I said 
 in company, that, if that old mill was mine, I would 
 turn it into a belvidere ; my words were repeated, and 
 the two consuls waited on me soon after, with a dona- 
 tion from the town of the mill and the land about it : 
 I have added a dome to it, and made it a little rotunda 
 for the 'foresaid sum. I have also amused myself with 
 patching up an inscription, which I have communicated 
 to the Archbishop, who is much delighted with it ; but 
 it is not placed, and perhaps never shall be." 
 
 The inscription in question was an adaptation of 
 Cowley's '' Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris," the gender 
 being changed to feminine to suit Lady Mary. As 
 this change spoilt the scansion of some of the lines, 
 
 * Wharnclifte was the country seat of Mr. Wortley Montagu. 
 
 II — 2 
 
164 Travels in Italy ami France 
 
 Mr. Wortley Montagu was less delighted with the piece 
 than the Archbishop ; and his wife probably gave up the 
 idea of placing it on her *' belvidere." She gave her 
 husband many particulars of the town and neighbour- 
 hood of Avignon ; and having to send a man-serv^ant 
 back to England, she took the opportunity of writing a 
 piece of information about the descent which the French 
 vsrere then planning on England in the interests of the 
 Pretender — war having been declared in March, 1744, 
 after fighting had been going on for some time. 
 
 " I take this opportunity of informing you in wha^ 
 manner I came acquainted with the secret I hinted 
 at in my letter of the 5th of February. The society 
 of Freemasons at Nismes presented the Duke of 
 Richelieu,* Governor of Languedoc, w^ith a magnificent 
 entertainment ; it is but one day's post from hence, 
 and the Duchess of Crillon, with some other ladies of 
 this town, resolved to be at it, and alm.ost by force 
 carried me with them, which I am tempted to believe 
 an act of Providence, considering my great reluctance, 
 and the service it proved to be to unhappy innocent 
 people. The greatest part of the town of Nismes are 
 secret Protestants, which are still severely punished 
 according to the edicts of Lewis XIV. whenever they 
 are detected in any public worship. A few days before 
 we came, they had assembled ; their minister and about 
 a dozen of his congregation were seized and imprisoned. 
 
 * Well known for his dissipations, and afterwards better known 
 by his capture C)f Minorca in 1756, and his making the Convention 
 of Kloster Zeven in 1757. 
 
Travels m Italy and France [65 
 
 I knew nothing of this ; but I had not been in the town 
 two hours, when I was visited by two of the most 
 considerable of the Huguenots, who came to beg of me, 
 with tears, to speak in their favour to the Duke of 
 RicheHeu, saying none of the Cathohcs would do it, 
 and the Protestants durst not, and that God had sent 
 me for their protection. The Duke of Richelieu was 
 too well-bred to refuse to listen to a lady, and I was of 
 a rank and nation to have liberty to say what I pleased ; 
 they moved my compassion so much, I resolved to use 
 my endeavours to serve them, though I had little hope 
 of succeeding. I would not therefore dress myself for 
 the supper, but went in a domino to the ball, a masque 
 giving opportunity of talking in a freer manner than I 
 could have done without it. I was at no trouble in 
 engaging his conversation : the ladies having told him 
 I was there, he immediately advanced towards me ; 
 and I found, from a different motive, he had a great 
 desire to be acquainted with me, having heard a great 
 deal of me. After abundance of compliments of that 
 sort, I made my request for the liberty of the poor 
 Protestants ; he with great freedom told me he was so 
 little a bigot, he pitied them as much as I did, but his 
 orders from Court were to send them to the galleys. 
 However, to show how much he desired my good 
 opinion, he was returning, and would solicit their 
 freedom (which he has since obtained). This obligation 
 occasioned me to continue the conversation, and he 
 asked me what party the Pretender had in England ; 
 I answered, as I thought, a very small one. ' We are 
 
1 66 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 told otherwise at Paris,' said he ; * however, a bustle at 
 this time may serve to facilitate our other projects, 
 and we intend to attempt a descent ; * at least it will 
 cause the troops to be recalled, and perhaps Admiral 
 Mathews will be obliged to leave the passage open for 
 Don Philip. 't You may imagine how much I wished 
 to give you immediate notice of this ; but as all letters 
 are opened at Paris, it would have been to no purpose 
 to write it by the post, and have only gained me a 
 powerful enemy in the Court of France, ij! he being so 
 much a favourite of the King's, he is supposed to stand 
 candidate for the Ministry. In my letter to Sir 
 R[obert] W [alpole] from Venice, I offered my service, 
 and desired to know in what manner I could send 
 intelligence, if anything happened to my knowledge 
 that could be of use to England. I believe he imagined 
 that I wanted some gratification, and only sent me 
 cold thanks." 
 
 The relics of Roman municipal life here and in other 
 towns of the South of France must have interested Mr. 
 Wortley Montagu, who retained his taste for classical 
 antiquities. 
 
 *' This town is considerably larger than either Aix 
 or Montpelier, and has more inhabitants of quality than 
 
 * Marshal Saxe was to command the army, and the transports 
 were gathered at Dunkirk, but were shattered by a storm. The 
 Young Pretender's enterprise next year was made almost without 
 French aid. 
 
 t Admiral Mathews commanded the English fleet in the 
 Mediterranean, and was occupied in preventing the Spanish forces 
 from coming over by sea to Italy. 
 
 % The Due de Richelieu. 
 
Travels in Italy and France 167 
 
 of any other sort, having no trade, from the exactions 
 of the French, though better situated for it than any 
 inland town I know. What is most singular is the 
 government, which retains a sort of imitation of the 
 old Roman : here are two consuls chosen every year, 
 the first of whom from the chief noblesse ; and there 
 is as much struggling for that dignity in the Hotel de 
 Ville as in the Senate. The vice-legate cannot violate 
 their privileges, but as all governors naturally wish to 
 increase their authority, there are perpetual factions of 
 the same kind as those between prerogative and liberty 
 of the subject. We have a new Vice-legate, arrived a 
 few days since, nephew to Cardinal Acquaviva, young, 
 rich, and handsome, and sets out in a greater figure 
 than has ever been known here. The magistrate next 
 to him in place is called the Viguier,* who is chosen 
 every year by the Hotel de Ville, and represents the 
 person of the Pope in all criminal causes, but his 
 authority [is] so often clipped by the vice-legates, there 
 remains nothing of it at present but the honour of 
 precedence, during his office, and a box at the play- 
 house gratis, with the surintendance of all public diver- 
 sions. When Don Philip passed here, he began the 
 ball with his lad}^ which is the custom of all the princes 
 that pass. 
 
 '' The beginning of Avignon was probably a colony 
 
 from Marseilles, there having been a temple of Diana 
 
 on that very spot where I have my little pavilion. If 
 
 there was any painter capable of drawing it, I would 
 
 * Viguier is derived from vicariiis^ a vicar or deputy. 
 
1 68 Ti^avels in Italy and France 
 
 send you a view of the landscape, which is one of the 
 most beautiful I ever saw." 
 
 At Avignon Lady Mary stayed altogether over four 
 years, but her correspondence during that time is rather 
 scanty. As all letters had to pass through France, and 
 war was going on between England and France during 
 most of the time — though not formally declared till 
 1744 — we may imagine that she wrote but few letters, 
 and that not many of these arrived at their destination. 
 Some English gossip she gathered from her friend, the 
 Countess of Oxford. She heard of the death of her old 
 friend and enemy, Pope, in 1744, and was curious to 
 know what had become of his house at Twickenham ; 
 no animosity, however, is betrayed in the reference to 
 him. Nor was much emotion aroused by hearing of 
 the destruction of the house where much of her girlhood 
 had been spent — Thoresby, which was burnt down in 
 April, 1745. 
 
 The French victories in the Netherlands — notably 
 the battle of Fontenoy — made Avignon a less pleasant 
 place of sojourn. *' I pass my time very disagreeably 
 at present among the French," Lady Mary writes ; 
 ** their late successes have given them an air of 
 triumph that is very difficult for an English heart to 
 suffer ; I think less of politics than most people, yet 
 cannot be entirely insensible of the misfortunes of my 
 country." 
 
 She had long been desirous of leaving Avignon ; but 
 Italy was disturbed by the war between Austrians and 
 Sardinians on one side, and French and Spaniards on 
 the other, and in 1745 the latter had been completely 
 
Travels in Italy and France 169 
 
 successful. Thus it was dangerous to travel to Italy, 
 and France would be even worse than Avignon, 
 especially as the French droit d/aiihaine gave to the 
 King the goods of foreigners dying in his dominions, 
 a circumstance which will explain the meaning, though 
 not the grammar, of the following extract : 
 
 " I am very impatient to leave this town, which has 
 been highly disagreeable to me ever since the begin- 
 ning of this war, but the impossibility of returning into 
 Italy, and the law in France which gives to the King 
 all the effects any person deceased dies possessed of, 
 and I own that I am very desirous my jewels and some 
 little necessary plate that I have bought, should be 
 safely delivered into your hands, hoping you will be so 
 good to dispose of them to my daughter. The Duke 
 of Richelieu flattered me for some time that he would 
 obtain for me a permission to dispose of my goods, but 
 he has not 3^et done it, and you know the uncertainty 
 of Court promises." 
 
 Avignon became still more intolerable when in 1746 
 the failure of the Jacobite insurrection brought a swarm 
 of Jacobite refugees into the city. Lady Mary, who 
 was notoriously Whig in views, and who was constantly 
 endeavouring to send letters to her friends in England, 
 probably got the reputation of a spy. She resolved to 
 take the first possible opportunity of escape, and the 
 following letter to her husband gives a graphic account 
 of her perilous journey : 
 
 "Brescia, Aug. 23, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 "■ You will be surprised at the date of this letter, but 
 Avignon has been long disagreeable to me on many 
 
170 Travels in Italy and Finance 
 
 accounts, and now more than ever, from the concourse 
 of Scotch and Irish rebels that choose it for their 
 refuge, and are so highly protected by the Vice-legate, 
 that it is impossible to go into any company without 
 hearing a conversation that is improper to be listened 
 to, and dangerous to contradict. The war with France 
 hindered my settling there for reasons I have already 
 told you ; and the difficulty of passing into Italy con- 
 fined me, though I was always watching an oppor- 
 tunity of returning thither. Fortune at length presented 
 me one. 
 
 " I believe I wrote you word, when I was at Venice, 
 that I saw there the Count of Wackerbarth, who was 
 Governor to the Prince of Saxony, and is favourite of 
 the King of Poland, and the many civilities I received 
 from him, as an old friend of his mother's. About a 
 month since came to Avignon a gentleman of the bed- 
 chamber of the Prince, who is a man of the first quality 
 in this province,* I believe charged with some private 
 commission from the Polish Court. He brought me 
 a letter of recommendation from Count Wackerbarth, 
 which engaged me to show him what civilities lay in 
 my power. In conversation I lamented to him the 
 impossibility of my attempting a journey to Italy, 
 where he was going. He offered me his protection, 
 and represented to me that if I would permit him to 
 wait on me, I might pass under the notion of a Venetian 
 lady. In short, I ventured upon it, which has suc- 
 ceeded very well, though I met with more impediments 
 
 * Evidently the Count Palazzo referred to below. 
 
Travels iJi Italy a Jul France i 7 1 
 
 in my journey than I expected. We went by sea to 
 Genoa, where I made a very short stay, and saw 
 nobody, having no passport from that State, and fear- 
 ing to be stopped, if I was known.^' We took post- 
 chaises from thence the i6th of this month, and were 
 very much surprised to meet, on the Briletta, or 
 Pochetta, the baggage of the Spanish army,f with a 
 prodigious number of sick and wounded soldiers and 
 officers, who marched in a very great hurry. The 
 Count of Palazzo ordered his servants to say we were 
 in haste for the service of Don Philip, and without ' 
 further examination they gave us place everywhere ; 
 notwithstanding which, the multitude of carriages and 
 loaded mules which we met in these narrow roads, 
 made it impossible for us to reach ScravalliJ till it was 
 near night. Our surprise was great to find, coming 
 out of that town, a large body of troops surrounding 
 a body of guards, in the midst of which was Don 
 Philip in person, going a very round trot, looking 
 down, and pale as ashes. The army was in too much 
 confusion to take notice of us, and the night favouring 
 
 *■• The Republic of Genoa was in alliance with France and 
 Spain. The city soon after surrendered to the Austrians. 
 
 t- Lady Mary means the Bocchetta, or pass leading through 
 the mountains to Genoa. The French and Spaniards had been 
 defeated at Piacenza, June 16, 1746, by the Austrians and Sar- 
 dinians, and since then had been gradually driven from all their 
 positions in Italy. The French had retreated over the Alps, and 
 the Spaniards were being driven through Genoa. 
 
 X Serravalle is the name of the town, and a mistake has been 
 made either by Lady Mary or the printers of her letters, perhaps 
 both. 
 
172 Travels in Italy and France 
 
 us, we got into the town, but, when we came there, it 
 was impossible to find any lodging, all the inns being 
 filled with wounded Spaniards. The Count went to 
 the Governor, and asked a chamber for a Venetian 
 lady, which he granted very readily ; but there was 
 nothing in it but the bare walls, and in less than a 
 quarter of an hour after the whole house was empty 
 both of furniture and people, the Governor flying into 
 the citadel, and carrying with him all his goods and 
 family. We were forced to pass the night without 
 beds or supper. About daybreak the victorious 
 Germans entered the town. The Count went to wait 
 on the generals, to whom, I believe, he had a com- 
 mission. He told them my name, and there was no 
 sort of honour or civility they did not pay me. They 
 immediately ordered me a guard of hussars (which 
 was very necessary in the present disorder), and sent 
 me refreshments of all kinds. Next day I was visited 
 by the Prince of Badin Dourlach, the Prince Loiies- 
 tein,* and all the principal officers, with whom I 
 passed for a heroine, showing no uneasiness, though 
 the cannon of the citadel (where was a Spanish 
 garrison) played very briskly. I was forced to stay 
 there two days for want of post-horses, the postmaster 
 being fled, with all his servants, and the Spaniards 
 having seized all the horses they could find. At length 
 I set out from thence the igth instant, with a strong 
 escort of hussars, meeting with no further accident on 
 
 * Baden Durlach and Lowestein are meant, unless the last is a 
 mistake for Prince Lichtenstein, the Austrian Commander-in-chief. 
 
Travels in Italy and F^^ance 173 
 
 the road, except at the little town of Vogherra, where 
 they refused post-horses, till the hussars drew their 
 sabres. The 20th I arrived safe here. It is a very 
 pretty place, where I intend to repose myself at least 
 during the remainder of the summer. This journey 
 has been very expensive ; but I am very glad I have 
 made it. I am now in a neutral country, under the 
 protection of Venice. The Doge is our old friend 
 Grimani, and I do not doubt meeting with all sort 
 of civility." 
 
 Thus happily was Lady Mary arrived in one of the 
 few neutral countries of the time ; and in the hos- 
 pitable land of the Venetian republic she was to 
 remain for fifteen years. 
 
I 74 Residence at Lovei'e 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 RESIDENCE AT LOVERE 
 
 Lady Mary's Illness at Brescia — Detention by the Palazzo Family — 
 Removal to Lovere— Description of the Place — The Opera- 
 Whist with Priests— An Unexpected Visitor — Masquerade in 
 Carnival — Young Edward Wortley Montagu and Lord Sand- 
 wich — Lord Bute's Private Theatricals — Young's " Revenge " — 
 A Theatre at Lovere — Dairy-house and Garden — Lady Mary's 
 Mode of Life— Improvements in the Garden — The Duchess of 
 Guastalla — Gotolengo — New Way of treating Physicians — 
 Quackery in England — Gambling in England and Italy — 
 Noble Families of Lo\ ere — A Domestic Affair — Discretion 
 of Italian Servants — Murder Common — A Visit to Salo — 
 Beautiful Gardens — Lovere Fashionable — A Statue proposed 
 in her Honour — Her Services to the Inhabitants — The Old 
 Woman of Lovere — Wrong Ideas of Italy — Travellers' Mis- 
 takes — Curious Customs— Entails and Divorce. 
 
 Hardly had Lady Mary reached Brescia when the 
 health she had boasted of in the last lines of her letter 
 to her husband broke down, either from fatigue or 
 some other cause. She was seized with a fever, which 
 kept her in bed for two months. But fortunately 
 Count Palazzo's mother had insisted on taking her 
 in, and nursed her, as she herself said, as if she had 
 been a sister. Lady Mary expresses herself in the 
 
Residence at Lovere 175 
 
 most grateful way concerning the kindness of the 
 Countess. What happened afterwards to embroil the 
 guest with her hosts it is impossible to conjecture. 
 The Italian paper seen by Lord Wharncliffe, and 
 drawn up for Lady Mary, seemed to refer to some 
 forcible detention by an Italian Count and his mother, 
 who could hardly be other than Count Palazzo and his 
 parent. Did the Count presume upon his services to 
 Lady Mary, and did his mother take his side ? Did 
 the family try to make a profit out of their presumably 
 wealthy guest ? or did they simply try to prolong their 
 direction of her affairs later than was necessary ? In 
 any case, some quarrel there seems to have been, for 
 there is apparently no further mention of the Palazzo 
 family in the correspondence, though one would natu- 
 rally expect them to remain Lady Mary's most valued 
 friends while she was in the neighbourhood of Brescia. 
 However, by March, 1747, she was restored to fair 
 health, and living in a house of her own near Brescia. 
 But the ague from which she had suffered returned on 
 her, and her doctors recommended her to try Lovere, 
 a place at the northern extremity of Lake Iseo, valued 
 for its medicinal springs. Her first impressions of the 
 place are recorded in a letter to her daughter. Lady 
 Bute: 
 
 *' Dear Child, — 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 b}^ the doctor's order, my ague often returning, 
 notwithstanding the loads of bark I have taken. To 
 
1/6 Residence at Lovere 
 
 say truth, I have no reason to repent my journey, 
 though I was very unwilHng 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 com- 
 pany, and a village in many respects resembling Tun- 
 bridge 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 vine- 
 yards, 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 sur- 
 rounded 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 
 from one 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, 
 
Residence at Lover e 177 
 
 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 con- 
 cluded 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 pre- 
 sent 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 supper before I went, which is the 
 custom." 
 
 From the time of her establishing herself at Lovere, 
 Lady Mary's letters were chiefly written to her daughter. 
 She still continued to correspond with her husband ; 
 but a certain constraint is always to be observed in her 
 letters to him, whereas to her daughter she pours out 
 her thoughts with an affectionate garrulity. She soon 
 settled down into the quiet Italian country life ; and, 
 liberal as are the ideas Horace Walpole seems to have 
 entertained on her dissipations, she apparently con- 
 tented herself with whist at penny points. As she 
 wrote to Lady Bute in December, 1747 : 
 
 " I find I amuse myself here in the same manner as 
 if at London, according to your account of it ; that is, 
 
 12 
 
ijS Residence at Lover e 
 
 I play at whist every night with some old priests that 
 I have taught it to, and are my only companions. To 
 say truth, the decay of my sight will no longer suffer 
 me to read by candlelight, and the evenings are now 
 long and dark, that I am forced to stay at home. I 
 believe you'll be persuaded my gaming makes nobody 
 uneasy, when I tell you that we play only a penny per 
 corner. 'Tis now a year that I have lived wholly in the 
 country, and have no design of quitting it. I am 
 entirely given up to rural amusements, and have forgot 
 there are any such things as wits or fine ladies in the 
 world." 
 
 But the free and easy hospitality in vogue among the 
 nobility of Venetian Lombardy was rather too much 
 for Lady Mary's philosophy — shall we say for her 
 frugality ? 
 
 " The way of living in this province being," she 
 writes, " what I believe it is now in the sociable part 
 of Scotland, and was in England a hundred years ago. 
 I had a visit in the beginning of these holidays of thirty 
 horse of ladies and gentlemen, with their servants (by the 
 way, the ladies all ride like the late Duchess of Cleve- 
 land). They came with the kind intent of staying 
 with me at least a fortnight, though I had never seen 
 any of them before ; but they were all neighbours 
 within ten miles round. I could not avoid entertaining 
 them at supper, and by good luck had a large quantity 
 of game in the house, which, with the help of my 
 poultry, furnished out a plentiful table. I sent for the 
 fiddles, and they were so obliging as to dance all night, 
 
Residence at Loverc i 79 
 
 and even dine with me next day, though none of them 
 had been in bed ; and were much disappointed I did 
 not press them to stay, it being the fashion to go in 
 troops to one another's houses, hunting and dancing 
 together a month in each castle. I have not yet 
 returned any of their visits, nor do not intend it for 
 some time, to avoid this expensive hospitahty. The 
 trouble of it is not very great, they not expecting any 
 ceremony. I left the room about one o'clock, and they 
 continued their ball in the saloon above stairs, without 
 being at all offended at my departure. But the greatest 
 diversion I had was to see a lady of my own age com- 
 fortably dancing with her own husband, some years older ; 
 and I can assert that she jumps and gallops with the 
 best of them." 
 
 This kind of friendly irruption seems to have been 
 common in carnival time, though the next instance 
 was not so expensive. 
 
 " Some ladies in the neighbourhood favoured me last 
 week with a visit in masquerade. They were all dressed 
 in white like vestal virgins, with garlands in their hands. 
 They came at night with violins and flambeaux, but did 
 not stay more than one dance ; pursuing their way to 
 another castle some miles from hence." 
 
 But Lady Mary retained a lively interest in English 
 doings, particularly in those of her children. Her son 
 at this time was secretary to his relation, Lord Sand- 
 wich, English Plenipotentiary at the Congress of Aix- 
 la-Chapelle ; but her pleasure at the good report given 
 by Lord Sandwich was dashed by the fear that it 
 
 12 — 2 
 
i8o Residence at Love re 
 
 might be dictated by interested motives. Lord and 
 Lady Bute had also been more in public, the former 
 having developed a taste for private theatricals, by 
 which he gratified both himself and his master, Fred- 
 erick, Prince of Wales. It appears that Lord Bute and 
 his friends acted Young's '' Revenge," one of the plays 
 the poet wrote before he became a royal chaplain. 
 Young was a friend of Lady Mary's, and had submitted 
 some of his plays to her for criticisms and suggestions. 
 She contrasted the dramatic diversions of the Court 
 with her own experience of carnival gaieties at Lovere. 
 '' I give you thanks, dear child, for your entertaining 
 account of your present diversions. I find the public 
 calamities have no influence on the pleasures of the 
 town. I remember very well the play of the ' Revenge,' 
 having been once acquainted with a party that intended 
 to represent it (not one of which is now alive). I wish 
 you had told me who acted the principal parts. I 
 suppose Lord Bute was Alonzo, by the magnificence 
 of his dress. I think they have mended their choice in 
 the ' Orphan ' : I saw it played at Westminster School, 
 where Lord Erskine was Monimia, and then one of 
 the most beautiful figures that could be seen. I have 
 had here (in low life) some amusements of the same 
 sort. I believe I wrote you word I intended to go to 
 the opera at Brescia ; but the weather being cold, and 
 the roads bad, prevented my journey; and the people 
 of this village (which is the largest I know : the curate 
 tells me he has two thousand communicants) presented 
 me a petition for leave to erect a theatre in my saloon. 
 
Residence at Lover e i8i 
 
 This house has stood empty many years before I took 
 it, and they were accustomed to turn the stables into 
 a playhouse every carnival : it is now occupied by my 
 horses, and they had no other place proper for a stage. 
 I easily complied with their request, and was surprised 
 at the beauty of their scenes, which, though painted 
 by a country painter, are better coloured, and the per- 
 spective better managed, than in any of the second- 
 rate theatres in London. I liked it so well, it is not 
 yet pulled down. The performance was yet more sur. 
 prising, the actors being all peasants ; but the Italians 
 have so natural a genius for comedy, they acted as well 
 as if they had been brought up to nothing else, par- 
 ticularly the Arlequin, who far surpassed any of our 
 Enghsh, though only the tailor of the village, and I 
 am assured never saw a play in any other place. It 
 is a pity they have not better poets, the pieces being 
 not at all superior to our drolls. The music, habits, 
 and illumination were at the expense of the parish, 
 and the whole entertainment, which lasted the three 
 last days of the carnival, cost me only a barrel of wine, 
 which I gave the actors, and is not so dear as small 
 beer in London. At present, as the old song says, 
 
 " ' All my whole care 
 Is my farming affair, 
 To make my corn grow, and my apple-trees bear.' 
 
 My improvements give me great pleasure, and so much 
 profit, that if I could live a hundred years longer, I 
 should certainly provide for all my grandchildren : but, 
 
iS2 Residence at Lovere 
 
 alas ! as the Italians say, h^o sojiato vingt & quatro ora :* 
 and it is not long I must expect to write myself your 
 most affectionate mother." 
 
 In later letters Lady Mary described to her daughter 
 her establishment at Lovere, where she had not only 
 rented an old chateau or '' castle," as she calls it, but 
 took a garden and farm-house near the river Oglio for 
 the summer heats. Soon after the date of this letter 
 she bought the ''castle" outright for a small sum, and 
 fitted it up partly as a residence. The description of 
 her " dairy- house " and garden is entertaining : 
 
 ^''I have been these six weeks, and still am, at my 
 dairy-house, which joins to my garden. I believe I 
 have already told you it is a long mile from the castle, 
 which is situate in the midst of a very large village, 
 once a considerable town, part of the walls still re- 
 maining, and has not vacant ground enough about it 
 to make a garden, which is my greatest anmsement, 
 it being now troublesome to walk, or even go in the 
 chaise till the evening. I have fitted up in this farm- 
 house a room for myself — that is to say, strewed the 
 floor with rushes, covered the chimney with moss and 
 branches, and adorned the room with basins of 
 earthenware (which is made here to great perfection) 
 filled with flowers, and put in some straw chairs, and 
 a couch bed, which is my whole furniture. This spot 
 of ground is so beautiful, I am afraid you will scarce 
 credit the description, which, however, I can assure 
 you, shall be ver}' literal, without any embellishment 
 
 * So in the original. Lady Mary's Italian was not very accurate. 
 
Residence at Lover e 183 
 
 from imagination. It is on a bank, forming a kind 
 of peninsula, raised from the river Oglio fifty feet, to 
 which 3'ou 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 byusco. 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 w^ood 
 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 \vas 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 
 
184 Residence at Lovere 
 
 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 hold- 
 ing 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 [s/c] if I did not fear the customs 
 would make you pay too dear for it. I believe my 
 description gives you but an imperfect idea of my 
 garden. Perhaps I shall succeed better in describing 
 my manner of life, which is as regular as that of any 
 monastery. I generally rise at six, and as soon as I 
 have breakfasted, put myself at the head of my weeder 
 \sic\ women and work with them till nine. I then 
 inspect my dairy, and take a turn among my poultry, 
 which is a very large inquiry. I have, at present, two 
 hundred chickens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, and 
 peacocks. 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. At eleven o'clock I retire to 
 my books : I dare not indulge myself in that pleasure 
 above an hour. At twelve I constantl}- dine, and sleep 
 
Residence at Lover e 185 
 
 after dinner till about three. I then send for some of 
 my old priests, and either play at piquet or whist, till 
 'tis cool enough to go out. One evening I walk in my 
 wood, where I often sup, take the air on horseback the 
 next, and go on the water the third. The fishery of 
 this part of the river belongs to me ; and my fisher- 
 man's little boat (where I have a green lutestring 
 awning) serves me for a barge. He and his son are 
 my rowers without any expense, he being very well 
 paid by the profit of the fish, which I give him on con- 
 dition of having every day one dish for my table. Here 
 is plenty of every sort of fresh-water fish (excepting sal- 
 mon) ; but we have a large trout so like it, that I, that 
 have almost forgot the taste, do not distinguish it." 
 
 And in the very next letter to her daughter, Lady 
 Mary returns to the subject of her garden : 
 
 ^' I am really as fond of my garden as a young 
 author of his first play when it has been well received 
 by the town, and can no more forbear teasing my 
 acquaintance for their approbation : though I gave 
 you a long account of it in my last, I must tell you 
 I have made two little terraces, raised twelve steps 
 each, at the end of my great walk ; they are just 
 finished, and a great addition to the beauty of my 
 garden. I enclose to you a rough draft of it, drawn 
 (or more properly scrawled) by my own hand, without 
 the assistance of rule or compasses, as you will easily 
 perceive. I have mixed in my espaliers as many rose 
 and jessamine trees as I can cram in ; and in the squares 
 designed for the use of the kitchen, have avoided putting 
 
1 86 Residence at Lovere 
 
 anything disagreeable either to sight or smell, having 
 another garden below for cabbage, onions, garlic, etc. 
 All the walks are garnished with beds of flowers, beside 
 the parterres, which are for a more distinguished 
 sort. I have neither brick nor stone walls : all my 
 fence is a high hedge, mingled with trees ; but fruit 
 [is] so plent}' in this country, nobody thinks it worth 
 stealing. Gardening is certainly the next amusement 
 to reading; and as my sight will now permit me little 
 of that, I am glad to form a taste that can give me so 
 much employment, and be the plaything of my age, 
 now my pen and needle are almost useless to me." 
 
 The greatest personages in this part of Italy seem 
 to have conformed to the fashion of making impromptu 
 visits, as we see by the following letter : 
 
 *' I was surprised not man}^ days ago by a very 
 extraordinary visit : it was from the Duchess of 
 Guastalla, who you know is a Princess of the house 
 d'Armstadt,* and reported to be near marriage with 
 the King of Sardinia. I confess it was an honour I 
 could easily have spared, she coming attended with 
 the greatest part of her Court ; her grand-master, who 
 is brother to Cardinal Valenti, the first ladv of her 
 bed-chamber, four pages, and a long et cetera of 
 inferior servants, besides her guards. She entered 
 with an easy French air, and told me, since I would 
 
 ■^ This Princess of the house of Hesse- Darmstadt was the 
 Duchess Dowager of Guastalla, the Duke being dead. The 
 Dachy of Guastalla was added to Parma and Piacenza, given to 
 Don Philip by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapclle in 1748. 
 
Residence at Lovere 187 
 
 not oblige her by coming to her Court, she was resolved 
 to come to me, and eat a salad of my raising, having 
 heard much fame of my gardening. You may imagine 
 I gave her as good a supper as I could. She was (or 
 seemed to be) extremely pleased with an English sack- 
 posset of my ordering. I owned to her freely that my 
 house was much at her service, but it was impossible 
 for me to find beds for all her suite. She said she 
 intended to return when the moon rose, which was an 
 hour after midnight. In the mean time I sent for the 
 violins to entertain her attendants, who were very well 
 pleased to dance, while she and her grand-master and 
 I played at piquet. She pressed me extremely to return 
 with her to her jointure-house, where she now resides 
 (all the furniture of Guastalla being sold). I excused 
 myself on not daring to venture in the cold night 
 fifteen miles, but promised I would not fail to pay her 
 my acknowledgments for the great honour her high- 
 ness had done me, in a very short time, and we parted 
 very good friends. She said she intended this spring 
 to retire into her native country. I did not take the 
 liberty of mentioning to her the report of her being in 
 treaty with the King of Sardinia, though it has been 
 in the newspaper of Mantua ; but I found an oppor- 
 tunity of hinting it to Signer Gonzagna, her grand- 
 master, who told me the Duchess would not have been 
 pleased to talk of it, since, perhaps, there was nothing 
 in it more than a friendship that had long been between 
 them, and since her widowhood the King sends her an 
 express every day." 
 
1 88 Residence at Lovere 
 
 In the spring of 1749 Lady Mary moved to Goto- 
 lengo, a place near Brescia, of about the same size as 
 Lovere. Here she found a seemingly Roman monu- 
 ment. 
 
 *' A very fair inscription, in large characters, on a 
 large stone found in the pavement of the old church, 
 and makes now a part of the wall of the new one, which 
 is now building. The people here, who are as ignorant 
 as their oxen, and live like them on the product of their 
 land, without any curiosity for the history of it, would 
 infer from thence that this town is of Roman founda- 
 tion, though the walls, which are yet the greatest part 
 standing (only the towers and battlements demolished), 
 are very plainly Gothic, and not one brick to be found any- 
 where of Roman fabric, which is very easily distinguished. 
 I can easily believe their tradition, that the old church, 
 which was pulled down two years ago, being ready to 
 drop, v/as a pagan temple, and do not doubt it was a con- 
 siderable town, founded by the Goths when they overran 
 Ital}'. The fortifications were strong for that age : the 
 ditch still remaining without the walls being very broad 
 and deep, in which ran the little river that is now before 
 my house, and the moat turned into gardens for the use 
 of the town, the name of which being Gotolengo, is a 
 confirmation of my conjecture. The castle, which cer- 
 tainly stood on the spot where my house now does, 
 being on an eminence in the midst of the town, was 
 probably destroyed by fire. When I ordered the court 
 to be levelled, which was grown uneven by long neglect' 
 there was found such quantities of burnt bricks, that 
 
Residence at Lovere 189 
 
 plainly showed the remains of a considerable fire ; but 
 whether by the enemy, or accidental, I could get no in- 
 formation. They have no records, or parish books, 
 beyond the time of their coming under the Venetian 
 dominion, which is not much above three hundred 
 years ago, at which time they were, as they now are, 
 a large village, being two miles in circuit, and contains 
 \_^ic\ at present (as the curate told me) two thousand 
 communicants. The ladies of this neighbourhood that 
 had given themselves the trouble and expense of going 
 to see Don Philip's entry into Parma, are returned, 
 according to the French saying, avec un pied dc nez. As 
 they had none of them ever seen a court before, they had 
 figured to themselves prodigious scenes of gallantry and 
 magnificence." 
 The mildness of the winter created fears of epidemics : 
 *' We have hitherto had no winter, to the great 
 sorrow of the people here, who are in fear of wanting 
 ice in the summer, which is as necessary as bread. 
 They also attribute a malignant fever, which has carried 
 off great numbers in the neighbouring towns, to the 
 uncommon warmth of the air. It has not infected this 
 village, which they say has ever been free from any 
 contagious distemper. It is very remarkable that when 
 the disease amongst the cattle raged with great violence 
 all round, not one died or sickened here. The method 
 of treating the physician in this country, I think, should 
 be the same everywhere : they make it his interest that 
 the whole parish should be in good health, giving him 
 a stated pension, which is collected by a tax on every 
 
I go Residence at Love re 
 
 house, on condition he neither demands nor receives 
 any fees, nor even refuses a visit either to rich or poor. 
 This last article would be very hard, if we had as many 
 vapourish ladies as in England ; but those imaginary 
 ills are entirely unknown here. When I recollect the 
 vast fortunes raised by doctors amongst us, and the 
 eager pursuit after every new piece of quackery that 
 is introduced, I cannot help thinking that there is a 
 fund of credulity in mankind that must be employed 
 somewhere, and the money formerly given to monks 
 for the health of the soul, is now thrown to doctors for 
 health of the body, and generally with as little real 
 prospect of success." 
 
 This last reflection is a repetition of what Lady Mary 
 had written to her husband before^ on hearing of the 
 popularity of tar-water in England. 
 
 " We have no longer faith in miracles and relics, and 
 therefore with the same fury run after recipes and 
 physicians. The same money which three hundred 
 years ago was given for the health of the soul is now 
 given for the health of the body, and by the same sort 
 of people — women and half-witted men. In the 
 countries where they have shrines and images, quacks 
 are despised, and monks and confessors find their 
 account in managing the fear and hope which rule the 
 actions of the multitude." 
 
 Perhaps the spread of incredulity in matters of 
 religion has assimilated other countries to England 
 in this respect. Italy no longer believes its priests 
 without questioning, and hence can find faith to spare 
 
Residence at Loverc 191 
 
 for a vendor of " blue electricity " and the like, though 
 it is but fair to his native country to state that his 
 chents seem to be largely English, of the classes 
 mentioned by Lady Mary. 
 
 The manners and customs of North Italy were to 
 her a constant source of entertainment, and she is 
 constantly comparing them with those of England — as, 
 for instance, even in a matter of gossip about the 
 interesting topic of gambling : 
 
 'j Your new-fashioned game of brag was the genteel 
 amusement when I was a girl ; crimp succeeded to that, 
 and basset and hazard employed the town when I left 
 it to go to Constantinople. At my return, I found 
 them all at commerce, which gave place to quadrille, 
 and that to whist ; but the rage of play has been ever 
 the same, and will ever be so among the idle of both 
 sexes. It is the same in every great town, and I think 
 more particularly all over France. Here is a young 
 man of quality, one mile from hence, just of age (which 
 is nineteen through all the Venetian state), who lost 
 last carnival, at Brescia, ten thousand pounds, being 
 all the money his guardians had laid up in his minority ; 
 and, as his estate is entailed, he cannot raise one 
 farthing on it, and is now a sort of prisoner in his 
 castle, where he lives upon rapine — I mean running in 
 debt to poor people, who perhaps he will never be able 
 to pay. I am afraid you are tired with this insignificant 
 letter ; we old women love tattling ; you must forgive 
 the infirmities of your most affectionate mother." 
 Lovere was not wanting in aristocratic inhabitants ; 
 
192 Reside7ice at Lover e 
 
 " There is a numerous gentry of great names and 
 little fortunes ; six of those families inhabit this town. 
 You may fancy this forms a sort of society ; but far 
 from it, as there is not one of them that does not think 
 (for some reason or other) they are far superior to all 
 the rest : there is such a settled aversion amongst them, 
 they avoid one another with the utmost care, and hardly 
 ever meet, except by chance at the castle (as they call 
 my house), where their regard for me obliges them to 
 behave civilly, but it is with an affected coldness that is 
 downright disagreeable, and hinders me from seeing any 
 of them often." 
 
 One of the longest letters gives an amusing but rather 
 too free-spoken account of a domestic difficulty in one of 
 these families, in which Lady Mary's intervention pre- 
 vented the use of the stiletto — she having been called in 
 to reconcile an injured husband and an erring wife, by 
 the remarkable discretion of a servant, which discretion, 
 as she goes on to say, is no wonder in Italy, though un- 
 usual in England — for " 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 bv wine, drunkenness being 
 
Residence at Love re 193 
 
 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." 
 
 The care of her health generally brought Lady Mary 
 back to Lovere after any absence, as she found the 
 waters there beneficial ; and most of her letters are 
 written from there. In the autumn of 1750 she paid a 
 visit to a former palace of the Duke of Tuscany, at 
 Salo, on Lake Garda, and gives a detailed account of 
 it to her daughter : 
 
 *' I have been persuaded to go to a palace near Salo, 
 situate on the vast lake of Gardia \sic\ , and do not 
 repent my pains since my arrival, though I have passed 
 a very bad road to it. It is, indeed, take it altogether, 
 the finest place I ever saw : the King of France has 
 nothing so fine, nor can have in his situation. It is large 
 enough to entertain all his Court, and much larger than 
 the royal palace of Naples, or any of those of Germany 
 
 13 
 
194 Reside7ice at Lovere 
 
 or England. It was built by the great Cosmo, Duke 
 of Florence, where he passed many months, for several 
 years, on the account of his health, the air being 
 esteemed one of the best in Italy. All the offices and 
 conv^eniences are suitably magnificent : but that is 
 nothing in regard to the beauties without doors. It is 
 seated in that part of the lake which forms an amphi- 
 theatre, at the foot of a mountain near three miles high, 
 covered with a wood of orange, lemon, citron, and 
 pomegranate trees, which is all cut into walks, and 
 divided into terraces, that you may go into a several 
 garden from every floor in the house, diversified with 
 fountains, cascades, and statues, and joined by easy 
 marble staircases, which lead from one to another. 
 There are many covered walks, where you are secure 
 from the sun in the hottest part of the day, by the 
 shade of the orange-trees, which are so loaded with 
 fruit, you can hardly have any notion of their beauty 
 without seeing them : they are as large as lime-trees 
 in England. You will think I say a great deal : I will 
 assure you I say far short of what I see, and you must 
 turn to the fairy tales to give any idea of the real 
 charms of this enchanting palace, for so it may justly 
 be called. The variety of the prospects, the natural 
 beauties, and the improvements by art, where no cost 
 has been spared to perfect it, render it the most 
 complete habitation I know in Europe. While the 
 poor present master of it (to whose ancestor the Grand- 
 Duke presented it, having built it on his land), having 
 spent a noble estate by gaming and other extravagance. 
 
Residence at Lovere 195 
 
 would be glad to let it for a trifle, and is not rich enough 
 to live in it. Most of the fine furniture is sold ; there 
 remains only a few of the many good pictures that 
 adorned it, and such goods as were not easily to be 
 transported, or for which he found no chapman. I 
 have said nothing to you of the magnificent bath, 
 embellished with statues, or the fish-ponds, the chief 
 of which is in the midst of the garden to which I go 
 from my apartment on the first floor. It is circled by 
 a marble baluster, and supplied by water from a cascade 
 that proceeds from the mouth of a whale, on which 
 Neptune is mounted, surrounded with reeds : on each 
 side of him are Tritons, which, from their shells, pour 
 out streams that augment the pond. Higher on the 
 hill are three colossal statues of Venus, Hercules, and 
 Apollo. The water is so clear, you see the numerous 
 fish that inhabit it, and it is a great pleasure to me to 
 throw them bread, which they come to the surface to 
 eat with great greediness.'^ 
 
 But although by this time Lady Mary was somewhat 
 tired of Lovere, she was compelled again and again to 
 return there. On one of these returns she writes : " I 
 find much more company than ever. I have done by 
 these waters as I formerly did by those at Islington ; 
 you may remember when I first carried you there, we 
 scarce saw any but ourselves, and in a short time we 
 could hardly find room for the crowd."* 
 
 The inhabitants of Lovere seem to have been alive 
 
 ■^ Islington Spa had revived about 1732. Perhaps Lady Mary 
 had induced her royal and noble friends to follow her there. 
 
196 Residence at Lovere 
 
 to the advantages of having the celebrated EngHsh 
 lady in their midst, and omitted no means to retain 
 her there — she was to them, in a smaller way, what 
 Lord Brougham afterwards was to Cannes. Besides 
 this, she had introduced certain useful arts in vogue in 
 England, though possibly rather to employ herself than 
 to benefit those for whom she professed an utter in- 
 difference. 
 
 **The people I see here make no more impression 
 on my mind than the figures in the tapestry : while 
 they are directly before my eyes, I know one is clothed 
 in blue, and another in red : but out of sight, they are 
 so entirely out of memory, I hardly remember whether 
 they are tall or short. I sometimes call myself to ac- 
 count for this insensibility, which has something of 
 ingratitude in it, this little town thinking themselves 
 highly honoured and obliged by my residence : they 
 intended me an extraordinary mark of it, having deter- 
 mined to set up my statue in the most conspicuous 
 place : the marble was bespoke, and the sculptor bar- 
 gained with, before I knew anything of the matter ; and 
 it would have been erected without my knowledge, if it 
 had not been necessary for him to see me to take the 
 resemblance. I thanked him ver}' much for his inten- 
 tion ; but utterly refused complying with it, fearing it 
 would be reported (at least in England) that I had set 
 up my own statue. They were so obstinate in the de- 
 sign, I was forced to tell them my religion would not 
 permit it. I seriously believe it would have been wor- 
 shipped, when I was forgotten, under the name oi some 
 
Residence at Lover e 197 
 
 saint or other, since I was to have been represented 
 with a book in my hand, which would have passed for 
 a proof of canonisation. This comphment was certainly 
 founded on reasons not unlike those that first framed 
 goddesses, I mean being useful to them, in which I am 
 second to Ceres. If it be true she taught the art of 
 sowing wheat, it is sure I have learned them to make 
 bread, in which they continued in the same ignorance 
 Misson* complains of (as 3'ou may see in his letter from 
 Padua). I have introduced French rolls, custards, 
 minced pies, and plum pudding, which they are ver}^ 
 fond of. 'Tis impossible to bring them to conform to 
 sillabub, which is so unnatural a mixture in their eyes, 
 they are even shocked to see me eat it : but I expect 
 immortality from the science of butter-making, in which 
 the}^ are become so skilful from my instructions, I can 
 assure you here is as good as in any part of Great 
 Britain." 
 
 In 175 i Mr. Wortley Montagu came as far as Vienna, 
 and seems to have made a further trip into Hungary — 
 perhaps to provision himself with his favourite tokay. 
 He did not attempt to join his wife ; and, indeed, the 
 journey over the Tyrolese or Carinthian mountains, 
 with the roads of those times, was one that a man 
 of seventy-three might well shrink from, though well 
 able to endure the easy route along the Danube. He 
 wrote, however, to Lady Mary, apparently giving an 
 account of some marvellous instances of longevity in 
 
 * Misson was a French traveller, who published his account of 
 Italy in 1691. 
 
igS Residence at Lovere 
 
 Hungary, which she capped with an account of the 
 famous old woman of Lovere : 
 
 ** I have often read and been told, that the air of 
 Hungary is better, and the inhabitants in general 
 longer lived, than in any other part of Europe. You 
 have given me a very surprising instance of it, far sur- 
 passing in age the old woman of Lovere, though, in 
 some circumstances, I think her story as extraordinary. 
 She died but ten years ago ; and it is well remembered by 
 the inhabitants of that place,the most creditable of whom 
 have all assured me of the truth of the following facts : — 
 She kept the greatest inn there till past fifty : her husband 
 then dying, and she being rich, she left off that trade ; 
 and having a large house, with a great deal of furniture, 
 she let lodgings, which her daughters (two maids past 
 seventy) still continue. I lodged with them the first 
 year of my going to those waters. She lived to one 
 hundred with good health ; but in the last five years of 
 it fell into the decays common to that period — dimness 
 of sight, loss of teeth, and baldness; but in her hun- 
 dredth year, her sight was totally restored, she had a 
 new set of teeth, and a fresh head of brown hair. . . . 
 She lived in this renewed vigour ten years, and had 
 then her picture drawn, which has a vivacity in the 
 eyes and complexion that would become five -and - 
 twenty, though, by the falls in the face, one may 
 discern it w^as drawn for a very old person. She died 
 merely of an accident, which would have killed any 
 other — tumbling down a very bad stone staircase which 
 goes into the cellar ; she broke her head in such a 
 
Residence at Lovere 199 
 
 manner, she lived but two days. The physician and 
 surgeon who attended her told me her age no way con- 
 tributed to her death. I inquired whether there was 
 any singularity in her diet, but heard of none, excepting 
 that her breakfast was every morning a large quantity 
 of bread sopped in cold water. The common food of 
 the peasants in this country is the Turkish wheat you 
 mention,* which they dress in various manners, but use 
 little milk, it being chiefly reserved for cheese, or the 
 tables of the gentry. I have not observed, either among 
 the poor or rich, that in general they live longer than 
 in England. This woman of Lovere is always spoken 
 of as a prodigy ; and [I] am surprised she is neither 
 called saint nor witch, being [szc] very prodigal of those 
 titles." 
 
 This letter of her husband's, which she answered in 
 the epistle just quoted, must have been the " entertain- 
 ing letter out of Germany " to which she alludes in 
 writing to her daughter. Lady Bute, it appears, had 
 formed notions of Italian life from Misson and other 
 obsolete books of travel, and also from the gossip of 
 English travellers returning from abroad ; and her 
 mother cautioned her against accepting these reports 
 as trustworthy : 
 
 " I find you have many wrong notions of Italy, which 
 I do not wonder at. You can take your ideas of it only 
 from books or travellers ; the first are generally anti- 
 quated or confined to trite observations, and the other 
 
 ■^ Maize, or Indian corn, still the staple food of the peasants in 
 North Italy. 
 
200 Residence at Lovere 
 
 yet more superficial ; they return no more instructed 
 
 than they might have been at home by the help of a 
 
 map. The boys only remember where they met with 
 
 the best wine or the prettiest women : and the 
 
 governors (I speak of the most learned amongst them) 
 
 have only remarked situations and distances, or, at 
 
 most, statues and edifices, as every girl that can read a 
 
 French novel, and boy that can construe a scene in 
 
 Terence, fancies they have attained to the French and 
 
 Latin languages, when, God knows, it requires the 
 
 study of a whole life to acquire a perfect knowledge of 
 
 either of them : so, after a tour (as they call it) of three 
 
 years round Europe, people think themselves qualified 
 
 to give exact accounts of the customs, policies, and 
 
 interests of the dominions they have gone through 
 
 post ; when a very long stay, a diligent inquiry, and a 
 
 nice observation, are requisite even to a moderate 
 
 degree of knowing a foreign country, especially here, 
 
 where they are naturally ver}^ reserved. France, 
 
 indeed, is more easily seen through : the French 
 
 always talking of themselves, and the government 
 
 being the same, there is little difference from one 
 
 province to another ; but, in Italy, the different laws 
 
 make different customs and manners, which are in 
 
 many things very particular here, from the singularity 
 
 of the government. Some I do not care to touch upon, 
 
 and some are still in use here, though obsolete in 
 
 almost all other places, as the estates of all the great 
 
 families being unalienable, as they were formerly in 
 
 England. This would make them very potent, if it was 
 
Residence at Lover e 201 
 
 not balanced b}/ another law, that divides whatever 
 land the father dies possessed of among all the sons, 
 the eldest having no advantage but the finest house 
 and best furniture. This occasions numerous branches 
 and few large fortunes, with a train of consequences 
 you may imagine. But I cannot let pass in silence the 
 prodigious alteration, since Misson's writing, in regard 
 to our sex. This reformation (or, if you please, depra- 
 vation) began so lately as the year 1732, when the 
 French overrun this part of Italy ; but it has been 
 carried on with such fervour and success, that the 
 Italian go far beyond their patterns, the Parisian ladies, 
 in the extent of their liberty. I am not so much sur- 
 prised at the women's conduct, as I am amazed at the 
 change in the men's sentiments. Jealousy, which was 
 once a point of honour among them, is exploded to that 
 degree, it is the most infamous and ridiculous of all 
 characters ; and you cannot more affront a gentleman 
 than to suppose him capable of it. Divorces are also 
 introduced, and frequent enough ; they have long been 
 in fashion in Genoa ; several of the finest and greatest 
 ladies there having two husbands alive." 
 
 Into the particulars of the humours of Italian divorce 
 we need not follow Lady Mary. 
 
202 Letters 07i English Novels 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LETTERS ON ENGLISH NOVELS 
 
 Lady Mary's Taste for Novels— Her Defence of Novel-reading — 
 All Ages must have Playthings — Fielding's Works — Joseph 
 Andrews — An Italian Fanny — Bad Influence of Fielding's 
 Novels — His Happy Temperament — Smollett's Works — The 
 Parish Girl — Pompey the Little — Lady Mary's Nervousness — 
 Her Diet — Criticism the only Subject to write about — The 
 Rambler a Misnomer— Lord Orrery and Swift — Swift like 
 Caligula — Pope and Swift— Lord Bolingbroke's Political Doctrines 
 — His Diffuseness — Madame de Sevigne's "Tittle-tattle" — 
 Bolingbroke's Defects— The Character of Atticus— Richardson's 
 Novels — Pamela — Clarissa Harlowe — Lady Mary touched by 
 his Pathos — Sir Charles Grandison — Richardson's Ignorance of 
 Italy and of High Life — Levelling Tendencies of English Life 
 reflected in English Novels. 
 
 During her stay at Lovere and in the neighbourhood, 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu by no means forgot her 
 taste for reading. She does not seem to have cared 
 much for French literature — or, possibly, she had no 
 friends in France who could send her new books ; and 
 the outbreak of war in 1756 must have still further 
 increased the difficulty of obtaining French works. 
 Italian literature was to her only represented at the 
 
Letters on English Novels 203 
 
 time by a few antiquarians, or virtuosi, like her friends 
 Cardinal Querini and the Marquis Maffei ; and she was 
 thrown back on English books. Of these she seems to 
 have preferred the more diverting class of fiction, and 
 the boxes of books, for whose safe arrival she was often 
 so anxious, were of much the same character as Mudie 
 sows broadcast through the land. 
 
 She often defends her taste for fiction against her 
 own past notions of " self-improvement " and the 
 objections of her daughter. Lady Mary had the 
 courage of her frivolity, and openly avowed her return 
 to the tastes of her youth. 
 
 '* I thank God," she writes, " my taste still continues 
 for the gay part of reading. Wiser people may think 
 it trifling, but it serves to sweeten life to me, and is at 
 worst better than the generality of conversation." And 
 again, in another letter : " To say truth, I am as fond 
 of baubles as ever, and am so far from being ashamed 
 of it, it is a taste I endeavour to keep up with all the 
 art I am mistress of. I should have despised them at 
 twenty, for the same reason that I would not eat tarts 
 or cheesecakes at twelve years old, as being too childish 
 for one capable of more solid pleasures. I now know 
 (and, alas ! have long known) all things in the world 
 are almost equally trifling, and our most secret pro- 
 jects have scarce more foundation than those edifices 
 that your little ones raise in cards." And Lady Bute's 
 allusions to the ''trash" her miOther read drew down a 
 humorous rejoinder, with a sly allusion to Lord Bute's 
 Court ambitions ; 
 
204 Letters on English Novels 
 
 "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 least productive of ill conse- 
 quences. 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 con- 
 fine 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 
 
. u/l^^^ ^yru/ieJi/ / 
 
 %/,i;mvLf.thy S^. 
 
 OT^u/ty. ^MicJi/'Ai (y/ r 4//! i/rc^-lmyuz/iy. 
 
Letters on English Novels 205 
 
 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." 
 
 The first box of any importance seems to have 
 arrived at the end of September, 1749. It contained 
 Fielding's works, and Lady Mary gives an amusing 
 testimony to the interest her cousin's novels had for her : 
 
 '' My dear Child, — I have at length received the 
 box, with the books enclosed, for which I give you 
 many thanks, as they amused me very much. I gave 
 a very ridiculous proof of it, fitter indeed for my grand- 
 daughter than myself. I returned from a party on 
 horseback; and after having rode twenty miles, part 
 of it by moonshine, it was ten at night when I found 
 the box arrived. I could not deny myself the pleasure 
 of opening it ; and, falling upon Fielding's works, was 
 fool enough to sit up all night reading. I think Joseph 
 Andrews better than his Foundling.* I believe I was 
 the more struck with it, having at present a Fanny in 
 my own house, t not only by the name, which happens 
 to be the same, but the extraordinary beauty, joined 
 with an understanding yet more extraordinary at her 
 age, which is but few months past sixteen : she is in 
 the post of my chambermaid. I fancy you will tax my 
 discretion for taking a servant thus quahfied ; but my 
 woman, who is also my housekeeper, was always 
 
 ■^ " The Foundling " is, of course, " Tom Jones." 
 f The girl's name was Francesca, generally called " Chechina " 
 by her mistress. She married in 1750. 
 
2o6 Letters on English Novels 
 
 teasing me with her having too much work, and com- 
 plaining of ill-health, which determined me to take her 
 a deputy ; and when I was at Lovere, where I drank 
 the waters, one of the most considerable m^erchants 
 there pressed me to take this daughter of his : her 
 mother has an uncommon good character, and the girl 
 has had a better education than is usual for those 
 of her rank ; she writes a good hand, and has been 
 brought up to keep accounts, which she does to great 
 perfection ; and had herself such a violent desire to 
 serve me, that I was persuaded to take her : I do not 
 yet repent it from any part of her behaviour. But there 
 has been no peace in the family ever since she came 
 into it ; I might say the parish, all the women in it 
 having declared open war with her, and the men 
 endeavouring at treaties of a different sort : my own 
 woman puts herself at the head of the first party, and 
 her spleen is increased by having no reason for it, the 
 young creature never stirring from my apartment, 
 always at her needle, and never complaining of any- 
 thing. You will laugh at this tedious account of my 
 domestics (if you have patience to read it over), but I 
 have few other subjects to talk of" 
 
 On later occasions she again mentions Fielding, 
 knowing something of his life, from his relationship to 
 her. He had dedicated his first play to her, and sub- 
 mitted his " Modern Husband " for her approval and 
 criticism. 
 
 We see her knowledge of his ways in her comments 
 on ''Amelia." 
 
Letters on English Novels 207 
 
 " H. Fielding has given a true picture of himself and 
 his first wife, in the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Booth, 
 some compliments to his own figure excepted ; and, I 
 am persuaded, several of the incidents he mentions are 
 real matters of fact. I wonder he does not perceive 
 Tom Jones and Mr. Booth are sorry scoundrels. All 
 these sort of books have the same fault, which I cannot 
 easily pardon, being very mischievous. They place a 
 merit in extravagant passions, and encourage young 
 people to hope for impossible events, to draw them out 
 of the misery they chose to plunge themselves into, 
 expecting legacies from unknown relations, and generous 
 benefactors to distressed virtue, as much out of nature 
 as fairy treasures. Fielding has really a fund of true 
 humour, and was to be pitied at his first entrance into 
 the world, having no choice, as he said himself, but to 
 be a hackney writer, or a hackney coachman. His 
 genius deserved a better fate ; but I cannot help 
 blaming that continued indiscretion, to give it the 
 softest name, that has run through his life, and I am 
 afraid still remains." 
 
 It is rather curious to see one who was herself not 
 conspicuous for her respect of conventionality inveigh- 
 ing against the hurtful tendencies of romance. But in 
 criticising literary work her estimate of its artistic 
 merit seems to have been much at the mercy of her 
 opinion as to the moral, social, or political tendency 
 of the book to be considered. Thus she would allow 
 little credit comparatively to Pope, Swift, or Boling- 
 broke, having a political bias against all three, and a 
 
2o8 Lettei's on Eno/is/i Novels 
 
 ^> 
 
 personal bias against the tirst and perhaps the second. 
 Of Fielding she only speaks again on hearing of his 
 death : 
 
 " I am sorry for H. Fielding^s death, not only as I 
 shall read no more of his writings, but I believe he lost 
 more than others, as no man enjoyed life more than 
 he did, though few had less reason to do so, the highest 
 of his preferment being raking in the lowest sinks of 
 vice and misery. . . . His happy constitution (even 
 when he had, with great pains, half demolished it) 
 made him forget everything when he was before a 
 venison pasty, or over a flask of champagne ; and I am 
 persuaded he has known more happy moments than 
 any prince upon earth. His natural spirits gave him 
 rapture with his cook-maid,* and cheerfulness in a 
 garret. There was a great similitude between his 
 character and that of Sir Richard Steele. He had the 
 advantage both in learning and, in my opinion, genius : 
 they both agreed in wanting money in spite of all their 
 friends, and would have wanted it, if their hereditary 
 lands had been as extensive as their imagination ; yet 
 each of them [was] so formed for happiness, it is 
 pity he was not immortal." 
 
 Smollett's works, generally mentioned now in the 
 same breath with Fielding's as typical of the time, 
 came with them in the boxes of books looked for with 
 such anxiety at Lovere. Lady Vane's memoirs, in- 
 serted in " Peregrine Pickle," interested her, as she 
 
 * Fielding, after the death of his beloved first wife, married her 
 faithful maid. 
 
Letters on English Novels 209 
 
 knew a good deal of that lady. " Roderick Random " 
 she was inclined to attribute to Fielding on account of 
 its humour; but the *' Adventures of Ferdinand, Count 
 Fathom," she at once pronounced not good enough to 
 ascribe to him. Later on she was better informed 
 about the authorship of these novels^ and grieves 
 over '* my dear Smollett, who, I am sorry, disgraces 
 his talent by writing those stupid romances commonly 
 called history." 
 
 With '' Peregrine Pickle " came a budget of other 
 novels of the day, which are now completely forgotten. 
 ^"The History of Charlotte Summers, the Fortunate 
 Parish Girl," is a title that promises little ; though 
 " Pompey the Little ; or. The Adventures of a Lap- 
 Dog," might perhaps prove entertaining now, if it be 
 so faithful a representation of London manners a 
 century and a half ago as Lady Mary thought it 
 to be. 
 
 ** The next book I laid my hand on was the Parish 
 Girl, which interested me enough not to be able to 
 quit it till it was read over, though the author has 
 fallen into the common mistake of romance-writers ; 
 intending a virtuous character, and not knowing how 
 to draw it ; the first step of his heroine (leaving her 
 patroness's house) being altogether absurd and ridicu- 
 lous, justly entitling her to all the misfortunes she met 
 with. Candles came (and my eyes grown weary), I 
 took up the next book, merely because I supposed 
 from the title it could not engage me long. It was 
 Pompey the Little, which has really diverted me more 
 
 14 
 
2 I o Letters on En owlish Novels 
 
 ^ 
 
 than any of the others, and it was impossible to go to 
 bed till it was finished. It was a real and exact repre- 
 sentation of life, as it is now acted in London, as it 
 was in my time, and as it will be (I do not doubt) a 
 hundred years hence, with some little variation of 
 dress, and perhaps government. I found there many 
 of my acquaintance. Lady T. and Lady O. are so 
 well painted,* I fancied I heard them talk, and have 
 heard them say the very things there repeated. I also 
 saw myself (as I now am) in the character of Mrs. 
 Qualmsick. You will be surprised at this, no English- 
 woman being so free from vapours, having never in my 
 life complained of low spirits or weak nerves ; but our 
 resemblance is very strong in the fancied loss of appe- 
 tite, 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 perpetually 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 3^esterday, and do 
 almost every day the same. I wake generally about 
 seven, and drink half a pint of warm asses' milk, after 
 
 * In the novel, Lady T. {Toi^nshend) is named Lady Tempest j 
 Lady O. (Orford)^ Lady Sophister. 
 
Letters on Enolish Novels 211 
 
 which I sleep two hours ; as soon as I am risen, I con- 
 stantly take three cups of milk coffee, and two hours 
 after that a large cup of milk chocolate : two hours 
 more brings my dinner, where I never fail swallowing 
 a good dish (I don't mean plate) of gravy soup, with 
 all the bread, roots, etc., 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 quan- 
 tity of custard, and some roasted chesnuts. At five 
 in the afternoon I take another dose of asses' milk ; 
 and for supper twelve chesnuts (which would weigh 
 twenty-four of those in London), one new laid ^g'g, 
 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." 
 
 We are also obliged to " Pompey the Little " for this 
 detailed account of Lady Mary^s diet, which seems 
 to have been of the substantial nature proper to her 
 nationality. In the long letter of which this is a part, 
 after giving judgment on several novels in which even 
 her tolerance could find no merit, she suddenly breaks 
 off to excuse herself from her daughter's anticipated 
 objection. 
 
 " I fancy 3^ou are now saying, 'tis a sad thing to 
 grow old ; what does my poor mamma mean by 
 troubling me with criticisms on books that nobody 
 but herself will ever read ? You must allow some- 
 thing to my solitude. I have a pleasure in writing 
 
 14 — 2 
 
212 Letters on English Novels 
 
 to my dear child, and not many subjects to write upon. 
 The adventures of people here would not at all amuse 
 you, having no acquaintance with the persons con- 
 cerned ; and an account of myself would hardly gain 
 credit, after having fairly owned to you how deplorably 
 I was misled in regard to my own health ; though I 
 have all my life been on my guard against the informa- 
 tion by the sense of hearing ; it being one of my earliest 
 observations, the universal inclination of human-kind 
 is to be led by the ears ; and I am sometimes apt to 
 imagine, that they are given to men, as they are to 
 pitchers, purposely that they may be carried about by 
 them. This consideration should abate my wonder to 
 see (as I do here) the most astonishing legends em- 
 braced as the most sacred truths, by those who have 
 always heard them asserted, and never contradicted ; 
 they even place a merit in complying in direct oppo- 
 sition to the evidence of all their other senses." 
 
 It is amusing to notice her reference to the first 
 appearance of the future " Great Cham " of literature, 
 not yet made known by his Dictionary. Certainly no 
 one could be less of a wanderer than the " Rambler." 
 
 '' The Rambler is certainly a strong misnomer ; he 
 always plods in the beaten road of his predecessors, 
 following the ' Spectator ' (with the same pace a pack- 
 horse would do a hunter) in the style that is proper to 
 lengthen a paper. These writers may, perhaps, be of 
 service to the public, w^hich is saying a great deal in 
 their favour. There are numbers of both sexes who 
 never read anything but such productions, and cannot 
 
Letters on English Novels 213 
 
 spare time, from doing nothing, to go through a six- 
 penny pamphlet. Such gentle readers may be im- 
 proved by a moral hint, which, though repeated over 
 and over from generation to generation, they never 
 heard in their lives. I should be glad to know the 
 name of this laborious author." 
 
 Lord Orrery's '' Remarks on the Life and Writings of 
 Swift " gave Lady Mary an opportunity of giving her 
 opinion on Pope and Swift, as well as his lordship, 
 whose " family have been smatterers in wit and learn- 
 ing for three generations," his father having been the 
 Boyle of the Phalaris dispute. It is curious to see her 
 attacking the Dean's irreverence and cynicism on the 
 same strictly utilitarian grounds as he himself defended 
 rehgion — half ironically — against the infidel wits of the 
 time : 
 
 '* Nobody can deny but religion is a comfort to the 
 distressed, a cordial to the sick, and sometimes a 
 restraint on the wicked ; therefore, whoever would 
 argue or laugh it out of the world, without giving some 
 equivalent for it, ought to be treated as a common 
 enemy : but, when this language comes from a Church- 
 man, who enjoys large benefices and dignities from 
 that very Church he openly despises, it is an object of 
 horror for which I want a name, and can only be 
 excused by madness, which I think the Dean was 
 strongly touched with. His character seems to me a 
 parallel with that of Caligula ; and had he had the 
 same power, would have made the same use of it. 
 That Emperor erected a temple to himself, where he 
 
2i.[ Lett 67^3 on English Novels 
 
 was his own high priest, preferred his horse to the 
 highest honours in the state, professed enmit}' to [the] 
 human race, and at last lost his life by a nast}- jest on 
 one of his inferiors, which I dare swear Swift would 
 have made in his place. There can be no worse 
 picture made of the Doctor's morals than he has given 
 us himself in the letters printed by Pope. We see him 
 vain, trifling, ungrateful to the memory of his patron, 
 the E. [Earl] of Oxford, making a servile court where 
 he had any interested views, and meanl}- abusive when 
 they were disappointed, and, as he says (in his own 
 phrase), flying in the face of mankind, in company with 
 his adorer Pope. It is pleasant to consider, that, had 
 it not been for the good nature of these very mortals 
 they contemn, these two superior beings were entitled, 
 by their birth and hereditary fortune, to be only a 
 couple of link-boys. I am of opinion their friendship 
 would have continued, though they had remained in 
 the same kingdom : it had a very strong foundation — 
 the love of flattery on the one side, and the love of 
 money on the other."J 
 
 And she goes on to charge Pope with lying in wait 
 for the inheritances of all his friends. Deeply as he 
 had injured her, it is hardly pleasant to find her feeling 
 against him so strong so many years after his death. 
 
 We also find her again referring bitterly to Swift, 
 contrasting him with her old friend Burnet : 
 
 '' Doctor Swift, who set at defiance all decency, truth, 
 or reason, had a crowd of admirers, and at their head 
 the virtuous and ingenious Earl of Orrery, the polite 
 
•^o-uA.^tAjc/ri.'ceAy. J-c/. 
 
 ^U-e.a/ru ^l^Mi^^, 
 
Letters on English Novels 2 1 5 
 
 and learned Mr. Greville, with a number of ladies of 
 fine taste and unblemished characters ; while the Bishop 
 of Salisbury (Burnet, I mean), the most indulgent parent, 
 the most generous Churchman, and the most zealous 
 assertor of the rights and liberties of his country, was 
 all his life defamed and vilified, and after his death most 
 barbarously calumniated, for having had the courage to 
 write a history without flattery. I knew him in my 
 very early youth, and his condescension in directing a 
 girl in her studies is an obligation I can never forget." 
 
 BoHngbroke (though his " Idea of a Patriot King" is 
 said to have been the model on which Lord Bute 
 helped to instruct the young Prince of Wales) came in 
 for worse treatment still — though here there was no hint 
 of personal animosity, Lady Mary not having known 
 him, and his later da)s having been employed in attack- 
 ing Walpole, much as her own husband had done. Here, 
 again, it is singular to find her including Madame de 
 Sevigne in her condemnation of diffuse writers: 
 
 f" I shall begin, in respect to his dignity, with Lord B. 
 [Bolingbroke] , who is a glaring proof how far vanity 
 may bhnd a man, and how easy it is to varnish over 
 to one's self the most criminal conduct. He declares 
 he always loved his country, though he confesses he 
 endeavoured to betray her to popery and slavery ; and 
 loved his friends, though he abandoned them in distress, 
 with all the blackest circumstances of treachery His 
 account of the Peace of Utrecht is almost equally 
 unfair or partial ;'*^ I shall allow that, perhaps, the 
 "• In his " Letters on the Study of History."' 
 
2i6 Letters on English Novels 
 
 views of the Whigs, at that time, were too vast, and 
 the nation, dazzled by militar}' glory, had hopes too 
 sanguine ; but sure the same terms that the French 
 consented to, at the treaty of Gertruydenberg, might 
 have been obtained ; or if the displacing of the Duke 
 of Marlborough raised the spirits of our enemies to a 
 degree of refusing what they had before offered, how 
 can he excuse the guilt of removing him from the head 
 of a victorious army, and exposing us to submit to any 
 articles of peace, being unable to continue the war ? 
 I agree with him, that the idea of conquering France 
 is a wild, extravagant notion, and would, if possible, be 
 impolitic ; but she might have been reduced to such a 
 state as would have rendered her incapable of being 
 terrible to her neighbours for some ages : nor should we 
 have been obliged, as we have done almost ever since, 
 to bribe the French ministers to let us live in quiet. 
 So much for his political reasonings, which, I confess, 
 are delivered in a florid, easy style ; but I cannot be 
 of Lord Orrery's opinion, that he is one of the best 
 English writers. Well-turned periods or smooth lines 
 are not the perfection either of prose or verse ; they 
 may serve to adorn, but can never stand in the place 
 of good sense. Copiousness of words, however ranged, 
 is always false eloquence, though it will ever impose 
 on some sort of understandings. How many readers 
 and admirers has Madame de Sevigne, who only gives 
 us, in a lively manner and fashionable phrases, mean 
 sentiments, vulgar prejudices, and endless repetitions ? 
 Sometimes the tittle-tattle of a fine ladv, sometimes 
 
Letters on Evglish Novels 217 
 
 that of an old nurse, always tittle-tattle ; yet so well 
 gilt over by airy expressions, and a flowing style, she 
 will always please the same people to whom Lord 
 Bolingbroke will shine as a first-rate author. She is so 
 far to be excused, as her letters were not intended for 
 the press ; while he labours to display to posterity all 
 the wit and learning he is master of, and sometimes 
 spoils a good argument by a profusion of words, 
 running out into several pages a thought that might 
 have been more clearly expressed in a few lines, and, 
 what is worse, often falls into contradiction and 
 repetitions, which are almost unavoidable to all 
 voluminous writers, and can only be forgiven to those 
 retailers whose necessity compels them to diurnal 
 scribbling, who load their meaning with epithets, and 
 run into digressions, because (in the jockey phrase) it 
 rids the ground, that is, covers a certain quantity of 
 paper, to answer the demand of the day. A great part 
 of Lord B.'s letters are designed to show his reading, 
 which, indeed, appears to have been very extensive ; 
 but I cannot perceive that such a minute account of it 
 can be of any use to the pupil he pretends to instruct ; 
 nor can I help thinking he is far below either Tillotson 
 or Addison, even in style, though the latter was some- 
 times more diffuse than his judgment approved, to 
 furnish out the length of a daily ' Spectator.' I own I 
 have small regard for Lord B. as an author, and the 
 highest contempt for him as a man. He came into 
 the world greatly favoured both by nature and fortune, 
 blest with a noble birth, heir to a large estate, endowed 
 
2i8 Letters on B7ie-/is/i Novels 
 
 «i> 
 
 with a strong constitution, and, as I have heard, a 
 beautiful figure, high spirits, a good memory, and a 
 Hvely apprehension, which was cultivated by a learned 
 education : all these glorious advantages being left to 
 the direction of a judgment stifled by unbounded vanity, 
 he dishonoured his birth, lost his estate, ruined his 
 reputation, and destroyed his health, by a wild pursuit 
 of eminence even in vice and trifles. . 
 
 '' I am far from making misfortune a matter of 
 reproach. I know there are accidental occurrences 
 not to be foreseen or avoided by human prudence, by 
 which a character may be injured, wealth dissipated, 
 or a constitution impaired : but I think 1 may reasonably 
 despise the understanding of one who conducts himself 
 in such a manner as naturally produces such lamentable 
 consequences, and continues in the same destructive 
 paths to the end of a long life, ostentatiously boasting 
 of morals and philosophy in print, and with equal 
 ostentation bragging of the scenes of low debauchery 
 in public conversation, though deplorably weak both 
 in mind and body, and his virtue and his vigour in a 
 state of non-existence. His confederacy with Swift and 
 Pope puts me in mind of that of Bessus and his sword- 
 men, in the ' King and no King,' who endeavour to 
 support themselves by giving certificates of each other's 
 merit. Pope has triumphantly declared that they may 
 do and say whatever silly things they please, they will 
 still be the greatest geniuses nature ever exhibited. I 
 am delighted with the comparison given of their 
 benevolence, which is indeed most aptly figured by a 
 
Letters on English Novels 2 1 9 
 
 circle in the water, which widens till it comes to nothing 
 at all ; but I am provoked at Lord B.'s misrepresenta- 
 tion of my favourite Atticus, who seems to have been 
 the only Roman that, from good sense, had a true 
 notion of the times in which he lived, in which the 
 republic was inevitably perishing, and the two factions, 
 who pretended to support it, equally endeavouring to 
 gratify their ambition in its ruin. A wise man, in that 
 case, would certainly declare for neither, and try to save 
 himself and family from the general wreck, which could 
 not be done but by a superiority of understanding 
 acknowledged on both sides. I see no glory in losing 
 life or fortune by being the dupe of either, and very 
 much applaud that conduct which could preserve an 
 universal esteem amidst the fury of opposite parties. 
 We are obliged to act vigorously, where action can do 
 any good ; but in a storm, when it is impossible to 
 work with success, the best hands and ablest pilots 
 may laudably gain the shore if they can. Atticus could 
 be a friend to men without engaging in their passions, 
 disapprove their maxims without awaking their resent- 
 ment, and be satisfied with his own virtue without 
 seeking popular fame : he had the reward of his wisdom 
 in his tranquillity, and will ever stand among the few 
 examples of true philosophy, either ancient or modern." 
 
 The mention of Atticus naturally leads to another 
 diatribe against Pope for his virulent attack on Addison 
 under that name. 
 
 In a later letter to Lady Bute, Bolingbroke again 
 suffers for his affectation of universal knowledge : 
 
2 20 Letters on E^iglish Novels 
 
 '' I am flattered by finding that our sentiments are 
 the same in regard to Lord Bohngbroke's writings, as 
 you will see more clearly, if you ever have the long letter 
 I have wrote to you on that subject. I believe he never 
 read Horace, or any other author, with a design of in- 
 structing himself, thinking he was born to give precepts, 
 and not to follow them : at least, if he was not mad 
 enough to have this opinion, he endeavoured to impose 
 it on the rest of the world. All his works, being well 
 considered, are little more than a panegyric on his own 
 universal genius ; many of his pretensions as preposter- 
 ously inconsistent as if Sir Isaac Newton had aimed at 
 being a critic in fashions, and wrote for the information 
 of tailors and mantua-makers. I am of your opinion 
 that he never looked into half the authors he quotes, 
 and am much mistaken if he is not obliged to Mr. Bayle 
 for the generality of his criticisms ; for which reason he 
 affects to despise him, that he may steal from him with 
 less suspicion. A diffusive style (though often admired 
 as florid by all half-witted readers) is commonly obscure, 
 and always trifling. Horace has told us, that where 
 words abound, sense is thinly spread : as trees over- 
 charged with leaves bear little fruit." 
 
 But the author of whom Lady Mary has most to say 
 is Richardson. She seems to have been in a constant 
 state of uncertainty about him, alternately attracted 
 by his pathos and repelled by his many defects. 
 Especially severe was she on his painting of high life 
 and polite society, of which his knowledge could not 
 but be imperfect ; and it is well to note this criticism 
 

 /■ 
 
 i^:r.j!UdM.Jc-. 
 
Letters on Engtish Novels 221 
 
 when we find authors of to-day, especially (as is 
 natural) foreigners like M. Taine, taking Richardson's 
 lapses into vulgarity as t3^pical of the English society 
 of the time. Perhaps the proverbial New Zealander, 
 grubbing among the rubbish of some circulating library, 
 will credit our highly uninteresting and, for the most 
 part, desperately respectable peerage with the personal 
 beauty and moral deficiencies of Greek gods. 
 
 ** Pamela," Richardson's first great success. Lady 
 Mary had met with abroad, and hence did not desire 
 to have it sent to her at Lovere. As she writes to her 
 daughter, who had mentioned a list of novels : 
 
 ('" All the other books would be new to me excepting 
 * Pamela,' which has met with very extraordinary (and 
 I think undeserved) success. It has been translated 
 into French and into Italian ; it was all the fashion at 
 Paris and Versailles, and is still the joy of the chamber- 
 maids of all nations." ,; 
 
 And her judgment of *' Clarissa Harlowe " is the 
 sharper, one may imagine, from the fact that she had 
 been unable to resist the pathos of the ending : 
 
 ** I was such an old fool as to weep over * Clarissa 
 Harlowe,' like any milkmaid of sixteen over the ballad 
 of the Lady's Fall. To say truth, the first volume 
 softened me by a near resemblance of my maiden days ; 
 but on the whole 'tis most miserable stuff. Miss How, 
 who is called a young lady of sense and honour, is 
 not only extreme silly, but a more vicious character 
 than Sally Martin, whose crimes are owing at first 
 to seduction, and afterwards to necessity ; while this 
 
2 22 Letters on English Novels 
 
 virtuous damsel, without any reason, insults her mother 
 at home and ridicules her abroad ; abuses the man she 
 marries ; and is impertinent and impudent with great 
 applause. Even that model of affection, Clarissa, is 
 so faulty in her behaviour as to deserve little com- 
 passion. Any girl that runs away with a young fellow, 
 without intending to marry him, should be carried to 
 Bridewell or to Bedlam the next day. Yet the cir- 
 cumstances are so laid, as to inspire tenderness, 
 notwithstanding the low style and absurd incidents ; 
 and I look upon this and ' Pamela ' to be two books 
 that will do more general mischief than the works of 
 Lord Rochester."* 
 
 Again, when the ponderous volumes of "Sir Charles 
 Grandison " arrived, the same experience was re- 
 peated : 
 
 " This Richardson is a strange fellow. I heartily 
 despise him, and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his 
 works in a most scandalous manner. The two first 
 tomes of Clarissa touched me, as being very re- 
 sembling to my maiden days ; and I find in the 
 pictures of Sir Thomas Grandison and his lady, what 
 I have heard of my mother, and seen of my father." 
 
 But after the first impression wears off, she falls 
 on him again with even more asperity than before^ 
 especially as he had rashly ventured on pictures of 
 Italian life, of which he was more ignorant than of the 
 
 ■*' Lord Rochester, one of the most dissipated of Charles II.'s 
 courtiers, was notorious for the indecency of his poems. 
 
Letters on English Novels 22 
 
 v3 
 
 ways of English " high Hfe," and of which she had 
 enjoyed abundant experience. 
 
 " I have now read over Richardson — he sinks 
 horribly in his third volume* (he does so in his 
 story of Clarissa). When he talks of Italy, it is plain 
 he is no better acquainted with it than he is with the 
 kingdom of Mancomugi. He might have made his Sir 
 Charles's amour with Clementina begin in a convent, 
 where the pensioners sometimes take great liberties ; 
 but that such familiarity should be permitted in her 
 father's house, is as repugnant to custom, as it would 
 be in London for a young lady of quality to dance on 
 the ropes at Bartholomew fair : neither does his hero 
 behave to her in a manner suitable to his nice notions. 
 It was impossible a discerning man should not see her 
 passion early enough to check it, if he had really 
 designed it. His conduct puts me in mind of some 
 ladies I have known, who could never find out a man 
 to be in love with them, let him do or say what he 
 would, till he made a direct attempt, and then they 
 were so surprised, I warrant you ! Nor do I approve 
 Sir Charles's offered compromise (as he calls it). There 
 must be a great indifference as to religion on both 
 sides, to make so strict a union as marriage tolerable 
 between people of such distinct persuasions. He 
 seems to think women have no souls, by agreeing so 
 easily that his daughters should be educated in bigotry 
 and idolatry." 
 
 At which point, like a good Protestant, Lady Mary 
 * " Sir Charles Grandison" is the work referred to. 
 
2 24 Letters oji English Novels 
 
 goes off at a tangent into theological controversy, and 
 deserts Richardson for several pages. But she has 
 not done with him yet, and falls on his inaccuracies 
 with redoubled vigour : 
 
 " Richardson is as ignorant in morality as he is in 
 anatomy, when he declares abusing an obliging husband, 
 or an indulgent parent, to be an innocent recreation. 
 His Anna How and Charlotte Grandison are recom- 
 mended as patterns of charming pleasantry, and ap- 
 plauded by his saint-like dames, who mistake pert 
 folly for wit and humour, and impudence and ill nature 
 for spirit and fire. Charlotte behaves like a humor- 
 some child, and should have been used like one, and 
 well whipped in the presence of her friendly confi- 
 dante Harriet. . . . Charlotte acts with an ingratitude 
 that I think too black for human nature, with such 
 coarse jokes and low expressions as are only to be 
 heard among the lowest class of people. ... I do not 
 forgive him his disrespect of old china, which is below 
 nobody's taste, since it has been the D. of Argyll's, 
 whose understanding has never been doubted either by 
 his friends or enemies. 
 
 " Richardson never had probably money enough to 
 purchase any, or even a ticket for a masquerade, which 
 gives him such an aversion to them ; though his in- 
 tended satire against them is very absurd on the 
 account of his Harriet, since she might have been 
 carried off in the same manner if she had been going 
 from supper with her grandmamma. Her whole be- 
 haviour, which he designs to be exemplary, is equally 
 
Letters on English Novels 225 
 
 blamable and ridiculous. She follows the maxim of 
 Clarissa, of declaring all she thinks to all the people 
 she sees, without reflecting that in this mortal state 
 of imperfection, fig-leaves are as necessary for our 
 minds as our bodies. He has no idea of the manners 
 of high life : his old Lord M. talks in the style of a 
 country justice, and his virtuous young ladies romp 
 Hke the wenches round a May-pole." 
 
 The general tendency of the novels of the time 
 towards democracy did not go unnoticed, and Lady 
 Mary stated her views on the question with consider- 
 able freedom. Whether she w^as right in attaching 
 so much importance to the evidence of novels may 
 reasonably be doubted. 
 
 " The confounding of all ranks, and making a jest 
 of order, has long been growing in England ; and I 
 perceive, by the books you sent me, has made a very 
 considerable progress. The heroes and heroines of 
 the age are cobblers and kitchen wenches. Perhaps 
 you will say, I should not take my ideas of the manners 
 of the times from such trifling authors ; but it is more 
 truly to be found among them, than from any historian: 
 as they write merely to get money, they always fall 
 into the notions that are most acceptable to the present 
 taste. It has long been the endeavour of our English 
 writers to represent people of quality as the vilest and 
 silliest part of the nation, being (generally) very low- 
 born themselves. I am not surprised at their pro- 
 pagating this doctrine; but I am much mistaken if this 
 levelling principle does not, one day or other, break 
 
 15 
 
2 26 Letters on Enorlish Novels 
 
 b 
 
 out in fatal consequences to the public, as it has already 
 done in many private families. You will think I am 
 influenced by living under an aristocratic government, 
 where distinction of rank is carried to a very great 
 height ; but I can assure you my opinion is founded 
 on reflection and experience, and I wish to God I had 
 always thought in the same manner ; though I had 
 ever the utmost contempt for misalliances, yet the 
 silly prejudices of my education had taught me to 
 believe I was to treat nobody as an inferior, and that 
 poverty was a degree of merit : this imaginary humility 
 has made me admit many familiar acquaintances, of 
 which I have heartily repented every one, and the 
 greatest examples I have known of honour and in- 
 tegrity have been among those of the highest birth 
 and fortunes. There are many reasons why it should 
 be so, which I will not trouble you with. If my letter 
 was to be published, I know I should be railed at for 
 pride, and called an enemy of the poor ; but I take a 
 pleasure in telling you my thoughts." 
 
Thotiglits on Education 227 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION 
 
 Lady Mary's Interest in her Grandchildren — Lady Bute's Happiness 
 — Affectionate Feehngs — Education of Girls — Virtues overstrained 
 become Vices— Parents must be prepared for Disappointments — 
 Beauty not to be undervalued— Children never to be deceived — 
 Adv^antages of Reading — Lady Mary Stuart— Benefits of a Taste 
 for Learning — Girls should read English Poetry — A Plagiarist 
 detected — Ladies must conceal their Learning — True Knowledge 
 begets Modesty — Sewing and Drawing — The Risks of Marriage 
 —Learning a Means of occupying Time— Bad Education usually 
 given to Girls — Ignorance leads to Misconduct — Childhood of 
 Lady Bute — Social Life necessary — Misleading Effects of Books 
 — Richardson again — An Italian Pamela — The Signora Diana — 
 The Young Octavia — \ Beautiful Servant — Count Sosi's Court- 
 ship— Octavia's Return— An Offer of Marriage —Count Sosi 
 marries Octavia— Her Discreet Behaviour — Another Heroine for 
 Richardson — The Marchesa Bentivoglio — Her Pride — She leaves 
 her Husband — Supposed Attempt to poison Her — Her Husband 
 suspected — Sir John Rawdon and his Peerage — His Patience 
 under Insult— Sir Charles Hanbury Williams — Lessons from his 
 Career — Economy advisable in Individuals and Nations— English 
 Public Extravagance — A Policy of Trade the best — Lady Mary's 
 Views on Foreign Policy — War and Progress. 
 
 Among the subjects which employed the pen of Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montagu in her seclusion at Lovere, 
 none seems to have been nearer to her heart than the 
 
 15—2 
 
2 28 ThougJits on Education 
 
 education of her grandchildren. Though she never 
 saw most of them (her daughter having been married 
 in 1736), she often sent them httle presents, inquired 
 after them, and gave Lady Bute advice as to managing 
 them. '' I sympathize with you, my dear child," Lady 
 Mary wrote, '' in all the concern you express for your 
 family ; you may remember, I represented it to you 
 before you were married ; but that is one of the senti- 
 ments it is impossible to comprehend till it is felt. A 
 mother only knows a mother's fondness. Indeed, the 
 pain so overbalances the pleasure, that I believe, if it 
 could be thoroughly understood, there would be no 
 mothers at all. However, take care that your anxiety 
 for the future does not take from you the comforts you 
 may enjoy in the present hour ; it is all that is properly 
 ours ; and yet such is the weakness of humanity, we 
 commonly lose what is, either by regretting the past, 
 or by disturbing our minds with the fear of what may 
 be. You have many blessings : a husband you love, 
 and who behaves well to you ; agreeable, hopeful 
 children ; a handsome, convenient house, w^ith pleasant 
 gardens, in a good air and fine situation ; which I 
 place among the most solid satisfactions of life. The 
 truest wisdom is that which diminishes to us what is 
 displeasing; and turns our thoughts to the advantages 
 we possess. I can assure you I give no precepts I do 
 not daily practise. How often do I fancy to myself 
 the pleasure I should take in seeing you in the midst 
 of N'our little people : and how severe do I then think 
 my destiny, that denies me that happiness. I en- 
 
Thoughts on Education 229 
 
 deavour to comfort myself by reflecting that we should 
 certainly have perpetual disputes (if not quarrels) con- 
 cerning the management of them ; the affection of a 
 grandmother has generally a tincture of dotage : you 
 would say I spoilt them, and perhaps be not much in 
 the wrong." 
 
 This tenderness towards her grandchildren breaks out 
 in a later letter from Venice, in answer to one in which 
 Lad}^ Bute described her family circle : 
 
 " I am so highly delighted with this, dated August 4, 
 giving an account of your little colony, I cannot help 
 setting pen to paper, to tell you the melancholy joy I 
 had in reading it. You would have laughed to see the 
 old fool weep over it. I now find that age, when it 
 does not harden the heart and sour the temper, naturally 
 returns to the milky disposition of infancy. Time has 
 the same effect on the mind as on the face. The pre- 
 dominant passion, the strongest feature, become more 
 conspicuous from the others retiring ; the various views 
 of life are abandoned, from want of ability to pursue 
 them, as the fine complexion is lost in wrinkles ; but, as 
 surely as a large nose grows larger, and a wide mouth 
 wider, the tender child in your nursery will be a tender 
 old woman, though, perhaps, reason may have restrained 
 the appearance of it, till the mind, relaxed, is no longer 
 capable of concealing its weakness ; for weakness it is 
 to indulge any attachment at a period of life when we 
 are sure to part with life itself, at a very short warning. 
 According to the good English proverb, young people 
 may die, but old must. You see I am very industrious 
 
230 ThoiigJits on Education 
 
 in finding comfort to myself in my exile, and to guard, 
 as long as I can, against the peevishness which makes 
 age miserable in itself and contemptible to others." 
 
 Lady Bute seems to have asked her mother's advice 
 as to how to bring up her rather numerous family ; 
 and Lady Mary was ready enough to help. As in 
 other matters, her notions on this subject are full of the 
 clear but cold common sense which is one of her most 
 striking characteristics. Especially noteworthy is the 
 stoical recommendation to repress maternal anxiety 
 and tenderness, and prepare for the inevitable dis- 
 appointments of a large family. Doubtless she was 
 thinking of the great sorrow of her life — -the worthless- 
 ness of her son. 
 
 " People commonly educate their children as they 
 build their houses, according to some plan they think 
 beautiful, without considering whether it is suited to 
 the purposes for which they are designed. Almost all 
 girls of quality are educated as if they were to be great 
 ladies, which is often as little to be expected, as an 
 immoderate heat of the sun in the north of Scotland. 
 You should teach yours to confine their desires to pro- 
 babilities, to be as useful as is possible to themselves, 
 and to think privacy (as it is) the happiest state of life. 
 I do not doubt your giving them all the instructions 
 necessary to form them to a virtuous life ; but 'tis a 
 fatal mistake to do this without proper restrictions. 
 Vices are often hid under the name of virtues, and 
 the practice of them followed by the worst of conse- 
 quences. Sincerity, friendship, piety, disinterestedness, 
 
ThougJits 011 Education 231 
 
 and generosity, are all great virtues ; but, pursued with- 
 out discretion, become criminal. I have seen ladies 
 indulge their own ill humour by being very rude and 
 impertinent, and think they deserved approbation by 
 saying ' I love to speak truth. 7 One of your acquaint- 
 ance made a ball the next day after her mother died, 
 to show she was sincere. I believe your own reflec- 
 tion will furnish you with but too many examples of 
 the ill effects of the rest of the sentiments I have 
 mentioned, when too warmly embraced. They are 
 generally recommended to young people without limits 
 or distinction, and this prejudice hurries them into 
 great misfortunes, while they are applauding themselves 
 in the noble practice (as they fancy) of very eminent 
 virtues. 
 
 " I cannot help adding (out of my real affection to 
 you), I wish you would moderate that fondness you 
 have for your children. I do not mean you should 
 abate any part of your care, or not do your duty to 
 them in its utmost extent : but I would have you early 
 prepare yourself for disappointments, which are heavy 
 in proportion to their being surprising. It is hardly 
 possible, in such a number, that none should be 
 unhappy ; prepare yourself against a misfortune of that 
 kind. I confess there is hardly any more difficult to 
 support ; yet it is certain imagination has a great share 
 in the pain of it, and it is more in our power than it is 
 commonly believed to soften whatever ills are founded 
 or augmented by fancy. Strictly speaking, there is but 
 one real evil — I mean, acute pain ; all other com- 
 
232 Thoughts on Edttcation 
 
 plaints are so considerably diminished by time, that it 
 is plain the grief is owing to our passion, since the 
 sensation of it vanishes when that is over. 
 
 " There is another mistake, I forgot to mention, usual 
 in mothers : if any of their daughters are beauties, 
 they take great pains to persuade them that they are 
 ugly, or at least that the}^ think so, which the young 
 woman never fails to believe springs from envy, and is 
 perhaps not much in the wrong. I would, if possible, 
 give them a just notion of their figure, and show them 
 how far it is valuable. Every advantage has its price, 
 and may be either over or undervalued. It is the common 
 doctrine of (what are called) good books, to inspire a 
 contempt of beauty, riches, greatness, etc., which has 
 done as much mischief among the younger of our sex 
 as an over eager desire of them. They should not look 
 on these things as blessings where they are bestowed, 
 though not necessaries that it is impossible to be 
 happy without. I am persuaded the ruin of Lad}^ F. 
 [Frances] M. [Meadows]* was in great measure owing 
 to the notions given her by the silly good people that 
 had the care of her. 'Tis true, her circumstances and 
 your daughters' are very different : they should be 
 taught to be content with privacy, and yet not neglect 
 good fortune, if it should be offered them." 
 
 It was naturall}^ with the girls that Lady Mary most 
 concerned herself. For the boys of a noble family 
 
 ■^ Lady Frances Pierrepont, Lady IMary's niece, who eloped with 
 and married a Mr. Meadows in 1734. Her married Hfe seems to 
 have been unhappy. 
 
Thoughts on Edti cation 233 
 
 there was the regular routine of tutors, the pubHc 
 school and the university ; then the " ^rand tour " with 
 a " governor"; but girls, as Lady Mary knew by bitter 
 experience, were too often left to grow up as they 
 could — abandoned to ignorance, or, at best, taught the 
 superficial accomplishments which might serve to 
 attract suitors. Thus, it is chiefly on their behalf she 
 advises her daughter in the following letter : 
 
 " My dear Child, — I am extremely concerned to 
 hear you complain of ill health, at a time of life when 
 you ought to be in the flower of your strength. I hope 
 I need not recommend to you the care of it : the ten- 
 derness you have for your children is sufficient to 
 enforce you to the utmost regard for the preservation 
 of a life so necessary to their well-being. I do not 
 doubt your prudence in their education : neither can I 
 say anything particular relating to it at this distance, 
 different tempers requiring different management. In 
 general, never attempt to govern them (as most people 
 do) by deceit : if they find themselves cheated, even 
 in trifles, it will so far lessen the authority of their 
 instructor, as to make them neglect all their future 
 admonitions. And, if possible, breed them free from 
 prejudices ; those contracted in the nursery often in- 
 fluence the whole life after, of which I have seen many 
 melanchoty examples. I shall say no more of this 
 subject, nor would have said this little if you had not 
 asked my advice : 'tis much easier to give rules than to 
 practise them. I am sensible my own natural temper 
 is too indulgent : I think it the least dangerous error, 
 
2 34 Thoughts cm Education 
 
 yet still it is an error. I can only say with truth, that I do 
 not know in my whole life having ever endeavoured to 
 impose on you, or give a false colour to anything that 
 I represented to you. If your daughters are inclined to 
 love reading, do not check their inclination by hinder- 
 ing them of the diverting part of it ; it is as necessary 
 for the amusement of women as the reputation of men ; 
 but teach them not to expect or desire any applause 
 from it. Let their brothers shine, and let them con- 
 tent themselves with making their lives easier by it, 
 which I experimentally know is more effectually done 
 by study than any other way. Ignorance is as much 
 the fountain of vice as idleness, and indeed generally 
 produces it. People that do not read, or work for a 
 livelihood, have many hours they know not how to 
 employ ; especially women, who commonly fall into 
 vapours, or something worse." 
 
 When Lady Mary Stuart, her eldest grand-daughter, 
 was growing up, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu de- 
 veloped her ideas on women's education in somewhat 
 more detail, supposing that, with the hereditary good 
 sense of the Pierreponts, the Wortley Montagus, and 
 Lord Bute's family, her grand-children could not fail to 
 have some intellectual capacity. 
 
 " I will therefore speak to you as supposing Lady 
 Mary not only capable, but desirous of learning : in 
 that case by all means let her be indulged in it. You 
 will tell me I did not make it a part of your education : 
 your prospect was very different from hers. As you 
 had no defect either in mind or person to hinder, and 
 
TJioughts on Ed^ication 235 
 
 much in your circumstances to attract, the highest 
 offers, it seemed your business to learn how to live in 
 the world, as it is hers to know how to be easy out of 
 it. It is the common error of builders and parents to 
 follow some plan they think beautiful (and perhaps is 
 so), without considering that nothing is beautiful that 
 is displaced. Hence we see so many edifices raised 
 that the raisers can never inhabit, being too large for 
 their fortunes. Vistas are laid open over barren 
 heaths, and apartments contrived for a coolness very 
 agreeable in Italy, but killing in the north of Britain : 
 thus every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a 
 fine lady, qualifying her for a station in which she will 
 never appear, and at the same time incapacitating her 
 for that retirement to which she is destined. Learn- 
 ing, if she has a real taste for it, will not only make 
 her contented, but happy in it. No entertainment is / 
 so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She 
 will not want new fashions, nor regret the loss of ex- 
 pensive diversions, or variety of company, if she can 
 be amused with an author in her closet. To render 
 this amusement extensive, she should be permitted to 
 learn the languages. I have heard it lamented that 
 boys lose so many years in mere learning of words : 
 this is no objection to a girl, whose time is not so 
 precious : she cannot advance herself in any profession, 
 and has therefore more hours to spare ; and as you 
 say her memory is good, she will be very agreeably 
 employed this way. There are two cautions to be 
 given on this subject : first, not to think herself learned 
 
236 Thoughts on Education 
 
 when she can read Latin, or even Greek. Languages 
 are more properly to be called vehicles of learning than 
 learning itself, as may be observed in many school- 
 masters, who, though perhaps critics in grammar, are 
 the most ignorant fellows upon earth. True know- 
 ledge consists in knowing things, not words. I would 
 wish her no further a linguist than to enable her to read 
 books in their originals, that are often corrupted, and 
 always injured, by translations. Two hours' applica- 
 tion every morning will bring this about much sooner 
 than you can imagine, and she will have leisure enough 
 besides to run over the English poetry, which is a 
 more important part of a woman's education than it 
 is generally supposed. Many a young damsel has been 
 ruined by a fine copy of verses, which she would have 
 laughed at if she had known it had been stolen from 
 Mr. Waller. I remember, when I was a girl, I saved 
 one of my companions from destruction, who com- 
 municated to me an epistle she was quite charmed 
 with. As she had a natural good taste, she observed 
 the lines were not so smooth as Prior's or Pope's, but 
 had more thought and spirit than any of theirs. She 
 was wonderfully delighted with such a demonstration of 
 her lover's sense and passion, and not a little pleased 
 with her own charms, that had force enough to inspire 
 such elegancies. In the midst of this triumph I showed 
 her that they were taken from Randolph's poems, and 
 the unfortunate transcriber was dismissed with the 
 scorn he deserved. To say truth, the poor plagiary 
 was very unlucky to fall into my hands ; that author 
 
Thoitghts on Education 237 
 
 being no longer in fashion, would have escaped any one 
 of less universal reading than myself. You should en- 
 courage your daughter to talk over with you what she 
 reads ; and, as you are very capable of distinguishing, 
 take care she does not mistake pert folly for wit and 
 humour, or rhyme for poetry, which are the common 
 errors of young people, and have a train of ill conse- 
 quences. The second caution to be given her (and 
 which is most absolutely necessary) is to conceal what- 
 ever learning she attains, with as much solicitude as 
 she would hide crookedness or lameness ; the parade of 
 it can only serve to draw on her the envy, and conse- 
 quently the most inveterate hatred, of all he and she 
 fools, which will certainly be at least three parts in four 
 of all her acquaintance. The use of knowledge in our 
 sex, besides the amusement of solitude, is to moderate 
 the passions, and learn to be contented with a small 
 expense, which are the certain effects of a studious 
 life ; and it may be preferable even to that fame which 
 men have engrossed to themselves, and will not suffer 
 us to share. You will tell me I have not observed 
 this rule myself; but you are mistaken : it is only in- 
 evitable accident that has given me any reputation 
 that way. I have always carefully avoided it, and ever 
 thought it a misfortune. The explanation of this para- 
 graph would occasion a long digression, which I will 
 not trouble you with, it being my present design only 
 to say what I think useful for the instruction of my 
 grand-daughter, which I have much at heart. If she 
 has the same inclination (I should say passion) for 
 
238 Thoughts on Education 
 
 learning that I was born with, history, geography, and 
 philosophy will furnish her with materials to pass away 
 cheerfully a longer life than is allotted to mortals. I 
 believe there are few heads capable of making Sir I. 
 Newton's calculations, but the result of them is not 
 difficult to be understood by a moderate capacity. Do 
 not fear this should make her affect the character of 
 
 Lady , or Lady , or Mrs. ;* those women 
 
 are ridiculous, not because they have learning, but 
 because they have it not. One thinks herself a com- 
 plete historian, after reading Echard's Roman History ; 
 another a profound philosopher, having got by heart 
 some of Pope's unintelligible essays ; and a third an able 
 divine, on the strength of Whitefield's sermons : thus 
 you hear them screaming politics and controversy. 
 
 '' It is a saying of Thucydides, ignorance is bold, and 
 knowledge reserved. Indeed, it is impossible to be far 
 advanced in it without being more humbled by a con- 
 viction of human ignorance, than elated by learning. 
 At the same time I recommend books, I neither exclude 
 work nor drawing. I think it as scandalous for a 
 woman not to know how to use a needles, a for a man 
 not to know how to use a sword. I was once extreme 
 fond of my pencil, and it was a great mortification to 
 me when my father turned off my master, having made 
 a considerable progress for the short time I learnt. My 
 over-eagerness in the pursuit of it had brought a weak- 
 ness on my eyes, that made it necessary to leave it off; 
 and all the advantage I got was the improvement of my 
 
 ^ The blanks are in the oriuinal. 
 
Thoughts oil Education 239 
 
 hand. I see, by hers, that practice will make her a 
 ready writer : she may attain it by serving you for a 
 secretary, when your health or affairs make it trouble- 
 some to you to write yourself; and custom will make 
 it an agreeable amusement to her. She cannot have 
 too many for that station of life which will probably be 
 her fate. The ultimate end of your education was to 
 make you a good wife (and I have the comfort to hear 
 that you are one) : hers ought to be, to make her happy 
 in a virgin state. I will not say it is happier ; but it is 
 undoubtedly safer than any marriage. In a lottery, 
 where there are (at the lowest computation) ten thou- 
 sand blanks to a prize, it is the most prudent choice 
 not to venture. I have always been so thoroughly 
 persuaded of this truth, that, notwithstanding the 
 flattering views I had for you (as I never intended you 
 a sacrifice to my vanity), I thought I owed you the 
 justice to lay before you all the hazards attending 
 matrimony : you may recollect I did so in the strongest 
 manner. Perhaps you may have more success in the 
 instructing your daughter : she has so much com- 
 pany at home, she will not need seeking it abroad, and 
 will more readily take the notions you think fit to give 
 her. As you were alone in my family, it would have 
 been thought a great cruelty to suffer you no com- 
 panions of your own age, especially having so many 
 near relations, and I do not wonder their opinions 
 influenced yours." 
 
 But this plea for a learned education for women was 
 so contrary to the prejudices and ideas of the time. 
 
240 TJiougJUs on Educatio7i 
 
 that Lady Mary made haste to soften down the im- 
 pression it might produce on Lord Bute ; hence she 
 declared that she merely recommended study as a 
 means of preventing time from hanging heavy on the 
 hands of her grandchildren, especially in case they 
 remained single: 
 
 '' I cannot help writing a sort of apology for my last 
 letter, foreseeing that you will think it wrong, or at 
 least Lord Bute will be extremely shocked at the pro- 
 posal of a learned education for daughters, which the 
 generality of men believe as great a profanation as the 
 clergy would do if the laity should presume to exercise 
 the functions of the priesthood. I desire you would 
 take notice, I would not have learning enjoined them 
 as a task, but permitted as a pleasure, if their genius 
 leads them naturally to it. I look upon my grand- 
 daughters as a sort of lay nuns : destiny may have 
 laid up other things for them, but they have no reason 
 to expect to pass their time otherwise than their aunts 
 do at present ; and I know, by experience, it is in the 
 power of study not only to make solitude tolerable, 
 but agreeable. I have now lived almost seven years 
 in a stricter retirement than yours in the Isle of Bute, 
 and can assure you, I have never had half an hour 
 heavy on my hands, for want of something to do. 
 Whoever will cultivate their own mind, will find full 
 employment. Every virtue does not only require great 
 care in the planting, but as much daily solicitude in 
 cherishing, as exotic fruits and flowers. The vices and 
 passions (which I am afraid are the natural product of 
 
Thoughts on Edttcation 241 
 
 the soil) demand perpetual weeding. Add to this the 
 search after knowledge (every branch of which is enter- 
 taining), and the longest life is too short for the pursuit 
 of it ; which, though in some regards confined to very 
 strait limits, leaves still a vast variety of amusements 
 to those capable of tasting them, which is utterly 
 impossible for those that are blinded by prejudices 
 which are the certain effect of an ignorant education. 
 My own was one of the worst in the world, being 
 exactly the same as Clarissa Harlowe's ; her pious 
 Mrs. Norton so perfectly resembling my governess, 
 who had been nurse to my mother, I could almost 
 fancy the author was acquainted with her. She took 
 so much pains, from my infancy, to fill my head with 
 superstitious tales and false notions, it was none of her 
 fault I am not at this day afraid of witches and hob- 
 goblins, or turned methodist. Almost all girls are bred 
 after this manner. I believe you are the only woman 
 (perhaps I might say, person) that never was either 
 frighted or cheated into anything by your parents. I 
 can truly affirm, I never deceived anybody in my life, 
 excepting (which I confess has often happened un- 
 designedly) by speaking plainly ; as Earl Stanhope 
 used to say (during his ministry) he always imposed 
 on the foreign ministers b}^ telling them the naked 
 truth, which, as they thought impossible to come from 
 the mouth of a statesman, they never failed to write 
 informations to their respective courts directly contrary 
 to the assurances he gave them : most people con- 
 founding the ideas of sense and cunning, though there 
 
 16 
 
242 Thoughts on Edttcation 
 
 are really no two things in nature more opposite : it 
 is, in part, from this false reasoning, the unjust custom 
 prevails of debarring our sex from the advantages of 
 learning, the men fancying the improvement of our 
 understandings would only furnish us with more art 
 to deceive them, which is directly contrar}- to the 
 truth. Fools are always enterprising, not seeing the 
 difficulties of deceit, or the ill consequences of detec- 
 tion. I could give many examples of ladies whose ill 
 conduct has been very notorious, which has been owing 
 to that ignorance which has exposed them to idleness, 
 which is justly called the mother of mischief. There 
 is nothing so like the education of a woman of quality 
 as that of a prince : they are taught to dance, and the 
 exterior part of what is called good breeding, w^hich, 
 if they attain, they are extraordinary creatures in their 
 kind, and have all the accomplishments required by 
 their directors. The same characters are formed by 
 the same lessons, which inclines me to think (if I dare 
 say it) that nature has not placed us in an inferior rank 
 to men, no more than the females of other animals, 
 where we see no distinction of capacity ; though, I am 
 persuaded, if there was a commonwealth of rational 
 horses (as Doctor Swift has supposed), it would be 
 an established maxim among them, that a mare could 
 not be taught to pace." 
 
 This last little hoiitade indicates with sufficient plain- 
 ness that the writer, though refraining from affronting 
 the prejudices of her time, did not share them. 
 
 And though Horace Walpole, in one of his letters. 
 
Thoughts on Edtication 243 
 
 charges her with neglecting her daughter's education, a 
 neglectful mother would hardly have written such a letter 
 as the following : 
 
 '' For my part, I am so far persuaded of the goodness 
 of your heart, I have often had a mind to write you a 
 consolatory epistle on my own death, which I believe 
 will be some affliction, though my life is wholly useless 
 to you. That part of it which we passed together you 
 have reason to remember with gratitude, though I think 
 you misplace it ; you are no more obliged to me for 
 bringing you into the world, than I am to you for 
 coming into it, and I never made use of that common- 
 place (and like most common-place, false) argument, as 
 exacting any return of affection. There was a mutual 
 necessity on us both to part at that time, and no obliga- 
 tion on either side. In the case of your infancy, there 
 was so great a mixture of instinct, I can scarce even put 
 that in the number of the proofs I have given you [of] 
 my love ; but I confess I think it a great one, if you 
 compare my after- conduct towards you with that of 
 other mothers, who generally look on their children 
 as devoted to their pleasures, and bound by duty to 
 have no sentiments but what they please to give them ; 
 playthings at first, and afterwards the objects on which 
 they may exercise their spleen, tyranny, or ill humour. 
 I have always thought of you in a different manner. 
 Your happiness was my first wish, and the pursuit of all 
 my actions, divested of all self-interest. So far I think 
 you ought, and believe you do, remember me as your 
 real friend." 
 
 16 — 2 
 
244 Thoughts on Ediicatio7i 
 
 While pressing the claims of study for her grand- 
 daughters, Lady Mary did not forget to recommend 
 social life as the only means of obtaining that neces- 
 sary knowledge of the world which was to correct the 
 false impressions too often gained from books. Through 
 all her letters on the subject of training and educa- 
 tion runs the doctrine that good books are the best 
 guardians against bad books, good society against bad 
 companions, and, in short, that good taste is a far 
 more efficient safeguard than abstinence or prohibition. 
 
 " I congratulate my grand-daughters on being born 
 in an age so much enlightened. Sentiments are cer- 
 tainly extreme silly, and only qualify young people to 
 be the bubbles of all their acquaintance. I do not 
 doubt the frequency of assemblies has introduced a 
 more enlarged way of thinking ; it is a kind of public 
 education, which I have always thought as necessary 
 for girls as for boys. A woman married at five-and- 
 twenty, from under the eye of a strict parent, is com- 
 monly as ignorant as she was at five ; and no more 
 capable of avoiding the snares, and struggling wath 
 the difficulties, she will infallibly meet with in the 
 commerce of the world. The knowledge of mankind 
 (the most useful of all knowledge) can only be acquired 
 by conversing with them. Books are so far from giving 
 that instruction, they fill the head with a set of wrong 
 notions, from whence spring the tribes of Clarissas, 
 Harriets, etc. Yet such was the method of education 
 when I was in England, which I had it not in my 
 power to correct ; the young will always adopt the 
 
Thoughts on Education 245 
 
 opinions of all their companions, rather than the 
 advice of their mothers." 
 
 It will be seen from the last extract that Lady Mary 
 had not forgotten her Richardson, and her memory of 
 his novels was quickened by an event which set the 
 little society of Lovere in a turmoil — an Italian 
 servant-girl playing Pamela to the " Mr. B. " of a local 
 count. 
 
 " This town is at present in a general stare, or, to 
 use their own expression, sotio sopra ; and not only this 
 town, but the capital Bergamo, the whole province, 
 the neighbouring Brescian, and perhaps all the Vene- 
 tian dominion, occasioned by an adventure exactly 
 resembling, and I believe copied from, Pamela. I 
 know not under what constellation that foolish stuff 
 was wrote, but it has been translated into more lan- 
 guages than any modern performance I ever heard of. 
 No proof of its influence was ever stronger than this 
 story, which, in Richardson's hands, would serve very 
 well to furnish out seven or eight volumes. I shall 
 make it as short as I can. 
 
 " Here is a gentleman's family, consisting of an old 
 bachelor and his sister, who have fortune enough to 
 live with great elegance, though without any magnifi- 
 cence, possessed of the esteem of all their acquaint- 
 ance, he being distinguished by his probity, and she 
 by her virtue. They are not only suffered but sought 
 by all the best company, and indeed are the most con- 
 versable, reasonable people in the place. She is an 
 excellent housewife, and particularly remarkable for 
 
2 4*^ TJioughts on Ethication 
 
 keeping her pretty house as neat as any in Holland. 
 She appears no longer in public, being past fifty, and 
 passes her time chiefly at home with her work, re- 
 ceiving few visitants. This Signora Diana, about ten 
 years since, saw, at a monastery, a girl about eight 
 years old, who came thither to beg alms for the 
 mother. Her beauty, though covered with rags, was 
 very observable, and gave great compassion to the 
 charitable lady, who thought it meritorious to 
 rescue such a modest sweetness as appeared in her 
 face from the ruin to which her wretched circum- 
 stances exposed her. She asked her some ques- 
 tions, to which she answered with a natural civility 
 that seemed surprising ; and finding the head of her 
 family (her brother) to be a cobbler, who could hardly 
 live by that trade, and her mother too old to work for 
 her maintenance, she bid the child follow her home ; 
 and sending for her parent, proposed to her to breed 
 the little Octavia for her servant. This was joyfully 
 accepted, the old woman dismissed with a piece of 
 money, and the girl remained with the Signora Diana, 
 who bought her decent clothes, and took pleasure in 
 teaching her whatever she was capable of learning. 
 She learned to read, write, and cast accounts, with 
 uncommon facility ; and had such a genius for work, 
 that she excelled her mistress in embroidery, point, 
 and every operation of the needle. She grew perfectly 
 skilled in confectionery, had a good insight into cookery, 
 and was a great proficient in distillery. To these 
 accomplishments she was so handy, well bred, humble 
 
Thoughts on Education 247 
 
 and modest, that not only her master and mistress, 
 but everybody that frequented the house, took notice 
 of her. She hved thus nine years, never going out but 
 to church. However, beauty is as difficult to conceal 
 as light ; hers began to make a great noise. Signora 
 Diana told me she observed an unusual concourse of 
 peddling women that came on pretext to sell penn'orths 
 of lace, china, etc., and several young gentlemen, very 
 well powdered, that were perpetually walking before 
 her door, and looking up at the windows. These prog- 
 nostics alarmed her prudence, and she listened very 
 willingly to some honourable proposals that were made 
 by many honest, thriving tradesmen. She communi- 
 cated them to Octavia, and told her, that though she 
 was sorry to lose so good a servant, yet she thought 
 it right to advise her to choose a husband. The girl 
 answered modestly, that it was her duty to obey all 
 her commands, but she found no inclination to mar- 
 riage ; and if she would permit her to live single, she 
 should think it a greater obligation than any other she 
 could bestow. Signora Diana was too conscientious 
 to force her into a state from which she could not free 
 her, and left her to her own disposal. However, they 
 parted soon after : whether (as the neighbours say) 
 Signor Aurelio Ardinghi, her brother, looked with too 
 much attention on the young woman, or that she her- 
 self (as Diana says) desired to seek a place of more 
 profit, she removed to Bergamo, where she soon 
 found preferment, being strongly recommended by 
 the Ardinghi family. She was advanced to be first 
 
248 Thoitghts on Education 
 
 waiting-woman to an old Countess, who was so well 
 pleased with her service, she desired, on her death-bed, 
 Count Jeronimo Sosi, her son, to be kind to her. He 
 found no repugnance to this act of obedience, having 
 distinguished the beautiful Octavia from his first sight 
 of her; and, during the six months that she had served 
 in the house, had tried every art of a fine gentleman, 
 accustomed to victories of that sort, to vanquish the 
 virtue of this fair virgin. He has a handsome figure, 
 and has had an education uncommon in this country, 
 having made the tour of Europe, and brought from 
 Paris all the improvements that are to be picked up 
 there, being celebrated for his grace in dancing, and 
 skill in fencing and riding, by which he is a favourite 
 among the ladies, and respected by the men. Thus 
 qualified for conquest, you may judge of his surprise 
 at the firm yet modest resistance of this country girl, 
 who was neither to be moved by address, nor gained 
 by liberality, nor on any terms would be prevailed on 
 to stay as his housekeeper, after the death of his mother. 
 She took that post in the house of an old judge, where 
 she continued to be solicited by the emissaries of the 
 Count's passion, and found a new persecutor in her 
 master, who after three months offered her marriage. 
 She chose to return to her former obscurity, and 
 escaped from his pursuit, without asking any wages, 
 and privately returned to the Signora Diana. She 
 threw herself at her feet, and, kissing her hands, begged 
 her, with tears, to conceal her at least some time, if 
 she would not accept of her service. She protested she 
 
Thoughts on Ed2 teat ion 249 
 
 had never been happy since she left it. While she 
 was making these submissions, Signer Aurelio entered. 
 She entreated his intercession on her knees, who was 
 easily persuaded to consent she should stay with them, 
 though his sister blamed her highly for her precipitate 
 flight, having no reason, from the age and character 
 of her master, to fear any violence, and wondered at 
 her declining the honour he offered her. Octavia 
 confessed that perhaps she had been too rash in her 
 proceedings, but said, that he seemed to resent her 
 refusal in such a manner as frighted her ; she hoped 
 that after a few days' search he would think no more 
 of her ; and that she scrupled entering into the holy 
 bands of matrimony, where her heart did not sincerely 
 accompany all the words of the ceremony. Signora 
 Diana had nothing to say in contradiction to this 
 pious sentiment ; and her brother applauded the 
 honesty which could not be perverted by any interest 
 whatever. She remained concealed in their house, 
 where she helped in the kitchen, cleaned the rooms, 
 and redoubled her usual diligence and officiousness. 
 Her old master came to Lovere on pretence of adjust- 
 ing a lawsuit, three days after, and made private 
 inquiry after her ; but hearing from her mother and 
 brother (who knew nothing of her being here) that 
 they had never heard of her, he concluded she had 
 taken another route, and returned to Bergamo ; and 
 she continued in this retirement near a fortnight. 
 
 *' Last Sunday, as soon as the day was closed, 
 arrived at Signor Aurelio's door a handsome equipage 
 
250 Thoughts on Education 
 
 in a large bark, attended by four well-armed servants 
 on horseback. An old priest stepped out of it, and 
 desiring to speak with Signora Diana, informed her 
 he came from the Count Jeronimo Sosi to demand 
 Octavia; that the Count waited for her at a village 
 four miles from hence, where he intended to marry 
 her ; and had sent him, who was engaged to perform 
 the divine rite, that Signora Diana might resign her 
 to his care without any difficult3\ The young damsel 
 was called for, who entreated she might be permitted 
 the company of another priest with whom she was 
 acquainted : this was readily granted ; and she sent 
 for a young man that visits me very often, being 
 remarkable for his sobriety and learning. Meanwhile, 
 a valet-de-chambre presented her with a box, in which 
 was a complete genteel undress for a lady. Her laced 
 linen and fine nightgown were soon put on, and away 
 they marched, leaving the family in a surprise not to 
 be described. 
 
 " Signor Aurelio came to drink coffee with me next 
 morning : his first words were, he had brought me the 
 history of Pamela. I said, laughing, I had been tired 
 with it long since. He explained himself by relating 
 this story, mixed with great resentment for Octavia's 
 conduct. Count Jeronimo's father had been his 
 ancient friend and patron ; and this escape from his 
 house (he said) would lay him under a suspicion of 
 having abetted the young man's folly, and perhaps 
 expose him to the anger of all his relations, for con- 
 triving an action he would rather have died than 
 
Thoughts oil Edttcation 251 
 
 suffered, if he had known how to prevent it. I easily 
 believed him, there appearing a latent jealousy under 
 his affliction, that showed me he envied the bride- 
 groom's happiness, at the same time he condemned 
 his extravagance. 
 
 *' Yesterday noon, being Saturday, Don Joseph re- 
 turned, who has got the name of Parson Williams by 
 this expedition : he relates, that when the bark which 
 carried the coach and train arrived, they found the 
 amorous Count waiting for his bride on the bank of 
 the lake : he would have proceeded immediately to the 
 church ; but she utterly refused it, till they had each 
 of them been at confession ; after which the happy 
 knot was tied by the parish priest. They continued 
 their journey, and came to their palace at Bergamo in 
 a few hours, where everything was prepared for their 
 reception. They received the communion next morn- 
 ing, and the Count declares that the lovely Octavia 
 has brought him an inestimable portion, since he owes 
 to her the salvation of his soul. He has renounced 
 play, at which he had lost a great deal of time and 
 money. She has already retrenched several super- 
 fluous servants, and put his family into an exact 
 method of economy, preserving all the splendour 
 necessary to his rank. He has sent a letter in his 
 own hand to her mother, inviting her to reside with 
 them, and subscribing himself her dutiful son : but the 
 Countess has sent another privately by Don Joseph, 
 in which she advises the old woman to stay at Lovere, 
 promising to take care she shall want nothing, accom- 
 
252 Thoughts on Education 
 
 panied with a token of twenty sequins,* which is at 
 least nineteen more than ever she saw in her Ufe. 
 
 *' I forgot to tell you that from Octavia"s first serving 
 the old lady, there came frequent charities in her name 
 to her poor parent, which nobody was surprised at, the 
 lady being celebrated for pious works, and Octavia 
 known to be a great favourite with her. It is now 
 discovered that they were all sent by the generous 
 lover, who has presented Don Joseph very hand- 
 somely, but he has brought neither letter nor message 
 to the house of Ardinghi, which affords much specu- 
 lation." 
 
 Another Italian lady of the time, though conforming 
 less closely to Richardson's pattern, was regarded by 
 Lady Mary as deserving the honour — not of the 
 greatest, in her estimation — of being celebrated by 
 him : the Marchesa Licinia Bentivoglio. 
 
 ''A late adventure here makes a great noise from the 
 rank of the people concerned : the Marchioness Lys- 
 cinniat Bentivoglio, who was heiress of one branch of 
 the Martinenghi, and brought forty thousand gold 
 sequins to her husband, and the expectation of her 
 father's estate, three thousand pounds per annum, the 
 most magnificent palace at Brescia (finer than any in 
 London), another in the country, and many other 
 advantages of woods, plate, jewels, etc. The Cardinal 
 Bentivoglio, his uncle, thought he could not choose 
 better, though his nephew might certainly have chose 
 
 * About ten guineas English . 
 
 t Lady Mary probably spelt phonetically. 
 
TJiotigJits on Edttcation 253 
 
 among all the Italian ladies, being descended from the 
 sovereigns of Bologna,* actually a grandee of Spain, a 
 noble Venetian, and in possession of twenty-five thousand 
 pounds sterling per annum, with immense wealth in 
 palaces, furniture, and absolute dominion in some of his 
 lands. The girl was prett}^, and the match was with 
 the satisfaction of both families ; but she brought with 
 her such a diabolical temper, and such Luciferan pride, 
 that neither husband, relations, nor servants, had ever 
 a moment's peace with her. After about eight years' 
 warfare, she eloped one fair morning and took refuge 
 in Venice, leaving her two daughters, the eldest scarce 
 six years old, to the care of the exasperated Marquis. 
 Her father was so angry at her extravagant conduct, 
 he would not, for some time, receive her into his house; 
 but, after some months, and much solicitation, parental 
 fondness prevailed, and she remained with him ever 
 since, notwithstanding all the efforts of her husband, 
 who tried kindness, submission, and threats, to no pur- 
 pose. The Cardinal came twice to Brescia, her own 
 father joined his entreaties, nay, hh Holiness wrote a 
 letter with his own hand, and made use of the Church 
 authority, but he found it harder to reduce one woman 
 than ten heretics. She was inflexible, and lived ten 
 years in this state of reprobation. Her father died last 
 winter, and left her his whole estate for her hfe, and 
 afterwards to her children. Her eldest was now mar- 
 riageable, and disposed of to the nephew of Cardinal 
 
 ■^ The Bentivogli had been Lords of Bologna. They claimed 
 descent from Enzio, son of the Emperor Frederick II. 
 
2 54 Tho7to;hts on Education 
 
 Valentino Gonzagua, first minister at Rome. She 
 would neither appear at the wedding, nor take the 
 least notice of a dutiful letter sent by the bride. The 
 old Cardinal (who was passionately fond of his illustrious 
 name) was so much touched with the apparent extinc- 
 tion of it, that it was thought to have hastened his 
 death. She continued in the enjoyment of her ill- 
 humour, living in great splendour, though almost soli- 
 tary, having, by some impertinence or other, disgusted 
 all her acquaintance, till about a month ago, when her 
 woman brought her a basin of broth, which she usually 
 drank in her bed. She took a few spoonfuls of it, and 
 then cried out it was so bad it was impossible to endure 
 it. Her chambermaids were so used to hear her ex- 
 clamations they had not the worse opinion of it, and 
 eat it up very comfortably ; they were both seized with 
 the same pangs, and died the next day. She sent for 
 physicians, who judged her poisoned ; but, as she had 
 taken a small quantity, by the help of antidotes she 
 recovered, yet is still in a languishing condition. Her 
 cook was examined, and racked, always protesting entire 
 innocence, and swearing he had made the soup in the 
 same manner he was accustomed. You may imagine 
 the noise of this affair. She loudly accused her husband, 
 it being the interest of no other person to wish her out 
 of the world. He resides at Ferrara (about which the 
 greatest part of his lands lie), and was soon informed 
 of this accident. He sent doctors to her, whom she 
 would not see, sent vast alms to all the convents to 
 pray for her health, and ordered a number of masses 
 
Thotights on Edit cat? on 255 
 
 to be said in every church of Brescia and Ferrara. He 
 sent letters to the Senate at Venice, and published 
 manifestoes in all the capital cities, in which he pro- 
 fesses his affection to her, and abhorrence of any 
 attempt against her, and has a cloud of witnesses 
 that he never gave her the least reason of complaint, 
 and even since her leaving him has always spoke of her 
 with kindness, and courted her return. He is said to 
 be remarkably sweet tempered, and has the best char- 
 acter of any man of quality in this country. If the 
 death of her women did not seem to confirm it, her 
 accusation would gain credit with nobody. She is 
 certainly very sincere in it herself, being so persuaded 
 he has resolved her death, that she dare not take the 
 air, apprehending to be assassinated, and has im- 
 prisoned herself in her chamber, where she will neither 
 eat nor drink anything that she does not see tasted by 
 all her servants. The physicians now say that perhaps 
 the poison might fall into the broth accidentally ; I con- 
 fess I do not perceive the possibility of it. As to the 
 cook suffering the rack, that is a mere jest where people 
 have money enough to bribe the executioner. I decide 
 nothing ; but such is the present destiny of a lady, who 
 would have been one of Richardson's heroines, having 
 never been suspected of the least gallantry ; hating, 
 and being hated universally ; of a most noble spirit, 
 it being proverbial, * As proud as the Marchioness Lys- 
 cinnia.' " 
 
 As a contrast to this instance of Italian pride may 
 be appended here an equally sublime specimen of Eng- 
 
256 Tho2ig/its 072 Education 
 
 lish humility of which Lady Alary was reminded by an 
 item of news in one of her daughter's letters. It appears 
 that an acquaintance of hers in Italy, Sir John Rawdon, 
 was raised to the Irish peerage ; and her comments on 
 the transaction are more pithy than complimentary : 
 
 '' I cannot believe Sir John's advancement is owing 
 to his merit, though he certainly deserves such a dis- 
 tinction ; but I am persuaded the present disposers of 
 such dignities are neither more clear-sighted nor more 
 disinterested than their predecessors. Ever since I 
 knew the world, Irish patents have been hung out to 
 sale, like the laced and embroidered coats in Monmouth- 
 street, and bought up by the same sort of people ; I 
 mean those who had rather wear shabby finery than no 
 finery at all ; though I do not suppose this was Sir 
 John's case. That good creature (as the country saying 
 is) has not a bit of pride in him. I dare swear he pur- 
 chased his title for the same reason he used to purchase 
 pictures in Italy ; not because he wanted to bu}-, but 
 because somebody or other wanted to sell. He hardly 
 ever opened his mouth but to say ' What you please, 
 sir;' — 'At your service;' — 'Your humble servant;' or 
 some gentle expression to the same effect. It is scarce 
 credible that with this unlimited complaisance he should 
 draw a blow upon himself; yet it so happened that one 
 of his own countrymen was brute enough to strike him. 
 As it was done before many witnesses, Lord Mansel 
 heard of it ; and thinking that if poor Sir John took no 
 notice of it, he would suffer daily insults of the same 
 kind, out of pure good nature resolved to spirit himi up 
 
Thoughts on Education 257 
 
 at least to some show of resentment, intending to make 
 up their matter afterwards in as honourable a manner 
 as he could for the poor patient. He represented to 
 him very warmly that no gentleman could take a box 
 on the ear. Sir John answered with great calmness, ' I 
 know that, but this was not a box on the ear ; it was 
 only a slap of the face.' " 
 
 Of another English acquaintance of hers Lady Mary 
 heard casually — the former Sir Charles Hanbury 
 Williams, whose lively verses had been sometimes 
 attributed to herself. He had for some time been 
 English Ambassador at St. Petersburg ; and his 
 foolish extravagance at home and abroad gave her 
 an opportunity for moralizing on the benefits of 
 economy — a virtue which she was generally credited 
 with carrying to excess. As she writes to Lady Bute : 
 
 " I inquired after my old acquaintance Sir Charles 
 Wilhams, 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 ridiculous, he had bounded his desires of 
 wealth, and followed the dictates of his conscience. 
 His servile ambition has gained him two yards of red 
 ribbon, and an exile into a miserable country, where 
 there is no society and so little taste, that I believe he 
 suffers under a dearth of flatterers. This is said for the 
 
 17 
 
258 Thoughts 071 Eiht cation 
 
 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 
 'f 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 col- 
 lective body of men differs very little from a single man ; 
 frugality is the foundation of generosity. I have often 
 been complimented on the English heroism, who have 
 thrown away so many millions, without any prospect 
 of advantage to themselves, purely to succour a dis- 
 tressed princess.* I never could hear these praises 
 
 * Alluding- to the large subsidies given by England to Marir^ 
 Theresa during the War of the Austrian Succession, 
 
Thoughts 071 Education 259 
 
 without some impatience ; they sounded to me Hke 
 panegyrics made by the dependents on the D. [Duke] 
 of N. [Newcastle] and poor Lord Oxford, bubbled when 
 they were commended, and laughed at when undone. 
 Some late events will, I hope, open our eyes : we shall 
 see we are an island, and endeavour to extend our 
 commerce, rather 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 con- 
 queror will be an odious title. I could easily prove that, 
 had the Spaniards established a trade with the Amer- 
 icans, 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 
 profits." 
 
 This last passage is interesting, as setting forth Lady 
 Mary's own views on English policy — a view closely 
 agreeing with the notions ascribed to the Manchester 
 School of later times. It is curious, however, to 
 notice how she condemned Bolingbroke for his un- 
 patriotic haste in concluding the Treaty of Utrecht, 
 when her own son-in-law. Lord Bute, had already, 
 before her death, begun to carry out a pacification, 
 which in its abandonment of allies and surrender of 
 advantages was quite as scandalous as Bolingbroke's. 
 Again, it was precisely that English trade which she 
 desired to see extended that had caused the wars 
 which she condemned. Apparently she expected tQ 
 
 17—2 
 
26o Thoughts 071 Edncation 
 
 see war abolished by the progress of mankind, which, 
 to her idea, had barely emerged from childhood : 
 
 " When I reflect on the vast increase of useful, as 
 well as speculative, knowledge the last three hundred 
 years has produced, and that the peasants of this age 
 have more conveniences than the first emperors of 
 Rome had any notion of, I imagine that we are now 
 arrived at that period which answers to fifteen. I can- 
 not think we are older, when I recollect the many 
 palpable follies which are still (almost) universally 
 persisted in : I place that of war amongst the most 
 glaring, being fully as senseless as the boxing of school- 
 boys, and whenever we come to man's estate (perhaps 
 a thousand years hence), I do not doubt it will appear 
 as ridiculous as the pranks of unluck}' lads. Several 
 discoveries will then be made, and several truths made 
 clear, of which we have now no more idea than the 
 ancients had of the circulation of the blood, or the 
 optics of Sir I. Newton." 
 
Last Years and Death 261 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LAST YEARS AND DEATH 
 
 The Last Years of Lady Mary's Life-Senous "'---f-j^-^J^ 
 Lovere-Recovery-The Phys.can of Lovere-H,s Chanty 
 Description of Lovere-Appearance of the Town-The Plague 
 of 64-Lady Mary buys an Old Palace-Its Rmt>ous Cmr- 
 dtim:-Itaran Friends -^Cardinal Querini-His Van,ty-He 
 'r Lad Mary for Copies of her WorUs-Her Embarrass- 
 ment-Death of Querini-The Marqu.s Maffe>-H.s Jalace 
 His .SV,/.«-The Doge Griman.^Hts V.rtue.- Lady Mary 
 suspected of a Political Mission-She wr.tes theH. story of 
 her own Time-Disputes on Rehgion-An Old ?"«='- ^^^^ 
 mental Doctrine-A Singular Nunnery-The nanquiUity ol 
 OM^e- Removal to Venice -Murray's Persecut.ons-S.r 
 fames "steuart-Unprovoked Annoyances-Fears for her Pro- 
 ieny-Venetian Frlnds-Mocenigo-A Venet.an Marnage- 
 Infirmities- Unable to see English Papet. - " A Rak m 
 Reading" -Low Spirits - Suicides af Venice - Request toi 
 Chtnt^lassFuinit^ure-HoraceWalpole-His^ot^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 Fli/abeth- Female Influence in Repubhcs -Literary btyie 
 riar of Blndness-Advice from ^"-'1= " A"->'f "Vof 
 Company-Lady Mary afraid to cross the Alps-Vanity of 
 HumT Wishes-Epicurean Philosophy-Sir James Steuarts 
 "Pditical Economy -Unwillingness to return to London- 
 lourney to England-Letter from Rotterdam-Last Letter 
 Death -Personal Appearance-Lady.Pomfrefs Remarks on her 
 
 Beauty. 
 The last few years of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's 
 life were spent in much the same occupations as she 
 
262 Last Years and Death 
 
 had previously described in her letters to her daughter 
 — residing at one or other of the towns of the Venetian 
 territory, at first generally near Brescia, but afterwards 
 alternating between Padua and Venice. Her life was 
 uneventful, marked only by the approach of old age 
 and the growth of infirmities. Yet she had a wonderful 
 power of rallying from illness, as was shown by the 
 description she gives of her recovery from a fever — a 
 result which may fairly be ascribed as much to the 
 goodness of her constitution as to the " miraculous " 
 doctor who attended her. Her return to Lovere at 
 his orders led her to take another residence there. 
 Probably the "dairy-house"" and gardens had been 
 given up. 
 
 "Lovere, June 23, N.S. [1754]. 
 *' 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, with- 
 out 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 
 
Last Years and DeatJi 263 
 
 where we expire, and I consented to be removed. My 
 bed was placed on a brancard ; 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 Iseo, which is at the head of this lake. 
 I lay each night at noblemen's houses, which were 
 empty. My cook, with my physician, always preceded 
 two or three hours, and I found my chamber, and all 
 necessaries, ready prepared with the exactest attention. 
 I was put into a bark in my litter bed, and in three 
 hours arrived here. My spirits were not at all wasted 
 (I think rather raised) by the fatigue of my journey. I 
 drank the water next morning, and, with a few doses 
 of my physician's prescription, in three days found 
 myself in perfect health, which appeared almost a 
 miracle to all that saw me. You may imagine I am 
 willing to submit to the orders of one that I must 
 acknowledge the instrument of saving my life, though 
 they are not entirely conformable to my will and 
 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 
 
264 Last Years and Death 
 
 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 any- 
 thing ; 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 distin- 
 guishes 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 with- 
 out 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 
 
Last Years and Death 265 
 
 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 3'ou to forgive my 
 drawing it. 
 
 '* I have already described to you this extraordinary 
 spot of earth, which is almost unknown to the rest of 
 the world, and indeed does not seem to be destined by 
 nature to be inhabited by human creatures, and I 
 believe would never have been so, without the cruel 
 civil war between the Guelphs and Ghibelines. Before 
 that time here were only the huts of a few fishermen, 
 who came at certain seasons on account of the fine 
 fish with which this lake abounds, particularly trouts, 
 as large and red as salmon. The lake itself is different 
 from any other I ever saw or read of, being the colour 
 of the sea, rather deeper tinged with green, which 
 convinces me that the surrounding mountains are full 
 of minerals, and it may be rich in mines yet undis- 
 covered, as well as quarries of marble, from whence 
 the churches and houses are ornamented, and even 
 the streets paved, which, if polished and laid with art, 
 would look like the finest mosaic work, being a variety 
 of beautiful colours. I ought to retract the honourable 
 title of street, none of them being broader than an 
 alley, and impassable for any wheel-carriage, except a 
 wheel-barrow. This town (which is the largest of 
 twenty-five that are built on the banks of the lake) is 
 near two miles long, and the figure of a semicircle. 
 If it was a regular range of building, it would appear 
 
 V UNIVERSITY ] 
 
266 Last Years and Death 
 
 magnificent ; but, being founded accidentally by those 
 who sought a refuge from the violences of those bloody 
 times, it is a mixture of shops and palaces, gardens 
 and houses, which ascend a mile high, in a confusion 
 which is not disagreeable. After this salutary water 
 was found, and the purity of the air experienced, many 
 people of quality chose it for their summer residence, 
 and embellished it with several fine edifices. It was 
 populous and flourishing, till that fatal plague which 
 overran all Europe in the year 1626. It made a 
 terrible ravage in this place : the poor were almost 
 destroyed, and the rich deserted it. Since that time 
 it has never recovered its former splendour ; few of 
 the nobility returned ; it is now only frequented during 
 the water-drinking season. Several of the ancient 
 palaces [are] degraded into lodging-houses and others 
 stand empty in a ruinous condition : one of these I 
 have bought. I see you lift up your eyes in w^onder 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 dis- 
 agreeable ; and here is no private one : secondly, and 
 chiefly, the whole purchase is but one hundred pounds, 
 with a very prett}' 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 wdll 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. 
 
Last Years and Death 267 
 
 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 posses- 
 sion of it, along with the grand cabinet, and some other 
 pieces of magnificence, quite useless to me, and which 
 w^ould 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." 
 
268 Last Years and Death 
 
 It was this hope of protit from EngUsh visitors that 
 induced the people of Lovere to offer the honour of a 
 statue to Lady Mary ; but they must have been also 
 actuated by more local considerations. The Doge of 
 Venice, Grimani, was her old friend, and when he died 
 she had still the favour of the Archbishop of Brescia, 
 Cardinal Querini, an ecclesiastic of some learning and 
 great pretensions : 
 
 '•' I have not yet lost all my interest in this country 
 by the death of the Doge, having another very con- 
 siderable friend, though I cannot expect to keep him 
 long, he being near fourscore. I mean the Cardinal 
 Querini, who is Archbishop of this diocese, and con- 
 sequently of great power, there being not one family, 
 high or low, in this province, that has not some 
 ecclesiastic in it, and therefore all of them have some 
 dependence on him. He is of one of the tirst families 
 of Venice, vastly rich of himself, and has many great 
 benefices beside his archbishopric; but these advantages 
 are little in his eyes, in comparison of being the first 
 author (as he fancies) at this day in Christendom ; and 
 indeed, if the merit of the books consisted in bulk and 
 number, he might very justly claim that character. I 
 believe he has published, yearly, several volumes for 
 above fifty years, beside corresponding with all the 
 literati of Europe, and, among these, several of the 
 senior fellows at Oxford, and some members of the 
 Royal Society, that neither you nor I ever heard of, 
 who he is persuaded are the most eminent men in 
 England. He is at present employed in writing his 
 
Last Years and Death 269 
 
 own life, of which he has already printed the first 
 tome ; and if he goes on in the same style, it will be a 
 most voluminous performance. He begins from the 
 moment of his birth, and tells us that, in that day, he 
 made such extraordinary faces, the midwife, chamber- 
 maids, and nurses all agreed, that there was born a 
 shining light in church and state. You'll think me 
 very merry with the failings of my friend. I confess I 
 ought to forgive a vanity to which I am obliged for 
 many good offices, since I do not doubt it is owing to 
 that, that he professes himself so highly attached to 
 my service, having an opinion that my suffrage is of 
 great weight in the learned world, and that I shall not 
 fail to spread his fame, at least, all over Great Britain. 
 He sent me a present last week of a very uncommon 
 kind, even his own picture, extremely well done, but 
 so flattering, it is a young old man, with a most 
 pompous inscription under it. I suppose he intended 
 it for the ornament of my library, not knowing it is 
 only a closet: however, these distinctions he shows 
 me, give me a figure in this town, where everybody 
 has something to hope from him ; and it was certainly 
 in a view to that they would have complimented me 
 with a statue, for I would not have you mistake so far 
 as to imagine there is any set of people more grateful 
 or generous than another. Mankind is everywhere the 
 same : like cherries or apples, they may differ in size, 
 shape, or colour, from different soils, chmate, or 
 culture, but are still essentially the same species ; and 
 the little black wood cherry is not nearer akin to the 
 
2/0 Last Years a7id Death 
 
 [may-]dukes that are served at great tables, than the 
 wild, naked negro to the fine figures adorned with 
 coronets and ribands. This observation might be 
 carried yet further : all animals are stimulated by the 
 same passions, and act very near alike, as far as we 
 are capable of observing them.*' 
 
 Unfortunately this friendship was troubled for a 
 time by that which caused most of Lady Mary's 
 troubles — her literary tastes. Formerly she had been 
 assailed by Pope for writing libels which she very 
 probably had nothing to do with ; now she was 
 threatened with losing^ Ouerini's favour for want of 
 producing her works in numerous volumes. 
 
 She writes plaintively to her daughter: "This letter 
 will be very dull or very peevish (perhaps both). I am 
 at present much out of humour, being on the edge of a 
 quarrel with my friend and patron, the C. [Cardinal]. 
 He is really a good-natured and generous man, and 
 spends his vast revenue in (what he thinks) the service 
 of his country, besides contributing largely to the 
 building of a new cathedral, which, when finished, will 
 stand in the rank of fine churches (where he has 
 already the comfort of seeing his own busto), finely 
 done both within and without. He has founded a 
 magnificent college for one hundred scholars, which I 
 don't doubt he will endow very nobly, and greatly 
 enlarged and embellished his episcopal palace. He 
 has joined to it a public library, which, when I saw it, 
 was a very beautiful room : it is now finished and 
 furnished, and open twice in a week with proper 
 
Last Years and Death 271 
 
 attendance. Yesterday here arrived one of his chief 
 chaplains, with a long compliment, which concluded 
 with desiring I would send him my works ; having 
 dedicated one of his cases to English books, he 
 intended my labours should appear in the most con- 
 spicuous place. I was struck dumb for some time 
 with this astonishing request ; when I recovered my 
 vexatious surprise (foreseeing the consequence), I 
 made answer, I was highly sensible of the honour 
 designed me, but, upon my word, I had never printed 
 a single line in my life. I was answered in a cold 
 tone, his eminence could send for them to England, 
 but they would be a long time coming, and with some 
 hazard ; and that he had flattered himself I would not 
 refuse him such a favour, and I need not be ashamed 
 of seeing my name in a collection where he admitted 
 none but the most eminent authors. It was to no 
 purpose to endeavour to convince him. He would not 
 stay dinner, though earnestly invited ; and went away 
 with the air of one that thought he had reason to be 
 offended. I know his master will have the same 
 sentiments, and I shall pass in his opinion for a 
 monster of ingratitude, while it is the blackest of 
 vices in my opinion, and of which I am utterly 
 incapable — I really could cry for vexation. 
 
 '* Sure nobody ever had such various provocations 
 to print as myself. I have seen things I have wrote, so 
 mangled and falsified, I have scarce known them. I 
 have seen poems I never read, published with my 
 name at length ; and others, that were truly and singly 
 
272 Last Years and Death 
 
 wrote by me, printed under the names of others. I 
 have made myself easy under all these mortifications, 
 by the reflection I did not deserve them, having never 
 ajmed at the vanity of popular applause ; but I own 
 m}' philosophy is not proof against losing a friend, and 
 it may be making an enemy of one to whom I am 
 obliged." 
 
 In 1755, the year after the preceding letter was 
 written, the Cardinal died : 
 
 " My old friend the Cardinal [Querini] is dead of an 
 apoplectic fit, which I am sorry for, notwithstanding 
 the disgust that happened between us, on the ridiculous 
 account of which I gave you the history a year ago. 
 His memor}' will, probably, last as long as this province, 
 having embellished it with so many noble structures, 
 particularly a public library well furnished, richly 
 adorned, and a college built for poor scholars, with 
 salaries for masters, and plentifully endowed : many 
 charitable foundations, and so large a part of the new 
 cathedral (which will be one of the finest churches in 
 Lombardy) has been built at his expense, he may be 
 almost called the founder of it. He has left a consider- 
 able annuity to continue it, and deserves an eminent 
 place among the few prelates that have devoted what 
 they received from the Church to the use of the public, 
 which is not here (as in some countries) so ungrateful 
 to overlook benefits. Man}- statues have been erected, 
 and medals cast to his honour, one of which has the 
 figures of Piety, Learning, and Munificence, on the 
 reverse, in the attitude of the three Graces. His 
 
Last Years and Death 273 
 
 funeral has been celebrated by the city with all the 
 splendour it was capable of bestowing, and waited on 
 by all ranks of the inhabitants." 
 
 His death was followed by that of a more eminent 
 virtuoso : 
 
 " This year has been fatal to the literati of Italy. 
 The Marquis Maffei soon followed Cardinal Querini. 
 He was in England when you were married. Perhaps 
 you may remember his coming to see your father's 
 Greek inscription ; * he was then an old man, and 
 consequently now a great age ; but preserved his 
 memory and senses in their first vigour. After having 
 made the tour of Europe in the search of antiquities, 
 he fixed his residence in his native town of Verona, 
 where he erected himself a little empire, from the 
 general esteem, and a conversation (so they call an 
 assembly) which he established in his palace, which is 
 one of the largest in that place, and so luckily situated, 
 that it is between the theatre and the ancient amphi- 
 theatre. He made piazzas leading to each of them, 
 filled with shops, where were sold coffee, tea, chocolate, 
 all sort of cool [drinks ?] and sweetmeats, and in the 
 midst, a court well kept, and sanded, for the use of 
 those young gentlemen who would exercise their 
 managed horses, or show their mistresses their skill in 
 riding. His gallery was open every evening at five 
 o'clock, where he had a fine collection of antiquities, 
 and two large cabinets of medals, intaglios, and 
 
 ■^ The inscription from the Troas, ah-eady mentioned, which was 
 given by Mr. Wortley Montagu to Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 18 
 
2 74 Last Years and Death 
 
 cameos, ranged in exact order. His library joined to 
 it ; and on the other side a suite of five rooms, the first 
 of which was destined to dancing, the second to cards 
 (but all games of hazard excluded), and the others 
 (where he himself presided in an easy-chair) sacred to 
 conversation, which always turned upon some point 
 of learning, either historical or poetical. Controversy 
 and politics being utterly prohibited, he generally 
 proposed the subject, and took great delight in 
 instructing the young people, w'ho were obliged to 
 seek the medal, or explain the inscription, that illus- 
 trated any fact they discoursed of. Those who chose 
 the diversion of the public walks, or theatre, went 
 thither, but never failed returning to give an account 
 of the drama, which produced a critical dissertation 
 on that subject, the Marquis having given shining 
 proofs of his skill in that art. His tragedy of Merope, 
 which is much injured by Voltaire's translation, being 
 esteemed a masterpiece ; and his comedy of the 
 Ceremonies, being so just a ridicule of those formal 
 fopperies, it has gone a great way in helping to banish 
 them out of Italy." 
 
 Pietro Grimani, the Doge of Venice, Lady Mary's 
 old friend, had died in 1752, much to her grief: 
 
 ** He is lamented here by all ranks of people, as their 
 common parent. He really answered the idea of Lord 
 Bolingbroke's imaginary Patriot Prince, and was the 
 only example I ever knew of having passed through the 
 greatest employments, and most important negotiations, 
 without ever making an enemy. When I was at Venice, 
 
Last Years and Death 275 
 
 which was some months before his election, he was the 
 leading voice in the senate, and possessed of so strong 
 a popularity as would have been dangerous in the hands 
 of a bad man : yet he had the art to silence envy ; and 
 I never once heard an objection to his character, or 
 even an insinuation to his disadvantage. I attribute 
 this peculiar happiness to be owing to the sincere 
 benevolence of his heart, joined with an easy cheerful- 
 ness of temper, which made him agreeable to all com- 
 panies, and a blessing to all his dependents. Authority 
 appeared so aimahle in him, no one wished it less, except 
 himself, who would sometimes lament the weight of it, 
 as robbing him too much of the conversation of his 
 friends, in which he placed his chief delight, being so 
 little ambitious, that (to my certain knowledge), far 
 from caballing to gain that elevation to which he was 
 raised, he would have refused it, if he had not looked 
 upon the acceptance of it as a duty due to his country. 
 This is only speaking of him in the public light. As 
 to myself, he always professed, and gave me every 
 demonstration of, the most cordial friendship. Indeed, 
 I received every good office from him I could have 
 expected from a tender father, or a kind brother ; 
 and though I have not seen him since my last re- 
 turn to Italy, he never omitted an opportunity of 
 expressing the greatest regard for me, both in his 
 discourse to others, and upon all occasions where he 
 thought he could be useful to me. I do not doubt I 
 shall very sensibly miss the influence of his good in- 
 tentions.' 
 
 18—2 
 
276 Last Years and Death 
 
 But, as before, Lady Mary was not dependent on 
 her Italian friends for occupying her time. She 
 probably read as much as ever, though there are fewer 
 allusions to books in the published letters ; and she 
 wrote letters so voluminous as to excite political 
 suspicion. 
 
 **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 under- 
 stand 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 under- 
 stood by anybody else. 
 
 "Thus I suppose my innocent epistles are severely 
 scrutinised : 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; 
 
Last Years and Death 277 
 
 but 'tis very hard I cannot pass for being as insignifi- 
 cant as I really am." 
 
 Not only did she go on with her correspondence, but 
 amused herself with writing memoirs — though unfortu- 
 nately they have not, like those of her friend Lord 
 Hervey, been allowed to come down to us by the 
 author. Perhaps, however, in destroying her work, 
 she only anticipated the action of her daughter. 
 
 " You will confess my employment much more 
 trifling than yours, when I own to you (between you 
 and I) that my chief amusement is writing the history 
 of my own time. It has been my fortune to have a 
 more exact knowledge both of the persons and facts 
 that have made the greatest figure in England in this 
 age, than is common ; and I take pleasure in putting 
 together what I know, with an impartiality that is 
 altogether unusual. Distance of time and place has 
 totally blotted from my mind all traces either of resent- 
 ment or prejudice ; and I speak with the same indif- 
 ference of the court of G. B. [Great Britain] as I 
 should do of that of Augustus Caesar. I hope you 
 have not so ill an opinion of me to think I am turning 
 author in my old age. I can assure you I regularly 
 burn every quire as soon as it is finished ; and mean 
 nothing more than to divert my solitary hours. I 
 know mankind too well to think they are capable of 
 receiving the truth, much less of applauding it : or, 
 were it otherwise, applause to me is as insignificant as 
 garlands on the dead." 
 
 Lady Mary seems to have seen a good deal of the 
 
278 Last Years and Death 
 
 priests of the country. We have seen that she invited 
 them in to play whist ; and they, or some of them, 
 were anxious to repay her hospitaHty by converting 
 her from her heresy. However, she was a stanch 
 Protestant, and well grounded in the reasons for her 
 religion ; and when it came to controversy, according 
 to her own account, she carried too many guns for her 
 clerical assailants. 
 
 " I have never been attacked a second time in any of 
 the towns where I have resided, and perhaps shall 
 never be so again after my last battle, which was with 
 an old priest, a learned man, particularly esteemed as 
 a mathematician, and who has a head and heart as 
 warm as poor Whiston's. When I first came hither, he 
 visited me every day, and talked of me everywhere with 
 such violent praise, that, had we been young people. 
 God knows what would have been said. I have always 
 the advantage of being quite calm on a subject which 
 they cannot talk of without heat. He desired I would 
 put on paper what I had said. I immediately wrote 
 one side of a sheet, leaving the other for his answer. 
 He carried it with him, promising to bring it the next 
 day, since which time I have never seen it, though I 
 have often demanded it, being ashamed of my defective 
 Italian. I fancy he sent it to his friend the Arch- 
 bishop of Milan. I have given over asking for it, as a 
 desperate debt. He still visits me, but seldom, and in 
 a cold sort of a way. When I have found disputants I 
 less respected, I have sometimes taken pleasure in 
 raising their hopes by my concessions : they are 
 
Last Years and Death 279 
 
 charmed when I agree with them in the number of the 
 sacraments ; but are horribly disappointed when I 
 explain myself by saying the word sacrament is not to 
 be found either in Old or New Testament ; and one 
 must be very ignorant not to know it is taken from the 
 listing oath of the Roman soldiers, and means nothing 
 more than a solemn, irrevocable engagement. Parents 
 vow, in infant baptism, to educate their children in the 
 Christian religion, which they take upon themselves by 
 confirmation ; the Lord's Supper is frequently renew- 
 ing the same oath. Ordination and matrimony are 
 solemn vows of a different kind : confession includes a 
 vow of revealing all we know, and reforming what is 
 amiss : extreme unction, the last vow, that we have 
 lived in the faith we were baptised : in this sense they 
 are all sacraments. As to the mysteries preached 
 since, they are all invented long after, and some of 
 them repugnant to the primitive institution." 
 
 Whether, however, Lady Mary's doctrine concerning 
 the sacraments would be thought that of a good 
 Churchwoman may reasonably be doubted. She 
 certainly had an instinctive repulsion from mysticism 
 of all kinds, and from asceticism ; and while she 
 regarded monasteries in general as pernicious institu- 
 tions, she reserved her approval for a decidedly worldly 
 sort of convent : 
 
 " I have little to say from this solitude, having 
 already sent you a description of my garden, which, 
 with my books, takes up all my time. I made a small 
 excursion last week to visit a nunner}^ twelve miles 
 
28o Last Years and Death 
 
 from hence, which is the only institution of the kind 
 in all Italy. It is in a town in the state of Mantua, 
 founded by a princess of the house of Gonzaga, one of 
 whom (now very old) is the present abbess : they are 
 dressed in black, and wear a thin cypress veil at the 
 back of their heads, excepting which, they have no 
 mark of a religious habit, being set out in their hair, 
 and having no guimpe, but wearing des collets monies, 
 for which I have no name in English, but you may 
 have seen them in very old pictures, being in fashion 
 both before and after ruffs. Their house is a very large 
 handsome building, though not regular, every sister 
 having liberty to build her own apartment to her taste, 
 which consists of as many rooms as she pleases ; they 
 have each a separate kitchen, and keep cooks and what 
 other servants they think proper, though there is a 
 very fine public refectory : they are permitted to dine 
 in private whenever they please. Their garden is very 
 large, and the most adorned of any in these parts. 
 They have no grates, and make what visits they will, 
 always two together, and receive those of the men as 
 well as ladies. I was accompanied when I went with 
 all the nobility of the town, and they showed me all 
 the house, without excluding the gentlemen ; but what 
 I think the most remarkable privilege is a country 
 house, which belongs to them, three miles from the 
 town, where they pass every vintage, and at any time 
 any four of them ma}- take their pleasure there, for as 
 many days as they choose. They seem to differ from 
 the chanoinesses of Flanders onlv in their vow of 
 
Last Years and Death 281 
 
 celibac}^ They take pensioners, but only those of 
 quality. I saw here a niece of General Brown.* 
 Those that profess, are obliged to prove a descent as 
 noble as the knights of Malta. Upon the whole, I 
 think it the most agreeable community I have seen, and 
 their behaviour more decent than that of the cloistered 
 nuns, who I have heard say themselves, that the grate 
 permits all liberty of speech since it leaves them no 
 other, and indeed they generally talk according to that 
 maxim. My house at Avignon joined to a monastery, 
 which gave me occasion to know a great deal of their 
 conduct, which (though the convent of the best reputa- 
 tion in that town, where there is fourteen) was such, as 
 I would as soon put a girl into the playhouse for educa- 
 tion as send her among them." 
 
 Probably these quiet years were among the happiest 
 of Lady Mary's life, before the infirmities of age 
 became burdensome to her, and after she had given up 
 her former ambitions. It was the Indian summer of 
 her life. She writes to her daughter : 
 
 '' I no more expect to arrive at the age of the 
 Duchess of Marlborough than to that of Methusalem ; 
 neither do I desire it. I have long thought myself 
 useless to the world. I have seen one generation pass 
 away ; and it is gone ; for I think there are very few 
 of those left that flourished in my youth. You will 
 
 * There were several Browns and Brownes who distinguished 
 themselves in war about this time ; but Lady Mary probably meant 
 Count Browne, in the Austrian service, the brave General who was 
 mortally wounded at the battle of Prague, 1757. 
 
282 Last Year's and Death 
 
 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 per- 
 petuity of youth, which appears to me as little desirable 
 at present as the babies* do to you, that were the 
 delight of your infancy." 
 
 But this somewhat stoical mood of tranquillity was 
 broken up when Lady Mary moved from the country 
 to Venice, where (and at Padua) the remaining years 
 of her stay abroad were spent. The post of British 
 Resident at Venice had recently been given to a Mr. 
 Murray, his predecessor Sir James Gray having gone 
 to Naples. She evidently had no good opinion of him 
 before she met him ; and, indeed, he seems to have been 
 a man with whom it was hard not to quarrel. Lady 
 Mary's letters are full of complaints of his persecu- 
 tions, which fell not only on her, but on her friends, 
 Sir James and Lady Steuart, of Colthurst, who, as 
 exiled Jacobites, were the objects of Murray's jealous 
 suspicion. 
 
 '' I am surprised," Lady Mary writes, " I am not 
 oftener low-spirited, considering the vexations I am 
 exposed to by the folly of Murray ; I suppose he 
 
 * That is, the dolls. 
 
Last Years and Death 283 
 
 attributes to me some of the marks of contempt he 
 is treated with ; without remembering that he was 
 in no higher esteem before I came. I confess I have 
 received great civiHties from some friends that I made 
 here so long ago as the year '40, but upon my honour 
 have never named his name, or heard him mentioned 
 by any noble Venetian whatever; nor have in any 
 shape given him the least provocation to all the low 
 malice he has shown me, which I have overlooked as 
 below my notice, and would not trouble you with any 
 part of it at present if he had not invented a new 
 persecution, which may be productive of ill conse- 
 quences. Here arrived, a few days ago, Sir James 
 Steuart with his lady ;* that name was sufficient to 
 make me fly to wait on her. I was charmed to find a 
 man of uncommon sense and learning, and a lady that 
 without beauty is more amiable than the fairest of her 
 sex. I offered them all the little good offices in my 
 power, and invited them to supper ; upon which our wise 
 minister 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 
 
 * According to Murray's own account, Sir James asked to be 
 received by him, but was refused. It is possible, therefore, that 
 Lady Mary was obnoxious as consorting with rebels. She herself 
 protested against it being thought that any conduct of hers could 
 have given the pretext for his action ; but remembering how 
 she had incurred resentment at home, we may perhaps surmise 
 that she had not been quite so prudent as she thought. 
 
284 Last Years and Death 
 
 influence those that do not know me. It is very re- 
 markable that after having suffered all the rage of that 
 party at Avignon for my attachment to the present 
 reigning family, I should be accused here of favouring 
 rebellion, when I hoped all our odious divisions were 
 forgotten." 
 
 She writes to her daughter : 
 
 " I am afraid you may think some imprudent be- 
 haviour of mine has occasioned all this ridiculous per- 
 secution ; 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 cer- 
 tainly be made on his extraordinary conduct towards 
 me. I only desire privacy and quiet, and am very well 
 contented to be without visits, w'hich oftener disturb 
 than amuse me. My single concern is the design he 
 has formed of securing (as he calls it) my effects im- 
 mediately 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." 
 
 This fear of having her possessions appropriated if 
 she should die in Venice seems to have persistently 
 beset Lady Mary. She refers to it again : 
 
 '' I own I could wish that we had a minister here 
 who I had not reason to suspect would plunder my 
 house if I die while he is in authority. General 
 Graham is exceedingly infirm, and also so easily im- 
 posed on, that whatever his intentions may be, he is 
 incapable of protecting anybody. You will (perhaps) 
 laugh at these apprehensions, since whatever happens 
 
Last Years and Death 285 
 
 in this world after our death is certainly nothing to us. 
 It may be thought a fantastic satisfaction, but I confess 
 I cannot help being earnestly desirous that what I 
 leave may fall into your hands. Do not so far mistake 
 me as to imagine I would have the present M. 
 [minister] removed by advancement, which would have 
 the sure consequence of my suffering, if possible, more 
 impertinence from his successor." 
 
 Venetian friends to a certain extent made up for the 
 coldness of English visitors ; and some of them showed 
 her much kindness. 
 
 '' I lose very little," she writes, *' in not being visited 
 by the English ; boys and governors being commonly 
 (not always) the worst company in the world. I am no 
 other ways affected by it, than as it has an ill appearance 
 in a strange country, though hitherto I have not found 
 any bad effect from it among my Venetian acquaintance. 
 I was visited, two days ago, by my good friend Cavalier 
 Antonio Mocenigo, who came from Venice to present to 
 me the elected husband of his brother's great grand- 
 daughter, who is a noble Venetian (Signor Zeno), just 
 of age, heir to a large fortune, and is one of the most 
 agreeable figures I ever saw ; not beautiful, but has an 
 air of so much modesty and good sense, I could easily 
 believe all the good Signor Antonio said of him. They 
 came to invite me to the wedding. I could not refuse 
 such a distinction, but hope to find some excuse before 
 the solemnity, being unwilling to throw away money on 
 fine clothes, which are as improper for me as an em- 
 broidered pall for a coffin. But I durst not mention 
 
286 Last Years and Death 
 
 age before my friend, who told me he is eighty-six. I 
 thought him four years younger ; he has all his senses 
 perfect, and is as lively as a man of thirty. It was very 
 pleasing to see the affectionate respect of the young 
 man, and the fond joy that the old one took in praising 
 him. They would have persuaded me to return with 
 them to Venice ; I objected that my house was not 
 ready to receive me ; Signor Antonio laughed, and 
 asked me, if I did not think he could give me an 
 apartment (in truth it was very easy, having five 
 palaces in a row, on the great canal, his own being the 
 centre, and the others inhabited by his relations). I 
 was reduced to tell a fib (God forgive me I), and pretend 
 a pain in my head ; promising to come to Venice before 
 the marriage, which I really intend. They dined here ; 
 your health was the first drunk ; you may imagine I did 
 not fail to toast the bride. She is yet in a convent, but 
 is to be immediately released, and receive visits of con- 
 gratulation on the contract, till the celebration of the 
 church ceremony, which perhaps may not be this two 
 months ; during which time the lover makes a daily 
 visit, and never comes without a present, which custom 
 (at least sometimes) adds to the impatience of the bride- 
 groom, and very much qualifies that of the lady. You 
 would find it hard to believe a relation of the magnifi- 
 cence, not to say extravagance, on these occasions ; 
 indeed, it is the only one they are guilty of, their lives in 
 general being spent in a regular handsome economy ; 
 the weddings and the creation of a procurator being the 
 only occasions they have of displaying their wealth, 
 
Last Years and Death 287 
 
 which is very great in many houses, particularly this of 
 Mocenigo, of which my friend is the present head. I 
 may justly call him so, giving me proofs of an attach- 
 ment quite uncommon at London, and certainly disin- 
 terested, since I can no way possibly be of use to him. 
 I could tell you some strong instances of it, if I did 
 not remember you have not time to listen to my 
 stories." 
 
 The annoyances of Murray, however petty, seem to 
 have joined with growing infirmities to cloud over the 
 good spirits which had hitherto seldom failed Lady 
 Mary. She become anxious about her daughter when 
 the post failed ; and Mr. Murray apparently would not 
 lend her the English newspapers : 
 
 " If half of the letters I have sent to you have reached 
 you, I believe you think I have always a pen in my hand ; 
 but, I am really so uneasy by your long silence, I cannot 
 forbear inquiring the reason of it, by all the methods I 
 can imagine. My time of life is naturally incHned to fear ; 
 and though I resist (as well as I can) all the infirmities 
 incident to age, I feel but too sensibly the impressions 
 of melancholy, when I have any doubt of your welfare. 
 You fancy, perhaps, that the public papers give me in- 
 formation enough ; and that when I do not see in them 
 any misfortune of yours, I ought to conclude you have 
 none. I can assure you I never see any, excepting by 
 accident. Our resident has not the good breeding to 
 send them to me ; and after having asked for them once 
 or twice, and being told they were engaged, I am un- 
 willing to demand a trifle at the expense of thanking a 
 
288 Last Years and Death 
 
 man who does not desire to oblige me ; indeed, since 
 the ministry of Mr. Pitt, he is so desirous to signahze 
 his zeal for the contrary faction, he is perpetually saying 
 ridiculous things, to manifest his attachment ; and, as 
 he looks upon me (nobody knows why) to be the friend 
 of a man I never saw, he has not visited me once this 
 winter. The misfortune is not great. I cannot help 
 laughing at my being mistaken for a politician. I have 
 often been so, though I ever thought politics so far 
 removed from my sphere. I cannot accuse myself of 
 dabbling in them, even when I heard them talked over 
 in all companies ; but, as the old song says, 
 
 " Tho' through the wide world we should range, 
 'Tis in vain from our fortune to fly." 
 
 Again her passion for reading made her fear for her 
 eyesight, and began to tell on her general health. 
 She confesses as much in a letter of 1759 to Lady 
 Bute: 
 
 ' I own I have too much indulged a sedentary 
 humour, and have been a rake in reading. You will 
 laugh at the expression, but I think the literal meaning 
 of the ugly word rake is one that follows his pleasures 
 in contradiction to his reason. I thought mine so 
 innocent I might pursue them with impunity. I now 
 find that I was mistaken, and that all excesses are 
 (though not equally) blamable. My spirits in company 
 are false fire : I have a damp within ; from marshy 
 grounds frequently arises an appearance of light. I 
 grow splenetic, and consequent^ ought to stop my 
 pen, for fear of conveying the infection." 
 
Last Years and Death 289 
 
 Even the liberty for which she had given up so much 
 seemed a deception, Hke all else. She writes to her 
 daughter : 
 
 " I believe, like all others of your age, you have long 
 been convinced there is no real happiness to be found 
 or expected in this world. You have seen a court near 
 enough to know neither riches nor power can secure it ; 
 and all human endeavours after felicity are as childish 
 as running after sparrows to lay salt on their tails ; but 
 I ought to give you another information, which can only 
 be learned by experience, that liberty is an idea equally 
 chimerical, and has no real existence in this life. I can 
 truly assure you I have never been so little mistress of 
 my own time and actions, as since I have lived alone. 
 Mankind is placed in a state of dependency, not onl}^ on 
 one another (which all are in some degree), but so many 
 inevitable accidents thwart our designs, and limit our 
 best laid projects. The poor efforts of our utmost 
 prudence and political schemes, appear, I fancy, in 
 the eyes of some superior beings, like the pecking of 
 a young linnet to break a wire cage, or the climbing o^ 
 a squirrel in a hoop ; the moral needs no explanation : 
 let us sing as cheerfully as we can in our impenetrable 
 confinement, and crack our nuts with pleasure from the 
 little store that is allowed us." 
 
 And, again, in another letter to the same: 
 
 '' I am now grown timorous, and inclined to low 
 spirits, whatever you may hear to the contrary. My 
 cheerfulness is like the fire kindled in brushwood, 
 which makes a show, but is soon turned to cold 
 
 19 
 
290 Last Years and Death 
 
 ashes. I do not, like Madame Maintenon, grieve at 
 the decay which is allotted to all mortals, but would 
 willingly excuse to you the heat that was in my last. 
 I would by no means have you give the least uneasi- 
 ness to your father. At his time of life the mind 
 should be vacant and quiet. As for the rest, let 
 Providence as it will dispose of your most affectionate 
 mother." 
 
 Possibly there was an epidemic of low spirits at 
 Venice, or Lady Mary had infected others with her 
 own gloom ; for she chronicles the sudden prevalence 
 of a practice generally supposed to be peculiarly 
 English : 
 
 " Here is a fashion sprung up entirely new in this 
 part of the world ; I mean suicide : a rich parish priest 
 and a young Celestine monk have disposed of them- 
 selves last week in that manner without any visible 
 reason for their precipitation. The priest, indeed, left 
 a paper in his hat to signify his desire of imitating the 
 indifference of Socrates and magnanimity of Cato : 
 the friar swung out of the world without giving any 
 account of his design. You see it is not in Britain 
 alone that the spleen spreads his dominion. I look on 
 all excursions of this kind to be owing to that distemper, 
 W'hich shows the necessity of seeking employment for 
 the mind, and exercise for the body ; the spirits and 
 the blood stagnate without motion." 
 
 To this length Lady Mary had no intention of going; 
 little as she now clung to life, she had no idea of 
 quitting it before necessar}'. She continued to enjoy 
 
Last Years and Death 291 
 
 her life at Venice ; and though she dedined her 
 daughter's offers of sending anything she might want, 
 had no objection to receiving some china to enable her 
 to make a figure there : 
 
 '* My dear child, do not think of reversing nature by 
 making me presents. I would send you all my jewels 
 and my toilet, if I knew how to convey them, though 
 they are in some measure necessary in this country, 
 where it would be, perhaps, reported I had pawned 
 them, if they did not sometimes make their appear- 
 ance. I know not how to send commissions for things 
 I never saw ; nothing of price I would have, as I would 
 not new furnish an inn I was on the point of leaving ; 
 such is this world to me. Though china is in such 
 estimation here, I have sometimes an inclination to 
 desire your father to send me the two large jars that 
 stood in the windows in Cavendish Square. I am 
 sure he don't value them, and believe they would be of 
 no use to you. I bought them at an auction, for two 
 guineas, before the D. of Argyll's example had made 
 all china, more or less, fashionable." 
 
 English wares seem to have been in vogue at Venice 
 at the time : 
 
 " In general, all the shops are full of English mer- 
 chandise, and they boast [of] everything as coming 
 from London, in the same style as they used to do 
 from Paris. I was showed (of their own invention) 
 a set of furniture, in a taste entirely new : it consists 
 of eight large armed-chairs, the same number of sconces, 
 a table, and prodigious looking-glass, all of glass. It is 
 
 19 — 2 
 
292 Last Years and Death 
 
 impossible to imagine their beauty ; they deserve being 
 placed in a prince's dressing-room, or grand cabinet ; 
 the price demanded is /'400. They would be a very 
 proper decoration for the apartment of a prince so 
 young and beautiful as ours." 
 
 Lady Mary asked for Horace Walpole's " Royal and 
 Noble Authors,'" remembering her meeting with him 
 at Florence. Walpole, in his letters, alludes several 
 times to a copy of this book as to be sent to her ; 
 though it was eventually despatched after she had left 
 Venice on her way home. 
 
 It is curious to note the kindliness of her references 
 to him, as compared wnth his uniform spitefulness in 
 speaking of her : 
 
 '' I was well acquainted with Mr. Walpole at 
 Florence, and indeed he was particularh' civil to me. 
 I have great encouragement to ask a favour of him, 
 if I did not know that few people have so good 
 memories to remember so many years backwards as 
 have passed since I have seen him. If he has treated 
 the character of Queen Elizabeth with disrespect, all 
 the women should tear him to pieces, for abusing the 
 glory of their sex.* Neither is it just to put her in the 
 list of authors, having never published anything, though 
 we have Mr. Camden's authority that she wrote many 
 valuable pieces, chiefly Greek translations. I wish all 
 monarchs would bestow their leisure hours on such 
 studies : perhaps they would not be very useful to 
 
 * Alluding to the character of Queen Elizabeth, in his " Royal 
 and Noble Authors." 
 
Last Years and Death 293 
 
 mankind ; but it may be asserted, for a certain truth, 
 their own minds would be more improved than by the 
 amusements of Quadrille or Cavagnole. 
 
 ** I desire you would thank your father for the china 
 jars ; if they arrive safe, they will do me great honour 
 in this country. The Patriarch died here a few days 
 ago. He had a large temporal estate; and, by long 
 life and extreme parsimony, has left four hundred 
 thousand sequins in his coffers, which is inherited by 
 two nephews ; and I su ppose will be dissipated as 
 scandalously as it has been accumulated. The town 
 is at present full of factions, for the election of his 
 successor : the ladies are always very active on these 
 occasions. I have observed that they ever have more 
 influence in republics than [in a] monarchy. In 
 commonwealths, votes are easily acquired by the fair ; 
 and she, who has most beauty or art, has a great sway 
 in the senate." 
 
 To guard against overtaxing her eyes. Lady Mary 
 tried dictating to a secretary ; but she soon dropped 
 this, as appears from an entertaining letter to Sir James 
 Steuart, which also gives us a glimpse (apparently) of 
 one of Murray's receptions : 
 
 " I am extremely obliged for the valuable present 
 you intend me.* I believe you criticise yourself too 
 severely on your style : I do not think that very smooth 
 harmony is necessary in a work which has a merit of 
 a nobler kind ; I think it rather a defect, as when a 
 
 * Sir James Steuart's " Political Economy," of which he after- 
 wards sent her a copy in manuscript. 
 
294 Last Years and Death 
 
 Roman emperor (as we see him sometimes represented 
 on a French stage) is dressed like a petit maitre. I 
 confess the crowd of readers look no further ; the 
 tittle-tattle of Madame de Sevigne, and the clinquant of 
 Telemachus, have found admirers from that very 
 reason. Whatever is clearly expressed, is well wrote 
 in a book of reasoning. However, I shall obey your 
 commands in telling you my opinion with the greatest 
 sincerity. 
 
 '' Thus far 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 
 
Last Years and Death 295 
 
 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 inter- 
 rupted 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 
 
296 Last Years and Death 
 
 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 
 
Last Years and Death 297 
 
 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." 
 
 Such conduct was hardly, perhaps, calculated to 
 disarm the hostility of Murray and his circle ; and so 
 disagreeable did they become that Lady Mary had 
 thoughts of leaving Venice and joining her friends the 
 Steuarts, with whom she now corresponded regularly, 
 at Tubingen ; but age and infirmity forbade the 
 journey. 
 
 " I have indulged myself some time with day-dreams 
 of the happiness I hoped to enjoy this summer in the 
 conversation of Lady Fanny and Sir James S. ; but I 
 hear such frightful stories of precipices and hovels 
 
 * The "king" was probably Murray, and "the two queens" his 
 wife and sister — the latter married to Mr. Smith, the English 
 Consul. 
 
298 Last Years and Death 
 
 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 humankind ! 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 stove 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 mine. 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 
 power 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 very bad bargain of being born in this vile planet ; 
 * Afterwards (^.eneral Steuart, Sir James's son. 
 
Last Years and Death 299 
 
 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 cer- 
 tain 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 dis- 
 tinguished 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." 
 
 And this somewhat epicurean philosophy is developed 
 further in another letter to Sir James Steuart : 
 
 " My chief study all my Hfe has been to lighten mis- 
 fortunes, and multiply pleasures, as far as human nature 
 can : when I have nothing to find in myself from which 
 I can extract any kind of delight, I think on the happi- 
 ness of my friends, and rejoice in the joy with which 
 you converse together, and look on the beautiful young 
 plant* from which you may so reasonably expect honour 
 and felicity. In other days I think over the comic 
 scenes that are daily exhibited on the great stage of the 
 world for my entertainment. I am charmed with the 
 account of the Moravians, who certainly exceed all 
 mankind in absurdity of principles and madness of 
 practice ; yet these people walk erect, and are num- 
 bered amongst rational beings. I imagined after three 
 * The youthful son of Sir James. 
 
300 Last Years and Death 
 
 thousand years' working at creeds and theological 
 whimsies, there remained nothing new to be invented ; 
 I see the fund is inexhaustible, and we may say of folly 
 what Horace has said of vice : 
 
 " yEtas parentum pejor avis tulit 
 Nos nequiores, mox daturos 
 Progeniem vitiosiorem." 
 
 ** I will not ask pardon for this quotation ; it is 
 God's mercy I did not put it into English : when one 
 is haunted (as I am) by the Demon of Poesie, it must 
 come out in one shape or another, and you will own that 
 nobody shows it to more advantage than the author I 
 have mentioned." 
 
 The promised ''Political Economy" came, as a 
 slight consolation to Lady Mary for being unable to 
 rejoin her friends ; and she wrote most warmly about 
 it to Sir James : 
 
 '' I have now with great pleasure, and I flatter my- 
 self with some improvement, read over again your 
 delightful and instructive treatise ; you have opened to 
 me several truths of which I had before only a confused 
 idea. I confess I cannot help being a little vain of 
 comprehending a system that is calculated only for a 
 thinking mind, and cannot be tasted without a willing- 
 ness to lay aside many prejudices which arise from 
 education and the conversation of people no wiser than 
 ourselves. I do not only mean my own sex when I 
 speak of our confined way of reasoning ; there are 
 many of yours as incapable of judging otherwise than 
 they have been early taught, as the most ignorant milk- 
 
Last Years and Death 301 
 
 maid : nay, I believe a girl out of a village or a nursery 
 more capable of receiving instruction than a lad just 
 set free from the university. It is not difficult to write 
 on blank paper, but 'tis a tedious if not an impossible 
 task to scrape out nonsense already written, and put 
 better sense in the place of it." 
 
 The long life of travel and independence was now 
 drawing to a close. In 1761 came the news of Mr. 
 Wortley Montagu's death, at the age of eighty-three, 
 and although no allusions to it are mentioned in the 
 few letters of a later date published, there is no doubt 
 that Lady Mary felt the loss of one whom (as far as we 
 can tell) she had always respected and loved. Some 
 pleasure was caused her by the rapid rise of the Earl of 
 Bute after the accession of George III. ; yet she did not 
 desire to leave Venice, as is clear from her letter to Sir 
 James Steuart : 
 
 " The happiness of domestic life seems the most 
 laudable as it is certainly the most delightful of our 
 prospects, yet even that is denied, or at least so mixed, 
 * we think it not sincere, or fear it cannot last.' A long 
 series of disappointments have perhaps worn out my 
 natural spirits, and given a melancholy cast to my way 
 of thinking. I would not communicate this weakness 
 to any but yourself, who can have compassion even 
 where your superior understanding condemns. I con- 
 fess that though I am (it may be) beyond the strict 
 bounds of reason pleased with my Lord Bute's and my 
 daughter's prosperity, I am doubtful whether I will 
 attempt to be a spectator of it. I have so many years 
 
302 Last Years and Death 
 
 indulged my natural inclinations to solitude and reading, 
 I am unwilling to return to crowds and bustle, which 
 would be unavoidable in London. The few friends I 
 esteemed are now no more : the new set of people who 
 fill the stage at present are too indifferent to me even 
 to raise my curiosity. I now begin to feel (very late, 
 you'll say) the worst effects of age, blindness excepted ; 
 I am grown timorous and suspicious ; I fear the incon- 
 stancy of that goddess so publicly adored in ancient 
 Kome, and so heartily inwardly worshipped in the 
 modern. I retain, however, such a degree of that un- 
 common thing called common- sense, not to trouble the 
 felicity of my children with my foreboding dreams, 
 which I hope will prove as idle as the croaking of 
 ravens, or the noise of that harmless animal dis- 
 tinguished by the odious name of screech-owl." 
 
 However, at the request of her daughter, who wished 
 her to help in settling her husband's affairs. Lady Mary 
 resolved to set out for England, the more readily, per- 
 haps, because she probably knew that she was smitten 
 with an incurable disease, and had but a short time to 
 live. She set out in the winter — a far different winter 
 journey from that which had begun her travels, and led 
 her into the magnificent East. Though passing near her 
 friends the Steuarts, she was unable to meet them ; 
 finally she reached Rotterdam, and there was delayed 
 by storms. From thence she wrote to Sir James : 
 
 " I tried in vain to find you at Amsterdam ; I began 
 to think we resembled two parallel lines, destined to be 
 always near and never to meet. You know there is no 
 
Last Years and Death 303 
 
 fighting (at least no overcoming) destiny. So far I am 
 a confirmed Calvinist, according to the notions of the 
 country where I now exist. I am dragging my ragged 
 remnant of Hfe to England. The wind and tide are 
 against me ; how far I have strength to struggle against 
 both I know not ; that I am arrived here is as much a 
 miracle as any in the golden legend ; and if I had fore- 
 seen half the difficulties I have met with, I should not 
 certainly have had the courage to undertake it." 
 
 She did not forget her friends when at last she 
 reached England ; constantly she pressed on Lord 
 Bute the claims of Sir James Steuart to a pardon. 
 This she never saw granted, though it was conceded 
 at last. She was now dying of cancer, and her letters 
 must have been few ; but she found time and strength 
 to reassure Lady Frances Steuart of her zeal in the 
 service of her friends. Her very last published letter 
 relates to this : 
 
 "" I have been ill a long time, and am now so bad I 
 am little capable of writing, but I would not pass in 
 your opinion as either stupid or ungrateful. My heart 
 is always warm in your service, and I am always told 
 your affairs shall be taken care of. You may depend, 
 dear madam, nothing shall be wanting on the part of 
 " Your ladyship's faithful humble servant." 
 
 This was written in July, 1762 ; and on August 21, 
 Lady Mary died at a little house she had taken in 
 George Street, Hanover Square. 
 
 Her personal appearance was evidently capable of 
 
304 Last Years and Death 
 
 giving very different impressions to different observers. 
 She was tall, with black hair and eyes — the latter 
 appearing prominent from the loss of her eyelashes 
 through the small-pox. 
 
 In the published correspondence between Lady Pom- 
 fret and Lady Hertford — both friends of Lady Mary's 
 — there is one passage which would seem to imply that 
 the disfigurement suffered at that time was much 
 greater than this. Lady Hertford, commenting on 
 that one of Lady Mary's "' Court Eclogues " entitled 
 " Flavia ; or, The Small-pox," and supposed to reflect 
 the author's own feelings while recovering from that 
 illness, says : 
 
 " Nothing can be more natural than the complaint 
 for the loss of her beauty ; but as that was only one of her 
 various powers to charm, I should have imagined she 
 would have only felt a very small part of the regret that 
 many other people have suffered on a like misfortune, 
 who have had nothing but the loveliness of their persons 
 to claim admiration ; and consequently, by the loss of 
 that [beauty], have found all their hopes of it [admira- 
 tion] vanish much earlier in life than Lady Mary; — for, 
 if I do not mistake, she was near thirty before she had 
 to deplore the loss of beauty greater than I ever saw in 
 any face besides her own." 
 
 Lady Hertford does mistake, for Lady Mary could 
 not have been more than twenty-six when she had the 
 small-pox ; the loss of beauty is also probably exag- 
 gerated, for after her return from Turkey her charms 
 were still the theme for admiration. It is probable, 
 
Last Years and Death. 305 
 
 however, that even in the days when she was a recog- 
 nised beauty, her charm was rather in expression and 
 sprightHness than in symmetry of feature; and as 
 she grew older, " Wortley"s eyes " were no longer be- 
 rhymed, but called "wild and staring" by hostile 
 critics. 
 
 In dress, too, she seems to have grown slovenly ; 
 perhaps the impossibility of keeping neat during a 
 journey in those days gradually destroyed even the 
 desire to appear neat, or perhaps her eccentricity was 
 merely the deliberate defiance of that most irrational of 
 conventionalities, fashion. 
 
INDEX 
 
 A. 
 
 Achmet III., Sultan, 8i 
 Achmet Beg, ']'] 
 Addison, 6, 96, 217, 219 
 Adrianople, 81, 84, 90, 92 
 Arbiuhnot, 18, 126, 127 
 Ardinghi, Signer Aurelio, 247, 249 
 Argyll, Duke of, 224, 291 
 A>he, Miss, 162 
 Astell, Mary, 12, 26 
 Atlantis, "K^w, 35 
 
 Avignon, 22, 160, i6[, 164, 167, 
 168, 170, 281 
 
 B. 
 
 Bayle, 220 
 
 Beard, Mr., 131 
 
 Belgrade, 76, ']%, 92 
 
 Belloni, 149 
 
 Bentivoglio, Marchesa Licinia, 252, 
 
 255 
 Bergamo, 247, 249, 251 
 Bickersteth, 41 
 Bocchetta, 171 
 Bolingbroke, Karl of, 207, 215, 217, 
 
 219, 259 
 Brescia, 23, 169, 174, 180. 188, 191, 
 
 252, 255, 262 
 Bristol, the Countess of, 97 
 Brunswick, Elizabeth of, 70, 71 
 Burnet, Bishop, 6, 215 
 Bute, Earl of, 19, 180, 203, 215. 
 
 234, 240, 259 
 Bute, Mary, Countess of, 9, 20, 26. 
 
 28, 96, 153. 175. 177, j8o, 199, 
 
 203, 219, 228, 257, 288 
 
 Carlisle, Lord, 139 
 
 Caroline, Princess of Wales, 10, 16, 
 
 57, 78, 129 
 Cenis, Mont, 100 
 Chambery, 158, 159 
 Chesterfield, the Earl oT, 129 
 Che\alier, the, 153, 165 
 Chloe, Mons. , 158 
 Chudleigh, Elizabeth, 3 
 Clarke, Dr., 144 
 Cleland, John, 27, 28 
 Cologne, 64, 65 
 Congreve, lo, 113 
 Constantinople, 62, 63, 92, 93, 95, 
 
 96, 99 
 Conti, Abbe, 90 
 Craggs, Mr., 60, 61 
 Craggs, Mr. ,junr., 107 
 
 D. 
 
 Dallaway, Rev., 28, 34 
 Dodington, Bubb, 115 
 Dover, 102, 104, 137 
 Dresden, 75 
 Durlach, Prince of Baden, 172 
 
 Eugene, Prince, 75, 76 
 
 F. 
 
 Fatima, wife of the Kiyaya. 89, 96. 
 
 Termor, Lady Sophia, 140 
 
 Ferrara, 254 
 
 Fielding, Henry, 24, 205, 206, 2oiJ 
 
 Fleury, Cardinal, 138 
 
 Florence. 22, 142, 148 
 
Index 
 
 307 
 
 G. 
 Gay, Mr., 1 13 
 Geneva, 158 
 Genoa, 22, 100, 171, 201 
 George I., 52, 55, 56, 59, 72, 78 
 George II., 124 
 George III., 19 
 Gotolengo, 24, 188, 262 
 Gower, Evelyn, Countess of, 3, 16, 
 
 119, 120, 121, 122 
 Graham, General, 284 
 Grange, Lord, 17 
 Grant, Abbe, 154 
 Gray, Sir James, 282 
 Grey, Arthur, 112 
 Grimani, Procurator, 146, 173, 268 
 Guastalla, 183, 187 
 Guastalla, Duchess of, 186 
 
 H. 
 
 Halifax, Lord, 8, 54, 55, 56 
 
 Hanover, 72, 73, 75 
 
 Herbert, Lady Harriet, 131, 132 
 
 Herculaneum, 151, 152 
 
 Hertford, Lady, 304 
 
 Hervey, Lord, 12, 18, iii, 128, 136 
 
 Hervey, Lady, 17 
 
 Hewet, Mrs., 35 
 
 Hinchinbrook, 52 
 
 Homer, 85 
 
 Huntingdon, 54 
 
 L 
 
 Isco, Lake of, 175, 263 
 
 K. 
 Kneller, Sir G., 12, 106, 119 
 
 L. 
 
 Lempster, Lord, 139, 143 
 
 Lovere, 23, 24, 175, 177, 182, 191, 
 
 193, 195, 198, 202, 206, 208,227, 
 
 245, 249, 251, 267, 268 
 Lyons, 139 
 
 M. 
 
 Maffei, Marquis, 203, 273 
 Mahony, Count, 157 
 Mar, the Earl of, 53 
 Mar, Frances, Countess of, 3, ii, 16, 
 52, 102, 107, 113, T23, 126, 129 
 
 Mailborough, Duchess of, 150, ^04, 
 
 281 
 Mathews, Admiral, 166 
 Middlethorpe, 52, 53 
 Misson, 197, 199, 201 
 Mocenigo, Antonio, 285 
 Molesworth, Mr., 27 
 Murray, Mr., 23, 24, 282, 293, 297, 
 Murray, Mrs., 17, 112, 117, 118, 
 
 119 
 
 N. 
 Naples, 149, 157 
 Newcastle, Duke of, 259 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, 220, 238, 260 
 Nimeguen, 64 
 Nismes, 164 
 
 O. 
 
 Octavia, 246 
 Oglio, the river, 182 
 Orange, 161 
 Orkney, Lady, 125 
 Orrery, Lord, 213, 214, 216 
 Oxford, Lord, 259 
 Oxford, Countess of, 168 
 
 P. 
 
 Padua, 24, 197, 262, 282, 296 
 
 Palazzo, Count, 23, 170 
 
 Paris, loi 
 
 Parma, 189 
 
 Pera, 92, 95 
 
 Peterwaradin, 97 
 
 Philip, Don, 166, 171, 189 
 
 Philippopolis, Z'i^ 
 
 Pierrepont, Evelyn, afterwards Earl 
 of Kingston, Marquis of Dor- 
 chester, and Duke of Kingston, 3, 
 
 7, 43. 47 
 
 Pierrepont, Lady Frances, after- 
 wards Meadows, 121, 232 
 
 Pierrepont, Lord, 56 
 
 Pierrepont, William, afterwards 
 Duke of Kingston, 3, 123 
 
 Pitt, William, 283, 288 
 
 Pomfret, Lady, 21, 22, 129, 132, 
 139, 141, 142, 144, 146, 148, 160, 
 304 
 
3o8 
 
 Index 
 
 Pope, Alexander, lo, 12. 14, 17, 
 18, 30, 69, 85, 95, 104, 106, 113, 
 126, 127, 128, 168,207, 213,214, 
 218, 236, 238, 270 
 
 Portici, 151, 152 
 
 Prague, 72, 73 
 
 Prior, Matthew, 144, 236 
 
 Q- 
 
 Queensberry, Duchess of, 134 
 Querini, Cardinal, 203, 268, 270, 
 272 
 
 R. 
 
 Rambler, The, 212 
 
 Rawdon, Sir John, 256 
 
 Ratisbon, 65, 67 
 
 Remond, M., 15, 17, 19, 107, no 
 
 Richardson, 24, 220, 222, 245, 252, 
 
 255 
 Richelieu, Duke of, 164, 169 
 Rochester, Lord, 222 
 Rome, 140, 149, 153, 154 
 Rotterdam, 63 
 Roussi, Charlotte de, 145 
 
 Salo, 193 
 
 Sandwich, Lord, 179 
 Sardinia, King of, 186 
 Saxony, Electoral Prince of, 144, 
 
 I45> 170 
 Selden, Camille, 2S, 31 
 Sevigne, Mdme. de, i, 215, 216, 294 
 Sigteum, 100 
 Smollett, 208 
 Sophia, 78 
 
 Sosi, Count Jeronimo, 248, 250 
 South Sea Company, 106 
 Sowden, Rev. Benj., 27 
 Spectator, The, 36, 51, 217 
 Stair, Lord, in 
 
 Steele, Sir Richard, 6, 7, 43, 208 
 Steuart, Sir James, 24, 293, 295, 
 
 297, 299, 300 
 Steuart, General, 29S 
 Stuart, Lady Louisa, 4, 27, 28, 59, 
 
 Stuart, Lady Mary, 234 
 Swift, Dean, 126, 127, 134, 207, 
 213, 214, 218, 242 
 
 T. 
 Tatler, The, 36, 41 
 Theocritus, 85 
 Thoresby, 38, 39, 124, 168 
 Tunbridge, 175, 176 
 Turin, 100, 139 
 Twickenham, 106, no 
 
 V. 
 Valence, 159 
 Vane, Lady, 20S 
 Venice, 21, 22, 139, 140, 142, 145, 
 
 148, 172, 229, 262, 268, 282, 
 
 290, 301 
 Vienna, 63, 67, 68, 72, ■]i, 197 
 Villette, Mr., 157, 158 
 
 W. 
 Wackerbarth, Count, 146, 170 
 Walpole, Horace, i, 2, 8, n, 19, 
 
 21, 23, 25, 26, 30, 55, 57, 124, 
 
 129, 148, 162, 164, 177, 242, 
 
 292 
 Walpole, Lady, 21, 22, 148 
 Walpole, Sir Robert, n5, 133, 138, 
 
 157, 166, 215 
 Wharncliffe, 163 
 Wharncliffe, Lord, 28, 34, 175 
 Wharton, Philip, Duke of, 12, n6 
 Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury, 
 
 257 
 Wortley, Anne, 6, 35, l^, 38, 40 
 Wortley Montagu, Edward, 6, 8, 
 10, 15, 17, 20, 24, 40, 45, 47, 50, 
 63> 72, 11, 75. 76, 88, 106, no, 
 n2, 133, 155, 161, 166, 197.295. 
 301 
 Wortley Montagu, Edward, jun., 
 15.52, 159, 161 
 
 Young, 180 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zathia, Prince de, 152 
 
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