ilPliilKPiFiiEif^!^^
 
 - - J'EKIUSSIO'' 
 iiE possession: 
 
 M " M i-^T> i
 
 THE 
 
 LETTERS AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 EDITED BY HER GREAT GRANDSON 
 
 LORD WHARNCLIFFE. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, REVISED. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 3Publi£ii)cr in ©rtJmaii) to %)tv IBajcstu. 
 
 1837.
 
 ^jA- SAmA BAIiBAJL 
 
 SO/ 
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Some of the lineal descendants of Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montagu have thought it 
 due to her literary fame, that a complete 
 Edition of her Works should be published 
 under their authority. The well-known 
 letters from Constantinople, which have 
 become popular and classical throughout 
 Europe, were first published in 1763, short- 
 ly after Lady Mary's death ; and the circum- 
 stances attending that publication are de- 
 tailed in the memoir prefixed to Mr. Dalla- 
 way's edition of her works. Several other 
 editions of these letters afterwards appear- 
 ed, and to one (that of 1789) were appended 
 a few more letters. 
 
 In the year 1803, Mr. Dallaway was per- 
 mitted by the late Marquis of Bute to have 
 access to the original papers and manu- 
 scripts then in his possession ; and Mr. Dal- 
 laway shortly afterwards published five 
 volumes, which are called " The Works of 
 
 VOL. I. a 3
 
 11 I'UErACE. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, including her 
 Correspondence, Poems, and Essays, publish- 
 ed, by permission, from her genuine papers." 
 A second edition appeared in 1817, with 
 the addition of a few letters of Lady Mary's 
 addressed to Mrs. Hewitt. To these editions 
 was prefixed by Mr. Dallaway a memoir of 
 Lady Mary. 
 
 The Editor of the present edition hav- 
 ing had an opportunity of comparing Lady 
 Mary's letters in their original state, with 
 Mr. Dallaway's book, found that he had not 
 only omitted several letters altogether, but 
 that he had thought fit to leave out passages 
 in others, and even to select portions of dif- 
 ferent letters, on different subjects, and of 
 different dates, and, having combined and 
 adapted them, to print them as original 
 letters. He has also throughout both his 
 editions frequently suppressed the names 
 of the persons mentioned, and given the 
 initials only. 
 
 In the edition now offered to the Public 
 these defects are remedied. The letters 
 from which Mr. Dallaway composed and ex- 
 tracted those published by him, are now 
 given as they are in the originals, and the
 
 PREFACE. Ill 
 
 passages he left out are restored. The names 
 are also printed at full length in all cases 
 where they are so written in the original let- 
 ters, or where they can be ascertained ; and 
 notes are added with such information as has 
 been obtained respecting the persons whose 
 names are so mentioned. It cannot be neces- 
 sary for any purpose to make a mystery of 
 the names of persons who have long since 
 sunk into their graves. The letters which 
 Mr. Dallaway omitted are also added, several 
 of which are addressed to Lady Mar. 
 
 With regard to that correspondence, it 
 cannot be denied that parts are written with 
 a freedom of expression which would not 
 be tolerated in the present day ; and those 
 parts may perhaps be deemed sometimes to 
 trespass beyond the bounds of strict deli- 
 cacy.* The Reader must, however, bear in 
 mind that these letters were written as con- 
 fidential communications from one sister to 
 another, at a period when the feeling upon 
 such subjects was by no means so nice as it 
 now is ; and that expressions, with which we 
 now find great fault, might then be used by 
 persons of the greatest propriety of conduct, 
 
 * Those parts were almost all published by Mr. Dallaway. 
 
 a 4
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 and would oidy be considered as painting 
 freely, and more keenly ridiculing, the vices 
 and follies of the society in which the 
 writer found herself, and not as used for the 
 jnu'pose of indulging in grossness of lan- 
 guage. So considered, it is hoped that the 
 publishing these letters as they were written 
 will not be objected to ; while, on the other 
 hand, they abound in the wit and talent so 
 peculiar to Lady Mary, and it would have 
 been very difficult to alter or curtail them 
 without injury to their spirit. 
 
 The whole of the correspondence between 
 Lady Mary and Mr. Wortley before their 
 marriage was religiously preserved by him, 
 and part of it was published in Mr. Dalla- 
 way's edition. The whole, excepting only 
 such parts as relate to mere matters of busi- 
 ness, is now given ; and it has been thought 
 right "that it should be so, for the purpose of 
 giving to the Reader a more complete view 
 of the character of Lady Mary. The same 
 rule has been applied to the correspondence 
 between Lady Mary and her husband and 
 daughter during her last residence abroad. 
 
 The letters which (as has been already 
 stated) were published in the edition
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 of the Turkish letters of the year 1789, 
 Mr. Dallaway thought fit to reject as spu- 
 rious ; Lady Mary's daughter, Lady Bute, 
 however, is known to have entertained no 
 doubt whatever of their being genuine ; and 
 they will therefore be found in this collec- 
 tion, inserted as nearly as possible according 
 to their dates. 
 
 The most considerable novelties to which 
 this edition pretends, consist in the letters 
 to Lady Pomfret, those to Sir James Steuart 
 of Coltness, and Lady Frances, and in the 
 Introductory Anecdotes. 
 
 Of the authenticity of these letters there 
 can be no doubt. Those to Lady Pomfret 
 have been copied from the originals in Lady 
 Mary's handwriting, and kindly communi- 
 cated to the Editor by Lieutenant-General 
 Sir Henry Campbell, who received them from 
 his mother, a descendant of the Pierrepont 
 family. Those to Sir James Steuart and 
 Lady Frances, have been carefully preserved 
 by the present Sir James. They were some 
 years since printed at Glasgow for private 
 circulation, and the Editor has to thank Sir 
 James for their having been placed at his 
 disposal for the purpose of this publication.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 With regard to the Introductory Anec- 
 dotes, and also a great part of the Expla- 
 natory Notes in this edition, they are con- 
 tributed by the only person now living who 
 could have had the means of supplying 
 them ; and the Editor will indeed be greatly 
 disappointed if the spirit and vigour with 
 which these anecdotes are written do not 
 satisfy the Reader that a ray of Lady Mary's 
 talent has fallen upon one of her descendants. 
 
 These anecdotes were written to correct 
 the mistakes and palpable want of informa- 
 tion throughout Mr. Dallaway's memoir of 
 Lady Mary, which, however, it has been 
 thought right to reprint in this edition with 
 notes of reference, which will enable the 
 Reader to discover those mistakes without 
 difficulty. The present edition may indeed 
 be said to contain all that can be now made 
 out respecting Lady Mary Wortley Monta- 
 gu, from documents preserved by her fa- 
 mily, and all that can be supplied from the 
 recollection of those who in early life were 
 within the reach of information which could 
 be depended upon. 
 
 To the Marquis of Bute and Lord Dudley 
 Stuart the Editor has to tender his thanks
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 for the permission so freely given to make 
 use of the original letters and papers of 
 his and their common ancestress. He is also 
 indebted to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq. 
 for the communication of the preface to the 
 original edition of the Town Eclogues, of 
 Melinda's Complaint, and of the lines writ- 
 ten under the picture of Colonel Charles 
 Churchill. 
 
 And, lastly, the Editor is in duty bound 
 to acknowledge his obligations to his friend 
 and near relation, the Rev. Dr. Corbett of 
 Wortley, to whom, in truth, the Reader, if 
 he shall derive amusement or information 
 from this edition of Lady Mary's Works, is 
 mainly indebted for its appearance. A de- 
 scendant from Lady Mary in the same de- 
 gree as the Editor, he has been equally 
 anxious and more diligent in the endeavour 
 to make it worthy of the patronage of the 
 Public. 
 
 Wharncliffe. 
 
 Wortley Hall, 
 
 December 14, 1836.
 
 LIST OF PORTRAITS. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu . to face Title, Vol. I. 
 
 Anne Wortley „ Page 156. 
 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, Jun. . . „ Title, Vol. II. 
 
 Edward Wortley Montagu . . . „ Page 296. 
 
 Countess of Bute . . . . „ Title, Vol. III. 
 
 u
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, 
 
 PREFIXED TO MR. DALLAWAy's EDITION OF HER WORKS, 
 AND WRITTEN BY HIM. 
 
 Lady Mary Pierrepont was the eldest daugh- 
 ter of Evelyn Duke of Kingston, and the Lady 
 Mary Fielding, daughter of William Earl of Den- 
 bigh.* She was born at Thoresby, in Notting- 
 hamshire, about the year I69O, and lost her mother 
 in 1694. The first dawn of her genius opened so 
 auspiciously, that her father resolved to cultivate 
 the advantages of nature by a sedulous attention 
 to her early instruction. A classical education 
 was not usually given to English ladies of quality, 
 when Lady Mary Pierrepont received one of the 
 best.f Under the same preceptors as Viscount New- 
 ark her brother, she acquired the elements of the 
 Greek, Latin, and French languages with the great- 
 est success. When she had made a singular profici- 
 ency, her studies were superintended by Bishop 
 Burnet, who fostered her superior talents with every 
 expression of dignified praise. Her translation of the 
 
 * Lady Mary had two sisters: Lady Frances, who manied 
 J ihn Ereskine of Mar, and Lady Evelyn, the wile of Jolin Leve- 
 son Lord Gower. f Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 7. 
 
 VOL. I. h
 
 X MR. DALLAWAY S 
 
 Encliiiidion of Epictctus received his emendations.* 
 For so complete an improvement of her mind she 
 was much indebted to uninterrupted leisure and re- 
 cluse habits of life. Her time was principally spent 
 at Thoresby and at Acton, near London ; and her 
 society confined to a few friends, among whom the 
 most confidential appears to have been Mrs. Anne 
 Wortley,-}- a lady of sense and spirit, the heiress 
 of the Wortley estate in Yorkshire. She was the 
 wife of the Honourable Sidney Montagu, second 
 son of the heroic Earl of Sandwich, who died in 
 the arms of victory during the memorable battle of 
 Solebay, in the reign of Charles the Second. 
 
 In this intimacy originated her connexion with 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, Esq. the eldest son of 
 the lady above mentioned. After a correspondence 
 of about two years they were privately married by 
 special licence, which bears date August 12, 1712. 
 He had received a classical education, and had tra- 
 velled through Germany to Venice, in 1703, where 
 he remained about two years. For more than three 
 years after their marriage, iis the Duke of Kings- 
 ton and Mr. Sidney Montagu were both living, 
 their establishment was limited ; :j: and Lady Mary 
 resided chiefly at WarnclifFe Lodge, near Sheffield, 
 where her son Edward Wortley Montagu was born ; 
 
 * Preserved with her other MSS. Epictetus has been 
 translated by another EngHsh classical lady, Mrs. Carter. 
 
 ■f This is a mistake : Mrs. Anne Wortley was sister, not 
 mother, to Mr. Wortley. Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 7. 
 
 I This is a mistake. Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 24.
 
 MEMOIR. X 
 
 and his father was principally engaged in London, 
 in his attendance upon his parliamentary duties, 
 and his political friends.* In his cousin Charles 
 Montagu Mr. Wortley found an able patron, who, 
 as he was the universal protector of men of genius, 
 was strictly associated with Addison and Steele. 
 The temper of Addison did not admit of unre- 
 served intimacy, and Mr. Wortley had not to re- 
 gret that any man was favoured with a greater 
 share of his friendship than himself. 
 
 Mr. Wortley was possessed of solid rather than 
 of brilliant parts. f The soundness of his judgment 
 and the gracefulness of his oratory commanded 
 the attention of the House of Commons, where he 
 distinguished himself as having introduced several 
 bills, which were formed on a truly patriotic basis. 
 On the 5th of February 1708, he brought in a bill 
 " for the naturalization of foreign protestants ;" 
 January 25, 1709, '* for limiting the number of 
 officers in the House of Commons, and for securing 
 the freedom of parliament ;" and another, December 
 21, " for the encouragement of learning, and the 
 securing the property of copies of books to the 
 right owners thereof." The second of these bills 
 was agitated for five successive years, till 1713, 
 when it was finally lost. Several of his speeches, 
 
 * Mr. Wortley, at difFerent periods of life, represented in 
 parliament the cities of Westminster and Peterborough, and 
 the boroughs of Huntingdon and Bossiney. 
 
 ■\ Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 14. 
 
 b2
 
 Xll MR. DALLAWAY S 
 
 in which his knowledge of parliamentary business 
 is distinguishable, are still extant.* Of his inti- 
 macy and correspondence with Mr. Addison, sub- 
 joined letters, selected from many, are a sufficient 
 evidence. 
 
 " TO EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Being very well pleased with this day's Spec- 
 tator, I cannot forbear sending you one of them, 
 and desiring your opinion of the story in it. When 
 you have a son I shall be glad to be his Leontine,f 
 as my circumstances will probably be like his. I 
 have within this twelvemonth lost a place of 2000/. 
 per annum, an estate in the Indies of 14,000/. and 
 what is more than all the rest, my mistress. Hear 
 this, and wonder at my philosophy. I find they are 
 going to take away my Irish place from me too ; to 
 which I must add, that I have just resigned my 
 fellowship, and the stocks sink every day. If you 
 have any hints or subjects, pray send me a paper 
 full. I long to talk an evening with you. I be- 
 lieve I shall not go for Ireland this summer, and 
 perhaps would take a month with you, if I knew 
 where. Lady Bellasise is very much your humble 
 servant. Dick Steele and I often remember you. 
 " I am, dear sir, your's eternally, &c. 
 
 "July 21, 1711." " J. Addison." 
 
 * In the Parliamentary Register and the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine, t Spectator, No. CXXIII. v. ii.
 
 MEMOIR. xm 
 
 " TO JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ. 
 
 " Wortley, July 28, 1711. 
 '* Notwithstanding your disappointments, I had 
 much rather be in your circumstances than my own. 
 The strength of your constitution would make you 
 happier than all who are not equal to you in that, 
 though it contributed nothing towards those other 
 advantages that place you in the first rank of men. 
 Since my fortune fell to me, I had reason to fancy I 
 should be reduced to a very small income ; I im- 
 mediately retrenched my expenses, and lived for six 
 months on fifty pounds as pleasantly as ever I did 
 in my life, and could have lived for less than half 
 that sum, and often entertained myself with the 
 speech of Ofellus, in the second satire of the second 
 book, and still think no man of understanding can 
 be many days unhappy, if he does not want health : 
 at present I take all the care I can to improve 
 mine. This air is as proper for that as any I know, 
 and we are so remote from all troublesome neigh- 
 bours and great towns, that a man can think of no- 
 thing long but country amusements, or his books ; 
 and if you would change the course of your thoughts, 
 you will scarce fail of effecting it here. I am in 
 some fear I shall be forced to town for four or five 
 days, and then we may come down together ; if I 
 stay I shall let you know it in a week or ten days, 
 and hope to see you very soon. You were never in 
 possession of any thing you love but your places,
 
 xiv MR. dallaway's 
 
 and tliose you could not call your own. After 
 I had read what you say about them, I could 
 not take pleasure in the Spectator you sent, but 
 thought it a very good one. In two months, or a 
 little more, I think I must go the Newcastle jour- 
 ney. You told me you should like it ; if you do 
 not, perhaps we may contrive how you may pass 
 your time here. I am not sure we shall easily have 
 leave to lodge out of this house ; but we may eat 
 in the woods every day, if you like it, and nobody 
 here will expect any sort of ceremony. 
 
 " Your's ever, 
 " Edward Wortley Montagu." 
 
 Upon the death of Queen Anne, in 1714, Charles 
 Montagu, who had been sent on an embassy to the 
 Elector of Hanover, whose seat in the House of 
 Lords, as Duke of Cambridge, he had solicited, 
 was immediately distinguished by the new sove- 
 reign, George the First, and created Earl of Hali- 
 fax. To the high honour of the Order of the Gar- 
 ter was added the important and lucrative appoint- 
 ment of First Lord of the Treasury. Mr. Wortley 
 was now a confidential supporter of administration, 
 and became one of the commissioners (October 13, 
 1714) ; which circumstance introduced him to the 
 court of George the First, and occasioned Lady Mary 
 to quit her retirement at WarnclifFe. Her first ap- 
 pearance at St. James's was hailed with that uni- 
 versal admiration, which beauty, enlivened by wit.
 
 MEMOIR. XV 
 
 incontestably claims ; and while the tribute of praise, 
 so well merited, was willingly paid in public to the 
 elegance of her form, the charms of her conversa- 
 tion were equally unrivalled in the first private cir- 
 cles of the nobility. She was in habits of familiar 
 acquaintance with Addison and Pope, who contem- 
 plated her uncommon genius, at that time, without 
 envy. How enthusiastic an admirer of Lady Mary 
 was Mr. Pope,* the whole of their correspondence, 
 given in this edition, will sufficiently evince, while it 
 reflects indelible disgrace on his subsequent conduct. 
 
 In the year 1716, the embassy to the Porte be- 
 came vacant, and as the war between the Turks 
 and Imperialists raged with almost incredible vio- 
 lence, the other powers of Europe were ardent- 
 ly desirous of a mediation between them. Mr. 
 Wortley resigned his situation as a Lord of the 
 Treasury ; and his appointment as ambassador 
 under the great seal bears date June 5, 1716. Sir 
 Robert Sutton was removed from Constantinople 
 to Vienna, and instructions were given them by 
 the British court to arrange a plan of pacification. 
 Mr. Stanyan, who afterwards succeeded Mr. Wort- 
 ley in his embassy, was intrusted with a similar 
 commission, and nominated a coadjutor. 
 
 Early in the month of August, the new ambas- 
 sador commenced an arduous journey over the con- 
 tinent of Europe to Constantinople, accompanied 
 
 * Upon this subject, and the subsequent quarrel between 
 Lady iMary and Pope, vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 60.
 
 xvi MR. dallaway's 
 
 by Lady Mary, whose conjugal affection reconciled 
 her to the dangers, unavoidably to be encountered, 
 in traversing the savage Turkish territory, the na- 
 tive horrors of which were then doubled by those 
 of war. Pope, in his letter written after she had 
 left England, exclaims, " May that person, for 
 whom you have left all the world, be so just as to 
 prefer you to all the world ! I believe his good 
 understanding has engaged him to do so hitherto, 
 and I think his gratitude must for the future." 
 
 It has been said that Lady Mary was the first 
 English woman who had the curiosity and spirit to 
 visit the Levant; but the Editor recollects seeing 
 an account at Constantinople, that both Lady 
 Paget and Lady Winchelsea were included in the 
 suite of their Lords, during their several embassies. 
 Whilst on her journey, and residing in the Levant, 
 Lady Mary amused herself, and delighted her 
 friends by a regular correspondence, chiefly direct- 
 ed to her sister, the Countess of Mar, Lady Rich,* 
 and Mrs. Thistlethwaite, both ladies of the court, 
 and to Mr. Pope. 
 
 Of the accuracy of her local descriptions, and of 
 
 * Fenton, in his epistle to Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, 
 mentions Lady Rich in the following high encomium : 
 " And like seraphic Rich, with zeal serene, 
 In sweet assemblage all their graces joined 
 To language, mode, and manners more refined. 
 That angel form, with chaste attraction gay, 
 Mild as the dove-eyed morn awakes the May, 
 Of noblest youths will reign the public care, 
 Their joy, their wish, their wonder, and despair."
 
 MEMOIR. XVll 
 
 the justness of portrait in which she has delineated 
 European and Turkish manners, the Editor has 
 had the good fortune to form a comparative opi- 
 nion, and to bear the fullest testimony of their 
 general truth. Eighty years after her he followed 
 nearly the same route, over the Continent to Con- 
 stantinople, and resided nearly the same space of 
 time as Lady Mary had done, in the palace at 
 Pera, part of which had been contemporary with 
 her. He may now be allowed to remember the 
 pleasure with which he perused her animated let- 
 ters in the very places from which they were ori- 
 ginally sent, and the ample satisfaction he received 
 in finding them reflect, in faithful colours, the 
 scenes which he was then viewing, and the society 
 with which he was, at that time, conversant. As 
 the Oriental nations are not, like the European, 
 liable to the fluctuation of fashion, the traveller 
 into the Levant, a century since, will not have no- 
 ticed a single custom, or peculiarity of dress, which 
 is not equally familiar to modern eyes. 
 
 The embassy to Constantinople was formerly of 
 great commercial importance, when the treasures 
 of the East were brought by caravans to the differ- 
 ent ports of the Levant, and the Turkey company 
 monopolized the merchandize, which now finds its 
 way to England by other channels. Added to his 
 political concerns, Mr. Wortley had the appoint- 
 ment of consul-general of the Levant, which gave 
 considerable influence and emolument to the Bri-
 
 xviii MR. DALLAWAY S 
 
 tish mission. Previously to Lady Mary's arrival at 
 the destined point of her journey, the ambassador 
 and his suite rested about two months at Adrian- 
 ople, to which city the Sultan Achm^d the Third 
 had removed his court from the capital of his domi- 
 nions. It was there that she first became acquaint- 
 ed with the customs of the Turks, and was enabled 
 to give so lively and just a picture of their domestic 
 manners and usages of ceremony. Many persons, 
 on the surreptitious appearance of the letters of 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, already published, 
 were inclined to question their originality, or, if 
 that were allowed, the possibility of her acquiring 
 the kind of information she has given respecting 
 the interior of the Harem. It may be replied to 
 them, that no one of the Turkish emperors was 
 so willing to evade the injunctions of the Koran as 
 Achm^d the Third, and that he hazarded the love 
 of his people by retiring to Adrianople, that he 
 might more frequently and freely indulge himself 
 in the habits of life adopted by the other European 
 nations. That access has since been denied to the 
 Seraglio at Constantinople, in the instance of the 
 ambassadors' ladies, is no proof that Lady Mary did 
 not obtain an unrestrained admission, when the 
 court was in retirement, and many ceremonies were 
 consequently dispensed with.* 
 
 * There is not the least reason to suppose that Lady Mary 
 ever was admitted to the interior of the Harem, either at Con- 
 stantinople or Adrianople, as Mr. Uallaway supposes. Vide 
 Introductory Anecdotes, p. 45.
 
 MEMOIR. XIX 
 
 A slight account of the publication alluded to 
 may not be uninteresting, or may be forgiven as a 
 pardonable digression. In the later periods of Lady 
 Mary's life, she employed her leisure in collecting 
 the copies of the letters she had written during Mr. 
 Wortley's embassy, and had transcribed them her- 
 self, in two small volumes in quarto. They were 
 without doubt sometimes shewn to her literary 
 friends. Upon her return to England for the last 
 time, in 1761, she gave these books to a Mr. 
 Sowden, a clergyman at Rotterdam, and wrote the 
 subjoined memorandum on the cover of one of 
 them. " These two volumes are given to the 
 Reverend Benjamin Sowden, minister at Rotter- 
 dam, to be disposed of as he thinks proper. This 
 is the will and design of M. Wortley Montagu, 
 December 11, I76I." 
 
 After her death,* the late Earl of Bute com- 
 missioned a gentleman to procure them, and to of- 
 fer Mr. Sowden a considerable remuneration, which 
 he accepted. Much to the surprise of that noble- 
 man and Lady Bute, the manuscripts were scarce- 
 ly safe in England, when three volumes of Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montagu's Letters were published 
 by Beckett ; and it has since appeared, that Mr. 
 Cleland was the Editor. f The same gentleman, 
 
 * Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 49. 
 
 f Letters of Lady M y W y M , in three vols. 
 
 12mo. published in 1763, by Beckett and De Horidt. When 
 doubts were entertained concerning the authenticity of these 
 Letters, Mr. Cleland did not discourage the idea, that the whole
 
 XX MR. DALLAWAYS 
 
 who had negotiated before, was again despatch- 
 ed to Holland, and could gain no farther intelli- 
 o-ence from Mr. Sowden, than that, a short time 
 before he parted with the MSS. two English gen- 
 tlemen called on him to see the Letters, and ob- 
 tained their request. They had previously contriv- 
 ed that Mr. Sowden should be called away during 
 their perusal, and he found on his return that they 
 had disappeared with the books. Their residence 
 was unknown to him, but on the next day they 
 brought back the precious deposit, with many apo- 
 logies. It may be fairly presumed, that the in- 
 tervening night was consumed in copying these 
 Letters by several jimanuenses. Another copy of 
 them, but not in her own hand-writing. Lady Mary 
 had given to Mr. Molesworth, which is now in the 
 possession of the Marquis of Bute. Both in the 
 original MS, and the last-mentioned transcript, the 
 preface, printed by Beckett, is inserted, purported 
 to have been written in 1728 by a lady of quality, 
 and signed M. A. It is given in this edition as 
 having been at least approved of by her ladyship. 
 
 When she arrived at Constantinople, her aQ- 
 tive mind was readily engaged in the pursuit of 
 
 was a literary fiction of his own. Pope Ganganelli's Letters 
 were likewise e'lited by him in two volumes, formed, at least, if 
 not translated irom the French publication. This work suc- 
 ceeded with the public, and he was induced to invent two 
 more. As the MSS. of the fourth volume of Lady M. W. 
 M 's Letters, published in 1767, are not extant, a conjec- 
 ture is allowable, that the first mentioned was not his first 
 attempt at this species of imitation.
 
 MEMOIR. XXI 
 
 objects so novel as those which the Turkish ca- 
 pital presented. Whilst they excited her imagi- 
 nation, she could satisfy her curiosity, in her ideas 
 of its former splendour as the metropolis of the 
 Roman empire. Her classical acquirements ren- 
 dered such investigations interesting and success- 
 ful. Among her other talents was an extraordinary 
 facility in learning languages ; and in the assem- 
 blage of ten embassies from different countries, of 
 which the society at Pera and Belgrade was com- 
 posed, she had daily opportunities of extending her 
 knowledge and practice of them. The French 
 and Italian were familiar to her before she left 
 England ; and we find in her Letters that she had 
 p sufficient acquaintance with the German to un- 
 derstand a comedy, as it was represented at Vienna. 
 She even attempted the Turkish language, under 
 the tuition of one of Mr. Wortley's dragomans, 
 or interpreters, who compiled for her use a gram- 
 mar and vocabulary in Turkish and Italian.* Of 
 her proficiency in that very difficult dialect o'f the 
 Oriental tongues, specimens are seen in her letters, 
 in which a translation of some popular poetry ap- 
 pears. 
 
 The heat of Constantinople during the summer 
 months is excessive, and the European embassies 
 usually retire to the shores of the ^ sphorus, or 
 the village of Belgrade, about fourteen miles dis- 
 tant. In these delicious shades, and most beauti- 
 
 * Among her MSS.
 
 xxii MR. dallaway's 
 
 111) forest scenery. Lady Mary was happy to pass 
 her days. No English traveller visits Belgrade 
 without participating her pleasure in her descrip- 
 tion, and inquiring after the site of her residence. 
 At present no part of the house remains; for such is 
 the fragility of Turkish structures, excepting their 
 mosques, that they seldom last a century. 
 
 There was a custom prevalent among the vil- 
 lagers, and, indeed, universal in the Turkish domi- 
 nions, which she examined with philosophical curi- 
 osity, and at length became perfectly satisfied with 
 its efficacy. It was that of ingrafting, or, as it is 
 now called, inoculating with variolous matter, in 
 order to produce a milder disease, and to prevent 
 the ravages made by the small-pox on the lives and 
 "beauty of European patients. The process was 
 simple, and she did not hesitate to apply it to her 
 son, at that time about three years old. She de- 
 scribes her success in a letter from Belgrade to Mr. 
 Wortley at Pera. 
 
 " Sunday, March 23, 1718. 
 
 " The boy was engrafted last Tuesday, and is at 
 this time singing and playing, very impatient for 
 his supper : I pray God my next may give as good 
 an account of him. I cannot engraft the girl ; her 
 nurse has not had the small-pox." 
 
 As a primary object in Mr. Wortley's mission 
 was to eifect a reconciliation between the Turks 
 and Imperialists, and to act in concert with other
 
 MEMOIR. XXlll 
 
 ambassadors for that purpose, it was necessary that 
 he should have a personal interview with Sultan 
 Achmed, who was then in his camp at Philippopoli. 
 Having been invited by the Grand Visier, he made 
 his public entry into that city with a retinue of one 
 hundred and sixty persons, besides the guards, one 
 hundred of whom wore the richest liveries. 
 
 Lord Paget, in 1698, had made a similar pro- 
 cession to Belgrade on the frontiers of Turkey, in 
 which nothing was omitted to impress the Turks 
 with ideas of the splendour of the nation he repre- 
 sented, the expense of that single mission amount- 
 ing to 3000/. Both these ambassadors travelled 
 with three hundred horses, and had their tents 
 placed nearest to that of the Grand Visier. 
 
 These negotiations failed of their intended effect, 
 because the preliminary requisition of the Imperi- 
 alists tended to the complete cession of the terri- 
 tory acquired by the present war. 
 
 Mr. Wortley received letters of recall under the 
 privy seal, October 28, 1717, which are counter- 
 signed by his friend Mr. Addison, then secretary 
 of state. A private letter on that occasion, which 
 is subjoined, will shew how far Mr. Addison had 
 acquired the tenor of official correspondence, with- 
 out betraying the partiality of friendship. 
 
 " Dear Sir, " September 28, 1717. 
 
 " Having been confined to my chamber for some 
 time by a dangerous fit of sickness, I find, upon my
 
 xxiv MR. DALLA WAY'S 
 
 coming abroad, that some things have passed which 
 I think myself obliged to communicate to you, not 
 as the secretary to the ambassador, but as an hum- 
 ble servant to his friend. Mr. Benson being con- 
 vinced that forms of law would in their ordinary 
 course be very tedious and dilatory in the affair of 
 the auditors, has procured the grant of a reversion 
 for those places to you and himself, after which, if 
 an ejectment ensues, you are in immediate posses- 
 sion. This ejectment, he believes, may be soon 
 brought about by law, unless a voluntary surrender 
 makes such a proceeding unnecessary. Our great 
 men are of opinion, that upon your being possessed 
 (which they look upon as sure and sudden), it 
 would be agreeable to your inclinations, as well as 
 for the King's service, which you are so able to 
 promote in parliament, rather to return to your 
 own country than to live at Constantinople. For 
 this reason they have thoughts of relieving you by 
 Mr. Stanyan, who is now at the Imperial court, 
 and of joining Sir Robert Sutton with him in the 
 mediation of a peace between the Emperor and 
 the Turks. I need not suggest to you that Mr. 
 Stanyan is in great favour at Vienna, and how ne- 
 cessary it is to humor that court in the present 
 juncture. Besides, as it would have been for your 
 honor to have acted as sole mediator in such 
 a negotiation, perhaps it would not have been so 
 agreeable to you to act only in commission. This 
 was suggested to me the other day by one of our
 
 MEMOIR. XXV 
 
 first ministers, wlio told me that he believed Sir 
 R. Sutton's being joined in a mediation, which was 
 carried on by my Lord Paget singly, would be shock- 
 ing to you, but that they could be more free with 
 a person of Mr. Stanyan's quality. I find by his 
 Majesty's way of speaking of you, that you are 
 much in his favor and esteem, and I fancy you 
 would find your ease and advantage more in being 
 nearer his person than at the distance you are from 
 him, at present. I omit no opportunity of doing 
 you justice where I think it is for your service, and 
 wish I could know your mind as to these several par- 
 ticulars, by a more speedy and certain conveyance, 
 that I might act accordingly to the utmost of my 
 power. Madame Kilmansech and my Lady Har- 
 vey desire me to forward the enclosed to my Lady 
 Mary Wortley, to whom I beg you will deliver 
 them, with my most humble respects. 
 " I am ever, sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " J. Addison. 
 *^ Mr. Chevalier tells me since the writing of 
 this, that he has stated to you Mr. Benson's and 
 your own case, who, I find, is better acquainted 
 with it than I am, that affair having been transacted 
 by my Lord Sunderland during my illness." 
 
 On this subject he was honoured with two letters 
 from Prince Eugene of Savoy, dated February 19, 
 VOL. I. c
 
 XXvi MR. DALLA way's 
 
 1718.* The private letter expresses the most per- 
 fect satisfaction with his conduct in the negotiation 
 on tlie part of the Emperor Charles the Sixth. 
 
 Mr. Wortley now turned his attention to revisit- 
 ing England, but his journey did not commence 
 till the 6th of June 1718. During his residence 
 at Constantinople he collected some very curious 
 Oriental MSS.f and, investigating the classical 
 shores of the Hellespont, he procured an inscribed 
 marble, which he presented on his arrival in Eng- 
 land to Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 Pursuing their voyage through the Archipelago 
 they landed at Tunis, and having crossed the Me- 
 diterranean, arrived at Genoa, and from thence 
 passed Turin to Lyons and Paris. They did not 
 reach England before October 30, 1718. 
 
 In a short time after her return, Lady Mary was 
 solicited by Mr. Pope to fix her summer residence 
 at Twickenham, and it will appear from the follow- 
 ing letters, that he negotiated with Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller for his house in that celebrated village 
 with great assiduity. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 "You received, I suppose, the epistle Sir God- 
 frey dictated to me, which (abating some few 
 
 * Preserved among the official papers of Mr. Wortley 's em- 
 bassy. 
 
 t Particularly six volumes in quarto of Arabian Tales, in- 
 cluding most of those translated by Messrs. Galand and Petit 
 La Croix, and many others not to be found in their publications.
 
 MEMOIR. XXVU 
 
 flowers) was word for word. My own concern, that 
 you should be settled in my neighbourhood, has 
 since put me upon farther enquiries, and I find there 
 is a pretty good house in the town opposite to that 
 which my Lord William Pawlet has taken ; 'tis 
 the same that Lord Coventry lately had. If Mr. 
 Wortley would come and see it, he would know all 
 the particulars, which I am not able to give an 
 exact account of, having sent you this notice the 
 moment I heard of it : though still, that which I 
 believe you both would like best is the house in the 
 field I spoke to him about, and which I think 
 the prettiest situated thing imaginable. 
 
 " Lord Bathurst told me you had given orders 
 that the book of Eclogues should be trusted to my 
 hands to return it to you. I am sensible of the 
 obligation, and had been the faithful ambassador 
 between you, had I not been forced to leave the 
 town the minute he told me of it. I cannot per- 
 form impossibilities, therefore I will not pretend 
 to tell you the esteem with which I always have 
 been, " Dear madam, 
 
 " Your most faithful humble servant, 
 
 " A. Pope." 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady Mary 
 Wortley, in the Piazza, Covent-Garden. 
 
 When Lady Mary was settled at Twickenham, 
 it might be presumed, from the ardent expressions 
 of admiration and friendship which glow in Pope's 
 letters to her during Mr. Wortley's embassy in the 
 
 c 2
 
 XXviii MR. DALLA WAY'S 
 
 Levant, printed in this edition, that their inter- 
 course would not have been interrupted by the 
 influence of those passions by which inferior minds 
 are governed, and the stability of human happi- 
 ness so frequently destroyed. That the change 
 in Mr. Pope's sentiments was not immediately con- 
 sequent on their becoming neighbours, is certain 
 from these notes, which profess as much anxiety 
 as any ever dictated by friendship. 
 
 " It is not in my power (dear madam) to say 
 what aijitation the two or three words I wrote to 
 you the other morning have given me. Indeed, 
 I truly esteem you, and put my trust in you. I 
 can say no more, and I know you would not have 
 me. 
 
 " I have been kept in town by a violent head- 
 ache, so that if I might see you any time to-day, 
 (except two, three, or four o'clock, when I am 
 engaged to dinner,) I should be pleased and hap- 
 py, more indeed than any other company could 
 make me. 
 
 *' Your most faithful obliged servant, 
 
 " A. Pope." 
 
 To the Right Honorable Lady M. W. M. &c. 
 
 " I MIGHT be dead, or you in Yorkshire, for any 
 thing that I am the better for your being in town. 
 I have been sick ever since I saw you last, and 
 now have a swelled face, and very bad ; nothing
 
 MEMOIR. XXIX 
 
 will do me so much good as the sight of dear Lady 
 Mary ; when you come this way let me see you, 
 for indeed I love you. " A. P." 
 
 The Right Honorable Lady M. W. M. 
 
 In the court of George the First, Lady Mary was 
 received with particular distinction by the Princess 
 of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, and her beau- 
 ty and conversation were rendered more interesting 
 by the celebrity she had acquired in her travels. 
 In the year 1720, when the South Sea scheme en- 
 couraged adventurers, of every rank and descrip- 
 tion, to hazard much for visionary thousands. Lady 
 Mary, in common with others, entered into the spe- 
 culation, and was not among the ill-informed on 
 a subject which was so ruinous in its event. 
 
 " Madam, " Cockpit, July 28, 1720. 
 
 " I WILL not fail to insert your ladyship's name 
 in my list for the next South Sea subscription, 
 though I am not sure whether the directors will re- 
 ceive another from me. I am, with great respect, 
 
 " Madam, 
 " Your ladyship's most obedient humble servant, 
 
 "J. Craggs."* 
 
 To the Honorable the Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montagu, at Twickenham. 
 
 * Mr. Craggs, who was secretary of state, was deeply impli- 
 cated in the South Sea scheme, and died before its detection. 
 His father was censured by Parliament.
 
 XXX MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 "Madam, "Twickenham, August 22, 1720. 
 
 *' I was made acquainted late last night, that 
 
 might depend upon it as a certain gain to buy the 
 
 South Sea stock at the present price, which will 
 
 certainly rise in some weeks, or less. I can be as 
 
 sure of this, as the nature of any such thing will 
 
 allow, from the first and best hands, and therefore 
 
 have dispatched the bearer with all speed to you. 
 
 I am sincerely, " Dear madam, 
 
 " Your most faithful humble servant, 
 
 " A. Pope." 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady M. W. 
 Montagu, at Twickenham. 
 
 Mr. Pope, during his intimacy with Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu, made her a request to sit for her 
 portrait to Sir Godfrey Kneller, with which she 
 complied, and received these complimentary epis- 
 tles on that occasion. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " Sir Godfrey happening to come from London 
 yesterday (as I did myself) will wait upon you this 
 morning at twelve, to take a sketch of you in your 
 dress, if you will give leave. He is really very 
 good to me. I heartily wish you will be so too. 
 But I submit to you in all things, nay in the man- 
 ner of all things ; your own pleasure, and your own 
 time. Upon my word I will take yours, and un- 
 derstand you as you would be understood, with a
 
 MEMOIR. XXXI 
 
 real respect and resignation when you deny me 
 any thing, and a hearty gratitude when you grant 
 me any thing. Your will be done ! but God send 
 it may be the same with mine ! 
 
 " I am most truly yours, 
 
 " A. Pope." 
 " P.S. I beg a single word in answer, because I 
 am to send to Sir Godfrey accordingly." 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu, at Twickenham. 
 
 " Indeed, dear madam, it is not possible to tell 
 you whether you give me, every day I see you, 
 more pleasure, or more respect ; and, upon my 
 word, whenever I see you after a day or two's ab- 
 sence, it is in just such view as that you yesterday 
 had of your own writings. I find you still better 
 than I could imagine, and think I was partial be- 
 fore to your prejudice. 
 
 " 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 Pierrepont, than to admire at what I 
 have heard of her, or be pleased with some frag- 
 ments of hers, as I am with Sappho's. But now — 
 I cannot 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 yes-
 
 XXXU MR. DALLAWAY S 
 
 terday, I find he thinks it absolutely necessary to 
 draw your face first, which, he says, can never be 
 set right on your figure, if the drapery and posture 
 be finished before. To give you as little trouble 
 as possible, he purposes to draw your face with 
 crayons, and finish it up, at your own house in a 
 morning ; from whence he will transfer it to canvas, 
 so that you need not go to sit at his house. This, 
 I must observe, is a manner they seldom draw any 
 but crowned heads, and I observe it with a secret 
 pride and pleasure. Be so kind as to tell me if 
 you care he should do this to-morrow at twelve. 
 Though if I am but assured from you of the thing, 
 let the manner and time be what you best like : let 
 every decorum you please be observed. I should 
 be very unworthy of any favour from your hands, if 
 I desired any at the expence of your quiet and con- 
 veniency in any degree. 
 
 " I have just received this pamphlet, which may 
 divert you. " I am sincerely yours, 
 
 " A. Pope." 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady M. W. 
 Montagu, at Twickenham. 
 
 His satisfaction with the picture when finished 
 inspired this extemporaneous praise, in couplets, 
 which were immediately written down, and given to 
 Lady Mary, by whom they were preserved. 
 
 The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, 
 That happy air of majesty and truth,
 
 MEMOIR. XXXIU 
 
 So would I draw, (but oh ! 'tis vain to try, 
 My narrow genius does the power deny,) 
 The equal lustre of the heavenly mind. 
 Where every grace with every virtue's join 'd, 
 Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe. 
 With greatness easy, and with wit sincere. 
 With just description shew the soul divine, 
 And the whole princess in my work should shine. 
 
 From such a reciprocation of kindness, we shall 
 turn with regret to contemplate the unprovoked 
 and insatiable asperity with which the poet of 
 Twickenham could blacken the fame of a genius, 
 who avowed no competition but equality of talents, 
 which was a crime not to be forgiven by him. 
 
 National gratitude, if directed by justice, will not 
 overlook, in favour of more recent discoveries, the 
 original obligation to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu 
 for the introduction of the art of inoculation into 
 this kingdom. Mr. Maitland, who had attended 
 the embassy in a medical character, first endea- 
 voured to establish the practice of it in London, 
 and was encouraged by her patronage.* In 1721, 
 as its expediency had been much agitated among 
 scientific men, an experiment, to be sanctioned by 
 the College of Physicians, was allowed by govern- 
 ment. Five persons under condemnation willingly 
 encountered the danger, with the hopes of life. 
 Upon four of them the eruption appeared on the 
 seventh day ; the fifth was a woman, on whom it 
 
 * Mottraye's Travels into the Levant, v. iii. Account of 
 Inoculation in the Gentleman's Magazine, v. xxvii. p. 409. 
 Philosophical Transactions, 1757, No. LXXL
 
 XXxiv MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 never appeared, but she confessed that she had it 
 when an infant. With so much ardour did Lady 
 Mary enforce this salutary innovation among mo- 
 thers of her own rank in life, that, as we find in 
 her Letters, much of her time was necessarily dedi- 
 cated to various consultations, and in superintend- 
 ing the success of her plan.* 
 
 In the Plain Dealer, (No. XXX, July 3, 1724,) 
 a periodical paper, published under the direction of 
 Steele, is a panegyric which precludes the necessity 
 of any other.f 
 
 * The following calculation is made in the Annual Register, 
 1762, p. 78. " If one person in seven die of the small-pox in 
 the natural way, and one in three hundred and twelve by inocu- 
 lation, as proved at the Small-Pox Hospital, then as 1^000,000, 
 divided by seven, gives 142,857|, 1,000,000, divided by 312, 
 gives 3205-jYi75 the lives saved in 1,000,000 by inoculation 
 must be 139,652. In Lord Petre's famil}', 18 individuals died 
 of the small-pox in 27 years. The present generation, who 
 have enjoyed all the advantages of inoculation, are inade- 
 quate judges of the extremely fatal prevalence of the original 
 disease, and of their consequently great obligations to Lady 
 M. W. M." 
 
 t This was the compliment of the day. A modern bard 
 has likewise added his suffrage : 
 
 The triumph was reserved for female hands, 
 Thine was the deed, accomplished Montagu ! 
 What physic ne'er conjectured, what described 
 By Pilarini, by TemoneJ sketched. 
 Seemed to philosophy an idle tale, 
 Or curious only, She by patriot love 
 Inspired, and England rising to her view, 
 Proved as a truth, and proved it on her son. 
 
 X Dissertatio D™ Temone pro variolis, published in Mot- 
 traye's Travels.
 
 MEMOIR. XXXV 
 
 " It is an observation of some historian, that 
 England has owed to women the greatest blessings 
 she has been distinguished by. 
 
 " In the case we are now upon, this reflection 
 will stand justified. We are indebted to the rea- 
 son and the courage of a lady for the introduction 
 of this art, which gains such strength in its pro- 
 gress, that the memory of its illustrious foundress 
 will be rendered sacred by it to future ages. This 
 ornament to her sex and country, who ennobles 
 her own nobility by her learning, wit, and virtues, 
 accompanying her consort into Turkey, observed 
 the benefit of this practice, with its frequency 
 even amongst those obstinate predestinarians, and 
 brought it over for the service and the safety of her 
 native England, where she consecrated its first ef- 
 fects on the persons of her own fine children ; and 
 has already received this glory from it, that the in- 
 fluence of her example has reached as high as the 
 
 A manly mind, whose reason dwelt supreme, 
 
 Was hers, the little terrors of her sex 
 
 Despising, by maternal fondness swayed, 
 
 Yet bold, where confidence had stable grounds. 
 
 How far superior to the turban'd race, 
 
 With whom she sojourned — scrupulous and weak ! 
 
 Yet this is she, whom Pope's illiberal verse 
 
 Hath dared to censure with malicious spleen. 
 
 And meanly coward soul. 
 
 She hath been the cause 
 Of heartfelt joy to thousands ; thousands live, 
 And still shall live through her. 
 
 Infancij ; a Didactic Poem. By Dr. Downman.
 
 XXXvi MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 blood royal, and our noblest and most ancient fami- 
 lies, in confirmation of her happy judgment, add 
 the daily experience of those who are most dear to 
 them. It is a godlike delight that her reflection 
 must be conscious of, when she considers to whom 
 we owe, that many thousand British lives will be 
 saved every year to the use and comfort of their 
 country, after a general establishment of this prac- 
 tice. A good so lasting and so vast, that none of 
 those wide endowments and deep foundations of 
 public charity which have made most noise in the 
 world deserve at all to be compared with it. 
 
 " High o'er each sex in double empire sit 
 Protecting beauty and inspiring wit." 
 
 The court of George the First* was modelled 
 upon that of Louis the Fifteenth, and gallantry, or 
 at least the reputation of it, was the ambition and 
 employment of the courtiers of either sex. Lady 
 Mary had the pre-eminence in beauty and in wit, 
 and few follies passed unmarked by her satirical 
 animadversions, which were not detailed in her 
 letters to her sister Ladv Mar, and other corre- 
 spondents, with inimitable raillery. But those who 
 were delighted with her sarcasms were not always 
 secure from their force, when directed against them- 
 selves ; and she numbered among her acquaintance 
 more admirers than sincere friends. There were 
 many who, in repeating her bon-mots, took much 
 from the delicate poignancy of her wit to add their 
 
 * Vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 37.
 
 MEMOIR. XXXVll 
 
 own undisguised malevolence. In her letters she 
 frequently betrays her disappointment in the great 
 world, and declares that her happy hours were de- 
 dicated to a few intimates. Of these, were the 
 Countess of Oxford, the Duchess of Montagu, and 
 particularly the Countess of Stafford, who was a 
 daughter of the celebrated Count de Grammont, (the 
 agreeable historian of the court of Charles the Se- 
 cond,) and " La Belle Hamilton," whose beauty still 
 blooms in the unfading tints of Lely, at Windsor. 
 Lady Stafford appears, from her Letters, written in 
 French, to have inherited the sprightliness of her 
 father, and to have been capable of friendship, of 
 a much more durable texture than that of many 
 others with whom Lady Mary was equally conver- 
 sant. In her retirement at Twickenham she en- 
 joyed the literary society which resorted to Pope's 
 Villa ; and was received by them with every mark 
 of high respect. 
 
 Gay, in his verses in imitation of Spenser, en- 
 titled a " Welcome from Greece to Mr. Pope upon 
 finishing his translation of the Iliad,'' (written in 
 1727,) imagines all his friends assembled to greet 
 his arrival on the English shore, and exclaims, (per- 
 haps with sincerity, as far as his own opinion was 
 concerned,) 
 
 " What lady 's that to whom he gently bends? 
 
 Who knows not her ? ah ! those are Wortley's eyes, 
 How art thou honoured, numbered with her friends, 
 For she distinguishes the good and wise." 
 
 Stanza, v. 1.
 
 XXXviii MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 Upon the accession of George II. the Countess 
 of Bristol, and her son Lord Hervey, possessed 
 great influence in the new court, and were the fa- 
 vourites of Queen Caroline. The political senti- 
 ments of Lady Mary were conformable with those 
 of Sir Robert Walpole, and his administration ; and 
 she was much connected with the courtiers of that 
 day. With Lord Hervey she seems to have formed 
 an alliance of genius, as well as politics ; and, as 
 both Were poets, they were in habits of literary 
 communication, and sometimes assisted each other 
 in joint compositions. 
 
 Pope, who had been the original promoter of 
 Lady Mary's residence at Twickenham, now be- 
 came jealous of her partiality to the Herveys; and 
 insinuated many severe criticisms against verses, 
 which were admired at court. He had now mixed 
 politics with his poetry, and was so firmly attached 
 to Bolingbroke and Swift, that he held the Whigs 
 in a detestation which he was careless to conceal. 
 There was still a common friend. Lady Oxford, at 
 whose house they frequently met,* but rarely with- 
 out opening their batteries of repartee, and that 
 with so many personalities, that Pope's petulance, 
 " willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike," sought 
 to discharge itself by abrupt departure from the 
 company. Seeming reconciliation soon followed, 
 out of respect to Lord and Lady Oxford, but 
 the wound was rankling at his heart. Lady Mary 
 
 * This is an entire mistake ; vide Introductory Anecdotes, p. 62.
 
 MEMOIR. XXXIX 
 
 had long since omitted to consult him upon any 
 new poetical production ; and when he had been 
 formerly very free with his emendations, would 
 say, " Come, no touching. Pope, for what is good 
 the world will give to you, and leave the bad for 
 me !" and she was well aware that he disingenu- 
 ously encouraged that idea. She had found, too, 
 another inconvenience in these communications, 
 which was, that many poems were indiscriminately 
 imputed to Pope, his confederates, and to herself. 
 Swift, on one of these occasions, sent her " The 
 Capon's Tale," published in Sheridan's edition of 
 his works, and concluding there 
 
 " Such, Lady Mary, are your tricks ; 
 
 But since you hatch, pray own your chicks." V. 17, p. 424. 
 
 In the original copy, now before the Editor, four 
 more very abominable lines are added. 
 
 The apparent cause of that dissension, which was 
 aggravated into implacability, was a satire in the 
 form of a pastoral, entitled * Town Eclogues.' They 
 were certainly some of the earliest of Lady Mary's 
 poetical essays, and it is proved by the following 
 extract from one of Pope's letters, addressed to her 
 at Constantinople, that they had been written pre- 
 viously to the year 1717, when she left England : 
 " The letters of gold, and the curious illuminating 
 of the Sonnets, was not a greater token of respect 
 than what I have paid to your Eclogues ; they lie 
 enclosed in a monument of Turkey, written in my 
 fairest hand ; the gilded leaves are opened with
 
 xl MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 no less veneration than the pages of the Sibyls ; 
 like them, locked up and concealed from all pro- 
 fane eyes, no7ie but my own have beheld these sacred 
 remains of yourself, and I should think it as great 
 a wickedness to divulge them, as to scatter abroad 
 the ashes of my ancestors." 
 
 After her return, the veil of secrecy was removed, 
 and they were communicated to a favoured few. 
 Both Pope and Gay suggested many additions and 
 alterations, which were certainly not adopted by 
 Lady Mary ; and as copies, including their cor- 
 rections, have been found among the papers of 
 these poets, their editors have attributed three out 
 of six to them. " The Basset Table," and " The 
 Drawing-Room," are given to Pope, and " The Toi- 
 let'* to Gay. It is therefore singular, that Pope 
 should himself be subject to his own satire on 
 Philips, and 
 
 " The bard whom pilfered pastorals renown." 
 
 The Town Eclogues contained that kind of ge- 
 neral satire which rendered them universally popu- 
 lar, and as the sagacity of every reader was prompt- 
 ed to discover whom he thought the persons cha- 
 racterized, the manuscript was multiplied by many 
 hands, and was in a short time committed to the 
 press by the all-grasping Curl. Characters thus ap- 
 propriated soon became well known ; Pope and his 
 friends were willing to share the poetical fame, but 
 averse from encountering any of the resentment 
 which satire upon powerful courtiers necessarily
 
 MEMOIR. xli 
 
 excites. He endeavoured to negotiate with the 
 piratical bookseller, and used threats, which ended 
 in no less than Curl's publishing the whole in his 
 name. Irritated by Pope's ceaseless petulance, and 
 disgusted by his subterfuge. Lady Mary now re- 
 tired totally from his society, and certainly did not 
 abstain from sarcastic observations, which were al- 
 ways repeated to him. One told him of an epigram, 
 
 " Sure Pope and Orpheus were alike inspired, 
 The blocks and beasts flock'd round them and admired ;" 
 
 and another, how Lady Mary had observed, that 
 "some called Pope, little nightingale — all sound, 
 and no sense." 
 
 He was, by the consent of all his biographers, 
 the most irritable of men, and in possession of a 
 weapon which he could wield with matchless dex- 
 terity, and from the use of which he was never de- 
 terred by power, nor dissuaded by concession. 
 
 The Italians have a proverb, (which he has him- 
 self versified,) " Chi offende perdona mai," and as 
 being the aggressor in fact, his stratagem was to 
 excite in the public mind, by horrid imputations, 
 the idea of an injury and a provocation which he 
 had previously received, but which had never ex- 
 isted. 
 
 A memorable epoch in Lady Mary's life, was 
 her avowed quarrel with Pope ; and his former par- 
 tial conduct having been shewn, the frequent invec- 
 tive he afterward introduced into his satires, some- 
 times under the name of " Sappho," and as often 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 xlii MR. DALLAWAY S 
 
 under that of " Lady Mary," deserves to be pointed 
 
 out.* In the eighty-third line of his imitation of 
 
 Horace (Satire I. book ii.) an execrable couplet 
 
 occurs, too gross to be admitted into any decent 
 
 poem, in which he likewise stigmatizes Lord Her- 
 
 vey's poetical genius ; 
 
 " The lines are weak another 's pleas'd to say, 
 Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day." 
 
 This wanton attack could not fail to excite in 
 the noble personages, so openly alluded to, the 
 most just and poignant indignation, and they were 
 jointly concerned in '' Verses addressed to the 
 Translator of the first Satire of the second book 
 of Horace." f Upon the circulation of this poem 
 in MS. Pope wrote a prose letter to Lord Hervey, 
 in which he exculpates himself with seeming can- 
 dor. X 
 
 " In regard to the right honorable lady, (says 
 he, in the letter to Lord Hervey,) your lordship's 
 friend, I was far from designing a person of her 
 condition by a name so derogatory to her as that 
 of Sappho, a name prostituted to every infamous 
 creature that ever wrote verse or novels. I protest 
 
 * Epistle on the Characters of Women, 1. 21, 24. Epistle to 
 Dr. Arbuthnot, 1.95. Epistle to Lord Bathurst, 1. 119. Dr. 
 Donne's second Satire versified, 1. 1. Imitation of the first 
 Epistle of the first book of Horace, 1. 161. Dunciad, b. ii. 1, 133. 
 
 f Lord Hervey likewise wrote and circulated " An Epistle 
 from a Doctor in Divinity to a Nobleman at Hampton Court ;" 
 Aug. 28, 1733. 
 
 \ Warton's edition, v. iii. p. 339.
 
 MEMOIR. xl 
 
 HI 
 
 I never applied that name to her in any verse of 
 mine, public or private, and I firmly believe not 
 in any letter or conversation. Whoever could in- 
 vent a falsehood to support an accusation I pity ; 
 and whoever can believe such a character to be 
 their's I pity still more. God forbid the court or 
 town should have the complaisance to join in that 
 opinion ! Certainly I meant it only of such mo- 
 dern Sapphos as imitate much more the lewdness, 
 than the genius of the antient one, and upon whom 
 their wretched brethren frequently bestow both the 
 name and the qualification there mentioned." 
 
 Dr. Joseph Warton* and Dr. Johnson f concur 
 in condemning the prevarication with which Pope 
 evaded every direct charge of his ungrateful be- 
 haviour to those whose patronage he had once 
 servilely solicited ; and even his panegyrical com- 
 mentator. Dr. Warburton, J confessed that there 
 were allegations against him, which "he was not 
 quite clear of." 
 
 The opinion of Dr. Johnson, from his known 
 love of truth, in most instances, carries an assur- 
 ance with it. He allows that *' Pope was some- 
 
 * Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, v. ii. p. 258. 
 
 t Prefaces to the Poets, vol. iv. p. 159. 
 
 :j: Life of Pope in the Biographia Britannica, vol. v. p. 3413, 
 written by Warburton. In his edition of the letters, written 
 by Pope to several ladies, the 10th, 20th, 21st, and 22d, are ad- 
 dressed to Lady M. W. M. ; and letter 11th to the Duke of 
 Buckingham, as far as relates to the description of the old 
 house, is exactly the same as one of Pope's to Lady Mary pub- 
 lished in Walton's edition. 
 
 d 2
 
 xliv MR. dallaway's 
 
 times wanton in his attacks, and before Chandos,* 
 Lady Mary Wortley, and Hill,f was mean in his 
 retreat." Does not the falsity of the exculpatory 
 declaration after the wanton attack constitute the 
 meanness imputed to him, since, had his biographer 
 believed Pope innocent of a slanderous intention, 
 he could never have considered his flat denial of 
 any such intention as mean. Pope avers, that he 
 was far from designing a lady of Lady Mary's con- 
 dition by a name so derogatory to her as Sappho; 
 yet that very Sappho is said '*to wear diamonds." J 
 And he talks of meaning many Sapphos, yet in the 
 Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, he has 
 
 " Still Sappho " 
 
 and, 
 
 " Why she and Sappho rose that monstrous sum ; 
 
 by which quotation, and several others, the ques- 
 tion of unity or plurality is decided. It only, 
 therefore, remains to ascertain the person whom 
 he intended to satirize, and it would not be difficult 
 to select many passages, in which Lady Mary is 
 expressly mentioned by name. 
 
 Pope proceeds in his own vindication. " I won- 
 der yet more (says he) how a lady, of great wit, 
 beauty, and fame for her poetry, (between whom 
 
 * James Duke of Chandos, and his house at Cannons, as 
 Timon in the Epistle on Taste, 
 
 t Aaron Hill, a dramatic writer, whose Zara still keeps its 
 place upon the stage. 
 
 :j: See this argument pursued farther in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine? 1791, p. 420, to which the Editor is indebted.
 
 MEMOIR. xlv 
 
 and your lordship there is a natural, a just, and 
 a well-grounded esteem,) could be prevailed upon 
 to take a part in that proceeding. Your resent- 
 ments against me, indeed, might be equal, as my 
 offence to you both was the same ; for neither had I 
 the least misunderstanding with that lady till after 
 I was the author of my own misfortune, in disconti- 
 nuing her acquaintance. I may venture to own a 
 truth, which cannot be unpleasing to either of you ; 
 I assure you my reason for so doing was merely 
 that you had both too much wit for me, and that I 
 could not do with mine, many things, which you 
 could with yours." 
 
 The explanatory note to the words, too much wit 
 for me, in Warburton's edition, consists of the fol- 
 lowing couplet, from his Epistle to Arbuthnot, 
 among the variations. 
 
 " Once, and but once, his heedless youth was bit, 
 And Uked that dangerous thing, a female wit."* 
 
 Pope's avowed reason for discontinuing Lady 
 Mary's acquaintance was, therefore, that she had 
 outwitted him, and the truth by the corrected lines, 
 
 " Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, 
 Sappho can tell you how this man was bit,"t 
 
 is most fairly proved. For if he were outwitted by 
 a female wit, and by Sappho, and yet outwitted but 
 once, Sappho and Lady Mary must of course be the 
 same identical person. Still he did not hesitate to 
 assert, in the same letter, " I can truly affirm, that, 
 
 * Epistle to Arbuthnot, 1.368. f And in the variations.
 
 xlvi MR. DALLA way's 
 
 ever since I lost the happiness of your conversation, 
 I liave not pubhshed or written one syllable of, or 
 to either of you, never hitched your names into a 
 verse, or trifled with your good names in company." 
 
 But more attention is not due to the investiga- 
 tion of this controversy, which may now be dispas- 
 sionately viewed. Time has annihilated their ani- 
 mosities, and the liberality of the present age will 
 allow, how much any character may suffer, or may 
 command, under the authority of a great name. The 
 magic of Pope's numbers makes us unwilling to know 
 that they were not always the vehicle of truth. 
 
 John Lord Hervey was vice-chamberlain and 
 privy seal to George II, and well known by his 
 duel with Mr. Pulteney, his writings, and his elo- 
 quence in the senate. After he became obnoxious 
 to Pope, both as a politician and a poet, he was sa- 
 tirised under the name of Sporus. It is said, that 
 in his person he was effeminate, and he appears to 
 have been of the sect of modern philosophers who 
 first called themselves " free thinkers ;" but he was 
 a man of talents, and all his literary remains are 
 much above "^ florid impotence." The subjoined 
 original letters are a specimen of his wit, and the 
 airy style of his epistolary compositions. 
 
 "Bath, October 8, 1728. 
 
 *' I HAD too much pleasure in receiving your 
 
 ladyship's commands to have any merit in obeying 
 
 them, and should be very insincere if I pretended 
 
 that my inclination to converse with you, could ever
 
 MEMOIR. xlvii 
 
 be a second motive to my doing it. I came to this 
 place but yesterday, from which you may imagine I 
 am not yet sufficiently qualified to execute the com- 
 mission you gave me; which was, to send you a list 
 of the sojourners and inmates of this place ; but 
 there is so universal an affinity and resemblance 
 among these individuals, that a small paragraph 
 will serve amply to illustrate what you have to de- 
 pend upon. The Duchess of Marlborough, Con- 
 greve, and Lady Rich, are the only people whose 
 faces I know, whose names I ever heard, or who, I 
 believe, have any names belonging to them ; the 
 rest are a swarm of wretched beings, some with 
 half their limbs, some with none, the ingredients 
 of Pandora's box personijie, who stalk about, half- 
 living remembrancers of mortality ; and by calling 
 themselves human, ridicule the species more than 
 Swift's Yhahoues. I do not meet a creature with- 
 out saying to myself as Lady did of her femme 
 
 de chambre, Regardez cet animal, cousiderez ce neant, 
 voila uue belle ame pour etre immortelle. This is giv- 
 ing you little encouragement to venture among us 
 but the sincerity with which I have delineated this 
 sketch of our coterie at Bath, will at least persuade 
 you, I hope, madam, to think, I can give up my 
 interest to my truth, and induce you to believe I 
 never strain the latter, when I assure you, in the 
 strongest terms, I am with the greatest warmth and 
 esteem, " Madam, 
 
 " Your ladyship's most obedient humble servant, 
 
 " Hervey."
 
 xlviii MR. dallaway's 
 
 " I write from Lindsey's in more noise than the 
 union of ten cock-pits could produce, and Lady Rich 
 teazing me at every word to have done, and begin 
 a quadrille, which she cannot make up without me." 
 
 " Bath, October 28, 1728. 
 " Your suspicions with regard to the Duchess of 
 Marlborough are utterly groundless ; she neither 
 knew to whom I was writing, nor that I ever had 
 the pleasure of a letter from you in my life. The 
 speech you had cooked up for her was delightful, 
 exactly her style, and word for word what she would 
 inftillibly have said, had she been in the situation 
 you supposed. How far I made free with your let- 
 ter I will nakedly confess : I read two or three 
 things to her, out of it, relating to the coronation ; 
 but upon my honour, without giving the least hint 
 from whence it came, and by a thing she said three 
 days afterwards, I found she guessed Lord Ches- 
 terfield to be my correspondent. If I went farther 
 in this step than you would have me, give me 
 absolution upon my confession of my fault, and I 
 will give you my word never to repeat it. This 
 preliminary article settled, I beg for the future 
 our commerce may be without any restraint ; that 
 you would allo^ me the liberty of communicating 
 my thoughts naturally ; and that you would con- 
 clude yourself safe in doing so to me, till I cease 
 to have the least grain of natural, grateful, or poli- 
 tical honesty in my whole composition. I will not 
 make the common excuse for a dull letter, of writ-
 
 MEMOIR. xlix 
 
 ing from a dull place ; it is one I never allowed, 
 and one I never will make use of: if people have 
 the gift of entertaining belonging to them, they 
 must be so, when writing to you, be it from 
 what place it will ; and when they fail of being so, 
 it is no more for want of materials, than materials 
 could make them so without genius. Boileau can 
 write upon a Liitr'in what one can read with plea- 
 sure a thousand times, and Blackmore cannot write 
 upon the Creation any thing that one shall not 
 yawn ten times over, before one has read it once. 
 You see I am arguing fairly, though against my- 
 ^^^jfill^^nd £hat if I am stupid I have at least can- 
 dour enough to own it an inherent defect, and do 
 not (as ill gamesters complain of their luck) im- 
 pute the faults of my understanding to accident 
 or chance. I cannot say neither that my manner 
 of passing my time here is at all disagreeable, for 
 you must know I have an ungenteel happiness in 
 my temper that gives me a propensity to be pleased 
 with the people I happen to be with, and the things 
 I happen to be doing. As to your manner of living 
 at Twickenham I entirely disapprove it. Nature 
 never designed you to perform the offices of a 
 groom and a nursery-maid ; if you wou^ 1 be sincere, 
 you must own, riding is inverting he ' dictates in 
 your search of pleasure, or you must confess your- 
 self an example of the maxim which I laid down, 
 and you controverted so warmly two nights before 
 I left London. I have met with several accumu- 
 lated proofs, since I saw you, that confirm me more
 
 1 MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 and more in that faith ; and I begin to think it 
 impossible I should change my religion, unless you 
 will be so good to take my conversion into your 
 own hands. I must tell you too that Thomas of 
 Didymus and I are so alike in our way of thinking, 
 that ********. I must be confuted in the 
 same manner, that Daphne, in the Aminta, says she 
 was, ' Mi mostrava piu I' ombra d' una breve notte, 
 che mille giorni di piia chiari soli : & la piu forte 
 prova di quell' argumento si trova nelle parole, no, 
 ma in silenzio.' It is so long since I read this, 
 that it is more than possible I may quote it false ; 
 but to speak in her Grace of IVIarlborough's style, 
 yon know what I mean. If you do not dislike long- 
 letters, and an unstudied galimatias of tout ce qui 
 se trouve au bout de la plume (comme dit Mad. de 
 Sevign6), let me know it ; and if you would not 
 have me think it flattery when you tell me you do 
 not, encourage the trade, not only by accepting my 
 bills, but making quick returns. Adieu, I am staid 
 for to dinner ; but if the omitting a respectful con- 
 clusion with three or four half lines to express 
 warmth, truth, obedience, humility, &c. shocks your 
 pride, give me a hint of it in your next, and I will 
 take care never again to retrench those fees, due 
 to ladies of your wit, beauty, and quality." 
 
 Among celebrated characters of the nobility, 
 Lady Mary could rank Sarah Duchess of Marl- 
 borough as one of her correspondents. Their cu- 
 riosity will plead for the admission of these two 
 letters.
 
 MEMOIR. li 
 
 " Windsor Lodge, Sept. 25, 1722. 
 
 Your letter (dear Lady Mary) is so extremely 
 kind upon the subject of poor dear Lord Sun- 
 derland, that I cannot help thanking you, and 
 assuring you that I shall always remember your 
 goodness to me in the best manner that I can. It 
 is a cruel misfortune to lose so valuable a young 
 man in all respects, though his successor has all 
 the virtues that I could wish for, but still it is a 
 heavy affliction to me to have one droop so untime- 
 ly from the only branch that I can ever hope to 
 receive any comfort from, in my own family. Your 
 concern for my health is very obliging, but as I 
 have gone through so many misfortunes, some of 
 W'hich were very uncommon, it is plain that nothing 
 will kill me but distempers and physicians. 
 
 " Pray do me the favour to present my humble 
 service to Mr. Wortley, and to your agreeable 
 daughter ; and believe me as I am very sincerely, 
 " Dear madam, 
 " Your most faithful and most humble servant, 
 
 " S. Marlborough." 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu, at Twickenham. 
 
 There is some difficulty with regard to the date of this letter. 
 Robert fourth Earl of Sunderland, grandson to the Duchess of 
 Marlborough, died on the 17th November 1729, in the twenty- 
 eighth year of his age, and was succeeded by Charles fifth earl, 
 his brother, who afterwards, upon the death of his aunt Lady 
 Godolphin, Duchess of Marlborough, became Duke of Marl- 
 borough. It would appear that this letter referred to the death 
 of Robert. — W.
 
 y 
 
 lii MR. BALL AW ay's 
 
 " Blenheim, Sept. 28, 1731. 
 '* You are always very good to me, dear Lady 
 Mary, and I am sensible of it as I ought to be. All 
 tilings are agreed upon, and the writings drawing for 
 Dy's marriage with my Lord John Russel, which is 
 in every particular to my satisfaction ; but they 
 cannot be married till we come to London. I pro- 
 pose to myself more satisfaction than I thought 
 there had been in store for me. I believe you 
 have heard me say that I desired to die when I 
 had disposed well of her ; but I desire that you 
 would not put me in mind of it, for I find now I 
 have a mind to live till I have married my Toris- 
 mond, which name I have given long to John Spen- 
 cer. I am in such hurries of business that I must 
 end, when I assure you that t am 
 
 " Your most faithful 
 " And most obedient humble servant, 
 " S. Marlborough." 
 " My hand is lame, and I cannot write myself, 
 which is the better for you." 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 
 
 at her house in Cavendish-square, London. 
 Free, Harborough. 
 
 Her high birth, of course, entitled Lady Mary 
 to the society and respect of her equals, but her 
 influence in the literary world attracted to her 
 many of the best authors of that day, who solicited 
 not only her patronage, but her critical opinions 
 of the works they were about to offer to the public.
 
 MEMOIR. liii 
 
 A more satisfactory proof does not occur, than the 
 following letters from Dr. Young relative to his Tra- 
 gedy of Tht Brothers, in how high a degree of esti- 
 mation he placed her judgment in dramatic matters. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " I HAVE seen Mr. Savage, who is extremely sen- 
 sible of the honour your ladyship did him by me. 
 You was, I find, too modest in your opinion of the 
 present you pleased to make him, if Mr. Savage 
 may be allowed to be a judge in the case. I am 
 obliged to go down to-morrow to JVycombe election, 
 which is on Thursday ; as soon as I return, I will 
 wait on your ladyship with the trifle you pleased to 
 ask, which I had done before, but I have been, and 
 still am, in all the uneasiness a cold can give. 
 " I am, madam, with great esteem, 
 
 *' Your ladyship's most obedient 
 
 " And obliged humble servant, 
 March 1, 1725-6. " E. YoUNG. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " A GREAT cold and a little intemperance has 
 given me such a face as I am ashamed to shew, 
 though I much want to talk with your ladyship. 
 For my theatrical measures are broken ; Marianne 
 brought its author above 1500/. The Captives, above 
 1000/. and Edwin, now in rehearsal, has already, 
 before acting, brought its author above 1000/. 
 Mine, when acted, will not more than pay for the 
 paper on which it is written. I will wait on your
 
 liv MU. DALI.AWAY'S 
 
 lailvship, and explain farther. Only this at pre- 
 sent, lor the reason mentioned, I am determined to 
 snppress my play for this season at least. The con- 
 cern you shewed for its success is my apology for 
 this account, which were otherwise very imper- 
 tinent. I am, madam, 
 
 " Your ladyship's much obliged 
 
 ''And most obedient humble servant, 
 
 " E. Young." 
 *' Madam, 
 
 " The more I think of your criticisms, the more 
 I feel the just force of them : I will alter those 
 which are alterable ; those which are not I beg you 
 to make a secret of, and to make an experiment 
 on the sagacity of the town, which I think may 
 possibly overlook what you have observed, for the 
 players and Mr. Doddington, neither of whom were 
 backward in finding fault, or careless in attention, 
 took no notice of the flaw in Demetrius's honor or 
 Erixene's conduct, and I would fain have their 
 blindness continue till my business is done ; the 
 players are fond of it, and as it has been said on 
 a point of a little more importance, ' si populus 
 vult Jecipi, decipiatur.' I am, madam, 
 
 " Your most obedient and most humble servant, 
 
 " E. Young." 
 " Madam, 
 
 " Your alteration in the fourth act will be of ex- 
 ceeding advantage in more views than one : I will 
 wait on your ladyship with it as soon as I have 
 done it, which will be, I believe, Monday morning.
 
 MEMOIR. 
 
 Iv 
 
 But that I am satisfied you want no inducement to 
 assist me as much as you can, I should add that I 
 have more depending on the success of this particu- 
 lar piece than your ladyship imagines." 
 
 Friday, noon. 
 
 It appears from one of these letters, that she li- 
 berally assisted Savage, whose misfortunes had en- 
 gaged Pope to promote a subscription for him ; and 
 to Henry Fielding she was at all times a sincere 
 friend. It is one of the most pleasing tasks of 
 the genealogist, to be enabled to trace the affinity 
 of genius ; and we learn that Lady Mary and Field- 
 ing were second cousins, being descended in the 
 same degree from George Earl of Desmond. He 
 dedicated to her his first Comedy of " Love in se- 
 veral Masks," in 1727 ; and addressed her on the 
 subject of " The Modern Husband," which was act- 
 ed at Drury-lane Theatre in 1731. 
 
 SKETCH OF DESCENT. 
 
 William Fielding, Ear] = 
 of Denbigh, Ob. 1635. 
 
 I. 
 George Fielding, = 
 
 Earl of Desmond 
 
 William Fielding, Earl of: 
 Desmond and Denbigh. 
 
 John Fielding, 
 fifth son. 
 
 Mai'y := Evelyn Duke 
 Fielding. of Kingston. 
 
 Edmund Fielding, 
 third son. 
 
 Lady Mary Pierrepont, 
 afterward Wortley 
 Montagu, Ob. 1762. 
 
 Henry Fielding, only 
 son by the first wife, 
 Ob. 1754.
 
 Ivi MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " I HAVE presumed to send your ladyship a copy 
 of the play which you did me the honor of reading- 
 three acts of last spring, and hope it may meet as 
 light a censure from your ladyship's judgment as 
 then ; for while your goodness permits me (what 
 I esteem the greatest, and indeed only happiness of 
 my life,) to offer my unworthy performances to your 
 perusal, it will be entirely from your sentence that 
 they will be regarded, or disesteemed by me. I 
 shall do myself the honor of calling at your lady- 
 ship's door to-morrow at eleven, which, if it be 
 an improper hour, I beg to know from your ser- 
 vant what other time will be more convenient. 
 I am, with the greatest respect and gratitude, 
 madam, 
 
 " Your ladyship's most obedient, 
 
 " Most devoted humble servant, 
 " Henry Fielding." 
 To the Right Honorable the Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu. 
 
 ** I HOPE your ladyship will honor the scenes, 
 which I presume to lay before you, with your per- 
 usal. As they are written on a model I never 
 yet attempted, I am exceedingly anxious least 
 they should find less mercy from you than my 
 lighter productions. It will be a slight compensa- 
 tion to ' The Modern Husband,' that your lady- 
 ship's censure of him will defend him from the pos- 
 sibility of any other reproof, since your least ap-
 
 MEMOir?. Ivii 
 
 probation will always give me pleasure, infinitely 
 superior to the loudest applauses of a theatre. For 
 whatever has past your judgment, may, I think, 
 without any imputation of immodesty, refer want 
 of success to want of j udgment in an audience. I 
 shall do myself the honor of waiting on your lady- 
 ship at Twickenham next Monday, to receive my 
 sentence, and am, madam, 
 
 " With most devoted respect, 
 
 " Your ladyship's most obedient, 
 ** Most humble servant, 
 London, Sept. 4, 1731. " HenRY FieLDING." 
 
 Such for many years was the life of Lady Mary 
 Wortley in the world of fashion and of literature ; 
 still it afforded no incidents worthy of biographical 
 notice, which materially distinguished it from the 
 monotony of theirs, who enjoy a full portion of rank 
 and fame. 
 
 In the year 1739^, her health declined, and she 
 took the resolution of passing the remainder of her 
 days on the Continent. Having obtained Mr. Wort- 
 ley's consent, she left England in the month of July, 
 and hastened to Venice, where she formed many 
 connexions with the noble inhabitants, and deter- 
 mined to establish herself in the north of Italy. 
 Having been gratified by a short tour to Rome and 
 Naples, she returned to Brescia, one of the palaces 
 of which city she inhabited, and appears not only 
 to have been reconciled to, but pleased with, the 
 VOL. I. t
 
 Iviii MR. dallaway's 
 
 Italian customs. She spent some months at Avi- 
 gnon and Chamberry. Her summer residence she 
 fixed at Louverre, on the shores of the hike of 
 Iseo, in the Venetian territory, whitlier she had 
 been first invited on account of the mineral waters, 
 which she found greatly beneficial to her health. 
 There she took possession of a deserted palace ; she 
 planned her garden, applied herself to the business 
 of a country life, and was happy in the superintend- 
 ence of her vineyards and silk-worms. Books, and 
 those chiefly English sent her by Lady Bute, sup- 
 plied the deficiency of society. Her letters from 
 this retreat breathe a truly philosophic spirit, and 
 evince that her care of her daughter and her family 
 was ever nearest to her heart. No one appears to 
 have enjoyed her repose more sincerely, from the 
 occupations of the gay world. Her visits to Genoa 
 and Padua were not unfrequent ; but, about the 
 year 1758, she quitted her solitude, and settled 
 entirely at Venice,* where she remained till the 
 death of Mr. Wortley, in 1761. She then yielded 
 to the solicitations of her daughter, the late Coun- 
 tess of Bute, and, after an absence of two-and-twen- 
 ty years, she began her journey to England, where 
 she arrived in October. But her health had suffer- 
 ed much, and a gradual decline terminated in death, 
 on the 21st of August, 1762, and in the seventy- 
 
 * The English travellers at Venice, who, she presumed, 
 might have been induced to visit her from curiosity, she re- 
 ceived in a mask and domino^ as her dress of ceremony.
 
 MEMOIR. lix 
 
 third year of her age. In the cathedral at Litch- 
 field, a coenotaph is erected to her memory, with 
 the following inscription : — 
 
 Sacred to the memory of 
 
 The Right Honorable 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 
 
 who happily introduced from Turkey, 
 
 into this country, 
 
 the salutary art 
 
 of inoculating the small-pox. 
 
 Convinced of its efficac}', 
 
 she first tried it with success 
 
 on her own children, 
 
 and then recommended the practice of it 
 
 to her fellow-citizens. 
 
 Thus by her example and advice 
 
 we have softened the virulence, 
 
 and escaped the danger, of this malignant disease. 
 
 To perpetuate the memory of such benevolence, 
 
 and to express her gratitude 
 
 for the benefit she herself received 
 
 from this alleviating art ; 
 
 this monument is erected by 
 
 Henrietta Inge, 
 
 relict of Theodore William Inge, Esq. 
 
 and daughter of Sir John Wrottesley, Bart. 
 
 in the year of our Lord m,dcc,lxxxix. 
 
 The monument consists of a mural marble, re- 
 presenting a female figure of Beauty, weeping over 
 the ashes of her preserver, supposed to be inclosed 
 in the urn, inscribed with her cypher M. W. M. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu appears now as an 
 author more fully before the public. How her let- 
 ters written from the Levant became known, has 
 been already detailed, and of their reception even
 
 Ix MR. DALLAWAY'S 
 
 " in that questionable shape," the opinion of Dr. 
 Smollett, who had established, and then conducted 
 the Critical Review, bears an honorable testimony. 
 " The publication of these letters will be an immor- 
 tal monument to the memory of Lady M. W, M. 
 and will shew, as long as the English language en- 
 dures, the sprightliness of her wit, the solidity of 
 her judgment, the elegance of her taste, and the 
 excellence of her real character. These letters are 
 so bewitchingly entertaining, that we defy the most 
 phlegmatic man on earth to read one without going 
 through with them, or, after finishing the third vo- 
 lume, not to wish there were twenty more of them."* 
 The late Lord Orfordf had been shewn in manu- 
 script her letters to Lady Mar only, and not those 
 of a more grave and sententious cast to her daugh- 
 ter. He might in candor, in that case, have re- 
 tracted his comparison of Lady M. W. M. with the 
 Marchioness de Sevign^, and not have so peremp- 
 torily given the palm of epistolary excellence to the 
 foreigner. 'I He yet allows that the letters to Lady 
 Mar (those only he had seen) were not unequal 
 in point of entertainment to others, which had been 
 then published. The vivacity with which they ex- 
 
 * Critical Review, 1763. t Reminiscences. 
 
 X Does not her ladyship seem to anticipate publication in 
 this extract? "The last pleasure that fell in my way was 
 Madame Sevigne's letters ; very pretty they are^ but I assert, 
 without the least vanity, that mine may be full as entertaining 
 forty years hence. I advise you, therefore, to put none of them 
 to the use of waste paper."— Ze«er,$ to Lady Mar, 1724.
 
 MEMOIR. Ixi 
 
 hibit a sketch of court manners, resembles the style 
 so much admired in the Memoirs of the Count de 
 Grammont, half a century before ; and the trait 
 she has given of that in which she was herself con- 
 spicuous, becomes equally interesting to us, as it 
 
 " Shews the very age, and body of that time, 
 Its form and pressure." Hamlet. 
 
 Of her poetical talents it may be observed, that 
 they were usually commanded by particular occa- 
 sions, and that when she had composed stanzas, as 
 any incident suggested them, little care was taken 
 afterwards ; and she disdained the scrupulous la- 
 bour, by which Pope acquired a great degree of his 
 peculiar praise. But it should be remembered, that 
 the ore is equally sterling, although it may not re- 
 ceive the highest degree of polish of wliich it is ca- 
 pable. She attempted no poem of much regularity 
 or extent. In the Town Eclogues, which is the 
 longest, a few illegitimate rhymes and feeble ex- 
 pletives will not escape the keen eye of a critic. 
 The epistle of Arthur Gray has true O vidian ten- 
 derness, the ballads are elegant, and the satires 
 abound in poignant sarcasms, and just reflections 
 on the folly and vices of those whom she sought 
 to stigmatize. There is little doubt, but that if 
 Lady Mary had applied herself wholly to poetry, a 
 near approximation to the rank of her contemporary 
 bards would have been adjudged to her by impar- 
 tial posterity. 
 
 The asra in which she flourished has been desig-
 
 Ixii MR. dallaway's 
 
 nated by modern envy or liberality '' the Augustan 
 in England," and in the constellation of wit by 
 which it was illuminated, and so honorably distin- 
 guished from earlier or successive ages, her acquire- 
 ments and genius entitled her to a very eminent 
 place. During her long life, her literary preten- 
 sions were suppressed by the jealousy of her con- 
 temporaries, and her indignant sense of the mean 
 conduct of Pope and his phalanx, the self-constitut- 
 ed distributors of the fame and obloquy of that 
 day, urged her to confine to her cabinet and a small 
 circle of friends, effusions of wisdom and fancy, 
 which otherwise had been received by society at 
 large with equal instruction and delight. 
 
 A comparison with her ladyship's predecessors of 
 her own sex and quality will redound to her supe- 
 riority. Lady Jane Grey read Plato in Greek, and 
 the two daughters of the last Fitzalan, Earl of 
 Arundel, the Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Lum- 
 ley, translated and published books from that lan- 
 guage ; but theirs was the learning of the cloister, 
 and not that of the world. Nearer her own time, 
 the Duchess of Newcastle composed folios of ro- 
 mances, but her imaginary personages are strangers 
 to this lower sphere, and are disgusting by their 
 pedantry and unnatural manners. Lady Mary 
 AVortley Montagu applied her learning to improve 
 her knowledge of the world. She read mankind as 
 she had read her books, with sagacity and discri- 
 mination. The influence of a classical education
 
 MEMOIR. Ixiii 
 
 over her mind was apparent in the purity of her 
 style, rather than in the ambition of displaying her 
 acquirements, whilst it enabled her to give grace 
 of expression and novelty to maxims of morality 
 or prudence, which would have lost much of their 
 usefulness, had they been communicated in a less 
 agreeable manner. 
 
 Her letters present us with as faithful a portrait 
 of her mind as Sir Godfrey Kneller's pencil did 
 of her person.* The delicacy of her style, in early 
 youth, corresponded with the soft and interesting 
 beauty which she possessed. In the perspicuity 
 and sprightliness, which charm and instruct us in 
 the zenith of her days, we have an image of con- 
 firmed and commanding grace. As she advanced 
 to a certain degree of longevity, the same mind, 
 vigorous, and replete with the stores of experience, 
 both in life and literature, maintains its original 
 powers. The *' Mellow Hangings" have more of 
 richness and greater strength, if less of brilliancy ; 
 and the later writings of Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montagu bear that peculiar characteristic, while 
 they offer the precepts of a female sage, which 
 lose all their severity in the eloquence peculiar to 
 her sex. 
 
 Respecting her letters, as they are now given 
 to the public, the Editor thinks it necessary to 
 add, that having considered how extremely unset- 
 
 * There is an original portrait of Lady M. W. M. at Wel- 
 beck, and a miniature, by Zincke, at Strawberry Hill. 
 
 r
 
 1a iv MR. DA LLA way's MEMOIR. 
 
 tied orthography was at the period when they were 
 Avritten, he has ventured, in certain instances, to 
 accommodate that of Lady M. W. Montagu to 
 modern usage. 
 
 Many idioms and a peculiar phraseology, to be 
 found even in the Spectator, and other popular 
 authors of her day, which the refinement of the 
 present age might reject, are scrupulously retained, 
 with an opinion that Lady Mary's genuine thoughts 
 are best cloathed in her own language ; and that 
 all attempts to improve it would tend to destroy 
 the character of her style, and discredit the au- 
 thenticity of this publication. 
 
 J. D.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL ANECDOTES 
 
 OF 
 
 LADY M. W. MONTAGU. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, we must re- 
 member, was born a hundred and forty-seven years 
 ago, and has now been dead more than seventy. 
 Considering this, and also that the incidents of her 
 life were in no respect linked to those historical or 
 political facts which fix in men's memories even 
 trifles if connected with them, it cannot be ex- 
 pected that her descendants themselves should pos- 
 sess very ample means of giving or gaining infor- 
 mation upon a subject borne almost beyond their 
 reach by the lapse of time. The multitude of 
 stories circulated about her — as about all people 
 who were objects of note in their day — increase, 
 instead of lessening the difBculty. Some of these 
 may be confidently pronounced inventions, simply 
 and purely false ; some, if true, concerned a dif- 
 ferent person ; some were grounded upon egre- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 gioiis blunders ; and not a few upon jests, mistaken 
 by the dull and literal for earnest. Others again, 
 Avhcre a little truth and a great deal of falsehood 
 were probably intermingled, nobody now living can 
 pretend to confirm, or contradict, or unravel. No- 
 thing is so readily believed, yet nothing is usually 
 so unworthy of credit, as tales learned from report, 
 or caught up in casual conversation. A circum- 
 stance carelessly told, carelessly listened to, half 
 comprehended, and imperfectly remembered, has a 
 poor chance of being repeated accurately by the 
 first hearer ; but when, after passing through the 
 moulding of countless hands, it comes, with time, 
 place, and person, gloriously confounded, into those 
 of a book-maker ignorant of all its bearings, it will 
 be lucky indeed if any trace of the original ground- 
 work remain distinguishable. 
 
 To give a sample or two of the metamorphoses 
 which this process can effect. — Pinkerton, in his 
 Walpoliana, mentions that Horace Walpole told 
 him he had known Lady Mary Wortley from the 
 very beginning of her life, having been her play- 
 fellow in his childhood. Mr. Pinkerton could 
 have no motive for inventing this, so doubtless he 
 thought, or dreamt, he had heard it ; yet it is im- 
 possible that Lord Orford should ever have said 
 anything so ridiculous, since Lady Mary was the 
 contemporary of his mother and his aunt, and at 
 least seven-and-twenty when the former brought 
 him into the world.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 3 
 
 Another pretty striking instance is furnished by 
 a Review,* which informed us some years ago that 
 " The greater part of Lady Mary's epistolary cor- 
 respondence was destroyed by — her mother ! f 
 that good and gothic lady," as the reviewer sar- 
 castically calls her for having thus dared to in- 
 fringe upon property in his opinion rightfully be- 
 longing to the public — the unconscious public, 
 whose grandfathers and grandmothers were for the 
 most part yet unborn. Now, the good (and very 
 possibly gothic) lady in question departed this life 
 before her daughter could either write or read ; 
 therefore the nineteenth century and its public 
 may let her memory sleep in peace. 
 
 For the reasons stated above, the particulars 
 offered here cannot be otherwise than scanty, and 
 may appear uninteresting and frivolous ; but au- 
 thentic they must be, because either received di- 
 rectly from the late Countess of Bute, or else 
 gathered from documents formerly seen in Lady 
 Mary Wortley's own hand-writing. 
 
 A tale of pedigree would be little to the purpose ; 
 yet, as Lady Mary's letters allude more than once 
 to her family history, it may throw some light 
 upon passages of this kind to say that, in the 
 great Civil War, the second Earl of Kingston, cre- 
 
 * Quarterly Review, vol. xxiii. p. 414. 
 
 f The same absurd story may be found, with some curious 
 comments, in D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature." 
 
 B 2
 
 4 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 atcd INIarquis of Dorchester by Charles the First, 
 espoused the royal cause ; while his next brother, 
 William Pierrepont of Thoresby, surnamed Wise 
 William, Lady Mary Wortley's great-grandfather, 
 adhered to the Parliament. The currency of such 
 an epithet speaks his reputation for sagacity and 
 prudence ; he had considerable weight with his own 
 party, and, according to tradition, was much court- 
 ed and consulted by Cromwell. His eldest son 
 died in his life-time, having married a Wiltshire 
 heiress, whose maiden name, Evelyn, has ever since 
 been a favourite Christian-name, for both men and 
 women, in most of the families descended from her. 
 Lord Dorchester leaving no male issue, the earl- 
 dom of Kingston devolved successively upon the 
 three sons of this marriage, grandsons of Wise 
 William. The third, Evelyn, fifth Earl of Kings- 
 ton, created Marquis of Dorchester by Queen 
 Anne in 1706, and Duke of Kingston by George 
 the First in 1715, had by his wife. Lady Mary 
 Fielding, three daughters, Mary, born in 1690, 
 Frances, and Evelyn,* and one son, William, whose 
 birth she did not long survive. Her mother, Mary, 
 Countess Dowager of Denbigh and Desmond,f was 
 the grandmother of whom Lady Mary Wortley speaks 
 
 * Lady Frances married the Earl of Mar ; Lady Evelyn, 
 John Lord (afterwards Earl) Gower. 
 
 f Her maiden name was King ; her brother, the first Lord 
 
 Kingston of Ireland. She first married Sir Meredith, and 
 
 surviving him, became, at the age of forty-five, the second wife 
 of the Earl of Desmond, who afterwards inherited the English 
 earldom of Denbigh.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 5 
 
 SO highly, as having had a superior understanding, 
 and retained it unimpaired at an extraordinary age. 
 Lady Kingston dying thus early, her husband 
 continued a widower till all his children were grown 
 up and married ; though, if Lady Mary may be 
 believed, not through any over-anxious concern 
 for their welfare. Richardson, she affirms, drew 
 his picture without knowing it in Sir Thomas 
 Grandison, the gay father of his hero Sir Charles, 
 which says a great deal to those who have read 
 the book and observed the character — that of a 
 man of pleasure, far too fine a gentleman to be a 
 tender or even a considerate parent. Such men, 
 always selfish and commonly vain, begin to view 
 their offspring as rivals the moment they are old 
 enough to put beholders in mind that those to 
 whom they owe their birth can hardly be much 
 less than a score of years older. But playthings 
 are cherished while new, seldom flung aside in the 
 first hour of acquisition ; and, besides being an ad- 
 mirable plaything, a sprightly beautiful child, while 
 it is a child, reflects lustre upon a young father, 
 from whom it may be presumed to have partly 
 inherited its charms. Accordingly, a trifling inci- 
 dent, which Lady Mary loved to recall, will prove 
 how much she was 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-cat club. 
 One day, at a meeting to choose toasts for the
 
 6 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 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 every one present, and her name engraved in 
 due form upon a drinking-glass. The company 
 consisting of some of the most eminent men in 
 England, she went from the lap of one poet, or 
 patriot, or statesman, to the arms of another, was 
 feasted with sweetmeats, overwhelmed with ca- 
 resses, and, what perhaps already pleased her better 
 than either, heard her wit and beauty loudly ex- 
 tolled 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 in- 
 crease, could never again be so fully gratified : there 
 is always some allaying ingredient in the cup, some 
 drawback upon the triumphs of grown people. 
 Her father carried on the frolic, and, we may con- 
 clude, confirmed the taste, by having her picture 
 painted for the club-room, that she might be en- 
 rolled a regular toast.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 7 
 
 There can be no dispute that Lady Mary showed 
 early signs of more than ordinary abilities ; but 
 whether they induced Lord Kingston to have her 
 bred up with her brother and taught Latin and 
 Greek by his tutor, is not so well ascertained. 
 The boy was two or three years younger than the 
 girl, which makes against it. Lady Bute ex- 
 pressly said that her mother understood little or 
 no Greek, and by her own account had taught her- 
 self Latin. And besides, would she, while so ear- 
 nestly recommending a learned education for wo- 
 men, have complained of her own as " one of the 
 worst in the world," if it had had this classical foun- 
 dation ? Most likely not ; most likely her father, 
 whose amusement in her ceased when she grew past 
 the age of sitting on a knee and playing with a 
 doll, consigned all his daughters alike to the care 
 and custody of such a good home-spun governess as 
 her letters describe ; and, having thus done his sup- 
 posed duty towards them, held himself at liberty to 
 pursue his own pleasures, which lay elsewhere than 
 at home. One remnant of his illegitimate pro- 
 geny, an old General Armytage, was still living 
 long after the accession of George the Third. 
 
 But, admitting that Lady Mary's talents were 
 only self-cultivated, her literary progress might not 
 be the less considerable. Where industry, inspi- 
 rited by genius, toils from free choice, and there 
 exists unchecked that eager devouring appetite for 
 reading, seldom felt but in the first freshness of
 
 8 INTKODUCTOKY ANKCDOTES. 
 
 intelligent youth, it will take in more nourishment, 
 and faster, than the most assiduous tuition can 
 cram down. It is true, the habit of idly turning 
 over an unconnected variety of books, forgotten as 
 soon as read, may be prejudicial to the mind ; but 
 a bee wanders to better purpose than a butterfly, 
 although the one will sometimes seem just to touch 
 the flow er-bed and flit away as lightly as the other. 
 Lady Mary read everything, but it was without 
 forgetting anything ; and the mass of matter, 
 whencesoever collected, gradually formed its own 
 arrangement in her head. She probably had some 
 assistance from Mr. William Fielding, her mother's 
 brother, a man of parts, who perceived her capacity, 
 corresponded with her, and encouraged her pursuit 
 of information. And she herself acknowledges her 
 obligations to Bishop Burnet for " condescending 
 to direct the studies of a girl." Nevertheless, 
 though labouring to acquire what may be termed 
 masculine knowledge, and translating under the 
 Bishop's eye the Latin version of Epictetus, she 
 was by no means disposed to neglect works of fancy 
 and fiction, but got by heart all the poetry that 
 came in her way, and indulged herself in the lux- 
 ury of reading every romance as yet invented. For 
 she possessed, and left after her, the whole library 
 of Mrs. Lennox's Female Quixote — Cleopatra, 
 Cassandra, Clelia, Cyrus, Pharamond, Ibrahim, 
 &c. &c. — all, like the Lady Arabella's collection, 
 " Efiglished,'' mostly " bj/ persons of honour.'" The
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 9 
 
 chief favourite appeared to have been a transhition 
 of JNIonsieur Honor^ d'Urfe's Astrea, once the de- 
 light of Henri Quatre and his court, and still ad- 
 mired and quoted by the savans who flourished un- 
 der Louis XIV. In a blank page of this massive 
 volume (which might have counterbalanced a pig of 
 lead of the same size) Lady Mary had written m her 
 fairest youthful hand the names and characteristic 
 qualities of the chief personages thus : — the beau- 
 tiful Diana, the volatile Climene, the melancholy 
 Doris, Celadon the faithful, Adamas the wise, and 
 so on ; forming two long columns. 
 
 These ponderous books, once hers, black in out- 
 ward hue, and marked with the wear and tear of 
 almost a century, might have been disrespectfully 
 treated by her junior grandchildren and their nur- 
 sery-maids — put to any use except reading them — 
 but for the protection of an excellent person, who, 
 when young, had been Lady Bute's own attendant 
 before her marriage, and ever after made part of 
 her family. Her spectacles were always to be 
 found in Clelia or Cassandra, which she studied un- 
 ceasingly six days of the week, prizing them next 
 to the Bible and Tillotson's Sermons ; because, to 
 give her own words, " they were all about good 
 and virtuous people, not like the wicked trash she 
 now saw young folks get from circulating libraries." 
 To her latest hour she used to regret having lost 
 sight of another romance, beautiful beyond them 
 all,— the History of Hiempsal, King of Numidia.
 
 10 INTRO DUCTOKY ANECDOTES. 
 
 This, she said, she had read only once, and by no 
 pains or search could ever meet with or hear of 
 again. 
 
 The modern world will smile, but should how- 
 ever beware of too hastily despising works that 
 charmed Lady Mary Wortley in her youth, and 
 were courageously defended by Madame de Se- 
 vign6 even when hers was past, and they began 
 to be sliding out of fashion. She, it seems, 
 thought, with the old woman just now mentioned, 
 that they had a tendency to elevate the mind, and 
 to instil honourable and generous sentiments. At 
 any rate they must have fostered application and 
 perseverance, by accustoming their readers to what 
 the French term des ouvrao-es de lons;ue haleine. 
 After resolutely mastering Clelia, nobody could 
 pretend to quail at the aspect of Mezeray, or even 
 at that of Holinshed's Chronicle printed in black 
 letter. Clarendon, Burnet, and Rapin, had not yet 
 issued into daylight. 
 
 Some particulars, in themselves too insignificant 
 to be worth recording, may yet interest the curious, 
 by setting before them the manners of our ancestors. 
 Lord Dorchester, having no wife to do the honours 
 of his table at Thoresby, imposed that task upon 
 his eldest daughter, as soon as she had bodily 
 strength for the office : which in those days re- 
 quired no small share. For the mistress of a coun- 
 try mansion was not only to invite — that is, urge
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 11 
 
 and tease — her company to eat more than human 
 throats could conveniently swallow, but to carve 
 every dish, when chosen, with her own hands. The 
 greater the lady, the more indispensable the duty. 
 Each joint was carried up in its turn, to be ope- 
 rated upon by her, and her alone ; — since the 
 peers and knights on either hand were so far from 
 being bound to offer their assistance, that the very 
 master of the house, posted opposite to her, might 
 not act as her croupier ; his department was to 
 push the bottle after dinner. As for the crowd of 
 guests, the most inconsiderable among them, — the 
 curate, or subaltern, or squire's younger brother, — 
 if suffered through her neglect to help himself to a 
 slice of the mutton placed before him, would have 
 chewed it in bitterness, and gone home an affronted 
 man, half inclined to give a wrong vote at the 
 next election. There were then professed carving- 
 masters, who taught young ladies the art scien- 
 tifically ; from one of whom Lady Mary said she 
 took lessons three times a week, that she might 
 be perfect on her father's public days ; when, in 
 order to perform her functions without interrup- 
 tion, she was forced to eat her own dinner alone 
 an hour or two beforehand. 
 
 Most of the intimacies formed by Lady Mary in her 
 youth having died away before her daughter began 
 to know what was passing, only a few of her early 
 companions can be mentioned : viz. Mrs. Smith,
 
 12 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 maid of honour to Queen Anne, and daughter of 
 the AVhig Speaker Smith ; the beautiful Dolly 
 Walpole, Sir Robert's sister, afterwards the second 
 wife of Lord Townshend ; Lady Anne Vaughan, 
 only child of Lord Carbery, the last of a family 
 noted for having given Jeremy Taylor an asylum 
 at Golden Grove. This young lady was precisely 
 in the situation which Lady Mary always main- 
 tained to be the most perilous and pitiable incident 
 to womankind ; that of a great heiress at her own 
 free disposal. And truly her fate justified the 
 paradox. She bestowed herself and her wealth 
 upon Lord Winchester (third Duke of Bolton), a 
 handsome agreeable libertine, who, much worse 
 than indifferent to the first half of the gift, cast 
 her off without any long delay, and, when her me- 
 lancholy life at last came to an end, married the 
 famous actress, Miss Fenton, best known by her 
 stage-title of Polly Peachem. 
 
 The name of another young friend will excite 
 more attention — Mrs. Anne Wortley. Mrs. Anne 
 has a most mature sound to our modern ears ; but, 
 in the phraseology of those days. Miss, which had 
 hardly yet ceased to be a term of reproach, still 
 denoted childishness, flippancy, or some other con- 
 temptible quality, and was rarely applied to young 
 ladies of a respectable class. In Steele's Guardian, 
 the youngest of Nestor L'onside's wards, aged 
 fifteen, is Mrs. Mary Lizard. Nay, Lady Bute 
 herself could remember having been styled Mrs.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 13 
 
 Wortley, when a child, by two or three elderly 
 visitors, as tenacious of their ancient modes of 
 speech as of other old fashions. Mrs. Anne, then, 
 was the second daughter of Mr. Sidney *Wortley 
 Montagu, and the favourite sister of his son Ed- 
 ward. She died in the bloom of youth, unmarried. 
 Lady Mary, in common with others who had known 
 her, represented her as eminently pretty and agree- 
 able ; and her brother so cherished her memory, 
 that, in after times, his little girl knew it to be the 
 highest mark of his favour, when, pointing at her- 
 self, he said to her mother, " Don't you think she 
 grows like my poor sister Anne ?" 
 
 Mrs. Wortley, the mother of the family, from 
 whom it derived both estate and name, died before 
 Lady Mary Pierrepont became acquainted with 
 any branch of it ; therefore all she could tell con- 
 cerning her was, that she had been forced to de- 
 mand a separation from her husband, and that 
 her son always spoke of his father's conduct to- 
 wards her with resentment and indignation. For 
 Mr. Sidney Montagu had not breathed in the at- 
 mosphere of Charles the Second's reign during 
 his best years without inhaling some of its poison. 
 This old gentleman, and the scene surrounding him, 
 were distinctly recollected by his grand-daughter. 
 
 * Second son of Admiral Montagu, first Earl of Sandwich. 
 Upon marrying the daughter and heiress of Sir Francis Wort- 
 ley, he was obliged by the tenour of Sir Francis's will to assume 
 his name.
 
 14- INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 She described him as a large rough-looking man 
 with a huge flapped hat, seated magisterially in his 
 elbow-chair, talking very loud, and swearing bois- 
 terously at his servants. While beside him sate a 
 venerable figure, meek and benign in aspect, with 
 silver locks overshadowed by a black velvet cap. 
 This was his brother, the pious Dean Montagu,* 
 who every now and then fetched a deep sigh, and 
 cast his eyes upwards, as if silently beseeching 
 Heaven to pardon the profane language which he 
 condemned, but durst not reprove. Unlike as 
 they were in their habits and their morals, the two 
 brothers commonly lived together. 
 
 It is hard to divine why, or on what authority, 
 Mr. Edward Wortley has been represented by late 
 writers as a dull phlegmatic country gentleman 
 — " of a tame genius and moderate capacity," or 
 *' of parts more solid than brilliant," — which in 
 common parlance is a civil way of saying the same 
 thing. He had, on the contrary, one of those 
 strong characters that are little influenced by the 
 world's opinion, and for that reason little under- 
 stood by the unthinking part of it. All who really 
 knew him while living held him a man distinguish- 
 ed for soundness of judgment and clearness of un- 
 derstanding, qualities nowise akin to dullness ; they 
 allowed him also to be a first-rate scholar ; and 
 
 * The Honourable John Montagu, Dean of Durham, fourth 
 son of the first Lord Sandwich.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 15 
 
 as he had travelled more than most young men 
 of his time, a proof will presently appear that he 
 surpassed them in the knowledge of modern lan- 
 guages. Polite literature was his passion; and 
 though our having a taste for wit and talents may 
 not certainly imply that we are gifted with them 
 ourselves, yet it would be strange if the alderman- 
 like mortal depicted above had sought out such 
 companions as Steele, Garth, Congreve, Mainwar- 
 ing, &c. or chosen Addison for his bosom friend. 
 The only picture of Mr. Wortley in existence be- 
 longed to Addison, from whose daughter Lady 
 Bute obtained it through her (Miss Addison's) half- 
 sister, Lady Charlotte Rich. It is now in the pos- 
 session of Lord WharnclifFe. The face seems very 
 young, and, in spite of wig, cravat, and other de- 
 forming appendages, very handsome. 
 
 Miss, or Mrs. Addison, Addison's daughter by 
 Lady Warwick, and his only child, far from having 
 sufficient endowments to keep up the credit of her 
 great name, was one of those singular beings in 
 whom nature seems to have left the mind half 
 finished ; not raised to the average height of hu- 
 man intellect, yet not absolutely imbecile, nor so 
 devoid of judgment in common every-day concerns 
 as to need the guardianship of the law. With 
 this imperfect understanding she possessed a gift, 
 which, it is said, may sometimes be found where 
 there is no great power of thinking, — such an as- 
 tonishing memory that she could repeat the longest
 
 16 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 sermon word for word after licaring it once, or get 
 by heart the contents of a whole dictionary. As 
 she inherited all her father had to leave, her cir- 
 cumstances were affluent ; but, by the advice of her 
 friends, she lived in retirement at a country-seat, 
 and never attempted to enter the world. 
 
 Mr. Wortley's chief intimates have been already 
 named. His society was principally male ; the 
 wits and politicians of that day forming a class 
 quite distinct from the ''white-gloved beaus" at- 
 tendant upon ladies. Indeed, as the education of 
 women had then reached its very lowest ebb, and if 
 not coquettes, or gossips, or diligent card-players, 
 their best praise was to be notable housewives ; 
 Mr. Wortley, however fond of his sister, could 
 have no particular motive to seek the acquaintance 
 of her companions. His surprise and delight were 
 the greater, when one afternoon, having by chance 
 loitered in her apartment till visitors arrived, he 
 saw Lady Mary Pierrepont for the first time, and, 
 on entering into conversation with her, found, in 
 addition to beauty that charmed him, not only 
 brilliant wit, but a thinking and cultivated mind. 
 He was especially struck with the discovery that 
 she understood Latin and could relish his beloved 
 classics. Something that passed led to the mention 
 of Quintus Curtius, which she said she had never 
 read. This was a fair handle for a piece of gallan- 
 try ; in a few days she received a superb edition 
 of the author, with these lines facing the title-page :
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 17 
 
 Beauty like this had vanquished Persia shown, 
 The Macedon had laid his empire down, 
 And polished Greece obeyed a barb'rous throne. 
 Had wit so bright adorned a Grecian dame, 
 The am'rous youth had lost his thirst for fame, 
 Nor distant India sought through Syria's plain ; 
 But to the Muses' stream with her had run, 
 And thought her lover more than Ammon's son. 
 
 How soon this declaration of love in verse was 
 followed by one in prose does not appear ; but 
 Mrs. Anne Wortley grew more eloquent in Lady 
 Mary's praise, and more eagerly desirous of her 
 correspondence. No wonder ; since the rough 
 draught of a letter in her brother's hand, indorsed 
 " For my sister to Lady M. P." betrays that he 
 was the writer, and she only the transcriber of 
 professions and encomiums that sound extravagant 
 as addressed by one woman to another. But she 
 did not live to be long the medium through which 
 they passed ; a more direct correspondence soon 
 began, and was continued after her decease. 
 When married, Mr. Wortley and Lady Mary 
 agreed to put by and preserve as memorials of 
 the days of courtship all their letters ; a curious 
 collection, and very different from what a romance- 
 writer would have framed ; on his side, no longer 
 complimentary, but strikingly expressive of a real 
 strong passion, combated in vain by a mind equally 
 strong, which yielded to it against its conviction 
 and against its will. " Celui qui aime flus qu'il ne 
 voiuhoit^'' as a French author somewhere says, is, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 after all, the person on whom love has taken the 
 fastest hold. They were perpetually on the point 
 of breaking altogether : he felt and knew that they 
 suited each other very ill ; he saw, or thought he 
 saw, his rivals encouraged if not preferred ; he 
 was more affronted than satisfied with her assur- 
 ances of a sober esteem and regard ; and yet every 
 struggle to get free did but end where it set out, 
 leaving him still a captive, galled by his chain, but 
 unable to sever one link of it effectually. 
 
 After some time thus spent in fluctuations, dis- 
 putes, and lovers' quarrels, he at length made his 
 proposals to Lord Dorchester, who received them 
 favourably, and was very gracious to him, till the 
 Grim-gribber part of the business — the portion and 
 settlements — came under consideration ; but then 
 broke off the match in great anger, on account of 
 a disagreement which subsequent events have ren- 
 dered memorable. We see how the practice of 
 a man's entailing his estate upon his eldest son 
 while as yet an unborn child, and unknown being, is 
 ridiculed in the Tatler and Spectator; whose au- 
 thors, it may be observed, had not estates to entail. 
 Mr. Wortley, who had, entertained the same opin- 
 ions. Possibly they were originally his own, and 
 promulgated by Addison and Steele at his sug- 
 gestion, for, as he always liked to think for himself, 
 many of his notions were singular and speculative. 
 However this might be, he upheld the system, and 
 acted upon it, offering to make the best provision
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 19 
 
 in his power for Lady Mary, but steadily refusing 
 to settle his landed property upon a son who, for 
 aught he knew, might prove unworthy to possess it 
 — might be a spendthrift, an idiot, or a villain. 
 
 Lord Dorchester, on the other hand, said that 
 these philosophic theories were very fine, but his 
 grandchildren should not run the risk of being left 
 beggars ; and, as he had to do with a person of no 
 common firmness, the treaty ended there. 
 
 The secret correspondence and intercourse went 
 on as before ; and shortly Lady Mary acquainted 
 her lover that she was peremptorily commanded to 
 accept the offers of another suitor ready to close 
 with all her father's terms, to settle handsome pin- 
 money, jointure, provision for heirs, and so forth ; 
 and, moreover, concede the point most agreeable to 
 herself, that of giving her a fixed establishment in 
 London, which, by-the-bye, Mr. Wortley had al- 
 ways protested against. Lord Dorchester seems to 
 have asked no questions touching her inclination in 
 either instance. A man who is now about to sell 
 an estate, seldom thinks of inquiring whether it 
 will please or displease his tenantry to be trans- 
 ferred to a new landlord ; and just as little then 
 did parents in disposing of a daughter conceive it 
 necessary to consult her will and pleasure. For a 
 young lady to interfere, or claim a right of choice, 
 was almost thought, as it is in France, a species 
 of indelicacy. Lady Mary nevertheless declared, 
 though timidly, her utter antipathy to the person 
 
 c2
 
 20 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 proposed to her. Upon this, her father summoned 
 her to his awful presence, and, after expressing sur- 
 prise at her presumption in questioning his judg- 
 ment, assured her he would not give her a single 
 sixpence if she married anybody else. She sought 
 the usual resource of poor damsels in the like case, 
 begging permission to split the difference (if we 
 may so say) by not marrying at all ; but he an- 
 swered that then she should be immediately sent to 
 a remote place in the country, reside there during 
 his life, and at his death have no portion save a 
 moderate annuity. Relying upon the effect of 
 these threats, he proceeded as if she had given her 
 fullest and freest consent ; settlements were drawn, 
 wedding-clothes bought, the day was appointed, 
 and everything made ready, when she left the 
 house to marry Mr. Wortley. 
 
 The father's rage may be imagined ; Lady 
 Frances Pierrepont, afraid it should lead him to 
 examine her sister's papers, and apprehending that 
 he might there find matter to exasperate him still 
 further, hastily burned all she could find, and 
 amongst them a diary which Lady Mary had al- 
 ready kept for some years, and was not very well 
 pleased to lose. 
 
 Soon after her marriage she resumed the prac- 
 tice of writing a journal, and persisted in it as long 
 as she lived ; communicating whtjt she wrote to 
 no person whatever. The diary of course became
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 21 
 
 voluminous. Lady Bute, who knew nothing of it 
 till it came into her possession a few days before 
 her mother's death, always kept it under lock and 
 key ; and though she often looked over it herself, 
 and would sometimes read passages from it aloud to 
 her daughters and friends, yet she never trusted any 
 part out of her own hands, excepting the five or six 
 first copy-books, which, at a late period, she per- 
 mitted one of her family to peruse alone, upon 
 condition that nothing should be transcribed. All 
 that she thus in any way imparted related to dis- 
 tant days, to transactions long since past, and peo- 
 ple of a former generation. Meanwhile she con- 
 stantly declared it was her determined resolution to 
 destroy the whole, as a sacred duty owing to the 
 deceased, whose having forgotten or neglected to 
 leave express orders for the purpose, made it only 
 the more incumbent upon her survivors. The jour- 
 nal was accordingly burned, although with evident 
 reluctance, and not till Lady Bute felt the close of 
 her life drawing near ; when the act itself sounded 
 too solemn a note of preparation for those who 
 loved her as she deserved to think of opposing it, 
 or indeed to care at all about a matter which would 
 then have seemed totally indifferent had it con- 
 cerned the finest work in the world. 
 
 Lady Bute so admired her mother's writings, 
 and took such pleasure in reading her letters to 
 persons whom she thought endowed with taste 
 enough to relish them, that it might have been
 
 22 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 licld sufficiently certain she had the most cogent 
 reasons for making what clearly appeared a sacri- 
 fice. Yet, as youth is inconsiderate, and the frag- 
 ments she did allow to be seen or heard were not 
 a little amusing, she was very often assailed with 
 intreaties to forego her design. When pressed on 
 this head, she would ask whether, supposing the 
 case one's own, one could bear the thought of 
 having every crude opinion, every transient wish, 
 every angry feeling that had flitted across one's 
 mind, exposed to the world after one was no more ? 
 And though she always spoke of Lady Mary with 
 great respect, yet it might be perceived that she 
 knew it had been too much her custom to note 
 down and enlarge upon all the scandalous rumours 
 of the day, without weighing their truth or even 
 their probability ; to record as certain facts stories 
 that perhaps sprang up like mushrooms from the 
 dirt, and had as brief an existence, but tended 
 to defame persons of the most spotless character. 
 In this age, she said, everything got into print 
 sooner or later ; the name of Lady Mary Wortley 
 would be sure to attract curiosity ; and, were such 
 details ever made public, they would neither edify 
 the world, nor do honour to her memory. These 
 were Lady Bute's arguments ; and what could any 
 one who had a sense of rectitude urge in reply ? 
 especially since it niust be acknowledged, that in 
 the volumes which she did communicate, the ear- 
 liest written, and (one may be confident) the least
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 23 
 
 exceptionable, there occasionally appeared traits of 
 satire that showed what might ensue when the 
 vexations and cares of advancing life should have 
 soured the mind, given objects a darker shade of 
 colour, and made farther demands upon a Christian 
 charity not at all likely to have increased in the 
 mean time. 
 
 These volumes comprise the years immediately 
 succeeding Lady Mary's marriage, 1713, 1714, 
 1715 ; and also the time of Mr. Wortley's em- 
 bassy. What passed every day was set down ; 
 often only in a line, or half a line, as thus : 
 " Stayed at home alone — went to such a place — 
 saw such a person :" so that frequently three or 
 four weeks took up but a single page. Sometimes, 
 again, an occurrence or a conversation would be 
 given at very great length ; sometimes dispatched 
 with one sharp sentence, like the following hu- 
 morous application of a speech in Dryden's Spa- 
 nish Friar : " Lady Hinchinbroke has a dead daugh- 
 ter — it were unchristian not to be sorry for my 
 cousin's misfortune ; but if she has no live son, Mr. 
 Wortley is heir — so there 's comfort for a Christian." 
 
 The three years previous to the embassy were 
 passed by Lady Mary in various abodes, and occa- 
 sionally apart from Mr. Wortley, while he attended 
 parliament. She was sometimes, however, though 
 seldom, in London; sometimes at Hinchinbroke, 
 the seat of Lord Sandwich; sometimes near it.
 
 24 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 ill the town of Huntingdon, for which Mr. Wort- 
 ley was memher ; but more often at hired houses 
 in Yorkshire. About the time of Queen Anne's 
 death, she dates her letters from Middlethorpe, in 
 the neighbourhood of Bishopthorpe and of York. 
 It is a mistake that she ever resided permanently 
 at WharnclifFe Lodge. Mr. Sidney Wortley Mon- 
 tagu chiefly inhabited that himself; and with him 
 his daughter Mrs. Katherine Wortley, his youngest 
 son Mr. John Montagu, his brother the Dean of 
 Durham, and the Dean's chaplain. How so many 
 people, together with their servants, could be 
 packed into so small a space will appear sufficiently 
 wonderful to those who have seen the little dwell- 
 ing ; but a couple more could hardly have been 
 stowed in by any human contrivance. 
 
 The first mention of WharnclifFe in Lady Mary's 
 journal, after calling there to visit her father-in- 
 law when on her road to some other place, was 
 very remarkable ; considering that she had hitherto 
 known only the midland counties and the environs 
 of London, and probably had never before seen 
 anything like picturesque or romantic scenery. 
 One would have supposed the first sight of so wild 
 and beautiful a prospect as that eagle's nest com- 
 mands, very sure to occasion surprise, if not excite 
 transport, in a mind gifted with the least imagina- 
 tion. But no ; nothing could be colder or more 
 slight than the notice she took of it, almost mak- 
 ing an excuse for saying thus much in its favour —
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 25 
 
 " that it was a sequestered rural spot, quite of a 
 •rude nature ; yet had something in it which she 
 owned she did not dislike, odd as her fancy might 
 appear." In after days, her letters to Mr. Wort- 
 ley do it more justice ; possibly to please him ; but 
 the journal gave the original impression, and how 
 may that be accounted for ? Can it be that the 
 tastes and pleasures which we now esteem most 
 peculiarly natural, are in fact artificial ? what we 
 have merely read, and talked, and rhymed, and 
 sketched ourselves into ? plants that require ma- 
 nure and culture, instead of sprouting freely from 
 the soil ? Certainly our forefathers were little 
 more alive to them than the American settler, who 
 sees in a wood a nuisance he must clear away, and 
 in a waterfall only the means of turning a mill. 
 Burnet, of the Charter-house, lived and wrote but 
 a few years before Lady Mary Wortley : it may be 
 remembered that his theory of the antediluvian 
 globe supposes it to have had a surface perfectly 
 flat, smooth, and level : and for this reason amongst 
 others, because the earth in its goodly pristine 
 state, the fair work of an Almighty Creator, could 
 not have been deformed by such unsightly protu- 
 berances as rocks and mountains. These were the 
 tokens of Divine wrath, vestiges of that awful con- 
 vulsion which tore the old world to pieces ; there- 
 fore we naturally regarded them with horror. His 
 hypothesis might have been the same, how contrary 
 soever the opinion of his contemporaries ; but he
 
 26 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 never would have brought this argument to sup- 
 port it, if the majority of the postdiluvians he was 
 writing to, liad, like ourselves, considered Earth's 
 protuberances as her finest features. How far 
 were they from suspecting that a future generation 
 would delight in viewing the lakes and climbing 
 the fells of Cumberland ! 
 
 To resume the journal. In the year 1713, Lady 
 Frances Pierrepont married the Earl of Mar, then 
 Secretary of State for Scotland : — a match of which 
 Lady Mary seems to have augured ill, having but 
 an indifferent opinion of him, detesting the party 
 he belonged to, and believing that her sister was 
 drawn in by the persuasion of an officious female 
 friend", — his relation. These sentiments, however, 
 were expressed without any great warmth, and not 
 as if the event interested her deeply. But the 
 death of her brother. Lord Kingston, which soon 
 followed it, does seem to have really touched her 
 heart. It gave her the greater shock, because she 
 knew nothing of the poor young man's illness until 
 he was past all hope of recovery ; for, as Lord Dor- 
 chester had not yet entirely forgiven her stolen 
 marriage, he did not allow her to have much inter- 
 course with the rest of his family. Lord Kingston, 
 who died of the small-pox under age, though al- 
 ready a husband and a father, was of a most ami- 
 able disposition, and so affectionate to her, that he 
 would have taken her part openly, and have done
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 27 
 
 every thing in his power to facilitate her marriage, 
 if the temper of Lord Dorchester had not been 
 such as to render his endeavouring to oppose him 
 more dangerous to himself than useful to his sister. 
 Her reflections on his fate were consequently very 
 bitter as well as very sorrowful ; accusing her father 
 of having blighted his youth, and destroyed all the 
 peace and happiness of his short life, by marrying 
 him to a silly, childish girl, for the sake of securing 
 her fortune, before he could judge for himself or 
 make a choice of his own. In him she appeared to 
 think she had lost her best, if not her only, natural 
 
 friend. 
 
 Whenever Lady Mary's attention was much at- 
 tracted by any report spread concerning one of her 
 acquaintance, or any incident that happened in her 
 society, a piece of good or ill fortune, a death or a 
 marriage, her journal would often branch off into 
 a kind of memoir while the subject was fresh in 
 her mind. She certainly dwelt with most com- 
 placency upon whatever afforded the groundwork 
 of a love-story, and as certainly did not spare her 
 censures where the occasion called for them. The 
 composition cost her no pains ; she had the gift of 
 writing freely in the first words that presented 
 themselves ; so that the fair pages of the diary sel- 
 dom betrayed a blot or an erasure. Both her 
 daughter and the old servant, who had often seen 
 her at her writing-desk, bore witness to this extra- 
 ordinary facility.
 
 28 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTKS. 
 
 The most interesting of the narratives was a his- 
 tory of her early companion Dolly Walpole, (as 
 she always called her,) — according to her descrip- 
 tion a beautiful, innocent, well-meaning girl, but 
 endowed with only a moderate portion of sense ; 
 giddy, thoughtless, vain, open to flattery, utterly 
 ignorant of the world ; in short, though not capa- 
 ble of acting wrong designedly, just the person, if 
 we may use the vulgar tongue, to get often mto 
 scrapes. Her eldest brother, then Mr. Walpole, 
 had brought her to London in hopes that her 
 beauty, the pride of his county, might captivate 
 something superior to a Norfolk squire. But 
 being immersed in politics, and careless of what 
 passed at home, he left her to the guidance of his 
 wife, an empty, coquettish, affected woman, any- 
 thing rather than correct in her own conduct, or 
 spotless in her fame ; greedy of admiration, and 
 extremely dissatisfied at having to share it with 
 this younger fairer inmate. In spite of her envious 
 machinations, lovers soon crowded round Dolly, 
 and one of the number presently obtained the pre- 
 ference he languished for. He had all manner of 
 good qualities, was handsome, pleasing, as passion- 
 ately in love as romance could have required, and 
 heir to a competent fortune ; but not altogether 
 his own master : he depended upon his friends. A 
 young man's friends, in this sense, meaning pa- 
 rents, guardians, old uncles, and the like, are rare- 
 ly propitious to love. As no second sight revealed
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 29 
 
 to them the long glories of Sir Robert Walpole's 
 reign, they looked solely to a matter nearer at 
 hand — Dolly's portion ; and finding that null, en- 
 tered their protest in a determined manner. Mrs. 
 Walpole triumphed ; she told tales, made mischief, 
 incited Dolly to flirt with other admirers, and 
 then lamented her fickleness and coquetry to the 
 very people who, she knew, would be sure to speed 
 the lament onward with no favourable comments. 
 Lady Mary took to herself the credit of having 
 been all this while her simple friend's protecting 
 genius ; of having often counteracted Mrs. Wal- 
 pole, and sometimes unmasked her ; given Dolly 
 the best advice, and cleared up the misunderstand- 
 ings between her and her lover that continually 
 arose from jealousy on one side and indiscretion on 
 the other. The story proceeded like its fellows in 
 the Scudery folios, with ins and outs and itps and 
 downs, more than can be remembered ; but the 
 sequel was, that the suitor, either inconstant or 
 disgusted, finally withdrew from the chase, and the 
 nymph remained disappointed and forsaken. Just 
 at this unlucky moment. Lady Mary Pierrepont 
 being absent at Thoresby, poor Dolly's evil star 
 prevailed, and, while her mind was in that depress- 
 ed, mortified state which makes us thankful to 
 anybody who will give us so much as a kind look, 
 led her into acquaintance with Lady Wharton, the 
 very worst protectress she could acquire — a woman 
 equally unfeeling and unprincipled : flattering.
 
 30 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 fawning, canting, affecting prudery and even sanc- 
 tity, yet in reality as abandoned and unscrupulous 
 as her husband himself. — So said the journal. 
 
 It is worth noting that Lady Mary Wortley, 
 who abhorred the very name of Dean Swift, should 
 yet have spoken of both Lord and Lady Wharton 
 precisely as he did. The portraits were so alike 
 that one might have been believed a copy of the 
 other. To be sure, she was (in Doctor Johnson's 
 phrase) almost as "good a hater" as the dean him- 
 self, and the diary proved it by certain passages 
 relating to Queen Anne, Mrs. Masham, and also 
 to persons obnoxious to her for private reasons : 
 but neither private nor public operated against 
 Lord Wharton, with whom she had had no quarrel, 
 who was intimate with her family and on the same 
 side with her in party ; therefore she probably only 
 echoed the general voice in pronouncing him 
 " the most profligate, impious, and shameless of 
 men.'' Dolly Walpole, however, knowing nothing 
 of any one's character, felt elated at being caressed 
 and courted by so great and good a lady as the 
 Countess of Wharton, told her all her secrets, and 
 complained to her of all her grievances. The re- 
 sult was, that after one of these confidential con- 
 versations, when Mrs. Walpole had done some- 
 thing particularly spiteful, and Mr. Walpole hap- 
 pened to be out of town, Lady Wharton pressed 
 the poor girl to leave his house for a few days and 
 pass them in hers, where she should enjoy comfort
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 31 
 
 and tranquillity. Dolly consented with joy, not in 
 the least aware that there could be any objection ; 
 and Mrs. Walpole made none, because perfectly 
 well aware, and secretly exulting in what she knew 
 likely to follow. 
 
 Now, as Lady Mary proceeded to state. Lord 
 Wharton's character was so infamous, and his 
 lady's complaisant subserviency so notorious, that 
 no young woman could be four-and-twenty hours 
 under their roof with safety to her reputation. 
 Dean Swift says nothing much stronger than this. 
 Upon Mr. Walpole's return home, enraged at find- 
 ing whither his sister had betaken herself, he flew 
 to Lord Wharton's, and, thundering for admittance, 
 demanded her aloud, regardless who might hear him. 
 My lord, not at all inclined to face him in this 
 temper, thought it safest to abscond ; so, crept pri- 
 vately out of his own house by a back-door, leaving 
 my lady to bide the pelting of the storm, pitiless 
 as it threatened to prove. Sir Robert, it is well 
 known, was at no time apt to be over delicate 
 or ceremonious : he accosted her ladyship in the 
 plainest English, bestowed upon her some signi- 
 ficant epithets, and, without listening to a word of 
 explanation, forced away his weeping sister, with 
 whom he set out for Norfolk the next morning. 
 
 Thus ended the first chapter of Dolly's adven- 
 tures ; but she was not doomed to be finally unfor- 
 tunate. After doing penance for two or three 
 years in a very dull retirement, she had the good
 
 32 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 luck to light upon a more capital prize in the 
 country than she had ever aimed at in London, 
 the person being Lord Townshend, one of the most 
 unblemished statesmen and respectable gentlemen 
 of that age. Foreign employments had kept him 
 abroad until Queen Anne's change of ministry, and 
 since that he had been a long and sincere mourner 
 for his first wife, the sister of Lord Pelham. Dolly 
 was to him therefore a new beauty, no tattle con- 
 cerning whom had ever reached his ears. Falling 
 in love at once, he proposed, she accepted, and the 
 news of the match prompted Lady Mary to sit down 
 and write her history. 
 
 This brief memoir, it is observable, furnishes a 
 clew to the origin of Horace Walpole's excessive 
 dislike of Lady Mary Wortley. His mother and 
 she had been antagonists and enemies before he 
 was born; *' car tout est reciproque" says La 
 Bruyere. We see how Lady Mary represented 
 Lady Walpole, and may take it for granted that 
 Lady Walpole did not love or spare Lady Mary ; 
 and if they continued to keep up the outward 
 forms of acquaintanceship, which of course brought 
 them often into contact, they would naturally hate 
 each other all the more. 
 
 Mr. Walpole's affection for his mother was so 
 much the most amiable point in his character, and 
 his expressions whenever he names or alludes to 
 her are so touching, come so directly and evidently
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 3^ 
 
 from the heart, that one would very fain think of 
 her as he did, and believe she had every perfec- 
 tion his partiality assigns to her. But, in truth, 
 there was a contrary version of the matter, not 
 resting solely, nor yet principally, upon the autho- 
 rity of Lady Mary Wortley. It filled so prominent 
 a place in the scandalous history of the time, that 
 the world knew as well which way Captain Lemuel 
 Gulliver was glancing when gravely vindicating 
 the reputation of my Lord Trtasurer Flimnap's 
 excellent lady, as what he meant by the red, green, 
 and blue girdles of the Lilliputian grandees, or the 
 said Flimnap's feats of agility on the tight-rope. 
 Those ironical lines also, where Pope says that Sir 
 Robert Walpole 
 
 " Had never made a friend in private life, 
 And was besides a tyrant to his wife" 
 
 are equally well understood as conveying a sly 
 allusion to his good-humoured unconcern about 
 some things which more strait-laced husbands do 
 not take so coolly. Openly laughing at their nicety, 
 he professed it his method " to go his own way, 
 and let madam go hers." In a word, Horace 
 Walpole himself was generally supposed to be the 
 son of Carr Lord Hervey,* and Sir Robert not to 
 be ignorant of it. One striking circumstance was 
 visible to the naked eye ; no beings in human shape 
 
 '" The eldest son of Jolm Hervey, first Earl of Bristol. He 
 died unmarried, and was succeeded by his half-brother, the more 
 famous Lord Hervey, the issue of his father's second marriage. 
 
 VOL. 1. D
 
 34 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 could resemble each other less than the two passing 
 for father and son ; and, while their 7'everse of per- 
 sonal likeness provoked a malicious whisper. Sir 
 Robert's marked neglect of Horace in his infancy 
 tended to confirm it. A number of children, young 
 Walpole one, were accustomed to meet and play 
 together. Such of them as, like himself, lived to 
 grow old, all united in declaring that no other boy 
 within their knowledge was left so entirely in the 
 hands of his mother, or seemed to have so little 
 acquaintance with his father ; the fact being, that 
 Sir Robert Walpole took scarcely any notice of 
 him, till his proficiency at Eton school, when a lad 
 of some standing, drew^ his attention, and proved 
 that, whether he had, or had not, a right to the 
 name he went by, he was likely to do it honour. 
 
 Though in all probability Lord Orford never sus- 
 pected that any doubt hung over his own birth, 
 yet the mortifications of his youth on his mother's 
 account could not but be severe ; for, as she lived 
 till he reached manhood, he must have known 
 how completely she was overlooked and disregard- 
 ed, though not ill treated, by her husband ; and, 
 before his tears for her loss were dried, he had the 
 pang of seeing Miss Skerritt, the rival she hated, 
 installed in her place.* That Lady Mary Wortley 
 had been the chief friend and protectress of his 
 
 * We may remark that Coxe, who wrote the Hfe of Sir 
 Robert Walpole from the information of Lord Orford, and mider 
 his direction, does not so much as name his father's second 
 marriage.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 35 
 
 stepmother, was alone enough to make him bitter 
 against her. In another instance, we must allow, 
 he showed true generosity of mind. When Sir 
 Robert Walpole, not content with publicly owning 
 his natural daughter by Miss Skerritt, stretched his 
 credit with the crown to the extent of obtaining for 
 her a rank and title till then never conferred on 
 the illegitimate offspring of any man but a prince, 
 his son Horace, instead of murmuring at it, or 
 viewing her with an evil eye, frankly opened his 
 arms to her as a sister, and so called and considered 
 her the rest of his life. 
 
 The daughter was not brought forward in this 
 manner till after the death of the mother, who en- 
 joyed her married situation a very few months. 
 But the tale the recognition told could hardly be 
 new to any one. Lady Bute never adverted to it 
 without pain and regret, having a tenderness for 
 Miss Skerritt's memory, which the recollection of 
 her many agreeable qualities, her sweetness of tem- 
 per, and fondness of herself as a child, rendered it 
 difficult to overcome. 
 
 Upon the death of Queen Anne, Mr. Wortley's 
 friends coming into power, he was appointed a Lord 
 of the Treasury. He had long been an active, effi- 
 cient member of parliament, and when he first ob- 
 tained this office, people expected that he would 
 have a considerable sway in the new King's coun- 
 sels : for a reason which will now seem rather sur- 
 
 D 2
 
 36 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 prising, — he was the only man at the board (ex- 
 cepting perhaps Lord Halifax) who could converse 
 with his Majesty, because the only one who spoke 
 French ; consequently much of the business must 
 have gone through his hands, if the sovereign, like 
 his predecessors, William and Anne, had assisted 
 in person at the meetings of the commissioners. 
 But George the First leaving finance affairs and 
 all others to be managed as his ministers pleased, 
 Mr. Wortley had no more personal intercourse 
 with him than the rest. Lady Mary presently 
 attracted his notice, and likewise that of the Prince 
 of Wales (George the Second). By her journal, 
 indeed, it might have been imagined that the latter 
 admired her rather more than the Princess (though 
 usually far from jealous) could quite approve. For 
 once, in a rapture, he called her royal highness 
 from the card-table to look how becomingly Lady 
 Mary was dressed ! " Lady Mary always dresses 
 well," said the Princess drily, and returned to her 
 cards. However, his favour was soon withdrawn, 
 and hers regained. The father and son were al- 
 ready, almost at their first setting out, upon such 
 hostile terms, that, the moment the Prince heard 
 of Lady Mary's having been at one of the King's 
 select parties, he grew not only cool but resentful, 
 taunting her as a deserter gone over to the enemy's 
 camp ; and thenceforward she dressed becomingly 
 in vain. An increase of graciousness on the part 
 of the Princess made her amends.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 37 
 
 A former edition tells us, " that the court of 
 George the First was modelled upon that of Louis 
 the Fifteenth." A whimsical model ! Since Louis 
 was about seven years old when George, a man near 
 sixty, ascended the British throne. One would 
 think Louis the Four^teeiith must have been the 
 person meant, but that the retired habits of the 
 English monarch accorded no better with the 
 stately ceremonial of the elder French one, than 
 with the amusements and regulations of his great- 
 grandson's nursery. George the First went to the 
 play or opera in a sedan-chair, and sate, like an- 
 other gentleman, in the corner of a lady's (a Ger- 
 man lady's) box, with a couple of Turks in waiting 
 instead of lords and grooms of the bedchamber. In 
 one respect his court, if court it could be called, 
 bore some resemblance to the old establishment of 
 Versailles. There was a Madame de Maintenon. 
 Two ladies had accompanied him from Hanover, 
 Mademoiselle de Schulenberg, and Madame Kil- 
 mansegg, nee Platen. The former, whom he cre- 
 ated Duchess of Kendal, was lodged in St. James's 
 Palace, and had such respect paid her as very much 
 confirmed the rumour of a left-hand marriage. 
 She presided at the King's evening parties, consist- 
 ing of the Germans who formed his familiar society, 
 a few English ladies, and fewer English men : 
 among them Mr. Craggs, the Secretary of State, 
 who had been at Hanover in the Queen's time, and 
 by thus having the entree in private, passed for a 
 sort of favourite.
 
 38 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 Lady Mary's journal related a ridiculous adven- 
 ture of her own at one of these royal parties ; 
 which, by-the-bye, stood in great need of some 
 laughing-matter to enliven them, for they seem to 
 have been even more dull than it was reasonable 
 to expect they should be. She had on one evening 
 a particular engagement that made her wish to be 
 dismissed unusually early ; she explained her rea- 
 sons 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 bat- 
 tling the point afresh, declaring it was unfair and 
 perfidious to cheat him in such a manner, and 
 saying many 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 full speed with her up-stairs, deposit- 
 ed 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,
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 39 
 
 and, before she had recovered her breath, she found 
 herself again in the King's presence. *' Ah ! la 
 re-voilar 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 !" 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 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 
 any one 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 V 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, reco- 
 vering his self-possession, answered with a low bow.
 
 40 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 " There is nothing I would not do for your Majes- 
 ty's satisfaction." This was coming off tolerably 
 well ; but he did not forgive the tell-tale culprit, 
 in whose ear, watching his opportunity when the 
 King turned from them, he muttered a bitter re- 
 proach, 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." 
 
 The name of George the First recalls a remark- 
 able anecdote of his mother, the Princess Sophia, 
 which Mr. Wortley and Lady Mary heard from 
 Lord Halifax. When he and Lord Dorset were 
 dispatched by the Whig administration upon the 
 welcome errand of announcing to her the act of par- 
 liament, that secured the Hanover succession, at 
 the same time carrying the garter to the Electoral 
 Prince, her grandson, they were received, as may 
 be supposed, with every mark of distinction. At 
 their first formal audience, as they commenced a 
 set speech, after delivering their credentials, the 
 old Electress, who was standing, gave a kind of 
 start, and almost i^an to one corner of the room, 
 where, fixing her back against the wall, she re- 
 mained stiff and erect as if glued to it, till the 
 ceremony ended, and they withdrew. Her beha- 
 viour being in all other respects very dignified and 
 decorous, they were at a loss to divine what could 
 have occasioned this extraordinary move, and very 
 curious to discover the meaning of it ; a secret
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 41 
 
 which Lord Halifax at length got at, by dint of 
 sifting and cross-questioning her courtiers. She 
 had suddenly recollected that there hung in that 
 room a picture of her cousin, the Pretender, and, 
 in a fright lest it should catch their eyes, could hit 
 upon no expedient to hide it but by screening it 
 with her own person. The good Princess, how- 
 ever, was not in the least disloyal to herself; she 
 harboured no dislike to the prospect of a crown, 
 nor any scruples about accepting it ; but, neverthe- 
 less, valuing her Stuart- descent, she had a family 
 feeling for the young man, whom she firmly be- 
 lieved to be as much James the Second's son, as 
 George the First was her own. That is to say, 
 she was what at the time all England would have 
 styled " a lYink Jacobite" 
 
 The only event particularly interesting to Lady 
 Mary that seems to have taken place between the 
 King's accession and her journey to Constantinople 
 was the marriage of her father, now Duke of King- 
 ston, to " the fair Isabella," as she is called in 
 the journal ; in common speech. Lady Belle Ben- 
 tinck, the youngest daughter of the late Earl of 
 Portland, King William's favourite. She was one of 
 the most admired beauties in London, and had long 
 been the object of his grace's pursuit. Her pre- 
 vious history supplied the diary with a romantic 
 tale, but Lady Mary did not pretend that it had 
 come under her own cognisance, like Dolly Wal-
 
 42 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 pole's, or say from what authority she gave it. 
 The heads of it were, a passion for a younger lover, 
 and the combats and conflicts of love on one side, 
 with interest and ambition on the other ; until 
 these latter, gaining a complete victory, made the 
 offers of a man who had three married daughters 
 older than the lady herself appear too tempting to 
 be refused. It is needless to add that Lady Mary 
 was free from any partial feeling towards a mother- 
 in-law who, as she supposed, aimed straight at 
 becoming a rich widow. If so, she had not the 
 happiness of being one long ; for, notwithstanding 
 the disparity of their ages, she survived her hus- 
 band but two years. He died in 1726 ; Lady Bute 
 remembered having seen him once only, but that 
 in a manner likely to leave some impression on the 
 mind of a child. Her mother was dressing, and she 
 playing about the room, when there entered an 
 elderly stranger (of dignified appearance, and still 
 handsome) with the authoritative air of a person 
 entitled to admittance at all times ; upon which, 
 to her great surprise. Lady Mary instantly starting 
 up from the toilet-table, dishevelled as she was, 
 fell on her knees to ask his blessing. A proof that 
 even in the great and gay world this primitive cus- 
 tom was still universal. 
 
 Lady Bute witnessed the observance of another, 
 now obsolete, in the ceremony that her grandfather's 
 widow had to go through soon after his funeral 
 was over. It behoved her to see company ; that is.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 43 
 
 to receive in person the compliments of condolence 
 which every lady on her grace's visiting list was 
 bound to tender, in person likewise. And this was 
 the established form : the apartments, the stair- 
 case, and all that could be seen of the house, were 
 hung with black cloth ; the Duchess, closely veiled 
 with crape, sate upright in her state-bed under 
 a high black canopy ; and at the foot of the bed 
 stood ranged, like a row of mutes in a tragedy, the 
 grandchildren of the deceased Duke — Lady Frances 
 Pierrepont, Miss Wortley herself, and Lady Gower's 
 daughters. Profound silence reigned : the room had 
 no light but from a single wax taper ; and the con- 
 doling visiters, who curtseyed in and out of it, ap- 
 proached the bed on tiptoe ; if relations, all, down 
 to the hundredth cousin, in black-glove-mourning 
 for the occasion. 
 
 We may perceive from this that Sir Richard 
 Steele's comedy of the *' Funeral" contained no ex- 
 aggeration. Nor was the custom of putting houses 
 into mourning for their defunct owners confined 
 to the great. In the supposed letter of Partridge 
 the astrologer, the undertaker, concluding that 
 " the doctor must needs have died rich," sets 
 about measuring the wainscot, and says, " Let 's 
 see : the passage and these two rooms hung in 
 close mourning, with a stripe of black baize round 
 the others, will be sufficient." How a miser must 
 have grudged the expense of dying !
 
 44 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 It has been already said that the volumes con- 
 taining- Lady Mary Wortley's journal while in 
 Turkey were among those which Lady Bute trusted 
 one of her family to peruse alone. This portion of 
 her diary was retained some time, compared with 
 the printed letters, and examined with very great 
 attention. It proved, as far as what we may call a 
 negative can be proved, that the story, so generally 
 prevalent, of Lady Mary's having had admittance 
 into the Seraglio, was totally false and groundless. 
 In those pages intended to meet no eye but her 
 own, — where, as in the preceding volumes, every 
 event was set down day by day, every day ac- 
 counted for, however briefly, every place she went 
 to specified, — not one word denoted, not a myste- 
 rious or ambiguous expression left the least room to 
 surmise, that she had ever set her foot within the 
 walls of the Sultan's palace, either at Adrianople or 
 Constantinople ; nay, that she had ever sought to 
 do it, or ever thought of it as a thing practicable. 
 The respectable gentleman who edited her works in 
 1803, was no way to blame for having adopted a 
 notion which he found commonly received by the 
 world ; yet it would appear strange, if we did not 
 know the power of prejudice, that his prepossessions 
 on the subject could make him fancy he saw in the 
 printed letters, which had lain so long under every 
 body's eyes, what was not there. " Many people 
 (he says) were at first inclined to doubt the possibi- 
 lity of her acquiring the kind of information she has
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 45 
 
 given respecting the interior of the Haram;" — re- 
 specting which, the Royal Haram, she has given no 
 information of any kind, excepting what she ob- 
 tained from the Sultana Hafiten. Nobody can 
 doubt the possibility of one person's hearing what 
 another says ; and her words are, " I did not omit 
 the opportunity of learning all I possibly could about 
 the Seraglio, which is so entirely unknown among 
 us." In none of her letters, saving that where this 
 visit is described, does she so much as mention, 
 or allude to, the interior of the Seraglio. At 
 Adrianople she writes, '' The Seraglio does not 
 seem a very magnificent palace ; but the gardens 
 are large, plentifully supplied with water, and full 
 of trees ; which is all I know of them, never havino- 
 been in them.'" Again, at Constantinople : " I have 
 taken care to see as much of the Seraglio as is to be 
 seen ; — it is 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" Do not these two paragraphs say 
 the self-same thing ? viz. that she knew nothing 
 of either building but the outside ? Yet this note 
 is appended to the latter : " It is evident that 
 Lady Mary did not mean to assert that she had 
 seen the interior of the Seraglio at Constantinople. 
 She had certainly seen that at Adrianople ! I !" 
 
 But let us hear the testimony of the natives ; 
 first taking into our account the wide difference 
 of their position in the beginning and at the close
 
 46 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 of the last century. Mr. Wortlcy's embassy found 
 the Turks in full power and pride. Their arms 
 had driven the Venetians out of Greece. Peter 
 the Great of Russia, hemmed in with his whole 
 army by that of the Grand Vizier, had been re- 
 duced to buy the permission of making a safe re- 
 treat. The hero of Europe, Charles the Twelfth, 
 had become their suppliant, their pensioner, and, 
 finally, their captive. At that period they dis- 
 dained to send ambassadors to any foreign court, 
 and affected to regard those sent to them, either 
 as mere commercial agents, or as the bearers of 
 homage from their respective sovereigns. In 1799, 
 we saw a Turkish ambassador smoking his pipe in 
 the garden of Portman Square. The Ottoman 
 empire, curtailed, humbled, dejected, despoiled of 
 whole provinces by Russia, about to have the 
 fairest of those remaining wrested from it by Buo- 
 naparte, was lying, " like a sick fallen beast," at 
 the feet of England. Was this a time for the 
 Porte to refuse a favour which it had freely grant- 
 ed in its haughtier days ? Yet, when the English 
 ambassadress asked leave to visit the ladies of the 
 Seraglio, it was peremptorily denied, as contrary to 
 the fundamental rules of their monarchy. 
 
 The customs of the East are known to be un- 
 changeable, and more respected by the oriental 
 nations than our laws by us. The usage debarring 
 any foreign minister's wife from entering the Royal 
 Haram, was of this nature ; held too sacred for the
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 47 
 
 Grand Signer himself to infringe. Lady Mary 
 Wortley's example being pleaded, the Turks, male 
 and female, laughed at the story as a ridiculous 
 fable, invented by some one grossly ignorant of 
 their manners ; and declared that if she herself said 
 she was ever in the Seraglio of Achmet the Third, 
 she told a falsehood which only Frankish credulity 
 could believe. Shortly afterwards, on the news of 
 our success in Egypt, the Valida or queen-mother, 
 by an act of condescension till then unknown, con- 
 sented to give the ambassadress an audience, — 
 but not within the Seraglio, that could not be. 
 She removed for the purpose into a palace of her 
 own quite apart from it, and there the ceremony 
 passed. 
 
 The belief which these impartial judges laughed 
 to scorn, did, as they said, take its rise from a fable; 
 an absurd, but also a malicious tale, fabricated 
 some time after Lady Mary's return to England. 
 She alludes to it with contempt in a letter written 
 from Florence, and imputes its invention to the 
 malignity of Pope ; whether justly or not, is no- 
 thing to our present purpose. This letter being 
 one of those published in an additional volume in 
 1767, and rejected in the edition of 1803, from 
 a doubt of their authenticity, it may be proper to 
 state why they are reprinted here. In Lady Bute's 
 life-time, a person who had heard that there was 
 such a doubt, yet thought their style and spirit 
 spoke them genuine, begged her to decide the
 
 48 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 question. She sent for the book, and, after turning 
 over half a dozen pages, exclaimed, " Genuine be- 
 yond all dispute ;" a sentence she confirmed as 
 she went on, saying of one letter in particular, 
 " I am as sure my mother wrote this as if I had 
 seen the pen in her hand." 
 
 During Lady Mary's travels she copied into her 
 diary the letters of Pope and Congreve as she 
 received them ; and it contained the whole sub- 
 stance of her own, meaning of those printed in 
 1763. The descriptions of her journey, of the 
 court and society of Vienna, of inoculation, of 
 Fatima, of the Sultana Hafiten, of the antiquities, 
 baths, mosques, janissaries, effendis, &c. &c. were 
 all there ; sometimes more difFusedly given, but 
 oftener in the very same words. It seemed her 
 custom to note every thing down without a moment's 
 delay ; and then, when she wrote a letter, to tran- 
 scribe from the journal the passages she thought 
 fittest to be communicated to her friends, or, one 
 may say, to the world. For, although she did not 
 design the correspondence for publication while 
 she was living, she had it copied, and allowed many 
 people to read it. The diary of course contained 
 farther details; but the cream having been skimmed 
 for the letters, the rest was not very interesting or 
 important. No Valida ever was named, therefore 
 the princess represented by Voltaire as so active 
 in befriending Charles the Twelfth had probably 
 died before Mr. Wortley's arrival at her son's
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 49 
 
 court. Upon the whole Lady Mary led a retired 
 life most of the time she passed in that country. 
 
 It is known that when on her way to die, as it 
 proved, in her own, she gave a copy of the letters 
 to Mr. Sowden, minister of the English church at 
 Rotterdam, attesting the gift by her signature. 
 This showed it was her wish that they should even- 
 tually be published ; but Lady Bute, hearing only 
 that a number of her mother's letters were in a 
 stranger's hands, and having no certainty what 
 they might be, to whom addressed, or how little 
 of a private nature, could not but earnestly desire 
 to obtain them, and readily paid the price demand- 
 ed, — five hundred pounds. In a few months she 
 saw them appear in print. Such was the fact ; and 
 how it came about, nobody at this time of day need 
 either care or inquire. 
 
 The first editor of these letters — a Mr. Cleland 
 as it is supposed, or whoever else he might be, — 
 ascribes the preface, dated in 1724, and signed 
 M.A., to a lady of quality, whom he terms ** the 
 fair and elegant prefacer :" epithets most unluckily 
 chosen, unless the lovers of Jine style hold them as 
 inseparably annexed to a petticoat, as, in parlia- 
 mentary language, 'honourable' is to an M.P. This 
 fair and elegant lady of quality was no less a person 
 than Mistress Mary Astell, of learned memory, the 
 Madonella of the Tatler, a very pious, exemplary 
 woman, and a profound scholar, but as far from 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 INTllODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 fair and elegant as any old schoolmaster of her 
 time : in outward form, indeed, rather ill-favom'ed 
 and forbidding, and of a Immour to have repulsed 
 the compliment roughly, had it been paid her 
 while she lived. For she regarded such common- 
 place phrases as insults in disguise, impertinently 
 offered by men through a secret persuasion that 
 all women were fools. She may be thought to 
 have dealt in wholesale praise herself, but her en- 
 comiums, though excessive, were sincere ; she was 
 an enthusiast, not a flatterer, and felt for Lady 
 Mary Wortley that fond partiality which old people 
 of ardent tempers sometimes entertain for a rising 
 genius in their own line. Literature had been 
 hers ; and she triumphed in Lady Mary's talents 
 as proofs of what it was her first wish to demon- 
 strate, namely, the mental equality of the sexes ; 
 if not the superiority of woman to man. Many a 
 tract have the worms long ago eaten, or the pastry- 
 cooks demolished, in which she laid down this 
 doctrine ; exposing the injustice and tyranny of 
 one sex, and maintaining the capacity of the other, 
 if allowed fair play, for the highest attainments. 
 But, like most people who are bent upon establish- 
 ing a theory which they know others will contro- 
 vert, and suspect they may laugh at, she often 
 wrote herself into a passion as she went on, 
 and made more free with the words jackanapes, 
 puppy, booby, and blockhead, than we should think 
 becoming in a fair and elegant authoress at present.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 51 
 
 Among Lady Mary Wortley's books there was 
 one of these treatises, splendidly bound, and in- 
 scribed " From the Author." The language of it 
 was coarse but forcible, Mrs. Astell's wrath and 
 zeal and spite against saucy mankind comically 
 bitter, and her indignation excessive at the eager- 
 ness of foolish womankind to get husbands ; but for 
 which unaccountable weakness, she felt assured that 
 a new leaf might be turned over and the tyrants 
 be brought to confusion. This sentence is recol- 
 lected : " If a young fellow do but know enough 
 to keep himself clean, you shall have him thinking 
 forsooth that he may pretend to a woman of the 
 best quality and understanding." And when by 
 chance the clean men succeeded better with the 
 high and wise women than their presumption de- 
 served — an accident which will now and then hap- 
 pen — it was matter of positive pain and grief to 
 her righteous spirit. 
 
 The tract in question, long out of print and for- 
 gotten, could hardly have been known to Mary 
 Wolstonecroft ; yet it so resembled her " Rights of 
 Women," that the effect was ludicrous, considering 
 how directly the two ladies were contrasted in 
 character, principles, and practice : the ancient 
 championess of the sex being a devout Christian, 
 a flaming high-church-woman, deeply read in abs- 
 truse divinity, strictly virtuous, and eminently 
 loyal ; the modern one, if we may trust her hus- 
 band's report and her own, the reverse of all these 
 
 E 2
 
 52 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 things. This however enabled her to take the 
 field unincumbered with some difficulties which 
 must have shackled her forerunner ; for instance, 
 certain passages in the third chapter of Genesis, 
 such as. He shall rule over thee. 
 
 How Mrs. Astell got over these is not remem- 
 bered ; but assuredly it could not be, like the free- 
 thinking Mary, by contemning their authority. 
 Whatever were her foibles and prejudices, her 
 piety was genuine, fervent and humble : cordially 
 loving as well as admiring Lady Mary Wortley, she 
 had nothing so much at heart as to promote her 
 spiritual welfare, and turn her attention from the 
 vanities of this world to the chief concern of ac- 
 countable beings. 
 
 One day, after a serious discussion of some reli- 
 gious subject, very eagerly pursued on Mrs. Astell's 
 side, she paused, and, gazing at Lady Mary with 
 melancholy earnestness, said impressively, " My 
 days are numbered : I am old ; that you know ; 
 but I now tell you in confidence, I have a mortal 
 disease which must soon bring me to the grave. I 
 go hence, I humbly trust in Christ, to a state of 
 happiness ; and if departed spirits be permitted to 
 revisit tlwse whom they have loved on earth, re- 
 member I make you a solemn promise that mine 
 shall appear to you, and confirm the truth of all I 
 have been saying." — Surely a most affecting proof 
 of true and tender friendship, whether the forming 
 such an intention be thought presumptuous or par-
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 53 
 
 donable. A few weeks afterwards she died (of a 
 cancer) ; but Lady Mary said the awful apparition 
 never came. 
 
 One word more of Mrs. Astell, although she 
 may have already engrossed too many. Lady 
 Mary Wortley had what we should now call an 
 album, a book of poetical scraps, ballads, epigrams, 
 elegies, lampoons, the floating ephemera of the mo- 
 ment ; almost all collected previously to the year 
 1730. Amongst these was the following Ode to 
 Friendship, addressed to herself by Mrs. Mary 
 Astell. 
 
 Friendship! peculiar gift of Heav'n, 
 
 The noble mind's delight and pride, 
 To Wortley and to angels giv'n, 
 
 To all the lower world denied : 
 
 While Love, unknown among the blest, 
 
 Parent of rage and hot desire, 
 The human and the savage breast 
 
 Inflames alike, with equal fire. 
 
 W^ith bright but oft destructive gleam 
 
 Alike o'er all his lightnings fly ; 
 Thy lambent glories only beam 
 
 Around the fav'rites of the sky. 
 
 Thy gentle flow of guiltless joys 
 
 On fools and villains ne'er descend : 
 In vain for thee the monarch sighs 
 
 Who hugs a flatt'rer for a friend. 
 
 When virtues, kindred virtues meet, 
 
 And sister-sou]s together join, 
 Thy pleasures, lasting as they're sweet, 
 
 Are all transporting, all divine.
 
 54 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 Oh ! may this flame ne'er cease to glow 
 
 Till you to happier seats remove I 
 What raised your virtue here below 
 
 Shall aid your happiness above. 
 
 The reader will perceive that this is the same 
 ode which, with some variations for the better, 
 Boswell has given us as written at an early age by 
 Dr. Johnson. Query, which of these two conscien- 
 tious people, the Doctor or Mrs. Astell, could be 
 guilty of purloining their neighbour's goods and 
 passing them off for their own ? And also, the dif- 
 ference of ages and distance of abodes considered, 
 what breeze could have wafted the stanzas of the 
 one into the scrutoire of the other ? The senti- 
 ments undoubtedly seem better suited to an aus- 
 tere maiden gentlewoman, ever the sworn foe of 
 Love, than to a stripling at the time of life when 
 *' that hoy and that hoy's deeds" (as lately sang Sir 
 James Bland Burgess) are seldom held in any great 
 abhorrence. Not that we dare build upon this ar- 
 gument, because many young people will defy him 
 stoutly before they have the misfortune to make his 
 acquaintance. But dates, as Johnson himself would 
 have said, are stubborn things. Boswell tells us 
 that this ode was first published in the year 1743. 
 Now Mrs. Astell had then been dead twelve years ; 
 and, since her ghost never did pay Lady Mary 
 Wortley a visit, it is to be presumed she gave 
 her the verses while she was alive. In short, the 
 pro and con. of the affair might find the Gentle-
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 55 
 
 man's Magazine in matter of controversy for a 
 twelvemonth. 
 
 Lady Mary's introduction of inoculation on her 
 return from the East, is a subject of far greater im- 
 portance. The small pox was a disorder which she 
 had sufficient reason to dread : it carried off her 
 only brother, and had visited her so severely that 
 she always said she meant the Flavia of her sixty 
 Town-Eclogue for herself, having expressed in that 
 poem what her own sensations were while slowly 
 recovering under the apprehension of being totally 
 disfigured. Although this did not happen, yet the 
 disease left tokens of its passage, for it deprived 
 her of very fine eye-lashes ; which gave a fierceness 
 to her eyes that impaired their beauty. Former 
 sufferings and mortifications therefore, she acknow- 
 ledged, led her to observe the Turkish invention 
 with particular interest ; but only the higher mo- 
 tive of hoping to save numberless lives could have 
 given her courage to resolve upon bringing home 
 the discovery. For what an arduous, what a fearful, 
 and, we may add, what a thankless enterprise it 
 was, nobody is now in the least aware. Those who 
 have heard her applauded for it ever since they 
 were born, and have also seen how joyfully vaccina- 
 tion was welcomed in their own days, may natu- 
 rally conclude that when once the experiment had 
 been made, and had proved successful, she could 
 have nothing to do but to sit down triumphant.
 
 ryQ INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 and receive the thanks and blessings of her coun- 
 trymen. But it was far otherwise. The age she 
 belonged to resembled Farmer Goodenough in 
 Miss Edgeworth's popular tale "The Will," who 
 sets his face doggedly against all changes, innova- 
 tions, and improvements, no matter what. How 
 like ours may peradventure be to the same author's 
 Marvel, ever prone to run headlong after every 
 new device, no matter what, we will not inquire. 
 Lady Mary protested that in the four or five years 
 immediately succeeding her arrival at home, she 
 seldom passed a day without repenting of her patri- 
 otic undertaking; and she vowed that she never 
 would have attempted it if she had foreseen the 
 vexation, the persecution, and even the obloquy it 
 brought upon her. The clamours raised against 
 the practice, and of course against her, were beyond 
 belief. The faculty all rose in arms to a man, 
 foretelling failure and the most disastrous conse- 
 quences ; the clergy descanted from their pulpits 
 on the impiety of thus seeking to take events out 
 of the hand of Providence ; the common people 
 were taught to hoot at her as an unnatural mother, 
 who had risked the lives of her own children. And 
 notwithstanding that she soon gained many sup- 
 porters amongst the higher and more enlightened 
 classes, headed by the Princess of Wales (Queen 
 Caroline), who stood by her firmly, some even of 
 her acquaintance were weak enough to join in the 
 outcry.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 57 
 
 We now read in grave medical biography that 
 the discovery was instantly hailed, and the method 
 adopted, by the principal members of that profes- 
 sion. Very likely they left this recorded ; for 
 whenever an invention or a project — and the same 
 may be said of persons — has made its way so well 
 by itself as to establish a certain reputation, most 
 people are sure to find out that they always pa- 
 tronized it from the beginning : and a happy gift 
 of forgetfulness enables many to believe their own 
 assertion. But what said Lady Mary of the actual 
 fact and actual time ? Why that the four great 
 physicians deputed by government to watch the 
 progress of her daughter's inoculation, betrayed not 
 only such incredulity as to its success, but such an 
 unwillingness to have it succeed, such an evident 
 spirit of rancour and malignity, that she never 
 cared to leave the child alone with them one se- 
 cond, lest it should in some secret way suffer from 
 their interference. 
 
 Lady Bute herself could partly confirm her 
 mother's account by her own testimony, for after- 
 wards the battle was often fought in her presence. 
 As inoculation gained ground, all who could make 
 or claim the slightest acquaintance with Lady Mary 
 Wortley used to beg for her advice and superintend- 
 ence while it was going on in their families ; and 
 she constantly carried her little daughter along with 
 her to the house, and into the sick room, to prove 
 her security from infection.
 
 58 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 A child, especially a solitary child, if intelligent, 
 attends to what passes before it, much earlier and 
 more heedfully than people imagine. From six 
 years old upwards. Lady Bute could see the sig- 
 nificant shrugs of the nurses and servants, and ob- 
 serve the looks of dislike they cast at her mother. 
 She also overheard anxious parents repeating to 
 Lady Mary the arguments that had been used to 
 deter them from venturing upon the trial ; and 
 aunts and grandmothers, in the warmth of their 
 zeal against it, quoting the opinion of this doctor 
 or that apothecary. All which, well remembered, 
 enabled her to conceive how strong were the pre- 
 judices it originally had to encounter. 
 
 It may be urged with some justice that the 
 obstinacy of Farmer Goodenough produced one ex- 
 cellent effect : the matter was, in Chaucer's words, 
 " boulted to the bran;" it underwent a far more 
 severe and thorough investigation, than if it had 
 been at first received with open arms, or suffered to 
 pass with less opposition. But what will be does 
 not alter what is ; and Lady Mary was surely par- 
 donable for sometimes regretting that the pro- 
 spect of future good to the world at large had 
 induced her to incur present personal evil. 
 
 Perhaps it will not be straying too widely from 
 the subject to mention here a remarkable passage 
 in the life of Lady Mary Wortley's grandson, 
 William Stuart, the late Primate of Ireland. Dur-
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 56 
 
 ing the long time that he was only vicar of Luton 
 in Bedfordshire, a malignant small-pox broke out 
 in that neighbourhood, almost equal, upon a smaller 
 scale, to some of the pestilences recorded in history. 
 The mortality increased so fast, and the minds of 
 the country people were so distracted with terror, 
 that he at length, taking his resolution, offered to 
 have every person who was still uninfected inocu- 
 lated at his own expense. 
 
 A religious scruple lingered yet among the dis- 
 senters, who were very numerous in that parish and 
 those adjoining ; but excessive apprehension over- 
 came it: they, like the rest, crowded to signify their 
 assent, and within a fortnight above two thousand 
 persons of all ages underwent the operation. Mr. 
 Stuart stood alone without coadjutor or adviser ; 
 his family, who were at a distance, knew nothing of 
 the transaction ; he had only a country practitioner 
 and country nurses to depend upon ; add to this, 
 that it was impossible such a number of patients 
 could all be duly prepared or properly attended 
 to ; neither persuasion, intreaties, nor authority, 
 could make the poor always observe the directions 
 he gave them ; and some, whom he would fain have 
 deterred on account of their advanced age or sickly 
 habits, would run the risk in spite of his prohibition. 
 Yet it pleased God to grant him complete success. 
 Very few difficult cases occurred, and only three 
 people died ; an infirm unhealthy woman, a man 
 past eighty years old, and an infant whose mother
 
 60 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 afterwards confessed she knew it had ah-eady caught 
 the disease, which in her ignorance she supposed 
 inoculation was to cure. To crown all, for several 
 succeeding years the small-pox scarcely re-appeared 
 in that district. But when his parishioners were 
 safe, Mr. Stuart himself began to sink under all 
 that he had suffered in body and mind. The exer- 
 tions daily and nightly required to supply what was 
 wanted and overlook what was passing, (often at a 
 considerable distance,) made his fatigues very se- 
 vere ; but the deep feeling of responsibility, and 
 the anxiety which he had to stifle and keep con- 
 cealed, whatever the effort might cost, were a 
 thousand times more oppressive. Many months 
 elapsed before he recovered his former health and 
 spirits. — This digression the reader must forgive. 
 
 The next point of much consequence in Lady 
 Mary Wortley's history is her quarrel with Pope. 
 If this had made less noise and been less canvassed, 
 it would be desirable to pass it by unnoticed ; for 
 when two persons of distinguished ability misem- 
 ploy their talents and degrade themselves by striv- 
 ing to vilify each other, the honest part of their 
 admirers must feel more inclination to avert their 
 eyes from the conflict than to engage in it as par- 
 tisans of either. Her own statement, however, was 
 this ; that at some ill chosen time, when she least 
 expected what romances call a declaration, he made 
 such passionate love to her, as, in spite of her
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 61 
 
 utmost endeavours to be angry and look grave, pro- 
 voked an immoderate fit of laughter ; from which 
 moment he became her implacable enemy. 
 
 When we see how a personal defect, compara- 
 tively trifling, weighed upon Lord Byron's mind, 
 and, by his own avowal, warped his character, we 
 cannot wonder that a temper so irritable as Pope's 
 should have winced at being reminded of his ex- 
 treme deformity more forcibly than by a thousand 
 words. Doubtless, too, his vanity had taken as 
 encouragement her permitting him to write her 
 love-letters — i. e. letters commonly so called, ex- 
 pressive neither of passion, nor affection, nor any 
 natural feeling whatsoever ; tissues of far-fetched 
 conceits and extravagant compliments ; the prose 
 counterparts of those love-verses which Dr. John- 
 son christened metaphysicah But let it be observed, 
 in justice to Lady Mary's taste, that her answers 
 treat this kind of language with tacit contempt. 
 Viewing it probably with the widow in Hudibras, 
 as only " high-heroic fustian," she returns him 
 a recital of some plain matter of fact, and never 
 takes the smallest notice of protestation or pane- 
 gyric. 
 
 Pope certainly thought that ladies could not 
 be addressed without these flourishes, or in any 
 simpler style than that of Balzac and Voiture, then 
 the received models of letter-writing. To men 
 he wrote differently ; yet surely his letters, even to 
 them, to his intimate friends, smell of the lamp.
 
 62 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 uiul bear tlie marks of study and composition as 
 visibly as his most finished poems. 
 
 Alas ! — is all that can be said about the warfare 
 that followed. It is to be hoped that Lady Mary 
 had little share in the " Verses to the Imitator 
 of Horace," and some others which shall not be 
 reprinted in this edition.* If they were chiefly 
 
 * Since the publication of the first edition of these anecdotes, 
 the Editor has been most kindly permitted by Mrs. Baillie, the 
 widow of the late celebrated physician, to make use of three 
 letters from Lady Mary to Dr. Arbuthnot, now in her pos- 
 session, which refer to the share which Lady Mary had in these 
 verses, and to Pope's having alluded to her under the name of 
 Sappho. 
 
 Sir, — I have this minute received y"" letter, and cannot 
 
 remember I ever was so much surpris'd in my life ; the whole 
 
 contents of it being matter of astonishment. I give you sincere 
 
 and hearty thanks for y"" intelligence, and the obliging manner 
 
 of it. I have ever valu'd you as a gentleman both of sense and 
 
 merit, and will join with you in any method you can contrive to 
 
 prevent or punish y* authors of so horrid a vilainy. I am with 
 
 much esteem, 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 Oct. 17. M. WORTLEY M. 
 
 Sir, — Since I saw you I have made some enquiries, and heard 
 more, of the story you was so kind to mention to me. I am 
 told Pope has had the surprising impudence to assert he can 
 bring y'' 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 skillful in counterfeiting hands, I suppose he will not confine 
 that great talent to y*" gratifying his malice, but take some 
 occasion to increase his fortune by the same method, and I may 
 hope (by such practices) to see him exalted according to his 
 merit, which nobody will rejoice at more than myselfe. I beg
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 63 
 
 Lord Hervey's, they have no business here ; and, at 
 any rate, are better forgotten than remembered. 
 
 The readers of Dr Johnson will recollect this 
 passage in his Life of Pope : " The table (Lord Ox- 
 
 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 barbarous a 
 maner. I can assure you (in particular) you named a lady to 
 me (as abused in this libel) whose name I never heard before, 
 and as I never had any acquaintance 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 y^ whole 
 is a contrivance of Pope's to blast the reputation of one who 
 never injured him. I am not more sensible of his injustice 
 than I am, sir, of your candour, generosity, and good sense 
 I have found in you, which has obliged me to be with a very 
 uncommon warmth your real friend, and I heartily wish for an 
 oportunity of shewing I am so more effectually than by sub- 
 scribing myselfe your very 
 
 Humble servant, 
 
 (No date.) M. Wortley Montagu. 
 
 Sir, — I have perused the last lampoon of your ingenious 
 friend, and am not surpris'd you did not find me out under the 
 name of Sapho, because there is notlijng I ever heard in our 
 characters or circumstances to make a paralell, 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 y^ verses to the imitator of Horace. Now I can 
 assure him they 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
 
 64 INTllODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 ford's) was infested by Lady Mary Wortley, who 
 was the friend of Lady Oxford, and who, knowing 
 his peevishness, could by no intreaties be restrained 
 
 would advise poor Pope to turn to some more honest livelihood 
 than libelling ; I know he will alledge 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. Can any 
 thing be more detestable than his abusing poor Moor, scarce 
 cold in his grave, when it is plain he kept back his poem, while 
 he lived, for fear he should beat him for it ? This is shocking 
 to me, tho' of a man I never spoke to and hardly knew by 
 sight ; but I am seriously concerned at the worse scandal he has 
 heaped on Mr. Congreve, who was my friend, and whom I am 
 obliged to justify, because I can do it on my own knowledge, 
 and which is yet farther, bring witness of it, from those who 
 were then often with me, that he was so far from loving Pope's 
 rhyme, both that and his conversation were perpetual jokes to 
 him, exceeding despicable in his opinion, and he has often made 
 us laugh in talking of them, being particularly pleasant on that 
 subject. As to Pope's being born of honest parents, I verily 
 believe it, and will add one praise to his mother's character, 
 that (tho' I only knew her very old) she always appeared to 
 me to have much better sense than himselfe ; I desire, sir, as a 
 favour, that you would shew this letter to Pope, and you will 
 very much oblige, sir. 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 Jan. 3. M. W. Montagu. 
 
 It seems doubtful whether Lady Mary's denial of having had 
 any share in the composition of this " lampoon," as she terms it, 
 is to be taken seriously. These letters, and more especially the 
 last, which she desires Dr. Arbuthnot to shew to Pope, appear 
 to have been written with some intention of mystifying and 
 laughing at him. W.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 65 
 
 from contradicting him, till their disputes were 
 sharpened to such asperity that the one or the 
 other quitted the house." When Lady Bute read 
 the Lives of the Poets on their first publication, 
 she pointed out this paragraph to one of her daugh- 
 ters, observing, " How ill Johnson must have been 
 informed ! My mother's intimacy with Lady Ox- 
 ford was by no means of an early date ; their 
 acquaintance first began within my own memory, 
 long after the quarrel with Pope had risen to such 
 a height, and become so public, that it would have 
 been insulting her grossly to admit him into any 
 house where she was one of the guests expected. I 
 am confident they never met at Lord Oxford's 
 table in their lives." 
 
 Upon her mentioning the subject to her friend, 
 the Dowager Duchess of Portland, Lord Oxford's 
 only child, the Duchess, who, being her elder by 
 three years, could go those three years farther 
 back, and speak to the point so much more posi- 
 tively, said she was certain that no such meeting 
 had ever taken place beneath her father's roof. 
 *^ If he could have dreamed of inviting them at the 
 same time, (said she,) which his good breeding and 
 sense of propriety made impossible, my mother, 
 who adored Lady Mary and hated Pope, would no 
 more have consented to it than she would have put 
 her hand in the fire." That great poet, it was clear 
 from many expressions that escaped the Duchess, 
 had not won the good-will of Lord Oxford's family 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 in the same degree as Matthew Prior ; of whom she 
 always spoke with affection, and said he made him- 
 self beloved by every living thing in the house, — 
 master, child, and servant, human creature or ani- 
 mal. 
 
 It is a common remark, that people of brilliant 
 parts often have no objection to relax, or rest, 
 their understandings in the society of those whose 
 intellects are a little more obtuse. Here was an 
 instance : the gods never made anybody less poeti- 
 cal than Lady Oxford;* and yet Lady Mary Wort- 
 ley, though in general not over tolerant to her in- 
 feriors in capacity, appears upon the whole to have 
 loved nobody so well. And there was an exception 
 equally striking in her favour ; for Lady Oxford, 
 heartily detesting most of the wits who surrounded 
 her husband, yet admired Lady Mary with all her 
 might ; pretty much as the parish-clerk reverences 
 the rector for his Greek and Hebrew. Lady Bute 
 confessed that she sometimes got into sad disgrace, 
 by exclaiming, " Dear mama ! how can you be so 
 fond of that stupid woman ?" which never failed to 
 bring upon her a sharp reprimand, and a lecture 
 against rash judgments, ending with, " Lady Oxford 
 is not shining, but she has much more in her than 
 such giddy things as you and your companions can 
 discern." Her daughter, the Duchess, perhaps 
 
 * Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holies, only daughter of John 
 Holies first Duke of Newcastle.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 67 
 
 from being at that unripe season giddy too, was 
 suspected of having penetrated no farther into the 
 hidden treasures of her mother's mind than any of 
 her young friends. Dulness assuredly had no share 
 in her own composition. 
 
 Another of Lady Mary's friends, the famous 
 Lord Hervey, however blackened or extolled, must 
 have been anything but stupid. Their intimacy 
 did not always prevent her from laughing at him, 
 as is proved by the well known sentence, almost a 
 proverb, " that this world consisted of men, women, 
 and Herveys," which was originally hers. And so 
 might be a chance-epigram or ballad besides, yet no 
 great harm done. For as there are some people who 
 must be handled seriously or not meddled with, 
 and a few whom it would be sacrilege and profana- 
 tion to laugh at, there are others with whom their 
 friends take that liberty every day ; nay, who in- 
 vite it by laughing at themselves. This is very 
 commonly the case with those who, being conscious 
 of some whimsical peculiarity, and withal no fools, 
 think that humorously exaggerating their own foi- 
 ble, gives them a privilege to indulge it. The 
 exaggeration then gets abroad, and by that the 
 character is stamped. For *' half the strange sto- 
 ries you hear in the world" (said one who knew 
 it well) "come from people's not understanding 
 a joke." Accordingly, it has been handed down 
 as a proof of the extreme to which Lord Hervey 
 carried his effeminate nicety, that, when asked at 
 
 F 2
 
 68 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 dinner whether he would have some beef, he an- 
 swered, "Beef? — Oh, no! — Faugh! Don't you 
 know I never eat beef, nor horsCy nor any of those 
 things ?" — Could any mortal have said this in 
 earnest 1 
 
 Lord Hervey dying a few years after Lady Mary 
 Wortley settled abroad, his eldest son* sealed up 
 and sent her her letters, with an assurance that 
 none of them had been read or opened. The late 
 Lord Orford affirmed that Sir Robert Walpole did 
 the same with regard to those she had written to his 
 second wife; but she probably destroyed both col- 
 lections, for no traces of them appeared among her 
 papers. To Lord Hervey's heir she wrote a letter 
 of thanks for his honourable conduct, adding, that 
 she could almost regret he had not glanced his eye 
 over a correspondence which would have shown 
 him what so young a man might perhaps be in- 
 clined to doubt, — the possibility of a long and 
 steady friendship subsisting between two persons of 
 different sexes without the least mixture of love. 
 Much pleased with this letter, he preserved it ; and, 
 when Lady Mary came to England, showed it to 
 Lady Bute, desiring she would ask leave for him to 
 visit her mother. 
 
 His own mother. Lady Hervey, made no such 
 request ; for she had partaken neither of the cor- 
 
 * George Lord Hervey, after his grandfather's decease, the 
 second Earl of Bristol.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 69 
 
 respondence nor the friendship. That dessous des 
 cartes, which Madame de Sevign6 advises us to 
 peep at, would here have betrayed that Lord and 
 Lady Hervey had lived together upon very amica- 
 ble terms, " as well-bred as if not married at all," 
 according to the demands of Mrs. Millamant in the 
 play ; but without any strong sympathies, and more 
 like a French couple than an English one. It 
 might be from suspecting this state of things, that 
 his avowed enemies. Pope for one, went out of 
 their way to compliment and eulogise her. How- 
 ever, their praises were not unmerited : by the at- 
 tractions she retained in age, she must have been 
 singularly captivating when young, gay, and hand- 
 some ; and never was there so perfect a model of 
 the finely polished, highly-bred, genuine woman of 
 fashion. Her manners had a foreign tinge, which 
 some called affected ; but they were gentle, easy, 
 dignified, and altogether exquisitely pleasing. One 
 circumstance will excite surprise : notwithstanding 
 her constant close connexion with the old court, 
 she was, at heart and in opinion, a zealous Jaco- 
 bite ; hardly, perhaps, to the pitch of wishing the 
 Pretender's enterprise success, yet enough so to 
 take fire in defence of James the Second if ever 
 she heard any blame laid to his charge. 
 
 At the time of Lady Mary Wortley's return 
 home. Lady Hervey was living in great intimacy 
 with Lady Bute, for whom she professed, and it is 
 believed really felt, the highest esteem and admira-
 
 70 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 tion. On hearing of her mother's arrival, she came 
 to her, owning herself embarrassed by the fear of 
 giving her pain or offence, but yet compelled to de- 
 clare, that formerly something had passed between 
 her and Lady Mary which made any renewal of 
 their acquaintance impossible ; therefore, if she 
 forbore visiting her, she threw herself upon Lady 
 Bute's friendship and candour for pardon. No ex- 
 planation followed. Lady Bute, who must have 
 early seen the necessity of taking care not to be 
 entangled in her mother's quarrels, which, to speak 
 truth, were seldom few in number, only knew that 
 there had been an old feud between her. Lady 
 Hervey, and Lady Hervey's friend, Mrs. (or Lady) 
 Murray ; the particulars of which, forgotten even 
 then by everybody but themselves, may well be 
 now beyond recall. Those treble-refined sets of 
 company who occupy the pinnacle of fashion, 
 are at all times subject to such intestine jars as 
 only the French word tracasseries can fitly express. 
 Lady Mary's letters to Lady Mar betray how much 
 of this sort of work was continually going on in 
 their society. 
 
 Mrs. Murray, whom she so often mentions, was 
 the daughter cf Mr. Baillie,* of Jerviswood, Bishop 
 Burnet's near relation, a leading man in Parlia- 
 
 * The ancestor of Lord Haddington and Mr. Baillie. Hav- 
 ing no son, he entailed his fortune on the second son of his 
 daughter Lady Binning, on condition that he should take tlie 
 name of Baillie.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 71 
 
 ment, of most respectable character. Though mar- 
 ried, she resided with her father, as did also the rest 
 of his family. Lady Hervey's Letters, published in 
 1821, contain a warm panegyric upon her ; and 
 Lady Mary Wortley herself could not deny her the 
 praise of being very pretty, very agreeable, and 
 very generally admired : all which rendered only 
 the more grating a strange adventure that befell 
 her in the midst of her brilliant career. One of 
 her father's footmen, probably either mad or drunk, 
 entered her room at midnight armed with a pistol, 
 and declared a passion for her, which he swore he 
 would gratify, or take her life. Her cries brought 
 assistance : he was seized, tried, and transported ; 
 she forced to give evidence against him at the Old 
 Bailey. How such a story, and such a public ap- 
 pearance, must have wounded the feelings of a gen- 
 tlewoman, it is easy to conceive. Any allusion to it 
 must have been galling ; and one cannot wonder if 
 she took unkindly even Lady Mary's " Epistle from 
 Arthur Grey in Newgate," although complimentary 
 to her charms, and containing nothing injurious 
 to her character. But she accused Lady Mary of 
 having also made her the subject of a very offensive 
 ballad ; and this Lady Mary positively denied. Va- 
 rious bickerings took place ; peace seems to have 
 been sometimes patched up, but war to have quickly 
 broken out afresh, and, like all other wars, to have 
 left marks of its footsteps long visible on the soil.
 
 72 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 In these old days, people's brains being more 
 active and ingenious than their fingers, ballads 
 swarmed as abundantly as caricatures are swarming 
 at present, and were struck off almost as hastily, 
 whenever wit and humour, or malice and scurrility, 
 found a theme to fasten upon. A ballad was sure 
 to follow every incident that had in it a ludicrous 
 corner, from 
 
 " The woeful cliristening late there did 
 In James's house befall," 
 
 and the King's turning his son and daughter out of 
 doors after it, down to a lady's dropping her shoe 
 in the Park. Though printed on the coarsest pa- 
 per, sung about the streets, and sold for half-pence, 
 they often came from no mean quarter. That just 
 now quoted was ascribed to Arbuthnot ; Lord Bin- 
 ning wrote an admirable one, describing the Duke 
 of Argyll's levee ; Mr. Pulteney, Lord Chesterfield, 
 Lord Hervey, had the credit of others ; and Lady 
 Mary Wortley was a person who often fell under 
 suspicion in matters of the kind, because known to 
 have talents which the world would not believe she 
 left unemployed. But, as she said herself, it attri- 
 buted to her a great deal of trash that she never 
 wrote — never even saw ; and thus made her an ob- 
 ject of ill-will to people whose adventures she was 
 so far from having celebrated, that she hardly knew 
 their names. 
 
 The impression these unjust imputations made 
 upon her mind will now be shown. When Lady
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 73 
 
 Bute was nearly grown up, some of her young 
 friends wanted to bring about an acquaintance be- 
 tween her and Miss Furnese,* an heiress of their 
 own age. Miss Wortley had no objection ; but 
 Miss Furnese held off, and so resolutely, that they 
 insisted upon knowing the reason. *' Why, then," 
 said she, at last, " I will honestly own your praises 
 of Miss Wortley make me sure I shall dislike her. 
 You tell me she is lively and clever, now I know I 
 am very dull ; so, of course, she will despise me, 
 and turn me into ridicule, and I am resolved to 
 keep out of her way." The young set laughed most 
 heartily at this avowal ; and Lady Bute, laughing 
 too when told of it, ran to divert her mother with 
 the story. But, instead of amusing Lady Mary, it 
 made her unusually serious. " Now, child," she 
 began, after a moment's reflection, "you see no- 
 thing in this but a good joke, an absurdity to laugh 
 at ; and are not aware what an important lesson 
 you have received ; one which you ought to remem- 
 ber as long as you live. What that poor girl in her 
 simplicity has uttered aloud, is no more than what 
 passes in the mind of every dull person you will meet 
 with. Those whe cannot but feel that they are de- 
 ficient in ability always look with a mixture of fear 
 and aversion on people cleverer than themselves ; 
 regarding them as born their natural enemies. If 
 ever then you feel yourself flattered by the reputa- 
 
 * Married to Lewis Earl of Rockingham, and afterwards the 
 third wife of Francis Earl of Guildford.
 
 74 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 tion of superiority, remember that to be the object 
 of suspicion, jealousy, and a secret dislike, is the 
 sure price you must pay for it." 
 
 No one who has seen much of the world will 
 think this assertion altogether unfounded. But the 
 lurking grudge (supposing it always alive) may be 
 lulled into slumber, or it may be stirred up and 
 provoked to show its teeth in the guise of open 
 animosity ; and Lady Mary Wortley took the latter 
 course with it too often. She was not ill-tem- 
 pered ; for our men and maids are the best judges 
 of us in that particular, and the old servant fos- 
 tered under her roof used to talk of her indulgence 
 and familiarity, was fond of repeating her sayings, 
 and almost seemed to have tasted her wit. But 
 mankind is so made, that reproaches, invectives, 
 nay, veritable injuries, are not half so sharply felt, 
 or bitterly resented, as the stings of ridicule : there- 
 fore a quick perception of the ridiculous must ever 
 be a dangerous quality, although in some few per- 
 sons it wears a playful, harmless shape, and is quite 
 distinct from the spirit of satire. Lady Mary, one 
 cannot deny, united both qualities, instantly seized 
 the comical point, saw the matter of mirth wherever 
 it was to be found ; but had as keen an eye to de- 
 tect matter of censure, and rarely forbore a cutting 
 sarcasm out of tenderness to the feelings of others. 
 In short, a professed wit, flushed with success and 
 bent on shining in society, bears too much resem- 
 blance to a staunch foxhunter eager in the chase.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 75 
 
 who takes a leap over his fallen companion, whether 
 friend or foe, without stopping to examine how he 
 came down, or what bone he has broken. 
 
 The truth is, that affectation and folly must be 
 borne with, or at least let alone, if one would go 
 peaceably through this motley world ; which Lady 
 Mary could not expect to do, because she had not 
 Christian patience with either, but attacked and 
 exposed them when they were guiltless of hurting 
 anybody but their owner ; and thus made mortal 
 enemies of the vain tribe who would have plumed 
 themselves upon her acquaintance if they could have 
 hoped to escape her animadversions. For example, 
 her former friend, or correspondent. Lady Rich, 
 when become that melancholy thing — a decayed 
 beauty, strove to keep up the appearance of youth 
 by affecting a girlish simplicity, which suited her 
 age much worse than rose-coloured ribbands, and 
 served as a constant whetstone to Lady Mary's 
 raillery. The Master of the Rolls happened to be 
 mentioned ; the same old Sir Joseph Jekyll " who 
 never changed his principles or wig," and who had 
 held the office so long that he was identified with 
 it in every one's mind. " Pray who is Master of 
 the Rolls ?" asked Lady Rich in an innocent tone. 
 " Sir Humphrey Monneux, madam," answered Lady 
 Mary, naming off-hand the most unlikely person 
 she could think of. The company laughed, and 
 the lady looked disconcerted ; but, not daring to 
 betray her better knowledge by disputing the fact.
 
 76 IWTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 went on in desperation to be more simple still. 
 *' Well ! I am vastly ashamed of being so prodigi- 
 ously ignorant. I dare say I ask a mighty silly 
 question ; but, pray now, what is it to be Master 
 of the Rolls ? What does he do ? for I really don't 
 know." " Why, madam, he superintends all the 
 French rolls that are baked in London ; and with- 
 out him you would have no bread and butter for 
 your breakfast." There was no parrying this : 
 Lady Rich coloured, flirted her fan, and professed 
 herself unable to cope with Lady Mary Wortley's 
 wit — site had no wit. '* Nay ; but look you, my 
 dear madam, I grant .it a very fine thing to con- 
 tinue always fifteen, — that everybody must approve 
 of; it is quite fair : but, indeed, indeed, one need 
 not be five years old." 
 
 Yet there was one very conspicuous, very assail- 
 able, and very irritable person, whom Lady Mary, 
 let her say what she would, in jest or in earnest, 
 could never affront or offend ; and this was no other 
 than Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, so celebrated 
 for quarrelling with all the rest of human kind. She 
 would take in good part the most home truths if 
 spoken by Lady Mary, who seemed to be out of the 
 hurricane-latitude, securely stationed beyond the 
 scope of those capricious fits of anger which she 
 continually saw bursting like water-spouts on the 
 heads of her acquaintance. The Duchess also grew 
 partial to Lady Mary's daughter : both of them
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 77 
 
 were privileged to visit her at any hour and be al- 
 ways welcome. Lady Bute often sate by her while 
 she dined, or watched her in the curious process of 
 casting up her accounts. Curious, because her 
 grace, well versed as she was in all matters relating 
 to money, such as getting it, hoarding it, and turn- 
 ing it to the best advantage, knew nothing of com- 
 mon arithmetic. But her sound clear head could 
 devise an arithmetic of its own ; to lookers-on it 
 appeared as if a child had scrabbled over the paper, 
 setting down figures here and there at random ; 
 and yet every sum came right to a fraction at last, 
 in defiance of Cocker. 
 
 She was extremely communicative, and, it need 
 not be added, proportionably entertaining ; thus 
 far too very fair and candid — she laboured at no 
 self- vindication, but told facts just as they were, or 
 as she believed them to be, with an openness and 
 honesty that almost redeemed her faults ; though 
 this might partly proceed from never thinking her- 
 self in the wrong, or caring what was thought of 
 her by others. She had still, at a great age, consi- 
 derable remains of beauty, most expressive eyes, 
 and the finest fair hair imaginable ; the colour of 
 which she said she had preserved unchanged by the 
 constant use of honey-water, — hardly such as per- 
 fumers now sell, for that has an unlucky aptitude to 
 turn the hair grey. By this superb head of hair 
 hung a tale, an instance of her waywardness and 
 violence, which (strange to say) she took particular
 
 78 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 pleasure in telling. None of her charms, when they 
 were at their proudest height, had been so fondly 
 prized by the poor Duke her husband. Therefore, 
 one day, upon his offending her by some act of dis- 
 obedience to her " strong sovereign will,*'''' the bright 
 thought occurred, as she sate considering how she 
 could plague him most, that it would be a hearty 
 vexation to see his favourite tresses cut off. In- 
 stantly the deed was done ; she cropped them short, 
 and laid them in an ante-chamber he must pass 
 through to enter her apartment. But, to her cruel 
 disappointment, he passed, entered, and re-passed, 
 calm enough to provoke a saint ; neither angry nor 
 sorrowful ; seemingly quite unconscious both of his 
 crime and his punishment. Concluding he must 
 have overlooked the hair, she ran to secure it. Lo ! 
 it had vanished, — and she remained in great per- 
 plexity the rest of the day. The next, as he con- 
 tinued silent, and her looking-glass spoke the change 
 a rueful one, she began for once to think she had 
 done rather a foolish thing. Nothing more ever 
 transpired upon the subject until after the Duke's 
 death, when she found her beautiful ringlets care- 
 fully laid by in a cabinet where he kept whatever 
 he held most precious : and at this point of the 
 story she regularly fell a crying. 
 
 The only topic upon which she seemed guarded 
 
 * u 
 
 Highly- crested pride, 
 
 Strong sovereign will, and some desire to chide." 
 
 ParneU's Rise of Woman.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 79 
 
 was what concerned Queen Anne, whom she never 
 mentioned disrespectfully, but in general avoided 
 speaking of; while she liked to dilate upon the 
 first arrival of the present royal family, and would 
 describe with great glee many little circumstances 
 of their ways and manners which were new and 
 somewhat uncouth to English eyes. She had had 
 a nearer view of them than perhaps it was prudent 
 to give her ; for, at their outset, wishing to concili- 
 ate the Marlborough party, they invited her to 
 a degree of intimacy sure to end in proving the 
 truth of that wise saying about fam'illarlti) which 
 we can all remember to have indited in round 
 hand. The second or third time she had the ho- 
 nour of being admitted, she said she found the 
 Princess (Queen Caroline) maintaining discipline 
 in her nursery, where one of the children, having 
 been naughty, had just undergone wholesome cor- 
 rection, and was roaring piteously in consequence. 
 The Duchess tried to hush and console it. '^ Ay ! 
 see there," cried the Prince with an air of triumph ; 
 "you English are none of you well-bred, because you 
 was not whipt when you was young." " Humph !" 
 quoth her grace, " I thought to myself, I am sure 
 YOU could not have been whipt when you were 
 young, but I choked it in." Not being at all accus- 
 tomed either to choke her thoughts in, or to stand 
 in awe of royalty, she soon made her attendance 
 more formidable than agreeable, and gladly re- 
 turned to her natural vocation of governing others.
 
 80 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 instead of reverencing the powers entitled to rule 
 over her. 
 
 The most vindictive Highland chief never had so 
 many feuds ; but her deadliest, unlike his, were in 
 the bosom of her own clan. To begin by her daugh- 
 ters : she was not on speaking terms with Hen- 
 rietta Duchess of Marlborough, and Mary Duchess 
 of Montagu. The two others. Lady Sunderland 
 and Lady Bridgewater, had died betimes ; and 
 some of the children of the former were the objects 
 of as much affection as she could feel, especially 
 Robert Earl of Sunderland, the eldest son, a man 
 who deserved her partiality, and, as his date was 
 short, did not outlive it. With the second, Charles, 
 she agreed pretty well till he succeeded to the 
 Marlborough titles and fortune ; when money, that 
 main-spring — hidden or manifest, remote or imme- 
 diate — of all family quarrels, quickly produced a 
 rupture between them. She laid claim to a portion 
 of her late husband's personal estate, and the affair 
 could only be settled by what is called an amicable 
 suit : but for a suit with her to go on amicably was 
 a thing about as likely as for an oil-shop set on fire 
 to be slow in burning ; so the flame no sooner kin- 
 dled than she insisted upon giving it full vent, and 
 amused the world by pleading her own cause in the 
 court of Chancery. Among the property disputed 
 was the famous diamond - hilted sword. " That 
 sword," said she to the court emphatically, " that 
 sword my lord would have carried to the gates of
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 81 
 
 Paris. Am I to live to see the diamonds picked off 
 one by one and lodged at the pawnbroker's ?" The 
 new Duke's habits of squandering and running in 
 debt gave force to the sarcasm ; yet people smiled 
 when they recollected that his younger brother, 
 Jack Spencer, who, besides equalling him in these 
 respects,* made the town ring with some wild frolic 
 every day, kept a fast hold of the old lady's favour 
 all the while, and in her eyes could do nothing 
 wrong. 
 
 Two more of her descendants must be named, — 
 Lady Anne Spencer, Lady Sunderland's eldest 
 daughter, married to Lord Bateman, and Lady 
 Anne Egerton, the deceased Lady B.'s only one, 
 married first to Wriothesley Duke of Bedford, and 
 secondly to Lord Jersey. Both these ladies inhe- 
 rited such a share of their grandmother's imperial 
 spirit, as to match her pretty fairly, and insure dag- 
 gers' drawing as soon as it should find time and op- 
 portunity to display itself But, ere the stormy 
 season set in, the grandame had acquired Lady 
 Bateman's picture ;f which she afterwards made a 
 
 * It was a rule with both brothers " never to dirty their fingers 
 with silver ;" and as they, Hke all other gentlemen at that time, 
 went about in hackney chairs, the chairmen used to fight for 
 the honour of carrying them, in hopes of picking up the guinea 
 sure to be flung instead of a shilling when they were set down. 
 
 f In the first edition this was told of Lady Jersey's picture ; 
 but on reading Lord Orford's reminiscences, which the writer 
 of the anecdotes had nearly forgotten, not having seen them 
 since their publication, it flashed upon her memory that Lady 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 monument of vengeance, in no vulgar or ordinary 
 mode. She did not give it away ; nor sell it to a 
 broker ; nor send it up to a lumber-garret ; nor 
 even turn its front to the wall. She had the face 
 blackened over, and this sentence, She is much 
 blacker' within, inscribed in large characters on the 
 frame. And thus, placed in her usual sitting-room, 
 it was exhibited to all beholders. 
 
 Many other people remarkable in different ways 
 must have been known to Lady Mary Wortley ; 
 many authors appear to have courted her approba- 
 tion, but only those persons are mentioned here of 
 whom Lady Bute could speak from her own recol- 
 lection or her mother's report. Both had made her 
 well informed of every particular that concerned her 
 relation Henry Fielding ; nor was she a stranger to 
 that beloved first wife whose picture he drew in his 
 Amelia, where, as she said, even the glowing lan- 
 guage he knew how to employ did not do more than 
 justice to the amiable qualities of the original, or to 
 her beauty, although this had suffered a little from 
 the accident related in the novel, — a frightful over- 
 turn, which destroyed the gristle of her nose. He 
 
 Bute had mentioned Lady Bateman, and that his account was 
 correct. Everything here related came from Lady Bute her- 
 self, not as recollections of what her mother had told her con- 
 cerning the Duchess of Marlborough, but as what she had her- 
 self heard the Duchess say, and what had happened in her own 
 time. Curiosity to learn particulars about so remarkable a person 
 occasioned her being often earnestly questioned on the subject.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 83 
 
 loved her passionately, and she returned his affec- 
 tion ; yet led no happy life, for they were almost 
 always miserably poor, and seldom in a state of 
 quiet and safety. All the world knows what was 
 his imprudence ; if ever he possessed a score of 
 pounds, nothing could keep him from lavishing it 
 idly, or make him think of to-morrow. Sometimes 
 they were living in decent lodgings with tolerable 
 comfort ; sometimes in a wretched garret without 
 necessaries ; not to speak of the spunging-houses 
 and hiding-places where he was occasionally to be 
 found. His elastic gaiety of spirit carried him 
 through it all ; but, meanwhile, care and anxiety 
 were preying upon her more delicate mind, and 
 undermining her constitution. She gradually de- 
 clined, caught a fever, and died in his arms. 
 
 His biographers seem to have been shy of dis- 
 closing that after the death of this charming woman 
 he married her maid. And yet the act was not so 
 discreditable to his character as it may sound. The 
 maid had few personal charms, but was an excellent 
 creature, devotedly attached to her mistress, and 
 almost broken-hearted for her loss. In the first 
 agonies of his own grief, which approached to 
 frenzy, he found no relief but from weeping along 
 with her ; nor solace, when a degree calmer, but in 
 talking to her of the angel they mutually regretted. 
 This made her his habitual confidential associate, 
 and in process of time he began to think he could 
 not give his children a tenderer mother, or secure 
 
 G 2
 
 84 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 for himself a more faithful housekeeper and nurse. 
 At least this was what he told his friends ; and it is 
 certain that her conduct as his wife confirmed it, 
 and fully justified his good opinion. 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley had a great regard for 
 Fielding ; she pitied his misfortunes ; excused his 
 failings, and warmly admired his best writings ; 
 above all Tom Jones, in her own copy of which she 
 wrote Ne plus ultra. Nevertheless, she frankly 
 said she was sorry he did not himself perceive that 
 he had made Tom Jones a scoundrel; alluding 
 to the adventure with Lady Bellaston. She would 
 indeed have seldom passed a wrong judgment on 
 what she read, if her natural good taste had taken 
 its way unbiassed ; but where personal enmity or 
 party-prejudice stepped in, they too frequently 
 drove it blinded before them. A book is a book, 
 no matter who wrote it ; in fair criticism it has 
 a right to stand upon its own proper ground, and 
 should no more be condemned for the sins of its 
 author, than commended for his virtues. This, 
 to be sure, was not her way of handling any con- 
 temporary performance. Most people will now 
 admit that Pope betrayed unmanly and mean 
 malevolence in his attacks upon her ; yet when she 
 pronounced his verses to be " all sound and no 
 sense," she was aiming a pointless arrow at a poet 
 who, wherever he judged it expedient, could com- 
 press more meaning into fewer words than almost 
 any other in our language. Not Pope alone how-
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 85 
 
 ever, but the larger half of that noble band of 
 authors, that rendered the literary age of Anne 
 illustrious, lay for her under an interdict, a species 
 of taboo, obnoxious both as Tories and as his confe- 
 derates. She forbade herself to relish the wit and 
 humour of Swift and Arbuthnot ; and could not, or 
 would not, be sensible that the former, Bolingbroke, 
 and Atterbury, ranked with her own friend Addi- 
 son as the standard writers of English prose. 
 
 With regard to later works, though her remarks 
 upon Richardson have incensed his zealous ad- 
 mirers beyond measure and past forgiveness, yet, 
 while making them, she has involuntarily borne a 
 more convincing, unquestionable testimony to his 
 chief merits than if she had been ever so eloquent, 
 in his praise. She acknowledges having sobbed 
 over his volumes ; — she could not lay them down, 
 she sate up all night to finish them. What greater 
 triumph could an author who wrote to the feelings 
 desire ? But then it seems she was guilty of saying 
 that, never having lived in the society of real gen- 
 tlemen and ladies, he had given his fictitious ones 
 a language and manners as different from theirs as 
 could be devised. So was it also said of Garrick, 
 the first and finest of actors, that, performing every 
 other part in exquisite perfection, he never could 
 succeed in that of a mere ordinary gentleman. Both 
 assertions were strictly true, and they amount to 
 nothing more than a proof of the old trite position 
 that " every one must fail in something." If
 
 86 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 Richardson's inelegancies disturb us less than they 
 did Lady Mary Wortley, it is because we take for 
 old-fashioned much that our fathers and mothers 
 knew to be vulgar, or even ridiculous. A man's 
 living friends will have the presumption to find 
 fault with his portrait when their eyes tell them it 
 has no likeness to him, though it may not be at all 
 the worse picture a hundred years hence ; and this 
 was exactly the case with Lady Mary, who thought 
 no otherwise than her neighbours at the time. 
 Mrs. Donellan, an accomplished woman, whom 
 the readers of Swift may recollect to have been 
 one of his correspondents, told the late Mr. Ed- 
 ward Hamilton, her godson, that Richardson once 
 brought her a manuscript volume of Sir Charles 
 Grandison, begging her to examine it, and point 
 out any errors she perceived in this very particular. 
 He was conscious, he said, of his own ignorance 
 touching the manners of people of distinction ; and, 
 knowing that she had passed her life in the best 
 company, he could depend upon her judgment. 
 Mrs. Donellan, who both admired his genius and 
 respected his character, undertook the task with 
 good faith as well as good will ; but no sooner did 
 she begin criticising, than she found she had to 
 deal with an Archbishop of Grenada. Richardson 
 changed colour, shut up the book, and muttering 
 sullenly, that if there were so many faults, he sup- 
 posed his best way would be to throw it into the 
 fire at once, walked off in the mood vulgarly, but
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 87 
 
 expressively, yclept dudgeon. It was long ere he 
 troubled her with another visit. 
 
 After all. Lady Mary Wortley's insensibility to 
 the excellence, or, let us say, the charm of Madame 
 de Sevign6's Letters, is the thing most surprising in 
 her observations on literary subjects ; and it can 
 only be accounted for by a marked opposition of 
 character between the two women. The head was 
 the governing power with the one, the heart with 
 the other. If they had lived at the same time, and 
 in the same country and society, they would not 
 have accorded well together. Madame de Sevigne 
 would have respected Lady Mary's talents, but 
 rather dreaded than coveted her acquaintance. 
 Lady Mary, in lieu of prizing that simplicity of 
 mind which Madame de Sevigne so wonderfully 
 preserved in the midst of such a world as surround- 
 ed her, might have been apt to confound it with 
 weakness; and to hold in contempt not only her 
 foible for court favour, but her passionate devotion 
 to her daughter. 
 
 As writers also they were dissimilar ; Lady 
 Mary wrote admirable letters ; letters — not disser- 
 tations, nor sentimental effusions, nor strings of 
 witticisms, but real letters ; such as any person of 
 plain sense would be glad to receive. Her style, 
 though correct and perspicuous, was unstudied, 
 natural, flowing, spirited ; she never used an un- 
 necessary word, nor a phrase savouring of affecta-
 
 88 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 tion ; but still she meant to write well, and was 
 conscious of having succeeded, Madame de Se- 
 viirne had no such consciousness ; she did not so 
 nnich write, as talk and think upon paper, with no 
 other aim than to make Madame de Grignan pre- 
 sent at every incident, and partaker of every feel- 
 ing, throughout the twenty-four hours of her day. 
 By this means she makes us present likewise ; as 
 we read, we see her, hear her, feel with her, enter 
 into all her concerns. Not that she ever dreamt 
 of pleasing us. *' If the post knew what it carried," 
 says she, " it would leave these packets by the 
 way-side." " Keep my letters," said Lady Mary, on 
 the contrary ; " they will be as good as Madame de 
 Sevigne's forty years hence." And in some measure 
 she said true. What she terms the tittle-tattle of 
 a fine lady would have lost nothing in her hands. 
 She could relate passing events, and satirise fashion- 
 able follies with as much vivacity and more wit 
 than Madame de Sevigne herself; and there was 
 more depth in her reflections, for she had the supe- 
 riority in strength of understanding. But all that 
 she sought to degrade by the epithet " tittle-tattle 
 of an old nurse," including, as it does, so many 
 touches of truth and nature ; all the little traits 
 that bring before our eyes the persons spoken of; 
 all the details which render Les Rochers and Livry 
 as interesting to us as Versailles ; all this part, it 
 must be confessed, lay out of Lady Mary's province ; 
 and she proved it did so by viewing it with disdain.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 89 
 
 From the books Lady Mary Wortley died pos- 
 sessed of, which were but few, she appears to have 
 been particularly fond of that ancient English dra- 
 ma lately revived among us ; for she had several 
 volumes of differently sized and wretchedly printed 
 plays bound up together, such as the Duke of Rox- 
 burgh would have bought at any price ; the works 
 of Shirley, Ford, Marston, Heyw^ood, Webster, and 
 the rest, as far back as Gammer Gurton's Needle, 
 and coming down to the trash of Durfey. But 
 Lillo's domestic tragedies were what she most ad- 
 mired ; for " My lady used to declare," said the 
 old servant so often quoted, " that whoever did 
 not cry at George Barnwell must deserve to be 
 hanged." And she passed the same sentence on 
 people who could see unmoved the fine scene be- 
 tween Dorax and Sebastian in Dryden, who was 
 also one of her favourite authors. She had his 
 plays, his fables, and his Virgil, in folio, as they 
 were first published ; Theobald's edition of Shak- 
 speare, manifestly much read ; and Tonson's quarto 
 Milton. Besides Cowley, Waller, Denham, &c. 
 there were some less known poets, and some of' an 
 earlier age, such as Suckling and Drayton. No- 
 thing further can be called to mind, excepting the 
 outward shape of three ultra-sized volumes, the 
 works of Margaret Duchess of Newcastle. 
 
 Some of Lady Mary Wortley's early letters, ex- 
 pressing vividly all a mother's fondness for her
 
 90 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 infant son, give sufficient occasion to moralise over 
 the fate of those parents who are doomed to see 
 the object of such intense affection, the creature 
 whose birth made them so happy, become, when 
 grown up, the curse, the torment, and the disgrace 
 of their lives. Young Wortley hardly waited so 
 long to signalise his propensity to vice and folly ; 
 betraying from the beginning that surest symptom 
 of inveterate moral (or mental) disease — an habitual 
 disregard of truth, accompanied by a fertile ready 
 invention never at fault. Where these prevail, it 
 is building upon a quicksand to attempt working 
 a reformation. He was a mere child when he ran 
 away from school ; and this first exploit was fol- 
 lowed at short intervals by others still more ex- 
 traordinary, until he finally sealed his ruin by mar- 
 rying while under age a woman of very low degree, 
 considerably older than himself; one for whom he 
 could scarcely have felt more than a momentary 
 liking, since he forsook her in a few weeks, and 
 never sought to see her again, though her life lasted 
 nearly as long as his own. To be capable at a 
 mature age of such an act as drawing a youth into 
 a disproportionate marriage, did not denote much 
 principle or feeling ; yet, as her conduct was not 
 licentious, she never put it in his power to obtain a 
 divorce. In future, more than one lady took the 
 title of his wife, with or without the pretext of a 
 ceremony which, it is to be feared, he would not 
 have scrupled to go through any number of times,
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 91 
 
 if requisite for the accomplishment of his wishes. 
 But the last person so circumstanced, and the loud- 
 est in asserting her claims, met him upon equal 
 ground, having herself a husband living, from whom 
 she had eloped ; therefore she at least could not 
 complain of deception. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the mistakes, inaccuracies, 
 and exaggerations attending public rumour, this 
 singular man's various adventures, at home and 
 abroad, were perhaps better known to the w^orld 
 at large than to the near relations who must have 
 heard of them with pain, and shunned, instead of 
 seeking, particular information upon so distressing 
 a subject : consequently little light respecting it 
 could glimmer downwards to more distant gene- 
 rations. He was said to have had a handsome 
 person, plausible manners, and a liveliness of parts 
 which report magnified into great talents ; but 
 whether he did really possess these may be doubted. 
 They are often gratuitously presumed to exist in 
 conjunction with profligacy, whenever that takes 
 any wild extraordinary form, because the notion of 
 such an affinity has in it something wonderfully 
 agreeable to two very numerous classes of men, the 
 direct opposites of each other. The disorderly and 
 vicious are parties concerned ; they rejoice to 
 claim kindred with superiority of mind ; and would 
 fain have it a point established, that clever peo- 
 ple can never by any possibility remain tethered 
 within the pale of discretion and virtue. While, on
 
 92 INTllODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 the otlier hand, nothing delights sober, self-satisfied 
 mediocrity and dulness like a fair opportunity of 
 stigmatising genius as incompatible with common 
 sense, and the faithful ally, if not the parent, of 
 every baneful extravagance. 
 
 Thus much is certain ; Mr. Wortley and Lady 
 Mary (neither of them an incompetent judge) were 
 far from thinking highly of their son's abilities and 
 understanding. His irregular conduct was imputed 
 by them rather to weakness of character than to 
 *' the flash and outbreak of a fiery spirit" con- 
 scious of its own powers ; and from first to last 
 they held him utterly incapable of pursuing any 
 object or course whatever, praiseworthy or blame- 
 able, with that firmness and consistency of purpose 
 which perhaps belongs as necessarily to the great 
 wicked man as to the eminently good one. They 
 would have passed upon him the sentence of the 
 patriarch on his first-born : " Unstable as water, 
 thou shalt not excel." 
 
 Why Lady Mary Wortley left her own country, 
 and spent the last two-and-twenty years of her life 
 in a foreign land, is a question which has been 
 repeatedly asked, and never can be answered with 
 certainty, for want of any positive evidence or assur- 
 ance on the subject. It is very possible, however, 
 that the solution of this supposed mystery, like 
 that of some riddles, which put the ingenuity of 
 guesscrs to the farthest stretch, would prove so
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 93 
 
 simple as to leave curiosity blank and baffled. 
 Lady Mary writing from Venice (as it appears, in 
 the first year of her absence,) tells Lady Pomfret 
 that she had long been persuading Mr. Wortley to 
 go abroad, and at last, tired of delay, had set 
 out alone, he promising to follow her ; which, as 
 yet, parliamentary attendance and other business 
 had prevented his doing ; but, till she knew whether 
 to expect him or not, she could not proceed to 
 meet her (Lady Pomfret) at Rome. If this was 
 the real truth, and there seems no reason to doubt 
 it, we may easily conceive farther delays to have 
 taken place, and their re-union to have been so 
 deferred from time to time, that, insensibly, living 
 asunder became like the natural order of things, in 
 which both acquiesced without any great reluc- 
 tance. But if, on the contrary, it was only the co- 
 lour they chose to give the affair ; if the husband 
 and wife — she in her fiftieth year, he several years 
 older — had determined upon a separation ; nothing 
 can be more likely than that they settled it quietly 
 and deliberately between themselves, neither pro- 
 claiming it to the world, nor consulting any third 
 person ; since their daughter was married, their son 
 disjoined and alienated from them, and there ex- 
 isted nobody who had a right to call them to an 
 account or inquire into what was solely their own 
 business. It admits of little doubt that their dis- 
 positions were unsuitable, and Mr. Wortley had 
 sensibly felt it even while a lover. When at length
 
 94 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 convinced that in their case the approach of age 
 would not have the harmonising effect which it has 
 been sometimes known to produce upon minds 
 originally but ill assorted, he was the very man to 
 think within himself, " If we cannot add to each 
 other's happiness, why should we do the reverse ? 
 Let us be the friends at a distance which we could 
 not hope to remain by continuing uneasily yoked 
 together." And that Lady Mary's wishes had always 
 pointed to a foreign residence is clearly to be in- 
 ferred from a letter she wrote to him before their 
 marriage, when it was in debate where they should 
 live while confined to a very narrow income. How 
 infinitely better would it be, she urges, to fix their 
 abode in Italy, amidst every source of enjoyment, 
 every object that could interest the mind and 
 amuse the fancy, than to vegetate — she does not 
 use the word, but one may detect the thought — in 
 an obscure country retirement at home ! 
 
 These arguments, it is allowed, rest upon surmise 
 and conjecture; but there is proof that Lady 
 Mary's departure from England was not by any 
 means hasty or sudden ; for in a letter to Lady 
 Pomfret, dated the 2nd of May 1739, she an- 
 nounces her design of going abroad that summer ; 
 and she did not begin her journey till the end of 
 July, three months afterwards. Other letters are 
 extant affording equal proof that Mr. Wortley and 
 she parted upon the most friendly terms, and indeed 
 as no couple could have done who had had any
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 95 
 
 recent quarrel or cause of quarrel. She wrote to 
 him from Dartforcl, her first stage ; again a few 
 lines from Dover, and again the moment she ar- 
 rived at Calais. Could this have passed, or would 
 the petty details about servants, carriages, prices, &c. 
 have been entered into between persons in a state 
 of mutual displeasure ? Not to mention that his 
 preserving, docketing, and indorsing with his own 
 hand even these slight notes as well as all her sub- 
 sequent letters, shows that he received nothing 
 which came from her with indifference. His con- 
 fidence in her was also very strongly testified by 
 a transaction that took place when she had been 
 abroad about two years. Believing that her in- 
 fluence and persuasions might still have some effect 
 upon their unfortunate son, he intreated her to ap- 
 point a meeting with him, form a judgment of his 
 present dispositions, and decide what course it 
 would be best to take, either in furthering or 
 opposing his future projects. On the head of 
 money, too, she was to determine with how much he 
 should be supplied, and very particularly enjoined 
 to make him suppose it came, not from his father, 
 but herself. These were full powers to delegate ; 
 — such as every woman would not be trusted with 
 in the families where conjugal union is supposed to 
 reign most uninterruptedly.* 
 
 * Remarks have been made upon tlie view here taken of the 
 probable causes of Lady Mary's residence abroad for so many 
 years previous to Mr. Wortley's death, which may call for some
 
 06 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 The Lady Pomfret mentioned above was so highly 
 honoured and admired by her own family, and her 
 name and memory were so long held in a sort of 
 veneration amongst her descendants, that one would 
 think there must have been some ground for the 
 
 notice. It is said that " causes for this separation have been 
 rumoured, of a nature which of course never could have reach- 
 ed her granddaughter, but which make it wonderful only that 
 Mr. Wortley should have so long borne with such eccentricities 
 of conduct and temper, and should have arranged the separation 
 with so much feeling and good sense." It is impossible satis- 
 factorily to investigate the truth or falsehood of rumours so 
 vaguely hinted at, because nothing is pointed out to which en- 
 quiries can be directed. A rumour, however, did reach the 
 editor of these volumes two or three years ago, — at the time he 
 first conceived the idea of editing them, — from a quarter which 
 led him to suspect that it probably came from Horace Walpole, 
 namely, — that the reason of Lady Mary's leaving England, was 
 the discovery by Mr. Wortley of some improper use made of his 
 name in some money transaction. Although this seemed to be 
 a most improbable story, from the confidence, even in money 
 matters, which appears evidently to have subsisted between 
 Mr. Wortley and Lady Mary at a period subsequent to her go- 
 ing abroad, and from the terms upon which, from these letters, 
 they appear to have been when they parted, — the editor never- 
 theless thought it right to examine Mr. Wortley's letters of 
 business at and about that period, to see if they contained any 
 allusion to such a circumstance. He has, however, been unable 
 to find any such allusion. If this is not the rumoured cause of 
 separation referred to, the editor is totally at a loss how to deal 
 with the insinuation in the paragraph here quoted from the 
 Quarterly Review ; none other having reached, so far as he can 
 discover, any member of the family, either living or dead, at 
 any time : nor is there any reason, from any information he has 
 been able to obtain, to believe that anything like arranged sepa- 
 ration ever took place. — W.
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 97 
 
 feeling; although Horace Walpole laughs at her 
 as a ridiculous pretender to knowledge and wisdom 
 which she does not possess. A few grains of affec- 
 tation will often suffice to spoil the taste of much 
 that is good in a character ; and, supposing this to 
 have been the case with her, it may account for 
 such contradictory opinions. Lady Mary Wortley 
 speaks of her as the first of women ; — but then it is 
 to herself, and in a correspondence too full of stu- 
 died compliments and professions to have flowed 
 from the honesty of cordial, familiar friendship. 
 Even Lady Mary's style labours and grows stiffer 
 than usual while pouring them forth. It was not 
 thus probably, that she wrote to Lady Stafford, or 
 the Duchess of Montagu. The former, a foreigner 
 by birth and education, daughter of the famous 
 Comte de Grammont and " la belle Hamilton" was 
 said to have inherited her uncle Count Anthony 
 Hamilton's vivacity and talents for conversation, 
 which made her the most agreeable woman of her 
 time. Her death happened before Lady Mary left 
 England, and as it affected her deeply, might be 
 one cause of her desire to change the scene. 
 
 As for the particulars of Lady Mary's history, 
 society, and way of life, during her residence on the 
 Continent, they must be gathered from her own 
 letters, which lie before the reader. Those of latest 
 date, written after she finally established herself at 
 Venice, seem to turn very much upon the annoy- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 ances she suffered from the behaviour of Mr. Mur- 
 ray, then the British minister there ; between whom 
 and her reigned, or rather raged, the utmost ani- 
 mosity. But none of the letters explain, nor are 
 there now any means of discovering, whence the 
 quarrel first sprung, or which of the parties was the 
 most to blame. It certainly tells against him that 
 his enmity extended to so respectable a man as her 
 friend. Sir James Steuart of Coltness, whose situa- 
 tion as an exile soliciting recall must have made him 
 more cautious of giving any real cause of offence 
 than a free unfettered person, even if he had not 
 been too much engrossed by his literary labours to 
 meddle with diplomatic intrigues. 
 
 She survived her return home too short a time to 
 afford much more matter for anecdotes. Those who 
 could remember her arrival, spoke with delight of 
 the clearness, vivacity, and raciness of her conver- 
 sation, and the youthful vigour which seemed to 
 animate her mind. She did not appear displeased 
 at the general curiosity to see her, nor void of cu- 
 riosity herself concerning the new things and people 
 that her native country presented to her view after 
 so long an absence : yet, had her life lasted half as 
 many years as it did months, the probability is that 
 she would have gone abroad again ; for her habits 
 had become completely foreign in all those little 
 circumstances, the sum of which must constitute 
 the comfort or discomfort of every passing day. 
 She was accustomed to foreign servants and to the
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 99 
 
 spaciousness of a foreign dwelling. Her descrip- 
 tion of the harpsichord-shaped house she inhabited 
 in one of the streets bordering upon Hanover 
 Square grew into a proverbial phrase : " I am most 
 handsomely lodged," said she ; " I have two very 
 decent closets and a cupboard on each floor." This 
 served to laugh at, but could not be a pleasant 
 exchange for the Italian palazzo. However, all 
 earthly good and evil were very soon terminated 
 by a fatal malady,* the growth of which she had 
 long concealed. The fatigues she underwent in 
 her journey to England tended to exasperate its 
 symptoms ; it increased rapidly, and before ten 
 months were over she died in the seventy - third 
 year of her age. 
 
 In a letter, which may be referred to, dated from 
 Louvere, October the 2nd, 1752, Lady Mary tells 
 her daughter that she amuses herself with writing 
 the history of her own time, but regularly burns 
 every sheet as soon as she has finished it. Her ac- 
 
 * Dallaway, in his memoir, ascribes Lady Mary's death to a 
 gradual decline ; and it would appear that, her disease not hav- 
 ing been actually named in these anecdotes, that circumstance 
 has been seized upon as warranting a suspicion of some mystery 
 connected with it, and as evincing a design to conceal the truth. 
 It is impossible for the editor to account for Dallaway's state- 
 ment, which is certainly not a correct one. The malady of 
 which Lady Mary died was a cancer in the breast ; and its not 
 having been so stated in these anecdotes, arose merely from its 
 not having been considered a matter of importance or interest 
 to any reader. — W. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 count of George the First, his family, and his Ha- 
 noverian society, is evidently a fragment of that 
 history, which, by accident, or oversight, escaped 
 the flames ; as it has neither beginning nor end, and 
 she declares it meant solely for her own perusal. 
 Mr. Wortley also left a fragment somewhat similar, 
 relating to the same period, and describing the 
 state of parties at and after the demise of Queen 
 Anne : but his sketch, ten times more shapeless 
 than hers, is a mere rough copy, so blotted and 
 interlined as to be scarcely readable. He appears 
 to have aimed chiefly at drawing a distinct line be- 
 tween what he calls court Whigs and country Whigs, 
 and explaining why the latter (amongst whom he 
 ranked himself) so constantly opposed Sir Robert 
 Walpole. He, in short, dwells upon grave and 
 solid politics. Lady Mary, slightly noticing these, 
 keeps to the chapter of court-intrigue ; which, in a 
 government like ours, may possibly influence them 
 but little, thousrh at a certain distance of time 
 it furnishes better entertainment to careless, idle 
 readers. She therefore is led to give details, and 
 portray individuals ; and we must admit that her 
 touches are (as usual) rather caustic. Her husband 
 enters into no particulars of the kind ; yet there is 
 one remarkable point upon which the two narratives 
 perfectly agree. We have long been taught to be- 
 lieve that the charge of having accepted a bribe, 
 brought against Sir Robert Walpole in 1712, was 
 a groundless accusation trumped up for party pur-
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 101 
 
 poses, and his expulsion from the House of Com- 
 mons a flagrant instance of party malice and in- 
 justice. Nor will what is said on the subject in 
 Swift's Journal avail much to persuade us of the 
 contrary. But these two people, writing sepa- 
 rately, Mr. Wortley and his wife, both thoroughly 
 hostile to the Queen's last ministry and the parlia- 
 ment it swayed, both ready to condemn every pro- 
 ceeding sanctioned by either, do yet both mention 
 Walpole as a man whom the clearest conviction of 
 corrupt practices had left with a blot upon his cha- 
 racter that nothing could efface. Whichever way 
 truth may lie, he afterwards proved how keenly he 
 felt the mortifying transaction ; but proved it in a 
 manner creditable to his heart, — by showing gra- 
 titude, not by seeking revenge. On his being or- 
 dered to withdraw while the house voted his com- 
 mitment to prison, one personal friend only, Daniel 
 Campbell, of Shawfield, a Scotch member, arose, 
 went out with him, and attended him to the gates 
 of the Tower. Sir Robert did not forget this 
 when he was minister. Mr. Campbell, a moderate 
 man, asked few favours for himself; but any person 
 in whose behalf he could be induced to say a word, 
 had a fairer chance of success than if patronised by 
 the greatest and most powerful of Walpole's sup- 
 porters. His paramount influence, and the conse- 
 quence it gave him, are hinted at in Lord Bin- 
 ning's satirical ballad upon the Duke of Argyll's 
 levee. 
 
 T,lV,r> \ pv
 
 102 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 
 
 When, lo ! 
 
 Great Daniel showed his face. 
 
 At sight of him low bowed the peer; 
 
 Daniel vouchsafed a nod : 
 ' I've seen Sir Robert, and 'tis done.' 
 
 ' You've kept me in, by 1' " 
 
 Mr. Wortley, writing (it appears) within a twelve- 
 month after the accession, says that the Regency 
 then appointed was so chosen as to deserve and 
 win universal approbation. Yet, before the King 
 came over, it had split into separate factions ; Lord 
 Marlborough (i. e. the Duke), Lord Halifax, and 
 Lord Townshend, each aiming at the whole power, 
 and each trying to strengthen himself among the 
 Tories ; because it was understood that a junction 
 between the two parties would be a thing agreeable 
 to the new sovereign. But even the men most 
 willing to promote this, were still for the punish- 
 ment of the criminals; he gives the late Queen's 
 ministers no softer name. Therefore Lord Halifax 
 lost ground, from being suspected of a wish to save 
 Harley ; and what he lost was gained by Lord 
 Townshend, or rather by Mr. Walpole, who had 
 got the entire government of his brother-in-law, 
 and rose upon his shoulders. The Tories, however, 
 as well as the Whigs, are divided by Mr. Wortley 
 into two classes, court and country : nay, he adds, 
 " The country Whigs and country Tories were not 
 very different in their notions ; and nothing hin- 
 dered them from joining, but the fears that each
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 103 
 
 had of the other's bringing in their whole party." 
 While, according to him, " the court Whigs had 
 quite lost the esteem of the nation when Lord Ox- 
 ford got into power, so that the country Whigs did 
 every thing that was done against the court during 
 that infamous ministry ;" — and he details instances 
 at some length. He finds fault with the reigning 
 government for several of its measures : chiefly, the 
 long delay of the impeachments, which gave '' the 
 criminals " a material advantage ; the wording of 
 the proclamation calling a new parliament, which 
 too openly declared it the King's wish to have none 
 but Whigs elected, and thus exasperated the To- 
 ries without doing the Whigs much service ; the 
 gross and unusual injustice shown in trying elec- 
 tions ; the demand of more money for the civil list ; 
 the arbitrary changes that displaced not only To- 
 ries but Whigs, if unacceptable to Mr. Walpole, 
 and this especially in the Treasury, the commis- 
 sioners of which, he says, used to be men of con- 
 siderable importance, and were never dependent 
 upon the First Lord, or nominated by him, till the 
 time of Lord Oxford : — all these sins he lays to the 
 charge of Walpole, " whose violence and impru- 
 dence (says the manuscript) is censured by all the 
 Whigs but those that depend upon the court." 
 *' The chief men in place are the Speaker, Sir 
 Richard Onslow, Mr. Aislaby, Mr. Smith, Mr. Lech- 
 mere, Mr. Boscawen, Mr, Bayley, Mr. Pulteney, and 
 Mr. Stanhope. Except the two last, every one of the
 
 104 INTKODUCTOKY ANECDOTES. 
 
 nine has expressed his dislike of Walpole's conduct ; 
 and tlicsc two were never reckoned among the men 
 who were able to judge of the house of commons, 
 or of the inclinations of the people." When the 
 same Pulteney, no longer Walpole's friend, headed 
 a powerful opposition against him, perhaps Mr. 
 Wortley grew to allow him some skill in managing 
 both the house and the people. But to let him 
 speak on : " Mr. Walpole, who has less credit than 
 any of the nine, is set at the head of them by 
 Lord Townshend's favour. Lord Townshend acts 
 against his own interest in setting up Mr.Walpole 
 above the rest ; but he was never thought to have 
 a strong judgment, though his language and win- 
 ning carriage and honest intention made all the 
 Whigs justly wish to see him Secretary of State. 
 Nothing could have sunk his credit with them, un- 
 less his blindness to Mr. Walpole's actions should 
 set them against him." 
 
 Next follows, " But there may be another reason 
 why Mr. Walpole is thus supported. Baron B. is 
 said to take what money he can, and Mr. Walpole 
 is the most proper man in England to assist him in 
 getting it. Why should Baron B. join himself to 
 a man so suspicious unless he did take it ?" — and he 
 proceeds to show how closely they are linked toge 
 ther. Then, as Mr. Walpole " is already looked 
 upon as the chief minister," — and Mr. Wortley 
 thinks him in the direct road actually to become 
 so, — " can it," he asks, " be for the honour of the
 
 INTRODUCTORY ANECDOTES. 105 
 
 Government to have a man marked for corruption 
 declared first minister ? Can he bear the envy of 
 such a post ?" 
 
 This account of what was passing cannot well be 
 called impartial, since the writer obviously leans — 
 does more than lean — to one side ; but he sets down 
 his real opinions, formed on the spot, and recorded 
 only for himself: and surely it may be desirable, 
 though but as a matter of curiosity, to learn how 
 the facts and characters at which we are now look- 
 ing back through the telescope of time, through 
 the long series of years that has made them his- 
 torical, appeared to the eyes of their contempo- 
 raries.
 
 ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 
 
 AT HIS ACCESSION. 
 BY LADY M. W. MONTAGU. 
 
 I WAS then in Yorkshire ; Mr. Wortley had 
 stayed in town on the account of some business, and 
 the Queen's death detained him there. Lord Hali- 
 fax, his near relation, was put at the head of the 
 Treasury ; and, willing to have the rest of the com- 
 missioners such as he thought he could depend 
 upon, he 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 certainly refused it 
 if he had not been persuaded to it by a rich old 
 uncle of mine. Lord Pierrepont, whose fondness for 
 me gave him expectations of a large legacy. 
 
 The new court with all their train was arrived 
 before I left the country. The Duke of Marlbo- 
 rough was returned in a sort of triumph, with the 
 apparent merit of having suffered for his fidelity in 
 the succession, and was reinstated in his office of 
 general, &c. In short, all people who had suffered 
 any hardship or disgrace during the late ministry
 
 108 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 would have it believed that it was occasioned by 
 their attachment to the House of Hanover. Even 
 JNIr. Walpolc, who had been sent to the Tower for 
 a piece of bribery proved upon him, was called a 
 confessor to the cause. But he had another piece 
 of good luck that yet more contributed to his ad- 
 vancement : he had a very handsome sister, whose 
 folly had lost her reputation in London ; but the 
 yet greater folly of Lord Townshend, who hap- 
 pened to be a neighbour in Norfolk to Mr. Wal- 
 pole, had occasioned his being drawn in to marry 
 her some months before the Queen died. 
 
 Lord Townshend had that sort of understanding 
 which commonly makes men honest in the first 
 part of their lives ; they follow the instruction of 
 their tutor, and, till somebody thinks it worth 
 while to show them a new path, go regularly on in 
 the road where they are set. Lord Townshend had 
 then been many years an excellent husband to a 
 sober wife, a kind master to all his servants and 
 dependants, a serviceable relation whenever it was 
 in his power, and followed the instinct of nature 
 in being fond of his children. Such a sort of be- 
 haviour without any glaring absurdity, either in 
 prodigality or avarice, always gains a man the re- 
 putation of reasonable and honest ; and this was his 
 character when the Earl of Godolphin sent him envoy 
 to the States ; not doubting but he would be faith- 
 ful to his orders, without giving himself the trouble 
 of criticizing on them, which is what all ministers 
 wish in an envoy. Robotun, a French refugee.
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 109 
 
 (secretary to Bernstoff, one of the Elector of Han- 
 over's ministers,) happened to be at the Hague, 
 and was civilly received by Lord Townshend, who 
 treated him at his table with the English hospita- 
 lity ; and he was charmed with a reception which 
 his birth and education did not entitle him to. 
 Lord Townshend was recalled when the Queen 
 changed her ministry ; his wife died, and he retired 
 into the country, where (as I have said before) 
 Walpole had art enough to make him marry his 
 sister Dolly. At that time, I believe, he did not 
 propose much more advantage by the match than 
 to get rid of a girl that lay heavy on his hands. 
 
 When King George ascended the throne, he 
 was surrounded by all his German ministers and 
 play-fellows male and female. Baron Goritz was 
 the most considerable among them both for birth 
 and fortune. He had managed the King's trea- 
 sury, for thirty years, with the utmost fidelity and 
 economy ; and had the true German honesty, being 
 a plain, sincere, and unambitious man. Bernstoff 
 the secretary was of a different turn. He was ava- 
 ricious, artful, and designing ; and had got his share 
 in the King's councils by bribing his women. Ro- 
 botun was employed in these matters, and had the 
 sanguine ambition of a Frenchman. He resolved 
 there should be an English ministry of his choos- 
 ing ; and, knowing none of them personally but 
 Townshend, he had not failed to recommend him 
 to his master, and his master to the King, as the 
 only proper person for the important post of Se-
 
 110 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 cretary of State ; and he entered upon that office 
 with universal applause, having at that time a very 
 popular character, which he might probably have 
 retained for ever if he had not been entirely go- 
 verned by his wife and her brother Robert Walpole, 
 whom he immediately advanced to be Paymaster, 
 esteemed a post of exceeding profit, and very ne- 
 cessary for his indebted estate. 
 
 But he had yet higher views, or rather he found 
 it necessary to move higher, lest he should not be 
 able to keep that. The Earl of Wharton, now 
 Marquis, both hated and despised him. His large 
 estate, the whole income of which was spent in the 
 service of the party, and his own parts, made him 
 considerable ; though his profligate life lessened 
 that weight that a more regular conduct would 
 have given him. 
 
 Lord Halifax, who was now advanced to the dig- 
 nity of Earl, and graced with the Garter, and First 
 Commissioner of the Treasury, treated him with 
 contempt. The Earl of Nottingham, who had the 
 real merit of having renounced the ministry in» 
 Queen Anne's reign, when he thought they were 
 going to alter the succession, was not to be recon- 
 ciled to Walpoie, whom he looked upon as stigma- 
 tized for corruption. 
 
 The Duke of Marlborough, who in his old age 
 was making the same figure at court that he did 
 when he first came into it, — I mean, bowing and 
 smiling in the antechamber while Townshend was
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. Ill 
 
 in the closet, — was not, however, pleased with Wal- 
 pole, who began to behave to him with the inso- 
 lence of new favour ; and his Duchess, who never' 
 restrained her tongue in her life, used to make 
 public jokes of the beggary she first knew him in, 
 when her caprice gave him a considerable place, 
 against the opinion of Lord Godolphin and the 
 Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 To balance these, he had introduced some friends 
 of his own, by his recommendation to Lord Towns- 
 hend (who did nothing but by his instigation). 
 Colonel Stanhope was made the other Secretary of 
 State. He had been unfortunate in Spain, and 
 there did not want those who attributed it to ill 
 conduct ; but he was called generous, brave, true 
 to his friends, and had an air of probity which pre- 
 judiced the world in his favour. 
 
 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, and would have been so well contented 
 to have remained in his little town of Hanover, 
 that if the ambition of those about him had not
 
 112 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 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 usurpation, which was al- 
 ways uneasy to him. But he was carried by the 
 stream of the people about him, in that, as in every 
 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 had endeavoured it. He was pas- 
 sively good-natured, and wished all mankind en- 
 joyed quiet, if they would let him do so. The 
 mistress that followed him hither was so much of 
 his own temper, that I do not wonder at the en- 
 gagement between them. She was duller than 
 himself, and consequently did not find out that 
 he was so; and had lived in that figure at Han- 
 over almost forty years, (for she came hither at 
 threescore,) without meddling in any affairs of 
 the electorate ; content with the small pension he 
 allowed her, and the honour of his visits when he 
 had nothing else to do, which happened very often. 
 She even refused coming hither at first, fearing 
 that the people of England, who, she thought, were 
 accustomed to use their kings barbarously, might 
 chop off his head irt the first fortnight ; and had 
 not love or gratitude enough to venture being in- 
 volved in his ruin. And the poor man was in peril
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 113 
 
 of coming hither without knowing where to pass 
 his evenings ; which he was accustomed to do in 
 the apartments of women, free from business. But 
 Madame Kilmansegg saved him from this misfor- 
 tune. She was told that Mademoiselle Schulenberg 
 scrupled this terrible journey ; and took the oppor- 
 tunity of offering her service to his Majesty, who 
 willingly accepted of it ; though he did not offer to 
 facilitate it to her by the payment of her debts, 
 which made it very difficult for her to leave Han- 
 over without the permission of her creditors. But 
 she was a woman of wit and spirit, and knew very 
 well of what importance this step was to her for- 
 tune. She got out of the town in disguise, and 
 made the best of her way in a post-chaise to Hol- 
 land, from whence she embarked with the King, 
 and arrived at the same time with him in England; 
 which was enough to make her called his mistress, 
 or at least so great a favourite that the whole court 
 began to pay her uncommon respect. 
 
 This lady deserves I should be a little particular 
 in her character, there being something in it worth 
 speaking of. She was past forty : she had never 
 been a beauty, but certainly very agreeable in her 
 person when adorned by youth ; and had once ap- 
 peared so charming to the King, that it was said 
 the divorce and ruin of his beautiful Princess, the 
 Duke of Zell's daughter, was owing to the hopes her 
 mother (who was declared mistress to the King's 
 father, and all-powerful in his court,) had of setting 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 her daughter in her place ; and that the project 
 did not succeed, by the passion which Madame 
 Kilmansegg took for M. Kilmansegg, who was son 
 of a merchant of Hamburgh, and, after having 
 a child by him, there was nothing left for her but 
 to marry him. Her ambitious mother ran mad 
 with the disappointment, and died in that deplo- 
 rable manner, leaving 40,000 pounds, which she 
 had heaped by the favour of the Elector, to this 
 daughter ; which was very easily squandered by 
 one of her temper. She was both luxurious and 
 generous, devoted to her pleasures, and seemed to 
 have taken Lord Rochester's resolution of avoid- 
 ing all sorts of self-denial. She had a greater vi- 
 vacity in conversation than ever I knew in a Ger- 
 man of either sex. She loved reading, and had a 
 taste of all polite learning. Her humour was easy 
 and sociable. Her constitution inclined her to gal- 
 lantry. She was well-bred and amusing in com- 
 pany. She knew both how to please and be 
 pleased, and had experience enough to know it 
 was hard to do either without money. Her unli- 
 mited expenses had left her with very little re- 
 maining, and she made what haste she could to 
 make advantage of the opinion the English had of 
 her power with the King, by receiving the presents 
 that were made her from all quarters ; and which 
 she knew very well must cease when it was known 
 that the King's idleness carried him to her lodg- 
 ings without either regard for her advice, or affec-
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 115 
 
 tion for her person, which time and very bad 
 paint had left without any of the charms which 
 had once attracted him. His best-beloved mistress 
 remained still at Hanover, which was the beautiful 
 Countess of Platen. 
 
 Perhaps it will be thought a digression in this 
 place to tell the story of his amour with her ; but, 
 as I write only for myself, I shall always think I am 
 at liberty to make what digressions I think fit, pro- 
 per or improper ; besides that in my opinion no- 
 thing can set the King's character in a clearer light. 
 That lady was married to Madame Kilmansegg's 
 brother, the most considerable man in Hanover for 
 birth and fortune; and her beauty was as far 
 beyond that of any of the other women that ap- 
 peared. However, the King saw her every day 
 without taking notice of it, and contented himself 
 with his habitual commerce with Mademoiselle 
 Schulenberg. 
 
 In those little courts there is no distinction of 
 much value but what arises from the favour of 
 the Prince ; and Madame Platen saw with great 
 indignation that all her charms were passed over 
 unregarded ; and she took a method to get over 
 this misfortune which would never have entered 
 into the head of a woman of sense, and yet which 
 met with wonderful success. She asked an au- 
 dience of his Highness, who granted it without 
 guessing what she meant by it ; and she told him 
 that as nobody could refuse her the first rank in 
 
 1 2
 
 116 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 that place, it was very mortifying to see his High- 
 ness not show her any mark of favour ; and, as 
 no person could be more attached to his person 
 than herself, she begged with tears in her fine 
 eyes that he would alter his behaviour to her. 
 The Elector, very much astonished at this com- 
 plaint, answered that he did not know any reason he 
 had given her to believe he was wanting in respect 
 for her, and that he thought her not only the 
 greatest lady, but the greatest beauty of the court. 
 " If that be true, sire," replied she sobbing, " why 
 do you pass all your time with Mademoiselle Schu- 
 lenberg, while I hardly receive the honour of a visit 
 from you ?" His Highness promised to mend his 
 manners, and from that time was very assiduous in 
 waiting upon her. This ended in a fondness, which 
 her husband disliked so much that he parted with 
 her ; and she had the glory of possessing the heart 
 and person of her master, and to turn the whole 
 stream of courtiers that used to attend Mademoiselle 
 Schulenberg to her side. However, he did not 
 break with his first love, and often went to her 
 apartment to cut paper, which was his chief em- 
 ployment there ; which the Countess of Platen 
 easily permitted him, having often occasion for his 
 absence. She was naturally gallant ; and, after 
 having thus satisfied her ambition, pursued her 
 warmer inclinations. 
 
 Young Craggs came about this time to Hanover, 
 where his father sent him to take a view of that
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 117 
 
 court in his tour of travelling. He was in his first 
 bloom of youth and vigour ; and had so strong an 
 appearance of that perfection, that it was called 
 beauty by the generality of women : though in my 
 opinion there was a coarseness in his face and shape 
 that had more the air of a porter than a gentle- 
 man ; and, if Fortune had not interposed her al- 
 mighty power, he might by his birth have appeared 
 in that figure ; his father being nothing more con- 
 siderable at his first appearance in the world than 
 footman to Lady Mary Mordant, the gallant 
 Duchess of Norfolk, who had always half a dozen 
 intrigues to manage. Some servant must always 
 be trusted in affairs of that kind, and James Craggs 
 had the good fortune to be chosen for that pur- 
 pose. She found him both faithful and discreet, 
 and he was soon advanced to the dignity of valet- 
 de-chambre. 
 
 King James II. had an amour with her after he 
 was upon the throne, and respected the Queen 
 enough to endeavour to keep it entirely from her 
 knowledge. James Craggs was the messenger be- 
 tween the King and the Duchess, and did not fail 
 to make the best use of so important a trust. He 
 scraped a great deal of money from the bounty of 
 this royal lover, and was too inconsiderable to be 
 hurt by his ruin ; and did not concern himself much 
 for that of his mistress, which by lower intrigues 
 happened soon after. This fellow, from the report 
 of all parties, and even from that of his professed
 
 118 LADY ]\I. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 enemies, had a very uncommon genius ; a head 
 ^vell turned for calculation ; great industry ; and 
 [ivas] so just an observer of the world, that the 
 meanness of his education never appeared in his 
 conversation. 
 
 The Duke of Marlborough, who was sensible how 
 well he was qualified for affairs that required se- 
 crecy, employed him as his procurer both for women 
 and money ; and he acquitted himself so well of 
 these trusts as to please his master, and yet raise a 
 considerable fortune, by turning his money in the 
 public funds, the secret of which came often to his 
 knowledge by the Duke's employing him. He 
 had this only son, whom- he looked on with the 
 partiality of a parent ; and resolved to spare no- 
 thing in his education that could add to his 
 figure. 
 
 Young Craggs had great vivacity, a happy me- 
 mory, and flowing elocution ; he was brave and 
 generous ; and had an appearance of open-hearted- 
 ness in his manner that gained him a universal 
 good-will, if not a universal esteem. It is true, 
 there appeared a heat and want of judgment in all 
 his words and actions, which did not make him very 
 valuable in the eyes ,of cool judges, but Madame 
 Platen was not of that number. His youth and 
 fire made him appear a conquest worthy her charms, 
 and her charms made her appear very well worthy 
 his passionate addresses. Two people so well dis-
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 119 
 
 posed towards each other were very soon in the 
 closest engagement ; and the first proof Madame 
 Platen gave him of her affection was introducing 
 him to the favour of the Elector, who took it on 
 her word that he was a young man of extraordinary 
 merit, and he named him for Cofferer at his first 
 accession to the crown of England, and I believe it 
 was the only place that he then disposed of from 
 any inclination of his own. This proof of Madame 
 Platen's favour hindered her coming hither. 
 
 BernstofF was afraid she might meddle in the 
 disposition of places that he was willing to keep in 
 his own hands ; and he represented to the King 
 that the Roman Catholic religion that she pro- 
 fessed was an insuperable objection to her appear- 
 ance at the court of England, at least so early ; 
 but he gave her private hopes that things might be 
 so managed as to make her admittance easy when 
 the King was settled in his new dominions. And 
 with this hope she consented without much concern 
 to let him go without her ; not reflecting that weak 
 minds lose all impressions by even short absences. 
 But as her own understanding did not furnish her 
 with very great refinements, she was troubled with 
 none of the fears that would have affected a strong-er 
 head, and had too good an opinion of her own 
 beauty to believe anything in England could efface 
 it ; while Madame Kilmansegg attached herself to 
 the one thing necessary, — getting what money she
 
 120 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 could by the sale of places, and the credulity of 
 those who thought themselves very politic in se- 
 curing her favour. 
 
 Lord Halifax was one of this number ; his am- 
 bition was unbounded, and he aimed at no less than 
 the Treasurer's staff, and thought himself in a fine 
 road for it by furnishing Madame Kilmansegg both 
 with money and a lover. Mr. Methuen was the 
 man he picked out for that purpose. He was one 
 of the Lords of the Treasury ; he was handsome 
 and well-made ; he had wit enough to be able to 
 affect any part he pleased, and a romantic turn in 
 his conversation that could entertain a lady with 
 as many adventures as Othello, — and it is no ill 
 way of gaining Desdemonas. Women are very apt 
 to take their lover's characters from their own 
 mouths ; and if you will believe Mr. Methuen's 
 account of himself, neither Artamenes nor Oroon- 
 dates ever had more valour, honour, constancy, and 
 discretion. Half of these bright qualities were 
 enougb to charm Madame Kilmansegg ; and they 
 were very soon in the strictest familiarity, which 
 continued for different reasons, to the pleasure of 
 both parties, till the arrival of Mademoiselle Schu- 
 lenberg, which was hastened by the German minis- 
 ters, who envied the money accumulated by 
 Madame Kilmansegg, which they longed to turn 
 into another channel ; which they thought would 
 be more easily drawn into their own hands. They 
 took care to inform Mademoiselle Schulenberg of
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 121 
 
 the fond reception all the Germans met with in 
 England, and gave her a view of the immense for- 
 tune that waited her here. This was enough to 
 cure her fears, and she arrived accompanied by a 
 young niece who had already made some noise at 
 Hanover. She had projected the conquest of the 
 Prince of Wales, and had so far succeeded as to 
 obtain his favours for some months; but the Prin- 
 cess, who dreaded a rival to her power, soon put an 
 end to the correspondence, and she was no longer 
 possessed of his good graces when he came hither. 
 
 I have not yet given the character of the Prince. 
 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 constraint ; 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, when- 
 ever he met with any opposition in those designs, 
 he thought his opposers insolent 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 power. 
 And in this view he looked upon the Princess as the
 
 122 LADY M. W. MONTAGU'S ACCOUNT OF 
 
 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 good-natured father had been so complaisant 
 as 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 
 men of sense ; I mean a low cunning, which gave 
 her an inclination to cheat all the people she con- 
 versed with, and often cheated herself in the first 
 place, by showing her the wrong side of her in- 
 terest, not having understanding enough to observe 
 that falsehood in conversation, like red on the face, 
 should be used very seldom and very sparingly, or 
 they destroy that interest and beauty which 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 ex- 
 travagant 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 ac- 
 tions,) that whenever he thought proper to find 
 them with other women, she even loved whoever 
 was instrumental to his entertainment, and never 
 resented any thing but what appeared to her a 
 want of respect for him ; and in this light she really
 
 THE COURT OF GEORGE I. 123 
 
 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 re- 
 spect for 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 
 entirely under the government of his wife. 
 
 The indolent Elector contented himself with 
 showing his resentment by his silence towards him ; 
 and this was the situation the family first appeared 
 in when they came into England. This behaviour 
 did not, however, hinder schemes being laid by 
 various persons of gratifying their ambition, or 
 making their fortunes, by particular attachments 
 to each of the royal family.
 
 ON THE STATE OF PARTY 
 
 AT 
 
 THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE I. 
 BY MR. WORTLEY. 
 
 As soon as the Queen was dead, the palace of 
 St. James's was filled with the Whigs, who were im- 
 patient to see the choice of the Regency. When 
 the names were known, it had the universal appro- 
 bation of all men except a few friends of my Lord 
 Sunderland, my Lord Somers, and my Lord Whar- 
 ton. But Lords Sunderland and Wharton were 
 very wisely left out, having been too violent and 
 too odious to a great part of the nation. The Re- 
 gency had not been long met but there began to be 
 two or three parties among them ; and, before the 
 King came, it was pretty publicly known that Lord 
 Marlborough, Lord Townshend, and Lord Halifax, 
 did each of them aim at the whole power ; and, 
 because they had heard that the King's inclination 
 was to have a mixture of Whigs and Tories, each of 
 these then endeavoured to strengthen himself by an 
 addition of Tories ; being all of them ready enough 
 to drop their friends the Whigs, who had been all 
 along so zealous for the succession. My Lord
 
 126 STATE OF PARTY 
 
 Townsliend had tlie good fortune to be joined with 
 the best of the Tories, my Lord N . 
 
 It was very extraordinary to see a cabinet council 
 chosen out of the Whigs, and yet many of the best 
 pLices in the House of Commons offered to the To- 
 ries ; which looks as if the Lords were satisfied with 
 getting places for themselves, and showed their in- 
 gratitude towards the Commons, who had done 
 everything in the late reign ; but my Lord Towns- 
 liend got the better. 
 
 My Lord Marlborough was justly blamed for en- 
 deavouring to put his officers of the army into all 
 the civil places ; and my Lord Halifax, for giving 
 too much reason to suspect he was willing to save 
 Oxford ; and he was indiscreet enough to do this, 
 
 though Mr. G , who was said to be for the 
 
 scheme of mixing Whigs and Tories, declared to all 
 he met that the criminals ought to be punished : so 
 that it was plain that Lord Halifax's design of fa- 
 vouring Harley could not be with the King's appro- 
 bation, every one of his German ministers declaring 
 openly against it. The suspicion of Lord Halifax's 
 being too much Oxford's friend, for which he gave 
 too much reason, was the occasion of all the wrong 
 steps that may have been taken. For whenever 
 Mr. Walpole, who had got the entire government 
 of Lord Townshend, had a mind to take any violent 
 step, though never so disgusting to the people, he 
 was sure to carry his point. If my Lord Halifax 
 said anything against it, he was said to speak in
 
 AT THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE I. 127 
 
 favour of the Tories ; if any other spoke against it, 
 it was said he was of my Lord Halifax's party ; so 
 that no one could have a fair hearing but himself ; 
 and he was certainly in this particular to be pre- 
 ferred before Lord Halifax, that no one suspected 
 his being a friend to the Tories, for whom the 
 King seemed to have no inclination after Sir Tho- 
 mas Hanmer had been weak enough to refuse his 
 favour. 
 
 Lord Halifax seldom could gain his point, though 
 he was never so much in the right. Mr. Walpole 
 carried everything, though he was never so much in 
 the wrong. 
 
 Before the opening of the session, Mr. Walpole 
 was in full power ; and when the places of conse- 
 quence were to be disposed of, Mr. Walpole named 
 as many as he thought fit, striking out of the list 
 presented by the Treasury to the King, not only 
 Tories, but Whigs, when he wanted to put others 
 in their places ; and at a debate, at which eight of 
 the cabinet and about as many commoners were 
 present, Mr. Walpole carried it that the books, 
 letters, and papers on which the late ministers were 
 to be impeached, should not be read till the orders 
 were made. Mr. Walpole pretends he did not 
 think Lord Halifax was to be trusted with them. 
 But most people are of opinion Mr. Walpole want- 
 ed to have the whole credit of the management of 
 this affair, and, by knowing more of these papers, 
 to seem an able talker and writer.
 
 128 STATE OF PARTY 
 
 He might, if he had pleased, have produced pa- 
 pers to impeach the guilty in the first week of the 
 session ; but, instead of that, he delayed his report 
 four months after the session was begun, to make it 
 so much the Jiner. The whole body of the Whigs 
 were impatient to have the impeachment begin, 
 and foresaw that the criminals might make great 
 advantage of this delay. So that this delay, and 
 all the ill consequences attending it, are justly 
 charged upon the imprudence of Mr. Walpole. 
 
 It was owing to him that, in the proclamation for 
 choosing the parliament, it was declared in pretty 
 strong terms that it was the King's desire that 
 Whigs should be chosen ; and was an open declara- 
 tion that no Tories were to have any share in the 
 King's favour, which could not but exasperate them, 
 and certainly was not the occasion of any number 
 of Whigs being chosen, more than would have been 
 without it. The Whigs that had no dealings with 
 the court, generally disliked it. 
 
 It was owing to him that the King asked more 
 money for the civil list ; which gave the Tories a 
 great advantage over the Whigs, and which all the 
 Whigs were sorry for but those who depended upon 
 the court. Had it been proper to make an addi- 
 tion in the first session, it would have come much 
 more properly from the House of Commons. 
 
 It was plain, before the parliament met, that they 
 were ready to do what the King pleased, so that 
 whatever was obtained was not owing to any par-
 
 AT THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE I. 129 
 
 ticular man ; nor could any man, or any set of 
 Whigs, be considerable enough to put off anything 
 that the King would have done ; and the only 
 question was, what was fit to be done, and in what 
 manner. It appears, by what has happened, many 
 things have not been managed as they should be ; 
 and the heat of many Tories in the country, and 
 the indifference of many Whigs, is owing to a wrong 
 conduct. 
 
 The injustice shown in trying of elections has 
 perhaps this sessions been greater than ever. 
 
 Mr. Walpole's violence and imprudence is cen- 
 sured by all the Whigs but those who depend upon 
 the court ; and among these all the chief, except 
 one or two (who are not reckoned among the men 
 of good judgment) under his conduct. The chief 
 men in place are the Speaker, Sir Richard Onslow, 
 Mr. Boscawen, Mr. Aislaby, Mr. Smith, Mr. Lech- 
 mere, Mr. Bayley, Mr. Pulteney, Mr. Stanhope. 
 Except the two last, every one of these nine has 
 expressed his dislike of Mr. Walpole's conduct ; and 
 these two were never reckoned among the men who 
 were able to judge of the House of Commons, or of 
 the inclinations of the people. Neither has been 
 much versed in the business of the House ; and Mr. 
 Stanhope has made many remarkable false steps in 
 managing the business of the House. 
 
 So that had the King taken the opinion of the 
 principal members of the House before any business 
 of moment was proposed, which was the method 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 STATE OF PARTY 
 
 constantly used by King William, affairs would cer- 
 tainly have been managed in a different way. 
 
 Mr. W., who has less credit than any of the nine, 
 is set at the head of them by Lord T.'s favour. 
 Lord T., that was never of the H. himself, thinks 
 Mr. W. understands it better than anybody, because 
 he knows more of it than himself. Mr. Rer. and 
 Mr. B. seem entirely joined with Lord T. and Mr. 
 W. ; so that whatever the King hears from B. or 
 B. or Lord T., are commonly the words put into 
 their mouths by Mr. W.* 
 
 Lord T. acts much against his own interest in 
 setting up Mr. W. above the rest ; but Lord T. 
 was never thought to have a strong judgment, 
 though his language and winning carriage and ^ 
 honest intention made all the Whigs justly wish 
 to see him Secretary of State. He is the fittest 
 man for it in the House of Lords ; nothing could 
 have sunk his credit, or can ever make the Whigs 
 see him changed, unless his blindness towards Mr. 
 W.'s actions should set them against him, as it 
 has made them less for him than they would have 
 been otherwise. Mr. Stanhope, who has doubled 
 
 * The blanks in this paragraph after the letters W. and T. 
 are evidently to be filled up by the names of Walpole and 
 Townshend ; but the whole paragraph is now given precisely as 
 it stands in the original. Who the " Rer." alluded to is, the 
 editor can only guess at. George I. had a French secretary 
 culled llobethon. Count BernstofF and Baron Bothman were 
 two of his Hanoverian ministers, who were with him in Eng- 
 land ; and the two B.'s probably allude to those persons. — W.
 
 AT THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE I. 131 
 
 his fortune in one year, as he thinks, by the favour 
 of Lord Townshend, will always second what he 
 does; and perhaps his want of judgment, or want 
 of skill in the House of Commons, may give him a 
 great opinion of Mr. Walpole. Of the nine above 
 named, four or five who differ from {^him'\ in this 
 point have been always reckoned above him in 
 judgment ; so that what he says are commonly Mr. 
 Walpole's words. 
 
 There may be another reason Mr. Walpole is so 
 supported. 
 
 Baron B. is said to take what money he can. 
 Mr. W. is the most proper man in England to 
 assist him in getting it ; and why should Baron B. 
 join himself with a man so suspicious, unless he did 
 take it ? There are very strong circumstances for 
 suspecting B. has got great sums, and is known to 
 be the director of B. ; and, indeed, this alliance is 
 so well known, that no man ever says anything 
 of Mr. W. except in praise of him, to any of them.* 
 
 Mr. Walpole is already looked upon as the 
 chief minister, made so by Lord Townshend ; and 
 when he is in the Treasury, it will be thought that 
 
 * In the first edition of this volume, a blank was left at this 
 place, and a note appended stating that that blank should be 
 supplied by the name of Walpole. Upon referring to the ori- 
 ginal paper, however, it appears that there is in fact no blank 
 in that place, and the whole paragraph is now printed exactly 
 as it stands in that paper. In this paragraph also, the W is 
 clearly to be filled up by Walpole ; but, as it stands, the passage 
 respecting B. and B. does not appear very intelligible. — W. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 STATE OF PARTY 
 
 the King has declared him so. The Duke of Albe- 
 marle Lord Shaftesbury, Lord Clifford, afterwards 
 Treasurer, were all Commissioners at a time. In 
 King William's [j^eign'] Lord Godolphin was third 
 Commissioner of the Treasury after having been 
 Secretary of State. Lord Montague was one of the 
 seven Regents in King William's absence. Great 
 men have generally been of the Treasury ; and 
 when a Commissioner of the Treasury has equal 
 favour with any of the other ministers, he will be 
 first minister. 
 
 Can it be for the honour of the Government to 
 have a man marked for corruption declared first 
 minister ? Can he bear the envy of having such a 
 post ? especially when he has already the places of 
 two Paymasters, and a place for his uncle, though 
 a Tory. 
 
 If he is to be in it {the treasury), is it reasonable 
 he should make all the rest ? 
 
 The Commissioners of the Treasury have com- 
 monly been all men of great figure, and indepen- 
 dent of one another, chose by the King's favour. 
 
 If the list of the Commissioners of the Treasury 
 in King William's time be looked over, it is plain 
 he chose men not likely to be of the same opinion ; 
 in King Charles's time it was plainly so too. 
 
 My Lord Oxford was the first commissioner 
 that chose all his brethren, and it is plain what was 
 the ill consequence of giving him so uncontrolled 
 a power.
 
 AT THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE I. 133 
 
 If there be one or two in the commission who 
 are not of Mr. Walpole's choosing, they cannot 
 hinder any of his projects, so that they can do no 
 harm ; and can do no good but to inform the King 
 of his affairs. This is what Mr. Walpole will en- 
 deavour to prevent all he can.
 
 -NtrRA-iTEiJ BT-W: GET' i-'""-' 
 
 r<H:N"Ai. BT laraxLi 
 
 OF iOEJj -wBABNVx.i!ryi:.. 
 
 \-.-^ I--.,-'n->>-H 1'. 
 
 ■iRfse.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 WRITTEN BEFORE THE YEAR 
 1717.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 WRITTEN BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 May 2, 1707. 
 
 I HOPE, my dear Mrs. Wortley, that you are so 
 just to me, to believe I could not leave the town 
 without seeing you ; but very much against my 
 own inclination, I am now at Thorsby. Our journey 
 has been very bad ; but in my opinion, the worst 
 part of it was — going from you. I hope you in- 
 tend to be kinder to me this summer, than you 
 were the last. There needs nothing to keep up the 
 remembrance of you in my heart ; but, I would not 
 think of you, and think you forget me. Farewell, 
 my dear. My letter should be longer, if it were 
 possible to make it so without repetition; but I have 
 already told you I love you, and implored you not 
 to forget me, which (as I hope to breathe) is all I 
 
 have to say. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 TO LADY 
 
 Having (like other undeserving people) a vast 
 opinion of my own merits, and some small faith in
 
 138 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 your sincerity, I believed it impossible you should 
 forget me, and therefore very impudently expected 
 a long letter from you this morning ; but Heaven, 
 which you know delights in abasing the proud, has, 
 I find, decreed no such thing ; and notwithstanding 
 my vanity and your vows, I begin to fancy myself 
 forgotten ; and this epistle comes, in humble man- 
 ner, to kiss your hands, and petition for the scanty 
 alms of one little visit, though never so short : pray. 
 Madam, for God's sake, have pity on a poor prisoner 
 — one little visit — so may God send you a fine hus- 
 band, continuance of beauty, &c. ; but if you deny 
 my request, and make a jest of my tenderness 
 (which, between friends, I do think a little upon 
 
 the ridiculous), I do vow never to ; but I had 
 
 better not vow, for I shall certainly love you, do 
 what you will — though I beg you would not tell 
 some certain people of that fond expression, who 
 will infallibly advise you to follow the abominable 
 maxims of, no answer, ill-treatment, and so forth, 
 not considering that such conduct is full as base as 
 beating a poor wretch who has his hands tied ; and 
 mercy to the distressed is a mark of divine good- 
 ness. Upon which godly consideration I hope you 
 will afford a small visit to your disconsolate 
 
 M. PlERREPONT.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 139 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY * 
 
 Ash Wednesday, 1709. 
 This comes to inquire after your health in the 
 first place ? and if there be any hopes of the re- 
 covery of my diamond ? If not I must content 
 myself with reckoning it one of the mortifications 
 proper to this devout time, and it may serve for 
 a motive of humiliation. Is not this the right tem- 
 per, with which we ought to bear losses which ? 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 July 21, 1709. 
 How often (my dear Mrs. Wortley) must I as- 
 sure you that your letters are ever agreeable and 
 beyond expression welcome to me ? Depend upon 
 it, that I reckon the correspondence you favour me 
 with, too great a happiness, to neglect it ; there 
 is no dangers of your fault, I rather fear to grow 
 troublesome by my acknowledgments. I will not 
 believe you flatter me, I will look upon what you 
 
 * Mrs, Wortley was Anne Wortley, the second daughter 
 of the Honourable Sydney Wortley Montagu, the second son 
 of the first Lord Sandwich, who, upon his marriage with the 
 only daughter and heiress of Sir Francis Wortley, was obliged 
 by Sir Francis's will to take his name. Mrs. Anne Wortley 
 was the favourite sister of Edward Wortley Montagu, Esq. 
 Lady Mary's husband.
 
 140 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 say as an obliging mark of your partiality. How- 
 happy must I think myself when I fancy your 
 friendship to me even great enough to overpower your 
 judgment ! I am afraid this is one of the pleasures 
 of the imagination, and I cannot be so very suc- 
 cessful in so earnest and important a wish. This 
 letter is excessively dull. Do you know it is from 
 my vast desire of pleasing you, as there is nothing 
 more frequent than for the voice to falter when 
 people sing before judges, or, as those arguments 
 are always worst where the orator is in a passion. 
 
 Believe me, I could scribble three sheets to 
 
 (I must not name), but to twenty people that have 
 not so great a share of my esteem, and whose 
 friendship is not so absolutely necessary for my 
 happiness, but am quite at a loss to you. I will not 
 commend your letters (let them deserve never so 
 much), because I will shew you 'tis possible for me 
 to forbear what I have mind to, when I know 'tis 
 your desire I should do so. My dear, dear, adieu ! 
 I am entirely yours, and wish nothing more than 
 that it may be some time or other in my power 
 to convicc you that there is nobody dearer than 
 yourself to 
 
 M. PlERREPONT. 
 
 I am horridly ashamed of this letter, pray Heaven 
 you may not think it too inconsiderable to be 
 laughed at — that may be.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 141 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 August 8, 1709. 
 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, mis- 
 carry as the last did ; how unfortunate am I if it 
 does ! You will think I forget you, 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 esteem 
 you 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 unea- 
 siness ; and let me beg you for the future, if you do 
 not receive letters very constantly from me, ima- 
 gine 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
 
 142 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 not at all proper for so delicate an employment as 
 chusing 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 divert- 
 ing, I am not only easy, but pleased with the soli- 
 tude 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 com- 
 plaisance 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 
 impertinencies 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 every thing in the desire of ap- 
 pearing in fashion. I call all people who fall in love 
 with furniture, clothes, and equipage, of this num- 
 ber, and I look upon them as no less in the wrong 
 than when they were five years old, and doated 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
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 143 
 
 of this talk so before. I suppose you expect, too, I 
 should conclude with begging pardon for this ex- 
 treme 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 inno- 
 cent of, than proving myself mad in three pages. 
 
 My sister says a great deal about Mrs. K. ; but 
 besides my having forgot it, the paper is at an 
 end. 
 
 TO THE LADY MARY PIERREPONT. 
 
 August 20th, 1709. 
 Dear Lady Mary will pardon my vanity ; I could 
 not forbear reading to a Cambridge Doctor that was 
 with me, a few of those lines that did not make me 
 happy till this week : where you talk of dictionaries 
 and grammars, he stopped me, and said, " the rea- 
 son why you had more wit than any man, was, that 
 your mind had never been encumbered with any of 
 these tedious authors ; that Cowley never submitted 
 to the rules of grammar, and therefore excelled all 
 of his own time in learning, as well as in wit ; that 
 without them, you would read with pleasure in two 
 or three months ; but that if you persisted in the 
 use of them, you would throw away your Latin in 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 you for a brighter 
 ornament than any it can boast of." It is not be-
 
 144 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 cause I am public-spirited, that I could not delay 
 telling you what I believed would make you suc- 
 ceed in your attempt ; nor can I positively affirm it 
 proceeds from fondness, but rather admiration. I 
 think I love you too well to envy you ; but the love 
 of one's self is in all so powerful, that it may be 
 a doubt whether the most violent passion would 
 prevail with me to forward you in the pursuit, did 
 I imagine you wanted that accomplishment to set 
 you above me. But since, without any addition, as 
 you now are I know there is so little hopes of 
 coming near you, that if I loved you not at all, I 
 should not be averse to raising you higher ; nor can 
 all the good things you say of me make me think 
 the distance to be less, and yet I must own they 
 are very pleasing, notwithstanding you say that 
 when you wrote this last you were mad, which 
 brings to my mind the other in which you say you 
 are dull, so that you own when you are yourself, 
 you have no such thoughts of me. Nay, should 
 you in another, to convince me that you are in an 
 interval, by being sensible that those shining quali- 
 ties in you were designed to give splendour to a 
 court, please the multitude, and do honour to 
 nature, — should you tell me your recovery of your 
 reason had not altered your opinion of me, there 
 would still be a scruple ; and yet in spite of that 
 too, your compliments would please. You may re- 
 member you once told me it was as easy to write 
 kindly to a hobby-horse, as to a woman, nay, or a
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 145 
 
 man. I should know too how diverting a scene it is 
 (I forgot where I met with it, but you can tell me) 
 to make a ploughman sit on a throne, and fancy he 
 is an emperor. However, 'tis a cheat so pleasing, I 
 cannot help indulging it ; and to keep off the evil 
 day as long as I can of being deceived, shall remain 
 with truth and passion, 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Anne Wortley. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 Aug. 21, 1709. 
 
 When I said it cost nothing to write tenderly, 
 I believe I spoke of another sex ; I am sure not of 
 myself: 'tis not in my power (I would to God it 
 was I) to hide a kindness where I have one, or dissem- 
 ble it where I have none. I cannot help answering 
 your letter this minute, and telling you I infinitely 
 love you, though, it may be, you'll call the one im- 
 pertinence, and the other dissimulation ; but you 
 may think what you please of me, I must eternally 
 think the same things of you. 
 
 I hope my dear Mrs. Wortley's shewing my let- 
 ter is in the same strain as her compliments, all 
 meant for raillery, and I am not to take it as a 
 thing really so ; but I '11 give you as serious an an- 
 swer as if 'twas all true. 
 
 When Mr. Cowley and other people (for I know 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 several have learnt after the same manner) were in 
 places where they had opportunity of being learned 
 by word of mouth, I don't see any violent neces- 
 sity of printed rules ; but being where, from the top 
 of the house to the bottom, not a creature in it un- 
 derstands so much as even good English, without 
 the help of a dictionary or inspiration, I know no way 
 of attaining to any language. Despairing of the 
 last, I am forced to make use of the other, though 
 I do verily believe I shall return to London the 
 same ignorant soul I went from it ; but the study is 
 a present amusement. I must own I have vanity 
 enough to fancy, if I had any body with me, with- 
 out much trouble perhaps I might read. 
 
 What do you mean by complaining I never WTite 
 to you in the quiet situation of mind I do to other 
 people ? My dear, people never write calmly, but 
 when they write indifferently. That I should ever 
 do so to you, I take to be entirely impossible ; I 
 must be always very much pleased, or in very great 
 affliction, as you tell me of your friendship, or 
 unkindly doubt mine. I can never allow even pru- 
 dence and sincerity to have any thing to do with 
 one another, at least I have always found it so in 
 myself, who being devoted to the one, had never 
 the least tincture of the other. What I am now 
 doing, is a very good proof of what I say, 'tis a 
 plain undesigning truth — your friendship is the only 
 happiness of my life ; and whenever I lose it, I have 
 nothing to do but to take one of my garters and
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 147 
 
 search for a convenient beam. You see how ab- 
 solutely necessary it is for me to preserve it. Pru- 
 dence is at the very time saying to me, Are you 
 mad, you won't send this dull, tedious, insipid, long- 
 letter to Mrs. Wortley, will you ? 'tis the direct way 
 to tire out her patience : if she serves you as you 
 deserve, she will first laugh very heartily, then tear 
 the letter, and never answer it, purely to avoid 
 the plague of such another : will her good-nature 
 for ever resist her judgment ? — I hearken to these 
 counsels, I allow 'em to be good, and then — I act 
 quite contrary. No consideration can hinder me 
 from telling you, my dear dear Mrs. Wortley, no 
 body ever was so entirely, so faithfully yours as 
 
 M. P. 
 
 I put in your lovers, for I don't allow it possible 
 for a man to be so sincere as I am ; if there was 
 such a thing, though, you would find it ; I submit 
 therefore to your judgment. 
 
 I had forgot to tell you that I writ a long let- 
 ter, directed to Peterborough, last post; I hope 
 you '11 have it : — you see I forgot your judgment, 
 to depend upon your goodness. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 Aug. 21, 1709. 
 I AM infinitely obliged to you, my dear Mrs. 
 Wortley, for the wit, beauty, and other fine qua- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LETIMLRS WRITTEN 
 
 lities, you so generously bestow upon me. Next 
 to receiving them from Heaven, you are the person 
 from whom I would chuse to receive gifts and 
 graces: I am very well satisfied to owe them to 
 your own delicacy of imagination, which represents 
 to you the idea of a fine lady, and you have good 
 nature enough to fancy I am she. All this is 
 mighty well, but you do not stop there ; imagina- 
 tion is boundless. 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 studying these three 
 hours, and cannot guess who you mean. I passed 
 the days of Nottingham races at Thorsby, 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 hereabouts, and teach it to the echo. 
 You see, being I am in love, I am willing to be so 
 in order and rule ; I 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, encreasing the winds with my sighs, or
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 140 
 
 to sit by a purling stream, swelling the rivulet 
 with my tears ; may be, both may do well in their 
 turns : — but to be a minute serious, what do you 
 mean by this reproach of inconstancy ? I confess 
 you give me several good qualities I have not, and 
 I am ready to thank you for them, but then you 
 must not take away those few I have. No, I will 
 never exchange them : take back the beauty and 
 wit you bestow upon me, leave me my own medio- 
 crity of agreeableness and genius, but leave me 
 also my sincerity, my constancy, and my plain 
 dealing; 'tis all I have to recommend me to the 
 esteem either of others or myself. How should I 
 despise myself if I could think I was capable of 
 either inconstancy or deceit ! I know not how I 
 may appear to other people, nor how much my face 
 may belie my heart, but I know that I never was 
 or can be guilty of dissimulation or inconstancy — 
 you will think this vain, but 'tis all that I pique 
 myself upon. Tell me you believe me and repent 
 of your harsh censure. Tell it me in pity to my 
 uneasiness, for you are one of those few people 
 about whose good opinion I am in pain. I have 
 always took so little care to please the generality 
 of the world, that I am never mortified or delight- 
 ed by its reports, which is a piece of stoicism born 
 with me ; but I cannot be one minute easy while 
 you think ill of 
 
 Your faithful 
 
 M. P.
 
 150 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 This letter is a good deal grave, and, like other 
 grave things, dull ; but I won't ask pardon for 
 
 what I can't help. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 Sept. 5, 1709. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Wortley, as she has the entire 
 power of raising, can also, with a word, calm my 
 passions. The kindness of your last recompenses 
 me for the injustice of your former letter ; but you 
 cannot sure be angry at my little resentment. You 
 have read that a man who, with patience, hears 
 himself called heretic, can never be esteemed a 
 good Christian. 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. Don't tell me any body 
 ever had so mean an opinion of my inclinations ; 
 'tis among the number of those things I would for- 
 get. My tenderness is always built upon my es- 
 teem, and when the foundation perishes, it falls : 
 I must own, I think it is so with every body — but 
 enough of this : you tell me it was meant for rail- 
 lery — was not the kindness meant so too ? I fear I 
 am too apt to think what is amusement designed in 
 earnest — no matter, 'tis for my repose to be de- 
 ceived, and I will believe whatever you tell me. 
 
 I should be very glad to be informed of a right 
 method, or whether there is such a thing alone, but
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 151 
 
 am afraid to ask the question. It may be reason- 
 ably called presumption in a girl to have her 
 thoughts that way. You are the only creature 
 that I have made my confidante in that case : I '11 
 assure you, 1 call it the greatest secret of my life. 
 Adieu, my dear, the post stays ; my next shall be 
 longer. M. P. 
 
 TO THE LADY MARY PIERREPONT. 
 
 Sept. 15, 1709. 
 
 It is as impossible for my dearest Lady Mary to 
 utter a thought that can seem dull, as to put on 
 a look that is not beautiful. Want of wit is a 
 thought that those who envy you most would not 
 be able to find in your kind compliments. To me 
 they seem perfect, since repeated assurances of 
 your kindness forbid me to question their sincerity. 
 You have often found that the most angry, nay, 
 the most neglectful air you could put on, has made 
 as deep a wound as the kindest ; and these lines of 
 yours, which you tax with dullness, (perhaps be- 
 cause they were not written when you were in a 
 right humour, or when your thoughts were else- 
 where employed,) are so far from deserving the im- 
 putation, that the very turn of your expression, had 
 I forgot the rest of your charms, would be sufficient 
 to make me lament the only fault you have — your 
 inconstancy.
 
 152 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 But, upon second thoughts, how can this be a 
 fault ? no — 'tis none, and you are altogether per- 
 fect. 'Tis to this happy disposition of being 
 pleased with a variety of new objects, that we owe 
 that wit of yours, which is so surprising ; and to 
 this alone I am indebted for the inexpressible de- 
 light in the present enjoyment of your favour ; and 
 it would be extravagant in me to call it either your 
 fault or my misfortune. I wish the most happy 
 person* now in being, whom I have often discovered 
 to be so, in spite of your arts to hide it, may be as 
 able to make this reflection at the Nottingham race, 
 as I, who am not subdued by so strong a passion of 
 that sort (for Hinchinbroke air, from whence I am 
 just come, has not so kind an influence on all as 
 upon Lord Sandwich). Such passions as those, 
 where there is an object like Lady Mary, leave no 
 room for cool reflections ; and I wish he may not be 
 so far overcome by his fears for the future, as to 
 forget what a favourite of fortune he is in the 
 present possession of so great a bliss. You will 
 want to know how this race comes into my head. 
 This country, out of which many go thither, aflbrds 
 no other tittle tattle at this time ; besides that, yes- 
 terday, as I was talking of it to Mrs. Sherrard, she 
 said, " Lady Mary would be well diverted, for 
 Nicolini would be there." One that was by said, 
 
 * Alluding to her brother Edward Wortley Montagu, Esq. 
 afterwards the husband of Lady Mary Pierrepont.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 153 
 
 " There would be much better diversion there ;" 
 looking at me, as if he insinuated you would have 
 pleasures less imaginary than those Nicolini could 
 give. When that race is over, and your thoughts 
 free again, I shall be glad to hear you have been well 
 entertained. Every one but yourself will be, I am 
 very sure. The sight of you is a satisfaction I envy 
 them heartily. There is not a man among them 
 that would (not) be content to be any thing, to be the 
 man I have named, to enjoy the prosperous gale 
 that one of them does. I will be sure to conceal 
 your letter, not for the faults you say you are 
 ashamed of, but to give no pangs to him, nor any 
 other, by discovering your kind assurance that 
 none is dearer to you than myself, which would 
 make the dullest letter that ever was written, sub- 
 scribed by Lady Mary, more valuable than all I 
 ever received. Don't think so long a letter as this 
 is inexcusable from so fond an admirer of charming 
 Lady Mary as 
 
 Anne Wortley. 
 
 TO LADY MARY PIERREPONT. 
 
 Sept. 27, 1709. 
 
 There cannot be a stronger proof of inconstancy 
 than your severity to me for using the word. Who- 
 ever should read over those inestimable kind things 
 you writ just before, and see this cruel reprimand
 
 154 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 come immediately after it, would bewail the uncer- 
 tainty of human happiness. A change like this is 
 not to be met with in tragedy. If it is any where, 
 the poet cannot but be condemned for going out of 
 nature, by all but myself. I had infallibly raved 
 ere now, if this letter had not gone round by Pe- 
 terborough, and met the other on the road, in which 
 your indignation seems a little abated. This I had 
 the good fortune to open first, so that I escaped 
 the fright that your anger would have given me ; 
 and viewing a passion I knew half extinguished, I 
 had only the displeasure of seeing how soon you 
 could be offended at me, and how easy your affec- 
 tion was to be lost, which I always knew was hard 
 to be obtained. I heartily wish those plains of 
 Nottingham, that have given me all this pain, may 
 be turned by some earthquake into mountains and 
 rocks ; that none of its rivulets may ever receive the 
 tears, nor its breezes the sighs, of a lover ; nay, let 
 them be inaccessible both to man and beast. But 
 how can my dearest Lady Mary think it so wild 
 (though an unhappy) thought in me to mention 
 
 that race ? You may easily recollect how either 
 
 or another rallied you upon one you met last year in 
 that field, or — where you dined together after the 
 diversion was over — well — henceforward I will have 
 done with all jealous tricks. I did not imagine I 
 could have paid so dearly for this ; — but hencefor- 
 ward I will not dare to speak, no, nor so much as 
 to think, any thing of my dearest Lady Mary in a
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 155 
 
 laughing way ; nor will I ever presume to meddle 
 witli so high a subject as your pity to any of the 
 other sex, which you outshine so far ; but shall be 
 satisfied if I am admitted into your lower enter- 
 tainments, if I have the same rank among your 
 admirers that your grammars and dictionaries have 
 among your books ; if I serve only to assist you in 
 procuring pleasures without the least hope of ever 
 being able to give them. Let me send you what 
 stories I collect, which you will be sure to make 
 diverting ; choose your ribbands and heads on 
 which you will bestow the power of enchanting. I 
 will be contented in transmitting to you the best 
 rules I hear of acquiring languages, which, though 
 it can't raise a genius already so high, yet may 
 very much enlarge your dominions, by adding all 
 that can possibly disobey you — the ignorant — who 
 are taught to believe that learning is wit. Make 
 what you will of me, tis enough that you own me 
 to be Yours, A. Wortley. 
 
 * TO THE LORD BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 
 
 [with her translation of epictetus.] 
 
 July 20, 1710. 
 Mv Lord, 
 
 Your hours are so well employed, I hardly dare 
 
 offer you this trifle to look over ; but then, so well 
 
 * Dr. Gilbert Burnet,
 
 156 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 am I acquainted with tlie sweetness of temper 
 which accompanies your learning, I dare ever as- 
 sure myself of a pardon. You have already for- 
 given me greater impertinencies, and condescended 
 yet farther in giving me instructions, and bestow- 
 ing some of your minutes in teaching me. This 
 surprising humility has all the effect it ought to 
 have on my heart ; I am sensible of the gratitude 
 I owe to so much goodness, and how much I am 
 ever bound to be your servant. Here is the work 
 of one week of my solitude : by the many faults in 
 it, your Lordship will easily believe I spent no more 
 time upon it : it was hardly finished when I was 
 obliged to begin my journey, and I had not leisure 
 to write it over again. You have it here without 
 any corrections, with all its blots and errors : I en- 
 deavoured at no beauty of style, but to keep as 
 literally as I could to the sense of the author. My 
 only intention in presenting it, is to ask your Lord- 
 ship whether 1 have understood Epictetus ? The 
 fourth chapter particularly, I am afraid I have 
 mistaken. Piety and greatness of soul set you 
 above all misfortunes that can happen to yourself, 
 except the calumnies of false tongues ; but that 
 same piety which renders what happens to yourself 
 indifferent to you, yet softens the natural compas- 
 sion in your temper to the greatest degree of ten- 
 derness for the interests of the Church, and the 
 liberty and welfare of your country : the steps that 
 are now made towards the destruction of both, the
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 157 
 
 apparent danger we are in, the manifest growth of 
 injustice, oppression, and hypocrisy, cannot do 
 otherwise than give your Lordship those hours of 
 sorrow, which, did not your fortitude of soul, and 
 reflections from religion and philosophy, shorten, 
 would add to the national misfortunes, by injuring 
 the health of so great a supporter of our sinking 
 liberties. I ought to ask pardon for this digression : 
 it is more proper for me in this place to say some- 
 thing to excuse an address that looks so very pre- 
 suming. My sex is usually forbid studies of this 
 nature, and folly reckoned so much our proper 
 sphere, that we are sooner pardoned any excesses 
 of that, than the least pretensions to reading or 
 good sense. We are permitted no books but such 
 as tend to the weakening and effeminating of the 
 mind. Our natural defects are every way indulg- 
 ed, and it is looked upon as in a degree criminal to 
 improve our reason, or fancy we have any. We 
 are taught to place all our art in adorning our out- 
 ward forms, and permitted, without reproach, to 
 carry that custom even to extravagancy, while our 
 minds are entirely neglected, and, by disuse of re- 
 flections, filled with nothing but the trifling objects 
 our eyes are daily entertained with. This custom, 
 so long established and industriously upheld, makes 
 it even ridiculous to go out of the common road, 
 and forces one to find as many excuses, as if it were 
 a thing altogether criminal not to play the fool in 
 concert with other women of quality, whose birth
 
 158 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 and leisure only serve to render them the most use- 
 less and most worthless part of the creation. There 
 is hardly a character in the world more despicable, 
 or more liable to universal ridicule, than that of a 
 learned woman : those words imply, according to 
 the received sense, a talking, impertinent, vain, and 
 conceited creature. I believe nobody will deny 
 that learning may have this effect, but it must be 
 a very superficial degree of it. Erasmus was 
 certainly a man of great learning, and good sense, 
 and he seems to have my opinion of it, when 
 he says, Fcemina qucc vere sapit, non videtur sibi 
 sapere ; contra, quce cum nihil sapiat sibi videtur 
 sapere, ea demum bis stulta est. The Abb6 Belle- 
 garde gives a right reason for women's talking 
 over-much, that they know nothing, and every 
 outward object strikes their imagination, and pro- 
 duces a multitude of thoughts, which, if they knew 
 more, they would know not worth their thinking of. 
 I am not now arguing for an equality of the two 
 sexes. I do not doubt but that God and nature 
 have thrown us into an inferior rank ; we are a lower 
 part of the creation, we owe obedience and submis- 
 sion to the superior sex, and any woman who suffers 
 her vanity and folly to deny this, rebells against 
 the law of the Creator, and indisputable order of 
 nature : but there is a worse effect than this, which 
 follows the careless education given to women of 
 quality, its being so easy for any man of sense, that 
 finds it either his interest or his pleasure, to corrupt
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 159 
 
 them. The common method is, to begin by attack- 
 ing their religion : they bring them a thousand fal- 
 lacious arguments, which their excessive ignorance 
 hinders them from refuting : and I speak now from 
 my own knowledge and conversation among them, 
 there are more atheists among the fine ladies than 
 the loosest sort of rakes ; and the same ignorance 
 that generally works out into excess of superstition, 
 exposes them to the snares of any who have a fancy 
 to carry them to t'other extream. I have made my 
 excuses already too long, and will conclude in the 
 words of Erasmus : Valgus seiitit quod lingua Latina 
 non convenit fcemmis, quia parum J'acit ad tuendam 
 illarum jjudicitiam, quoniam varum et insolitum est, 
 fceminam scire Latinam ; attamen cotisuetudo omnium 
 malarum rerum magistra. Deco?^um estfoeminam in 
 Germania natam discere Gallice, ut loquatur cum his 
 qui sciunt Gallice ; cur igitur habetur indecorum dis- 
 cere Latine, ut quotidie confabuletur cum tot auto- 
 ribus tam facundis, tain eruditis, tarn sapientibus, 
 tarn Jidis consultoribus ? Certe mihi quantulumcun- 
 que cerebri est, malim in bonis studiis consumere, 
 quam in precibus sine mente dictis, i?i periioctibus con- 
 viviis, in ed'hauriendis capacibus pateris, S^c. 
 
 I have tired your Lordship, and too long delayed 
 to subscribe myself 
 
 Your Lordship's 
 
 Most respectful and obliged 
 
 M. PlERREPONT.
 
 IGO LETTERS WIIIITEN 
 
 TO LADY MARY PIERREPONT. 
 
 1710. 
 
 Dear Lady Mary grows very cool. If I could 
 write a hundredth part as well as you, I should dis- 
 patch the post as often as I do the coachman to St. 
 James's ; but as it is, you will exchange pearl for 
 glass, and I shall think mine well bestowed. I am 
 just come into the country, where I have met with 
 nothing but what you have in perfection ; and could 
 I have any part of your imagination, I should write 
 perpetually. I am now in the room with an humble 
 servant of yours, who is arguing so hotly about 
 marriage, that I can not go on with my letter : I 
 should be very glad to bring you into the argu- 
 ment, being sure you would soon convince us in 
 what disturbs so many. Every body seeks hap- 
 piness ; but though every body has a different 
 taste, yet all pursue money, which makes people 
 choose great wigs because their neighbour sinks 
 under them, and they dare not be out of the fashion. 
 But you have dared to have wit joined with beauty, 
 a thing so much out of fashion, that we fly after you 
 with as much interestedness as we see the birds do 
 when one superior comes near them. If you would 
 give me a receipt how to divert you, I would try to 
 practise it, but find it impossible to be pleased with
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. l6l 
 
 myself, or with any thing I do. Send me word what 
 books to read, &c. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 Anne Wortley. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 1710. 
 
 I RETURN you a thousand thanks, my dear, for so 
 agreeable an entertainment as your letter in our 
 cold climate, where the sun appears unwillingly. 
 Wit is as wonderfully pleasing as a sun- shiny day ; 
 and, to speak poetically, Phoebus is very sparing of 
 all his favours. I fancied your letter an emblem of 
 yourself : in some parts I found the softness of your 
 voice, and in others the vivacity of your eyes : you 
 are to expect no return but humble and hearty 
 thanks, yet I can't forbear entertaining you with our 
 lork lovers. (Strange monsters you'll think, love 
 being as much forced up here as melons.) In the 
 first form of these creatures, is even Mr. Vanbrug. 
 Heaven, no doubt, compassionating our dullness, 
 has inspired him with a passion that makes us all 
 ready to die with laughing : 'tis credibly reported 
 that he is endeavouring at the honourable state of 
 matrimony, and vows to lead a sinful life no more. 
 Whether pure holiness inspires his mind, or dotage 
 turns his brain, is hard to find. 'Tis certain he 
 keeps Monday and Thursday market (assembly day) 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 constantly ; and for those that don't regard worldly 
 muck, there's extraordinary good choice indeed. I 
 believe last Monday there were two hundred pieces 
 of woman's flesh (fat and lean) : but you know 
 Van's taste was always odd ; his inclination to ruins 
 has given him a fancy for Mrs. Yarborough ; he 
 sighs and ogles so, that it would do your heart good 
 to see him ; and she is not a little pleased, in so 
 small a proportion of men amongst such a num- 
 ber of women, that a whole man should fall to 
 her share. 
 
 My dear, adieu. 
 
 My service to Mr. Congreve. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 TO MRS. WORTLEY. 
 
 I AM convinced, however dear you are to me, 
 Mrs. Anne Wortley, I am no longer of any concern 
 to you, therefore I shall only trouble you with an 
 insignificant story, when I tell you, I have been very 
 near leaving this changeable world ; but now, by 
 the doctor's assistance, and Heaven's blessing, am 
 in a condition of being as impertinently troublesome 
 to you as formerly. A sore throat, which plagued 
 me for a long while, brought me at last to such 
 a weakness, that you had a fair chance of being 
 released from me ; but God has not yet decreed you
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 163 
 
 SO much happiness ; though I must say this, you 
 have omitted nothing to make yourself so easy, hav- 
 ing strove to kill me by neglect : but destiny tri- 
 umphs over all your efforts ; I am yet in the land 
 of the living, and still yours, 
 
 M. P. 
 
 TO E. WORTLEY MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date.* 
 
 Perhaps you'll be surprized at this letter ; I have 
 had many debates with myself before I could re- 
 solve upon 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 for you, you are not to 
 judge of my manner of acting with others. You 
 are brother to a woman I tenderly loved ; my pro- 
 testations 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 
 doing. I am surprized at one of the Tatlers you 
 send me ; is it possible to have any sort of esteem 
 for a person one believes capable of having such 
 
 * A remarkable letter, probably the first she ever wrote to 
 him. There is a copy of it in his handwriting : it appears by 
 it that his sister was then dead. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 trifling inclinations ? Mr. Bickerstaff has very 
 wrong 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 expence of one serious reflection to 
 oblige me to it. I carry the matter yet farther ; 
 was I to choose of 2000/. a year or twenty thou- 
 sand, 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 which 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, and at the same time 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 forgive 
 an injury when I think it not done out of malice, I
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 165 
 
 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 contri- 
 bute 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 hu- 
 mours 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 wrote so plain as 
 I have done ; but to dissemble is among the things 
 I never do. I take more pains to approve my con- 
 duct 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 happi- 
 ness. I cannot resolve upon it. You must think 
 otherwise of me, or not at all. 
 
 I don't enjoin you to burn this letter, I know 
 you will. 'Tis the first I ever wrote to one of your 
 sex, and shall be the last. You may never expect 
 another. I resolve against all correspondence of the 
 kind ; my resolutions are seldom made, and never 
 broken. 
 
 To Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu, at Wortley, 
 near Sheffield, Yorkshire.
 
 166 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 TO E. WORTLEY MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Reading over your letter as fast as ever I could, 
 and answering it with the same ridiculous precipi- 
 tation, I find one part of it escaped my sight, and 
 the other I mistook in several places. Yours was 
 dated the 10th of August ; it came not hither till 
 the 20th. You say something of a packet-boat, &c. 
 which makes me uncertain whether you'll receive 
 my letter, and frets me heartily. Kindness, you 
 say, w ould be your destruction. In my opinion, this 
 is something contradictory to some other expres- 
 sions. People talk of being in love just as widows 
 do of affliction. Mr. Steele has observed, in one 
 of his plays, " that 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 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, that 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
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 167 
 
 me of a sudden — I hope I am not in your power — 
 I would give a good deal to be satisfied, &c. 
 
 As to writing — that any woman would do who 
 thought she writ well. Now I say, no woman of 
 common good sense would. At best, 'tis but doing 
 a silly thing well, and I think it is much better not 
 to do a silly thing at all. You compare it to dress- 
 ing. Suppose the comparison just : perhaps the 
 Spanish dress would become my face very well ; yet 
 the whole town would condemn me for the highest 
 extravagance if I went to court in it, though it 
 improved me to a miracle. There are a thousand 
 things, not ill in themselves, which custom makes 
 unfit to be done. This is to convince you I am 
 so far from applauding my own conduct, my con- 
 science flies in my face every time I think on't. 
 The generality of the world have a great indul- 
 gence to their own follies : without being a jot 
 wiser than my neighbours, I have the peculiar 
 misfortune to know and condemn all the wrong 
 things I do. 
 
 You beg to know whether I would not be out of 
 humour. The expression is modest enough ; but 
 that is not what you mean. In saying I could be 
 easy, I have already said I should not be out of hu- 
 mour: but you would have me say I am violently 
 in love ; that is, finding you think better of me 
 than you desire, you would have me give you a just 
 cause to contemn me. I doubt much whether there 
 is a creature in the world humble enough to do that.
 
 168 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 I slioukl not think you more unreasonable if you 
 were in love with my face, and asked me to dis- 
 figure it to make you easy. I have heard of some 
 nuns that made use of that expedient to secure 
 their own happiness ; but, amongst all the popish 
 saints and martyrs, 1 never read of one whose 
 charity was sublime enough to make themselves 
 deformed, or ridiculous, to restore their lovers to 
 peace and quietness. It short, if nothing can con- 
 tent you but despising me heartily, I am afraid I 
 shall be always so barbarous as to wish you may 
 esteem me as long as you live. M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 I INTENDED to make no answer to your letter ; 
 it was something very ungrateful, and I resolved to 
 give over all thoughts of you. I could easily have 
 performed that resolve some time ago, but then 
 you took pains to please me ; now you have brought 
 me to esteem you, you make use of that esteem to 
 give me uneasiness ; and I have the displeasure of 
 seeing I esteem a man that dislikes me. Farewell 
 then : since you will have it so, I renounce all the 
 ideas I have so long flattered myself with, and will 
 entertain my fancy no longer with the imaginary 
 pleasure of pleasing you. How much wiser are all 
 those women I have despised than myself! In
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 169 
 
 placing their happiness in trifles, they have placed 
 
 it in what is attainable. I fondly thought fine 
 
 clothes and gilt coaches, balls, operas, and public 
 
 adoration, rather the fatigues of life ; and that 
 
 true happiness was justly defined by Mr. Dryden 
 
 (pardon the romantic air of repeating verses), when 
 
 he says. 
 
 Whom Heav'n would bless it does from pomp remove, 
 And makes their wealth in privacy and love. 
 
 These notions had corrupted my judgment as much 
 as Mrs. Biddy Tipkin's. According to this scheme, 
 I proposed to pass my life with you. I yet do you 
 the justice to believe, if any man could have been 
 contented with this manner of living, it would have 
 been you. Your indifference to me does not hinder 
 me from thinking you capable of tenderness, and 
 the happinesses of friendship ; but I find it is not 
 in me you'll ever have them ; you think me all that 
 is detestable ; you accuse me of want of sincerity 
 and generosity. To convince you of your mistake, 
 I'll shew you the last extremes of both. 
 
 While I foolishly fancied you loved me, (which 
 I confess I had never any great reason for, more 
 than that I wished it,) there is no condition of life 
 I could not have been happy in with you, so very 
 much I liked you — I might say loved, since it is 
 the last thing I '11 ever say to you. This is telling 
 you sincerely my greatest weakness ; and now I will 
 oblige you with a new proof of generosity — I'll 
 never see you more. I shall avoid all public places ;
 
 170 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 and this is the last letter I shall send. If you 
 write, be not displeased if I send it back unopened. 
 I shall force my inclinations to oblige yours ; and 
 remember that you have told me I could not oblige 
 you more than by refusing you. Had I intended 
 ever to see you again, I durst not have sent this 
 letter. Adieu. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 I THOUGHT to return no answer to your letter, 
 but I find I am not so wise as I thought myself. 
 I cannot forbear fixing my mind a little on that 
 expression, though perhaps the only insincere one 
 in your whole letter — I would die to be secure of 
 your heart, though but for a moment : — were this 
 but true, what is there I would not do to secure 
 you ? 
 
 I will state the case to you as plainly as I can ; 
 and then ask yourself if you use me well. I have 
 shewed, in every action of my life, an esteem for 
 you that at least challenges a grateful regard. I 
 have trusted my reputation in your hands ; I have 
 made no scruple of giving you, under my own hand, 
 an assurance of my friendship. After all this, I 
 exact nothing from you : if you find it inconvenient 
 for your affairs to take so small a fortune, I desire 
 you to sacrifice nothing to me ; I pretend no tie 
 upon your honour : but, in recompence for so clear
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 171 
 
 and so disinterested a proceeding, must I ever re- 
 ceive injuries and ill usage ? 
 
 I have not the usual pride of my sex ; I can bear 
 being told I am in the wrong, but tell it me gently. 
 Perhaps I have been indiscreet ; I came young into 
 the hurry of the world ; a great innocence and an 
 undesigning gaiety may possibly have been con- 
 strued coquetry and a desire of being followed, 
 though never meant by me. I cannot answer for 
 the observations that may be made on me : all who 
 are malicious attack the careless and defenceless : 
 I own myself to be both. I know not any thing I 
 can say more to shew my perfect desire of pleasing 
 you and making you easy, than to proffer to be con- 
 fined with you in what manner you please. Would 
 any woman but me renounce all the world for one ? 
 or would any man but you be insensible of such a 
 proof of sincerity ? M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 I HAVE this minute received your two letters. I 
 know not how to direct to you, whether to London 
 or the country ; or, if in the country, to Durham or 
 Wortley. 'Tis very likely you'll never receive this. 
 I hazard a great deal if it falls into other hands, and 
 I wrote for all that. I wish, with all my soul, I 
 thought as you do ; I endeavour to convince myself 
 by your arguments, and am sorry my reason is so
 
 172 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 obstinate, not to be deluded into an opinion, that 'tis 
 impossible a man can esteem a woman. I suppose I 
 should then be very easy at your thoughts of me ; I 
 should thank you for the wit and beauty you give 
 me, and not be angry at the follies and weaknesses ; 
 but, to my infinite affliction, I can believe neither 
 one nor t'other. One part of my character is not so 
 good, nor t'other so bad, as you fancy it. Should we 
 ever live together, you would be disappointed both 
 ways ; you would find an easy equality of temper 
 you do not expect, and a thousand faults you do not 
 imagine. You think, if you married me, I should 
 be passionately fond of you one month, and of some- 
 body else the next : neither would happen. I can 
 esteem, I can be a friend, but I don't know whether 
 I can love. Expect all that is complaisant and 
 easy, but never what is fond, in me. You judge 
 very wrong of my heart, when you suppose me ca- 
 pable of views of interest, and that any thing could 
 oblige me to flatter any body. Was I the most in- 
 digent creature in the world, I should answer you 
 as 1 do now, without adding or diminishing. I am 
 incapable of art, and 'tis because I will not be 
 capable of it. Could I deceive one minute, I should 
 never regain my own good opinion ; and who could 
 bear to live with one they despised ? 
 
 If you can resolve to live with a companion that 
 will have all the deference due to your superiority 
 of good sense, and that your proposals can be 
 agreeable to those on whom I depend, I have no- 
 thing to say against them.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 173 
 
 ' 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 
 disagreeable to me, as I know a few months would 
 make it tiresome to you. Where people are tied 
 for life, 'tis 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 de- 
 fects ; which would encrease in proportion as the 
 novelty lessened, which is always a great charm. 
 I should have the displeasure of seeing a coldness, 
 which, though I could not reasonably blame you 
 for, being involuntary, yet it would render me un- 
 easy ; and the more, because I know a love may be 
 revived which absence, inconstancy, or even infi- 
 delity, has extinguished ; but there is no returning 
 from a degout given by satiety. 
 
 I should not chuse to live in a croud : I could be 
 very well pleased to be in London, without making 
 a great figure, or seeing above eight or nine agree- 
 able people. Apartments, table, &c. are things that 
 never come into my head. But I will never think 
 of any thing without the consent of my family, and 
 advise you not to fancy a happiness in entire soli- 
 tude, which you would find only fancy. 
 
 Make no answer to this, if you can like me on 
 my own terms. 'Tis not to me you must make the
 
 174 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 proposals : if not, to what purpose is our corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 However, preserve me your friendship, which I 
 think of with a great deal of pleasure, and some 
 vanity. If ever you see me married, I flatter my- 
 self you'll see a conduct you would not be sorry 
 your wife should imitate. M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 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 you 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 ungrateful. 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. Nobody ever was 
 so disinterested as I am. I would not have to re- 
 proach myself (I don't suppose you would) that I 
 had any ways made you uneasy in your circum- 
 stances. Let me beg you (which I do with the 
 utmost sincerity) only to consider yourself in this 
 affair ; and, since I am so unfortunate to have no- 
 thing 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
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 175 
 
 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 that you have behaved yourself well, 
 let me entreat you, if I have committed any follies, 
 to forgive them ; and be so just as to think I would 
 not do an ill thing. 
 
 I say nothing of my letters : I think them en- 
 tirely safe in your hands. 
 
 I shall be uneasy till I know this is come to you. 
 I have tried to write plainly. I know not what one 
 can say more upon paper. M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Indeed I do not at all wonder that absence, and 
 variety of new faces, should make you forget me ; 
 but I am a little surprized at your curiosity to 
 know what passes in my heart, (a thing wholly in- 
 significant to you,) except you propose to yourself 
 a piece of ill-natured satisfaction, in finding me 
 very much disquieted. Pray which way would you 
 see into my heart ? You can frame no guesses 
 about it from either my speaking or writing ; and.
 
 176 LETTEKS WRITTEN 
 
 supposing I sliould attempt to shew it you, I know 
 no other way. 
 
 I begin to be tired of my humility : I have car- 
 ried my complaisances to you farther than I ought. 
 You make new scruples ; you have a great deal of 
 fancy ; and your distrusts being all of your own 
 making, are more immovable than if there were 
 some real ground for them. Our aunts and grand- 
 mothers always tell us that men are a sort of ani- 
 mals, that, if ever they are constant, 'tis only where 
 they are ill used. 'Twas a kind of paradox I could 
 never believe : experience has taught me the truth 
 of it. You are the first I ever had a correspond- 
 ence with, and I thank God I have done with it for 
 all my life. You needed not to have told me you 
 are not what you have been : one must be stupid 
 not to find a difference in your letters. You seem, 
 in one part of your last, to excuse yourself from 
 having done me any injury in point of fortune. Do 
 I accuse you of any ? 
 
 I have not spirits to dispute any longer with you. 
 You say you are not yet determined : let me deter- 
 mine for you, and save you the trouble of writing 
 again. Adieu for ever ! make no answer. I wish, 
 among the variety of acquaintance, you may find 
 some one to please you ; and can't help the vanity 
 of thinking, should you try them all, you won't find 
 one that will be so sincere in their treatment, though 
 a thousand more deserving, and every one happier. 
 Tis a piece of vanity and injustice I never forgive
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 177 
 
 in a woman, to delight to give pain ; what must I 
 think of a man that takes pleasure in making me 
 uneasy ? After the folly of letting you know it is 
 in your power, I ought in prudence to let this go 
 no farther, except I thought you had good nature 
 enough never to make use of that power. I have 
 no reason to think so : however, I am willing, you 
 see, to do you the highest obligation 'tis possible 
 for me to do ; that is, to give you a fair occasion 
 of being rid of me. M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 29 Mar. 
 
 Though your letter is far from what I expected, 
 having once promised to answer it, with the sincere 
 account of my inmost thoughts, I am resolved you 
 shall not find me worse than my word, which is 
 (whatever you may think) inviolable. 
 
 'Tis no affectation to say that I despise the 
 pleasure of pleasing people whom I despise : all 
 the fine equipages that shine in the Ring never gave 
 me another thought, than either pity or contempt 
 for the owners, that could place happiness in at- 
 tracting the eyes of strangers. Nothing touches 
 me with satisfaction but what touches my heart ; 
 and I should find more pleasure in the secret joy 
 I should feel at a kind expression from a friend I 
 
 VOL. I N
 
 178 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 esteemed, tlian at the admiration of a whole play- 
 house, or the envy of those of my own sex, who 
 could not attain to the same number of jewels, fine 
 clothes, &c. supposing I was at the very summit of 
 this sort of happiness. 
 
 You may be this friend if you please : did you 
 really esteem me, had you any tender regard for me, 
 I could, I think, pass my life in a^y station happier 
 with you than in all the grandeur of the world 
 with any other. You have some humours that 
 would be disagreeable to any woman that married 
 with an intention of finding her happiness abroad. 
 That is not my resolution. If I marry, I propose 
 to myself a retirement ; there is few of my acquaint- 
 ance 1 should ever wish to see again ; and the 
 pleasing one, and only one, is the way in which I 
 design to please myself. Happiness is the natural 
 design of all the world ; and every thing we see 
 done, is meant in order to attain it. My imagination 
 places it in friendship. By friendship I mean an 
 intire communication of thoughts, wishes, interests, 
 and pleasures, being undivided ; a mutual esteem, 
 which naturally carries with it a pleasing sweetness 
 of conversation, and terminates in the desire of mak- 
 ing 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 rea- 
 sonable creature. There are few capable of a 
 friendship such as I have described, and 'tis neces- 
 sary for the generality of the world to be taken up
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 179 
 
 with trifles. Carry a fine lady or 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 discom*se ; and they 
 know not how to form their thoughts on any other 
 subjects. They know very well what it is 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 science romantic : I rather choose to use 
 the word friendship than love ; because, in the 
 general sense that word is spoke, it signifies a pas- 
 sion rather founded on fancy than reason ; and 
 when I say friendship, I mean a mixture of friend- 
 ship 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 agree- 
 able to a man of merit, but I know I want the vanity 
 to believe I have ; and can promise you shall never 
 like me less upon knowing me better ; and that 
 I shall never forget that you have a better under- 
 standing than myself. 
 
 And now let me entreat you to think (if possible) 
 tolerably of my modesty, after so bold a declaration. 
 I am resolved to throw off reserve, and use me ill if 
 you please. I am sensible, to own an inclination 
 for a man is putting one's self wholly in his power : 
 but sure you have generosity enough not to abuse 
 it. After all I have said, I pretend no tie but on 
 your heart. If you do not love me, I shall not be 
 
 N 2
 
 180 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 happy with you ; if you do, I need add no farther. 
 I am not mercenary, and would not receive an ob- 
 ligation that comes not from one who loves me. 
 
 I do not desire my letter back again : you have 
 honour, and I dare trust you. 
 
 I am going to the same place I went last spring. 
 I shall think of you there : it depends upon you in 
 what manner. M. P. 
 
 TO LADY MARY PIERREPONT. 
 
 Saturday Morning. 
 
 Every time you see me, gives me a fresh proof 
 of your not caring for me ; yet I beg you will meet 
 me once more. How could you pay me that great 
 compliment of your loving the country for life, 
 when you would not stay with me a few minutes 
 longer ? Who is the happy man you went to ? I 
 agree with you, I am often so dull, I cannot ex- 
 plain my meaning ; but will not own that the ex- 
 pression was so very obscure, when I said if I had 
 you, I should act against my opinion. Why need 
 I add, I see what is best for me, I condemn what I 
 do, and yet I fear I must do it. If you can't find it 
 out, that you are going to be unhappy, ask your 
 sister, who agrees with you in every thing else, and 
 she will convince you of your rashness in this. She 
 knows you don't care for me, and that you will 
 like me less and less every year, perhaps every
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 181 
 
 day of your life. You may, with a little care, 
 please another as well, and make him less timo- 
 rous. It is possible I too may please some of those 
 that have but little acquaintance ; and if I should be 
 preferred by a woman for being the first among her 
 companions, it would give me as much pleasure as 
 if I were the first man in the world. Think again, 
 and prevent a misfortune from falling on both of us. 
 When you are at leisure, I shall be as ready to 
 end all as I was last night, when I disobliged one 
 that will do me hurt, by crossing his desires, rather 
 than fail of meeting you. Had I imagined you 
 could have left me without finishing, I had not 
 seen you. Now you have been so free before Mrs. 
 Steele,* you may call upon her, or send for her, 
 to-morrow or next day. Let her dine with you, or 
 go to visit shops, Hyde Park, or other diversions. 
 You may bring her home ; I can be in the house, 
 reading, as I often am, though the master is abroad. 
 If you will have her visit you first, I will get her to 
 go to-morrow. I think a man or a woman is under 
 no engagement till the writings are sealed ; but 
 it looks like indiscretion even to begin a treaty 
 without a probability of concluding it. When you 
 hear of all my objections to you, and to myself, 
 you will resolve against me. Last night you were 
 much upon the reserve : I see you can never be tho- 
 roughly intimate with me ; 'tis because you have 
 no pleasure in it. You can be easy and com- 
 
 * The wife of Mr. (afterwards Sir Richard) Steele.
 
 182 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 plaisant, as you have sometimes told me ; but never 
 think that enough to make me easy, unless you 
 refuse me. 
 
 Write a line this evening, or early to-morrow. 
 If I don't speak plain, do you understand what I 
 write ? Tell me how to mend the stile, if the 
 fault is in that. If the characters are not plain, I 
 can easily mend them. I always comprehend your 
 expressions, but would give a great deal to know 
 what passes in your heart. 
 
 In you I might possess youth, beauty, and all 
 things that can charm. It is possible that they 
 may strike me less, after a time ; but I may then 
 consider I have once enjoyed them in perfection ; 
 that they would have decayed as soon in any other. 
 You see this is not your case. You will think you 
 might have been happier. Never engage with a 
 man, unless you propose to yourself the highest 
 satisfaction from him and none other. 
 
 E. W. Montagu. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Tuesday, 10 o'clock. 
 
 I AM in pain about the letter I sent you this 
 morning : I fear you should think, after what I have 
 said, you cannot, in point of honour, break off with 
 me. Be not scrupulous on that article, nor affect 
 to make me break first, to excuse your doing it.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 183 
 
 I would owe nothing but to inclination : if you do 
 not love me, I may have the less esteem of my- 
 self, but not of you : I am not of the number of 
 those women that have the opinion of their per- 
 sons Mr. Bayes had of his play, that 'tis the touch- 
 stone of sense, and they are to frame their judg- 
 ment of people's understanding according to what 
 they think of them. 
 
 You may have wit, good humour, and good na- 
 ture, and not like me. I allow a great deal for the 
 inconstancy of mankind in general, and my own 
 want of merit in particular. But 'tis a breach, at 
 least, of the two last, to deceive me. I am sincere : 
 I shall be sorry if I am not now what pleases ; but 
 if I (as I could with joy) abandon all things to the 
 care of pleasing you, I am then undone if I do not 
 succeed. — Be generous. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Tuesday night. 
 
 I RECEIVED both your Monday letters before I 
 writ the enclosed, which, however, I send you. The 
 kind letter was writ and sent Friday morning, and 
 I did not receive yours till Saturday noon. To 
 speak truth, you would never have had it, there 
 were so many things in yours to put me out of 
 humour. Thus, you see, it was on no design to 
 repair any thing that offended you. You only
 
 184 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 shew mo how industrious you are to find faults in 
 ino ; — why will you not suffer me to be pleased 
 with you ? 
 
 I would see you if I could (though perhaps it 
 may be wrong) ; but, in the way that I am here, 
 'tis impossible. I can't come to town, but in com- 
 pany with my sister-in-law ; I can carry her no- 
 where, but where she pleases ; or, if I could, I 
 would trust her with nothing. I could, not walk 
 out alone, without giving suspicion to the whole 
 family ; should I be watched, and seen to meet a 
 man — ^judge of the consequences! 
 
 You speak of treating with my father, as if you 
 believed he would come to terms afterwards. I 
 will not suffer you to remain in the thought, how- 
 ever advantageous it might be to me ; I will de- 
 ceive you in nothing. I am fully persuaded he will 
 never hear of terms afterwards. You may say, 'tis 
 talking oddly of him. I can't answer to that ; but 
 'tis my real opinion, and I think I know him. You 
 talk to me of estates, as if I was the most inter- 
 ested woman in the world. Whatever faults I 
 may have shewn in my life, I know not one action 
 of it that ever proved me mercenary. I think there 
 cannot be a greater proof to the contrary than 
 my treating with you, where I am to depend en- 
 tirely upon your generosity, at the same time that 
 I may have settled on me 500/. per annum pin- 
 money, and a considerable jointure, in another 
 place ; not to reckon that I may have by his tem-
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 185 
 
 per what command of his estate I please ; and 
 with you I have nothing to pretend to. I do not, 
 however, make a merit to you ; money is very little 
 to me, because all beyond necessaries I do not va- 
 lue, that is to be purchased by it. If the man 
 proposed to me had 10,000/. per annum, and I 
 was sure to dispose of it all, I should act just as 
 I do. I have in my life known a good deal of shew, 
 and never found myself the happier for it. 
 
 In proposing to you to follow the scheme pro- 
 posed by that friend, I think 'tis absolutely neces- 
 sary for both our sakes. I would have you want 
 no pleasure which a single life would afford you. 
 You own you think nothing so agreeable. A wo- 
 man that adds nothing to a man's fortune ought 
 not to take from his happiness. If possible, I would 
 add to it ; but I will not take from you any satis- 
 faction you could enjoy without me. On my own 
 side, I endeavour to form as right a judgment of 
 the temper of human nature, and of my own in par- 
 ticular, as I am capable of. I would throw off all 
 partiality and passion, and be calm in my opinion. 
 Almost all people are apt to run into a mistake, that 
 when they once feel or give a passion, there needs 
 nothing to entertain it. This mistake makes, in 
 the number of women that inspire even violent pas- 
 sions, hardly one preserve one after possession. If 
 we marry, our happiness must consist in loving one 
 another : 'tis principally my concern to think of the 
 most probable method of making that love eternal.
 
 186 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 You object against living in London ; I am not fond 
 of it myself, and readily give it up to you ; though 
 I am assured there needs more art to keep a fond- 
 ness alive in solitude, where it generally preys upon 
 itself. There is one article absolutely necessary — to 
 be ever beloved, one must be ever agreeable. There 
 is no such thing as being agreeable, without a tho- 
 rough good humour, a natural sweetness of temper, 
 enlivened by cheerfulness. Whatever natural funds 
 of gaiety one is born with, 'tis necessary to be en- 
 tertained with agreeable objects. Any body, capa- 
 ble of tasting pleasure, when they confine them- 
 selves to one place, should take care 'tis the place 
 in the world the most agreeable. Whatever you 
 may now think, (now, perhaps, you have some fond- 
 ness for me,) though your love should continue in 
 its full force, there are hours when the most beloved 
 mistress would be troublesome. People are not 
 for ever (nor is it in human nature that they should 
 be) disposed to be fond ; you would be glad to 
 find in me the friend and the companion. To be 
 agreeably the last, it is necessary to be gay and en- 
 tertaining. A perpetual solitude, in a place where 
 you see nothing to raise your spirits, at length 
 wears them out, and conversation insensibly falls 
 into dull and insipid. When I have no more to 
 say to you, you will like me no longer. How dread- 
 ful is that view ! You will reflect for my sake 
 you have abandoned the conversation of a friend 
 that you liked, and your situation in a country
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 187 
 
 where all things would have contributed to make 
 your life pass in (the true volupte) a smooth tran- 
 quillity. / shall lose the vivacity which should 
 entertain you, and you will have nothing to recom- 
 pense you for what you have lost. Very few people 
 that have settled entirely in the country, but have 
 grown at length weary of one another. The lady's 
 conversation generally falls into a thousand imper- 
 tinent effects of idleness ; and the gentleman falls 
 in love with his dogs and his horses, and out of love 
 with every thing else. I am not now arguing in 
 favour of the town ; you have answered me as to 
 that point. In respect of your health, 'tis the first 
 thing to be considered, and I shall never ask you 
 to do any thing injurious to that. But 'tis my 
 opinion, 'tis necessary, to be happy, that we neither 
 of us think any place more agreeable than that 
 where we are. I have nothing to do in London; 
 and 'tis indifferent to me if I never see it more. I 
 know not how to answer your mentioning gallan- 
 try, nor in what sense to understand you ; whoever 
 I marry, when I am married, I renounce all things 
 of the kind. I am willing to abandon all conver- 
 sation but yours ; I will part with any thing for 
 you, but you. I will not have you a month, to lose 
 you for the rest of my life. If you can pursue the 
 plan of happiness begun with your friend, and take 
 me for that friend, I am ever yours. I have examin- 
 ed my own heart whether I can leave every thing 
 for you ; I think I can : if I change my mind, you
 
 188 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 sliall know before Sunday ; after that I will not 
 change my mind. If 'tis necessary for your affairs 
 to stay in England, to assist your father in his 
 business, as I suppose the time will be short, I 
 would be as little injurious to your fortune as I 
 can, and I will do it. But I am still of opinion 
 nothing is so likely to make us both happy, as what 
 I propose. I foresee I may break with you on this 
 point, and I shall certainly be displeased with my- 
 self for it, and wish a thousand times that I had 
 done whatever you pleased ; but, however, I hope 
 I shall always remember, how much more misera- 
 ble, than any thing else would make me, should I 
 be, to live with you, and to please you no longer. 
 You can be pleased with nothing when you are 
 not pleased with your wife. One of the Spectators 
 is very just, that says, A man ought always to 
 be upon his guard against spleen and a too 
 severe philosophy ; a woman, against levity and 
 coquetry. If we go to Naples, I will make no 
 acquaintance there of any kind, and you will be 
 in a place where a variety of agreeable objects will 
 dispose you to be ever pleased. If such a thing 
 is possible, this will secure our everlasting happi- 
 ness ; and I am ready to wait on you without leav- 
 ing a thought behind me.
 
 BEFORE TOE YEAR 1717. 189 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 I AM going to write you a plain long lettei'. 
 What I have already told you is nothing but the 
 truth. I have no reason to believe that I am go- 
 ing to be otherwise confined than by my duty ; but 
 I, that know my own mind, know that is enough 
 to make me miserable. I see all the misfortune 
 of marrying where it is impossible to love ; I am 
 going to confess a weakness may perhaps add to 
 your contempt of me. 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 disobliging them. 
 A harsh word always 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 
 atonement 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 surprized that I did not depend 
 on his judgment for my future happiness ; that he 
 knew nothing I had to complain of, &c. ; that he 
 did not doubt I had some other fancy in my head, 
 which encouraged me to this disobedience ; but he 
 assured me, if I refused a settlement he had pro- 
 vided for me, he gave me his word, whatever pro- 
 posals were made him, he would never so m.uch as 
 enter into a treaty with any other ; that, if I found-
 
 190 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 ed 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 proceed in this manner after I 
 had given so just a pretence for it, yet he had the 
 goodness to leave my destiny yet in my own choice, 
 and at the same time commanded me to commu- 
 nicate my design to my relations, and ask their ad- 
 vice. 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 relations. I 
 was surprized 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 
 not blame my father whatever he inflicted on 
 me. I objected I did not love him. They made 
 answer, they found no necessity for 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 impossible 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
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 191 
 
 he pleased to permit me, I would take that resolu- 
 tion. He replied, that he could not hinder my re- 
 solutions, 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 con- 
 fine me, where I might repent at leisure ; that he 
 had also consulted 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 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 inclination to 
 see his grandchildren beggars. 
 
 I do not speak this 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 estate on an eldest son, be- 
 yond 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
 
 1 92 LETTERS W IlITTEN 
 
 myself, I should not make such ridiculous settlo- 
 ments, and I cannot blame you for being in the 
 right. 
 
 I have told you all my affairs with a plain since- 
 rity. I have avoided to move your compassion, and 
 I have said nothing of what I suffer ; and I have 
 not persuaded you to a treaty, which I am sure my 
 family will never agree to. I can have no fortune 
 without an entire obedience. 
 
 Whatever your business is, may it end to your 
 satisfaction. I think of the public as you do. As 
 little as tliat is a woman's care, it may be permitted^ 
 into the number of a woman's fears. But, wretch- 
 ed as I am, I have no more to fear for myself. I 
 have still a concern for my friends, I am in pain for 
 your danger. I am far from taking ill what you 
 
 say, I never valued myself as the daughter of ; 
 
 and ever despised those that esteemed me on that 
 account. With pleasure I could barter all that, 
 and change to be any country gentleman's daughter 
 that would have reason enough to make happiness 
 in privacy. I beg your pardon. You may see by 
 the situation of my affairs 'tis without design. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Thursday night. 
 
 If I am always to be as well pleased as I am 
 with this letter, I enter upon a state of perfect hap-
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 193 
 
 piness in complying with you. I am sorry I can- 
 not do it entirely as to Friday or Satm'day. I 
 will tell you the true reason of it. I have a rela- 
 tion that has ever shewed an uncommon partiality 
 for me. I have generally trusted him with all my 
 thoughts, and I have always found him sincerely 
 my friend. On the occasion of this marriage he 
 received my complaints with the greatest degree 
 of tenderness. He proffered me to disoblige my 
 father (by representing to him the hardship he was 
 doing) if I thought it would be of any service to 
 me ; and, when he heard me in some passion of 
 grief assure him it could do me no good, he went 
 yet farther, and tenderly asked me, if there was any 
 other man, though of a smaller fortune, I could be 
 happy with ; and, how much soever it should be 
 against the will of my other relations, assured me 
 he M^ould assist me in making me happy after my 
 own way. This is an obligation I can never for- 
 get, and I think I should have cause to reproach 
 myself if I did this without letting him know it, and 
 I believe he will approve of it. You guess whom 
 I mean. — The generosity and the goodness of this 
 letter wholly determines my softest inclinations on 
 your side. You are in the wrong to suspect me of 
 artifice ; plainly shewing me the kindness of your 
 heart (if you have any there for me) is the surest 
 way to touch mine. I am at this minute more in- 
 clined to speak tenderly to you than ever I was in 
 my life, — so much inclined I will say nothing. I 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 could wish you would leave England, but I know 
 not how to object to any thing that pleases you. In 
 this minute I have no will that does not agree with 
 yours. Sunday I shall see you, if you do not hear 
 from me Saturday. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Friday niglit. 
 
 I TREMBLE for what we are doing. — Are you sure 
 you shall love me for ever ? Shall we never repent? 
 I fear and I hope. I foresee all that will happen on 
 this occasion. I shall incense my family in the 
 highest degree. The generality of the world will 
 blame my conduct, and the relations and friends of 
 
 will invent a thousand stories of me ; yet, 
 
 'tis possible, you may recompense every thing to me. 
 In this letter, which I am fond of, you promise me 
 all that I wish. Since I writ so far, I received your 
 Friday letter. I will be only yours, and I will do 
 what you please. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Saturday morning. 
 I WRIT you a letter last night in some passion. I 
 begin to fear again ; I own myself a coward. — You 
 made no reply to one part of my letter concerning 
 my fortune. I am afraid you flatter yourself that my 
 father may be at length reconciled and brought to
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 195 
 
 reasonable terms. I am convinced, by what I have 
 often heard him say, speaking of other cases like 
 this, that he never will. The fortune that he has 
 engaged to give with me, was settled, on my bro- 
 ther's marriage, on my sister and on myself; but 
 in such a manner, that it was left in his power to 
 give it all to either of us, or divide it as he thought 
 fit. He has given it all to me. Nothing remains 
 for my sister, but the free bounty of my father 
 from what he can save ; which, notwithstanding the 
 greatness of his estate, may be very little. Possi- 
 bly, after I have disobliged him so much, he may 
 be glad to have her so easily provided for, with 
 money already raised ; especially if he has a de- 
 sign to marry himself, as I hear. I do not speak 
 this that you should not endeavour to come to 
 terms with him, if you please ; but I am fully per- 
 suaded it will be to no purpose. He will have a 
 very good answer to make : — that I suffered the 
 match to proceed ; that I made him make a very 
 silly figure in it ; that I have let him spend 400/. in 
 wedding-cloaths ; all which I saw without saying 
 any thing. When I first pretended to oppose this 
 match, he told me he was sure I had some other 
 design in my head ; I denied it with truth. But 
 you see how little appearance there is of this truth. 
 He proceeded with telling me he would never enter 
 into a treaty with another man, &c. and that I 
 should be sent immediately into the North to stay 
 there ; and, when he died, he would only leave me 
 
 o 2
 
 196 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 ail annuity of 400/. I had not courage to stand 
 this view, and I submitted to wliat he pleased. 
 He will now object against me, — why, since I in- 
 tended to marry in this manner, I did not persist in 
 my first resolution ; that it would have been as 
 easy for me to run away from Thoresby as from 
 hence ; and to what purpose did I put him, and the 
 gentleman I was to marry, to expences, &c. ? He 
 will have a thousand plausible reasons for being 
 irreconcileable, and 'tis only probable the world 
 will be on his side. Reflect now for the last time 
 in what manner you must take me. I shall come 
 to you with only a night-gown and petticoat, and 
 that is all you will get by me, I told a lady of my 
 friends what I intend to do. You will think her a 
 very good friend when I tell you, she proffered to 
 lend us her house. I did not accept of this till I 
 had let you know it. If you think it more conveni- 
 ent to carry me to your lodgings, make no scruple 
 of it. Let it be where it will : if I am your wife, I 
 shall think no place unfit for me where you are. I 
 beg we may leave London next morning, wherever 
 you intend to go. I should wish to go out of Eng- 
 gland if it suits your affairs. You are the best 
 judge of your father's temper. If you think it 
 w^ould be obliging to him, or necessary for you, I 
 will go with you immediately to ask his pardon and 
 his blessing. If that is not proper at first, I think 
 the best scheme is going to the Spaw. When you 
 come back, you may endeavour to make your father
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 197 
 
 admit of seeing me, and treat with mine (though I 
 persist in believing it will be to no purpose). But I 
 cannot think of living in the midst of my relations 
 and acquaintances after so unjustifiable a step: — so 
 unjustifiable to the world, — but I think I can justify 
 myself to myself. I again beg you to have a coach 
 to be at the door early Monday morning, to carry 
 us some part of our way, wherever you resolve our 
 journey shall be. If you determine to go to the 
 lady's house, you had best come with a coach and 
 six at seven o'clock to-morrow. She and I will 
 be in the balcony which looks on the road : you 
 have nothing to do but to stop under it, and we 
 will come down to you. Do in this what you like ; 
 but, after all, think very seriously. Your letter, 
 which will be waited for, is to determine every 
 thing. 
 
 You can shew me no goodness I shall not be 
 sensible of. * However, think again, and resolve ne- 
 ver to think of me if you have the least doubt, or 
 that it is likely to make you uneasy in your for- 
 tune. I believe, to travel is the most likely way to 
 make a solitude agreeable, and not tiresome : re- 
 member you have promised it. 
 
 'Tis something odd for a woman that brings no- 
 thing to expect anything ; but after the way of my 
 education, I dare not pretend to live, but in some 
 degree suitable to it. I had rather die than return 
 to a dependancy upon relations I have disobliged. 
 Save me from that fear if you love me. If you can-
 
 198 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 not, or think I ought not to expect it, be sincere 
 and tell me so. 'Tis better I should not be yours 
 at all, than, for a short happiness, involve myself in 
 ages of misery. I hope there will never be occa- 
 sion for this precaution ; but, however, 'tis neces- 
 sary to make it. I depend entirely upon your 
 honour, and I cannot suspect you of any way 
 doing wrong. Do not imagine I shall be angry 
 at any thing you can tell me. Let it be sincere ; 
 do not impose on a woman that leaves all things 
 for you. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Walling Wells, Oct. 22. 
 
 I don't know very well how to begin ; I am per- 
 fectly unacquainted with a proper matrimonial stile. 
 After all, I think 'tis best to write as if we were not 
 married at all. I lament your absence, as if you 
 were still my lover, and I am impatient to hear 
 you have 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
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 199 
 
 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 fu- 
 ture 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 imper- 
 tinent 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 fond- 
 ness for me as I shall certainly do for you, when the 
 noise of a nursery may have more charms for us 
 than the music of an opera. 
 
 Amusements such as these are the sure effect of 
 my sincere love, since 'tis the nature of the passion 
 to entertain the mind with pleasures in prospect ; 
 and I check myself when I grieve for your absence, 
 by remembering how much reason I have to rejoice 
 in the hope oi passing my whole life with you. A 
 good fortune not to be valued ! — I am afraid of tell- 
 ing you that I leturn thanks for it to Heaven, be- 
 cause you will ciarge me with hypocrisy ; but you 
 are mistaken : I assist every day at public prayers 
 in this family, anl never forget in my private eja- 
 culations how much I owe to Heaven for making 
 me yours. 
 
 M. W. Montagu.
 
 200 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 'Tis candle-light, or I should not conclude so 
 soon. Pray, my love, begin at the top, and read 
 till you come to the bottom. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Your short letter came to me this morning ; but 
 I won't quarrel with it, since it brought me good 
 news of your health. I wait with impatience for 
 that of your return. The Bishop of Salisbury writes 
 me word that my Lord Pierrepont * declares very 
 much for us. As the Bishop is no infallible pre- 
 late, I should not depend much on that intelli- 
 gence ; but my sister Frances tells me the same 
 thing. Since it is so, I believe you '11 think it very 
 proper to pay him a visit, if he is in town, and give 
 him thanks for the good offices you hear he has 
 endeavoured to do me, unasked. If liis kindness 
 is sincere, 'tis too valuable to be neglected. How- 
 ever, the very appearance of it must be of use to 
 us. I think I ought to write him a letter of ac- 
 knowledgment for what I hear he has already done. 
 The Bishop tells me he has seen Lord Halifax, who 
 says, besides his great esteem for jou, he has par- 
 ticular respect for me, and will take pains to recon- 
 cile my father, &c. I think tl:is is nearly the 
 
 * Gervasc Pierrepont, created Baron Pierrepont of Hanslope 
 1714, great uncle of Lady M. W. M. being, at that time, an 
 Irisli Baron.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 201 
 
 words of my letter, which contains all the news 
 I know, except that of your place ; which is, that 
 an unfortunate burgess of the town of Huntingdon 
 was justly disgraced yesterday in the face of the 
 congregation, for being false to his first lover, who, 
 with an audible voice, forbid the banns published 
 between him and a greater fortune. This accident 
 causes as many disputes here as the duel could 
 do where you are. Public actions, you know, al- 
 ways make two parties. The great prudes say the 
 young woman should have suffered in silence ; and 
 the pretenders to spirit and fire would have all 
 false men so served, and hope it will be an ex- 
 ample for the terror of infidelity throughout the 
 whole country. For my part I never rejoiced at 
 any thing more in my life. You'll wonder what 
 private interest I could have in this affair. You 
 must know it furnished discourse all the afternoon, 
 which was no little service, when I was visited by 
 the young ladies of Huntingdon. This long letter, 
 I know, must be particularly impertinent to a man 
 of business ; but idleness is the root of all evil : I 
 write and read till I can't see, and then I walk ; 
 sleep succeeds ; and thus my whole time is divided. 
 If I were as well qualified all other ways as I 
 am by idleness, I would publish a daily paper 
 called the Meditator. The terrace is my place 
 consecrated to meditation, which I observe to be 
 gay or grave, as the sun shews or hides his face. 
 Till to-day I have had no occasion of opening my
 
 202 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 moiitli to speak, since I wished you a good jour- 
 ney. I see nothing, but I think of every thing, and 
 indulge my imagination, which is chiefly employed 
 on you. 
 
 M. W. Montagu. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 I AM at present in so much uneasiness, my letter 
 is not likely to be intelligible, if it at all resembles 
 the confusion of my head. I sometimes imagine 
 you not well, and sometimes that you think it of 
 small importance to write, or that greater matters 
 have taken up your thoughts. This last imagina- 
 tion is too cruel for me. I will rather fancy your 
 letter has miscarried, though I find little proba- 
 bility to think so. I know not what to think, 
 and am near being distracted, amongst my variety 
 of dismal apprehensions. I am very ill company to 
 the good people of the house, who all bid me make 
 you their compliments. Mr. White begins your 
 health twice every day. You don't deserve all this 
 if you can be so entirely forgetful of all this part 
 of the world. I am peevish with you by fits, and 
 divide my time between anger and sorrow, which 
 are equally troublesome to me. 'Tis the most 
 cruel thing in the world, to think one has reason 
 to complain of what one loves. How can you be
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 203 
 
 SO careless ? — is it because you don't love writing 
 You should remember I want to know you are safe 
 at Durham. I shall imagine you have had some fall 
 from your horse, or ill accident by the way, without 
 regard to probability; there is nothing too extra- 
 vagant for a woman's and a lover's fears. Did 
 you receive my last letter ? if you did not, the 
 direction is wrong, you won't receive this, and my 
 question is in vain. I find I begin to talk nonsense, 
 and 'tis time to leave off. Pray, my dear, write to 
 me, or I shall be very mad. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 I AM at this minute told I have an opportunity 
 of writing a short letter to you, which will be all 
 reproaches. You know where I am, and I have 
 not once heard from you. I am tired of this place 
 because I do not ; and if you persist in your si- 
 lence, I will return to WharnclifFe. I had rather be 
 quite alone and hear sometimes from you, than in 
 any company and not have that satisfaction. Your 
 silence makes me more melancholy than any soli- 
 tude, and I can think on nothing so dismal as that 
 you forget me. I heard from your little boy yester- 
 day, who is in good health. I will return and keep 
 him company. 
 
 The good ])cople of this family present you
 
 204 LETTEllS WRITTEN 
 
 their services and good wishes, never failing to 
 drink your health twice a day. I am importuned 
 to make haste ; but I have much more to say, 
 which may however be comprehended in these 
 words, I am yours. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Dec. 9, 17i;3. 
 
 I AM not at all surprized at my Aunt Cheyne's 
 conduct : people are seldom very much grieved 
 (and never ought to be) at misfortunes they expect. 
 When I gave myself to you, I gave up the very 
 desire of pleasing the rest of the world, and am 
 pretty indifferent about it. I think you are very 
 much in the right for designing to visit Lord Pierre- 
 pont. As much as you say I love the town, if you 
 think it necessary for your interest to stay some 
 time here, I would not advise you to neglect a cer- 
 tainty for an uncertainty ; but I believe if you pass 
 the Christmas here, great matters will be expected 
 from your hospitality : however, you are a better 
 judge of that than I am. — I continue indifferently 
 well, and endeavour as much as I can to preserve 
 myself from spleen and melancholy ; not for my 
 own sake ; I think that of little importance ; but 
 in the condition I am, I believe it may be of very 
 ill consequence ; yet, passing whole days alone as I 
 do, I do not always find it possible, and my con-
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 205 
 
 stitution will sometimes get the better of my rea- 
 son. Human nature itself, without any additional 
 misfortunes, furnishes disagreeable meditations 
 enough. Life itself, to make it supportable, should 
 not be considered too nearly ; my reason repre- 
 sents to me in vain the inutility of serious reflec- 
 tions. The idle mind will sometimes fall into con- 
 templations that serve for nothing but to ruin the 
 health, destroy good humour, hasten old age and 
 wrinkles, and bring on an habitual melancholy. 'Tis 
 a maxim with me to be young as long as one can : 
 there is nothing can pay one for that invaluable 
 ignorance which is the companion of youth ; those 
 sanguine grondless hopes, and that lively vanity, 
 which make all the happiness of life. To my ex- 
 treme mortification I grow wiser every day. I 
 don't believe Solomon was more convinced of the 
 vanity of temporal affairs than I am : I lose all 
 taste of this world, and I suffer myself to be be- 
 witched by the charms of the spleen, though I 
 know and foresee all the irremediable mischiefs 
 arising from it. I am insensibly fallen into the 
 writing you a melancholy letter, after all my reso- 
 lutions to the contrary ; but I do not enjoin you to 
 read it : make no scruple of flinging it into the 
 fire at the first dull line. Forgive the ill effects of 
 my solitude, and think me, as I am. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 M. W. Montagu.
 
 20G LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 I don't believe you expect to hear from me so 
 soon ; I remember you did not so much as desire 
 it, but I will not be so nice to quarrel with you on 
 that point ; perhaps you would laugh at that deli- 
 cacy, which is, however, an attendant upon tender 
 friendship. 
 
 I opened a closet where I expected to find so 
 many books ; to my great disappointment there 
 were only some few pieces of the law, and folios of 
 mathematics ; my Lord Hinchingbrook and Mr. 
 Twinam having disposed of the rest. But as there 
 is no affliction, no more than no happiness, without 
 alloy, I discovered an old trunk of papers, which to 
 my great diversion I found to be the letters of the 
 first Earl of Sandwich ; and am in hopes that those 
 from his lady will tend much to my edification, be- 
 ing the most extraordinary lessons of economy that 
 ever I read in my life. To the glory of your father, 
 I find that his looked upon him as destined to be 
 the honour of the family. 
 
 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 
 the whole afternoon, with so much good humour 
 and humanity as gives me faith for the piece of 
 charity ascribed to these little creatures in the Chil-
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 207 
 
 dren in the Wood, which I have hitherto thought 
 
 only a poetical ornament of history. 
 
 I expect a letter next post to tell me you are 
 
 well in London, and that your business will not 
 
 detain you long from her who cannot be happy 
 
 without you. 
 
 To Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu: to be left at 
 Mr. Tonson's, Bookseller, at Shakespeare's Head, 
 opposite Catharine-street, in the Strand, London. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 I AM alone, without any amusement to take up 
 my thoughts. I am in circumstances in which 
 melancholy is apt to prevail even over all amuse- 
 ments, dispirited and alone, and you write me 
 quarrelling letters. 
 
 I hate complaining ; 'tis no sign I am easy that 
 I do not trouble you with my head-aches, and my 
 spleen ; to be reasonable one should never complain 
 but when one hopes redress. A physician should 
 be the only confidant of bodily pains ; and for 
 pains of the mind, they should never be spoke of 
 but to them that can and will relieve 'em. Should 
 I tell you that I am uneasy, that I am out of 
 humour, and out of patience, should I see you half 
 an hour the sooner ? I believe you have kindness 
 enough for me to be very sorry, and so you would 
 tell me ; and things remain in their primitive state ;
 
 208 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 I cliiise to spare you that pain ; I would always 
 
 give you pleasure. I know you are ready to tell 
 
 me that I do not ever keep to these good maxims. 
 
 I confess I often speak impertinently, but I always 
 
 repent of it. My last stupid letter was not come 
 
 to you, before I would have had it back again had 
 
 it been in my power ; such as it was, I beg your 
 
 pardon for it. I did not expect that my Lord 
 
 Pierrepont would speak at all in our favour, much 
 
 less shew zeal upon that occasion, that never shewed 
 
 any in his life. I have writ every post, and you 
 
 accuse me without reason. I can't imagine how 
 
 they should miscarry ; perhaps you have by this 
 
 time received two together. Adieu ! je suis a vous 
 
 de tout mon coeur. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 I WAS not well when I wrote to you last. Possi- 
 bly the disorder in my health might encrease the 
 uneasiness of my mind. I am sure the uneasiness 
 of my mind encreases the disorder of my health ; 
 for I passed the night without sleeping, and found 
 myself the next morning in a fever. I have not 
 since left my chamber. I have been very ill, and 
 kept my bed four days, which was the reason of 
 my silence, but I am afraid you have attributed it 
 to being out of humour ; but was so far from being
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 209 
 
 in a condition of writing, I could hardly speak ; my 
 face being prodigiously swelled, that I was forced 
 to have it lanced, to prevent its breaking, which 
 they said would have been of worse consequence. I 
 would not order Grace to write to you, for fear you 
 should think me worse than I was ; though I don't 
 believe the fright would have been considerable 
 enough to have done you much harm. I am now 
 much better, and intend to take the air in the 
 coach to-day ; for keeping to my chair so much 
 as I do, will hardly recover my strength. 
 
 I wish you would write again to Mr. Phipps, for 
 I don't hear of any money, and am in the utmost 
 necessity for it. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Extract. 1714. 
 If I determine to go to York, be- 
 sides the inconvenience and disagreeableness of a 
 country town, it may be perhaps out of your way. 
 I know not what to do ; but I know I shall be un- 
 happy till I see you again, and I would by no means 
 stay where I am. Your absence increases my me- 
 lancholy so much, I fright myself with imaginary 
 horrors ; and shall always be fancying dangers for 
 you while you are out of my sight. I am afraid 
 of Lord Halifax, I am afraid of every thing ; there 
 wants but little of my being afraid of the small- 
 pox for you ; so unreasonable are my fears, which 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 however proceed from an unlimited love. If I 
 lose you — I cannot bear that if; — which I bless 
 God is without probability ; but since the loss of 
 my poor unhappy brother I dread every evil. 
 
 Saturday. 
 I have been to-day at Acton to see my poor 
 brother's melancholy family. I cannot describe 
 how much it has sunk my spirits. My eyes are too 
 sore to admit of a long letter. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 I SHOULD have writ to you last post, but I slept 
 till it was too late to send my letter. I found our 
 poor boy not so well as I expected. He is very 
 lively, but so weak that my heart aches about him 
 very often. I hope you are well ; I should be glad 
 to hear so, and what success you have in your busi- 
 ness. I suppose my sister is married by this time. 
 I hope you intend to stay some days at Lord Pierre- 
 pont's; I am sure, he'll be very much pleased with 
 it. The house is in great disorder, and I want 
 maids so much that I know not what to do till I 
 have some. I have not one bit of paper in the 
 house, but this little sheet, or you would have been 
 troubled with a longer scribble. I have not yet 
 had any visitors. Mrs. Elcock has writ me word 
 that she has not found any cook. My first en- 
 quiries shall be after a country-house, never for- 
 
 t
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 211 
 
 getting any of my promises to you. I am con- 
 cerned I have not heard from you ; you might 
 have writ while I was on the road, and your letter 
 would have met me here. I am in abundance of 
 pain about our dear child : though I am convinced 
 in my reason, 'tis both silly and wicked to set my 
 heart too fondly on any thing in this world, yet 
 I cannot overcome myself so far as to think of 
 parting with him, with the resignation that I ought 
 to do. I hope and I beg of God he may live to be 
 a comfort to us both. They tell me there is no- 
 thing extraordinary in the want of teeth at his age, 
 but his weakness makes me very apprehensive ; 
 he is almost never out of my sight. Mrs. Behn 
 says that the cold bath is the best medicine for 
 weak children, but I am very fearful and unwilling 
 to try any hazardous remedies. He is very cheer- 
 ful and full of play. Adieu, my love ; my paper 
 is out. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 [Dated by Mr. Wortley, 24th November.] 
 I HAVE taken up and laid down my pen several 
 times, very much unresolved in what style I ought 
 to write to you : for once I suffer my inclination 
 to get the better of my reason. I have not oft 
 opportunities of indulging myself, and I will do it 
 in this one letter. I know very well that nobody 
 was ever teized into a liking: and 'tis perhaps 
 
 p 2
 
 212 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 harder to revive a past one, than to overcome an 
 aversion ; but I cannot forbear any longer telling 
 you, I think you use me very unkindly. I don't 
 say so much of your absence, as I should do if you 
 was in the country and I in London ; because I 
 would not have you believe, that I am impatient 
 to be in town, when I say I am impatient to be 
 with you ; but I am very sensible I parted with 
 you in July and 'tis now the middle of November. 
 As if this was not hardship enough, you do not tell 
 me you are sorry for it. You write seldom, and 
 with so much indifference as shews you hardly 
 think of me at all. I complain of ill health, and 
 you only say you hope 'tis not so bad as I make it. 
 You never enquire after your child. I would fain 
 flatter myself you have more kindness for me and 
 him than you express ; but I reflect with grief that 
 a man that is ashamed of passions that are natural 
 and reasonable, is generally proud of those that are 
 shameful and silly. 
 
 You should consider solitude, and spleen the 
 consequence of solitude, is apt to give the most 
 melancholy ideas, and there needs at least tender 
 letters and kind expressions to hinder uneasinesses 
 almost inseparable from absence. I am very sen- 
 sible, how far I ought to be contented when your 
 affairs oblige you to be without me. I would not 
 have you do yourself any prejudice ; but a little 
 kindness will cost you nothing. I do not bid you 
 lose any thing by hasting to see me, but I would
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 213 
 
 have you think it a misfortune when we are asunder. 
 Instead of that, you seem perfectly pleased with 
 our separation, and indifferent how long it con- 
 tinues. When I reflect on your behaviour, I am 
 ashamed of my own, and think I am playing the 
 part of my Lady Winchester. At least be as gene- 
 rous as my lord ; and as he made her an early con- 
 fession of his aversion, own to me your inconstancy, 
 and upon my word I will give you no more trouble 
 about it. I have concealed as long as I can, the 
 uneasiness the nothingness of your letters have 
 given me, under an affected indifference; but dissi- 
 mulation always sits awkwardly upon me ; I am 
 weary of it ; and must beg you to write to me no 
 more, if you cannot bring yourself to write other- 
 wise. Multiplicity of business or diversions may 
 have engaged you, but all people find time to do 
 what they have a mind to. If your inclination is 
 gone, I had rather never receive a letter from you, 
 than one which, in lieu of comfort for your absence, 
 gives me a pain even beyond it. For my part, as 
 'tis my first, this is my last complaint, and your next 
 of the kind shall go back enclosed to you in blank 
 paper. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 Extract. No date. 
 
 . . . I thank God this cold well agrees 
 
 very much with the child ; and he seems stronger
 
 214 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 and better every day. But I should be very glad, 
 if you saw Dr. Garth, if you would ask his opinion 
 concerning the use of cold baths for young chil- 
 dren. I hope you love the child as well as I do ; 
 but if you love me at all, you '11 desire the preserva- 
 tion of his health, for I should certainly break my 
 heart for him. 
 
 I writ in my last all I thought necessary about 
 my Lord Pierrepont. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 I CANNOT forbear taking it something unkindly 
 that you do not write to me, when you may be as- 
 sured I am in a great fright, and know not certainly 
 what to expect upon this sudden change. The 
 Archbishop of York has been come to Bishopthorp 
 but three days. I went with my cousin to-day to 
 see the King proclaimed, which was done ; the 
 archbishop walking next the lord-mayor, and all 
 the country gentry following, with greater crowds 
 of people than I believed to be in York, vast accla- 
 mations, and the appearance of a general satisfac- 
 tion. The Pretender afterwards dragged about the 
 streets and burned. Ringing of bells, bonfires, and 
 illuminations, the mob crying Liberty and proper- 
 ty ! and Long live King George ! This morning 
 all the principal men of any figure took post for
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 215 
 
 London, and we are alarmed with the fear of at- 
 tempts from Scotland, though all the Protestants 
 here seem unanimous for the Hanover succession. 
 The poor young ladies at Castle Howard * are as 
 much alarmed 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 Middlethorp stands 
 exposed to plunderers, if there be any at all. I 
 dare say, after the zeal the archbishop has shewed, 
 they'll visit his house (and consequently this) in 
 the first place. The archbishop made me many 
 compliments on our near neighbourhood, and said 
 he should be overjoyed at the happiness of improv- 
 ing his acquaintance with you. I suppose you may 
 now come in at Aldburgh, and I heartily wish you 
 were in parliament. I saw the archbishop's list 
 of the Lords Regents appointed, and perceive Lord 
 W * * * is not one of them ; by which I guess 
 the new scheme is not to make use of any man 
 grossly infamous in either party ; consequently, 
 those that have been honest in regard to both, will 
 stand fairest for preferment. You understand these 
 things much better than me ; but I hope you will 
 
 * The daughters of the Earl of Carlisle.
 
 216 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 be persuaded by me and your other friends (wlio I 
 don't doubt will be of my opinion) that 'tis necessary 
 for the common good for an honest man to en- 
 deavour to be powerful, when he can be the one 
 without losing the first more valuable title ; and 
 remember that money is the source of power. I 
 hear that parliament sits but six months : you know 
 best whether 'tis worth any expence or bustle to be 
 in it for so short a time. 
 
 M. W. Montagu. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date. 
 
 You made me cry two hours last night. I can- 
 not imagine why you use me so ill ; for what reason 
 you continue silent, when you know at any time 
 your silence cannot fail of giving me a great deal of 
 pain ; and now to a higher degree because of the 
 perplexity that I am in, without knowing where you 
 are, what you are doing, or what to do with my- 
 self and my dear little boy. However, (persuaded 
 there can be no objection to it,) I intend to go to- 
 morrow to Castle Howard, and remain there with 
 the young ladies, 'till I know when I shall see you, 
 or what you would command. The archbishop and 
 every body else are gone to London. We are 
 alarmed with a story of a fleet being seen from the 
 coasts of Scotland. An express went from thence 
 through York to the Earl of Mar. I beg you would
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 217 
 
 write to me. 'Till you do I shall not have an easy- 
 minute. I am sure I do not deserve from you that 
 you should make me uneasy. I find I am scolding, 
 'tis better for me not to trouble you with it ; but I 
 cannot help taking your silence very unkindly. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 27th Oct. 
 
 I AM told that you are very secure at Newark : if 
 you are so in the West, I cannot see why you should 
 set up in three different places, except it be to treble 
 the expence. I am sorry you had not opportunity 
 of paying Lord Pierrepont that compliment, though 
 I hope that it will not weigh much with him in fa- 
 vour of another, I wish you would remember the 
 common useful maxim, whatever is to be done at 
 all, ought to be done as soon as possible. I consi- 
 der only your own interest when I speak, and I can- 
 not help speaking warmly on that subject. I hope 
 you will think of what I hinted in my last letters ; 
 and if you think of it at all, you cannot think of it 
 too soon. 
 
 Adieu. I wish you would learn of Mr. Steele to 
 write to your wife. 
 
 M. W. Montagu.
 
 218 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 Though I am very impatient to see you, I would 
 not have you, by hastening to come down, lose any 
 part of your interest. I am surprized you say no- 
 thing of where you stand. I had a letter from Mrs. 
 Hewet last post, who said she heard you stood at 
 Newark, and would be chose without opposition ; 
 but I fear her intelligence is not at all to be de- 
 pended on. 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 advan- 
 tages of money ; every thing we see, and every 
 thing we hear, puts us in remembrance of it. 
 If it were possible to restore liberty to your 
 country, or limit the encroachments of the prero- 
 gative, 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 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 
 qualification is impudence, and (as Demosthenes 
 said of pronunciation in oratory) the second is im- 
 pudence, and the third, still, impudence. No mo- 
 dest man ever did or ever will make his fortune. 
 Your friend Lord Halifax, R. Walpole, and all 
 other remarkable instances of quick advancement.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 219 
 
 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 
 torn, 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. 
 
 If this letter is impertinent, it is founded upon an 
 opinion of your merit, which, if it is a mistake, I 
 would not be undeceived : it is my interest to be- 
 lieve (as I do) that you deserve every thing, and 
 are capable of every thing ; but nobody else will 
 believe it, if they see you get nothing. 
 
 M. W. M. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 You do me wrong in imagining (as I perceive 
 you do) that my reasons for being solicitous for 
 your having that place, was in view of spending
 
 220 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 more money than we do. You have no cause of 
 fancying* me capable of such a thought. I don't 
 doubt but Lord Halifax will very soon have the 
 staff, and it is my belief you will not be at all the 
 richer : but I think it looks well, and may facilitate 
 your election ; and that is all the advantage I 
 hope from it. When all your intimate acquaint- 
 ance are preferred, I think you would have an ill 
 air in having nothing : upon that account only, I 
 am sorry so many considerable places are disposed 
 of. I suppose, now, you will certainly be chosen 
 somewhere or other ; and I cannot see why you 
 should not pretend to be Speaker. I believe all 
 the Whigs would be for you, and I fancy you have 
 a considerable interest amongst the Tories, and for 
 that reason would be very likely to carry it. 'Tis 
 impossible for me to judge of this so well as you 
 can do ; but the reputation of being thoroughly of 
 no party is (I think) of use in this affair, and I be- 
 lieve people generally esteem you impartial ; and 
 being chose by your country is more honourable 
 than holding any place from any king. 
 
 M. W. M. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 I CANNOT imagine why you should desire that I 
 should not be glad, though from a mistake, since, 
 at least, it is an agreeable one. I confess I shall
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 221 
 
 ever be of opinion, if you are in the Treasury, it will 
 be an addition to your figure, and facilitate your 
 election, though it is no otherwise advantageous ; 
 and that, if you have nothing when all your ac- 
 quaintance are preferred, the world generally will 
 not be persuaded that you neglect your fortune, 
 but that you are neglected. M. W. M. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 No date, 
 
 I HOPE the child is better than he was, but I 
 wish you would let Dr. Garth know he has a big- 
 ness in his joints, but not much : his ankles seem 
 chiefly to have a weakness. I should be very glad 
 of his advice upon it, and, whether he approves 
 rubbing them with spirits, which I am told is good 
 for him. 
 
 I hope you are convinced I was not mistaken in 
 my judgment of Lord Pelham ; he is very silly, but 
 very good-natured. I don't see how it can be im- 
 proper for you to get it represented to him that he 
 is obliged in honour to get you chose at Aldburgh, 
 and may more easily get Mr. Jessop chose at ano- 
 ther place. I can't believe but you may manage 
 it in such a manner, Mr. Jessop himself would not 
 be against it, nor would he have so much reason to 
 take it ill, if he should not be chose, as you have 
 after so much money fruitlessly spent. I dare say 
 you may order it so that it may be so, if you talk
 
 222 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 to Lord Townshend, &c. I mention this, because 
 I cannot think you can stand at York, or any where 
 else, without a great expence. Lord Morpeth is 
 just now of age, but I know not whether he'll 
 think it worth while to return from travel upon 
 that occasion. Lord Carlisle is in town, you may 
 if you think fit make him a visit, and enquire con- 
 cerning it. After all, I look upon Aldburgh to be 
 the surest thing. Lord Pelham* is easily persuaded 
 to any thing, and I am sure he may be told by Lord 
 Townshend that he has used you ill ; and I know 
 that he'll be desirous to do all things in his power 
 to make it up. In my opinion, if you resolve upon 
 an extraordinary expence to be in parliament, you 
 should resolve to have it turn to some account. 
 Your father is very surprizing if he persists in stand- 
 ing at Huntingdon ; but there is nothing surprizing 
 in such a world as this. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 I CANNOT be very sorry for your declining at 
 Newark, being very uncertain of your success ; but 
 I am surprised you do not mention where you mean 
 to stand. Dispatch, in things of this nature, if it 
 is not a security, at least delay is a sure way to 
 lose, as you have done, being easily chosen at 
 
 * Lord Pelham was soon after created Duke of Newcastle, 
 and was George the Second's minister.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 223 
 
 York, for not resolving in time, and at Aldburgh, 
 for not applying soon enough to Lord Pelham. 
 There are people who had rather choose Fairfax 
 than Jenkins, and others that prefer Jenkins to 
 Fairfax ; but both parties, separately, have wished 
 to me, that you would have stood, with assurances 
 of having preferred you to either of them. At 
 Newark, Lord Lexington has a very considerable 
 interest. If you have any thoughts of standing, 
 you must endeavour to know how he stands affect- 
 ed ; though I am afraid he will assist Brigadier 
 Sutton, or some other Tory. Sir Matthew Jenison 
 has the best interest of any Whig ; but he stood 
 last year himself, and will perhaps do so again. 
 Newdigate will certainly be chosen there for one. 
 Upon the whole, 'tis the most expensive and 
 uncertain place you can stand at. '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 with- 
 out any opposition. They say Mr. Strickland is 
 sure at Carlisle, where he never stood before. I 
 believe most places are engaged by this time. I 
 am very sorry, for your sake, that you spent so 
 much money in vain last year, and will not come in 
 this, when you might make a more considerable 
 figure than you could have done then. I wish 
 Lord Pelham would compliment Mr. Jessop with 
 his Newark interest, and let you come in at Ald- 
 burgh. M. W. M.
 
 224 LETTERS WRin^EN 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 
 Your letter very much vexed me. I cannot 
 imagine why you should doubt being the better 
 for a place of that consideration, which it is in your 
 power to lay down, whenever you dislike the mea- 
 sures that are taken. Supposing the commission 
 lasts but a short time, I believe those that have 
 acted in it will have the offer of some other consi- 
 derable thing. I am, perhaps, the only woman in the 
 world that would dissuade her husband (if he were 
 inclined to it) from accepting the greatest place 
 in England, upon the condition of his giving one 
 vote disagreeing with his principles, and the true 
 interest of my country ; but when it is possible to 
 be of service to your country by going along with 
 the ministry, I know not any reason for declining 
 an honourable post. The world never believes it 
 possible for people to act out of the common track ; 
 and whoever is not employed by the public, may 
 talk what they please of having refused or slighted 
 great offers ; but they are always looked upon, 
 either as neglected, or discontented because their 
 pretensions have failed ; and, whatever efforts they 
 make against the court, are thought the effect of 
 spleen and disappointment, or endeavours to get 
 something they have set their heart on. As now 
 Sir T. Hanmer is represented (and I believe truly) 
 as aiming at being secretary, no man can make
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 2«5 
 
 as aiming at being secretary, no man can make 
 a better figure than when he enjoys a consider- 
 able place. Being for the Place-bill, and if he 
 finds the ministry in the wrong, withdrawing from 
 them, when 'tis visible that he might still keep his 
 places, if he had not chose to keep his integrity. 
 I have sent you my thoughts of places in general, 
 I solemnly protest, without any thought of any par- 
 ticular advantage to myself; and if I were your 
 friend, and not your wife, I should speak in the same 
 manner, which I really do, without any considera- 
 tion but that of your figure and reputation, which 
 is a thousand times dearer to me than splendour, 
 
 money, &c. 1 suppose this long letter might 
 
 have been spared ; for your resolution, I don't 
 doubt, is already taken. 
 
 M. W. M. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 1714. 
 You seem not to have received my letters, or 
 not to have understood them ; you had been chosen 
 undoubtedly at York, if you had declared in time ; 
 but there is not any gentleman or tradesman disen- 
 gaged at this time ; they are treating every night. 
 Lord Carlisle and the Thompsons have given their 
 interest to Mr. Jenkins. I agree with you of the 
 necessity of your standing this parliament, which, 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 perhaps, may be more considerable than any that 
 are to follow it ; but, as you proceed, 'tis my opi- 
 nion, you will spend your money and not be 
 chosen. I believe, there is hardly a borough dis- 
 engaged. I expect every letter should tell me you 
 are sure of some place ; and, as far as I can perceive, 
 you are sure of none. As it has been managed, 
 perhaps it will be the best way to deposite a cer- 
 tain sum in some friend's hands, and buy some little 
 Cornish borough : it would, undoubtedly, look bet- 
 ter to be chosen for a considerable town ; but I 
 take it to be now too late. If you have any 
 thoughts of Newark, it will be absolutely necessary 
 for you to enquire after Lord Lexington's interest ; 
 and your best way to apply to Lord Holdernesse, 
 who is both a Whig and an honest man. He is 
 now in town, and you may enquire of him, if Bri- 
 gadier Sutton stands there ; and if not, try to en- 
 gage him for you. Lord Lexington is so ill at the 
 Bath, that it is a doubt if he will live 'till the elec- 
 tion ; and if he dies, one of his heiresses, and the 
 whole interest of his estate, will probably fall on 
 Lord Holdernesse. 
 
 'Tis a surprize to me, that you cannot make sure 
 of some borough, when a number of your friends 
 bring in so many Parliament-men without trouble 
 or expence. 'Tis too late to mention it now, but 
 you might have applied to Lady Winchester, as Sir 
 Joseph Jekyl did last year, and by her interest the 
 Duke of Bolton brought him in for nothing ; I
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 227 
 
 am sure she would be more zealous to serve me 
 than Lady Jekyl. You should understand these 
 things better than L I heard, by a letter last post, 
 that Lady M. Montagu and Lady Hinchinbrook 
 are to be bedchamber ladies to the Princess, and 
 Lady Townshend groom of the stole. She must be 
 a strange Princess, if she can pick a favourite out of 
 them ; and as she will be one day a Queen, and they 
 say has an influence over her husband, I wonder 
 they don't think fit to place women about her with 
 a little common sense. M. W. M. 
 
 TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 April. 
 
 I AM extremely concerned at your illness. I 
 have expected you all this day, and supposed you 
 would be here by this time, if you had set out Sa- 
 turday afternoon as you say you intended. I hope 
 vou have left WharnclifFe ; but however will con- 
 tinue to write, 'till you let me know you have done 
 so. Dr. Clarke has been spoke to, and excused 
 himself from recommending a chaplain, as not be- 
 ing acquainted with many orthodox divines. I 
 don't doubt you know the death of Lord Sommers, 
 which will for some time interrupt my commerce 
 with Lady Jekyl. I have heard he is dead without 
 a will ; and I have heard he has made young Mr. 
 Cox his heir ; I cannot tell which account is the 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 truest. I beg you with the greatest earnestness, 
 that you would take the first care of your health, 
 there can be nothing worth the least loss of it. I 
 shall be, sincerely, very uneasy 'till I hear from you 
 again ; but I am not without hopes of seeing you 
 to-morrow. Your son presents his duty to you, 
 and improves every day in his conversation, which 
 begins to be very entertaining to me. I directed 
 a letter for you last post to Mr. B . I can- 
 not conclude without once (more) recommending to 
 you, if you have any sort of value for me, to take 
 care of yourself. If there be any thing you would 
 have me do, pray be particular in your directions. 
 You say nothing positive about the liveries. Lord 
 B.'s lace is silk, with very little silver in it, but for 
 twenty liveries comes to 110/. — ^ Adieu ! pray take 
 care of your health. 
 
 TO LADY 
 
 Jan. 23, 1715-16. 
 I FIND after all by your letter of yesterday, that 
 
 Mrs. D is resolved to marry the old greasy 
 
 curate. She was always High Church in an ex- 
 cessive degree, and you know she used to speak of 
 Sacheverel as an apostolick saint, who was worthy 
 to sit in the same place with St. Paul, if not a step 
 above him. It is a matter, however, very doubtful 
 to me, whether it is not still more the man than the
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 229 
 
 apostle that Mrs. D looks to in the present al- 
 liance. Tho' at the age of forty, she is, I assure 
 you, very far from being cold and insensible ; her 
 fire may be covered with ashes, but it is not extin- 
 guished. Don't be deceived, my dear, by that pru- 
 dish and sanctified air. Warm devotion is no equi- 
 vocal mark of warm passions ; besides, I know it 
 is a fact, of which I have proofs in hand, which I 
 will tell you by word of mouth, that our learned 
 and holy prude is exceedingly disposed to use the 
 means supposed in the primitive command, let what 
 will come of the end. The curate indeed is very 
 filthy — Such a red, spungy, warty nose ! Such a 
 squint ! In short, he is ugly beyond expression ; 
 and what ought naturally to render him peculiarly 
 
 displeasing to one of Mrs. D 's constitution and 
 
 propensities, he is stricken in years. Nor do I 
 really know how they will live. He has but forty- 
 five pounds a year — she but a trifling sum ; so that 
 they are likely to feast upon love and ecclesiastical 
 history, which will be very empty food without a 
 proper mixture of beef and pudding. I have, how- 
 ever, engaged our friend, who is the curate's land- 
 lord, to give them a good lease ; and if Mrs. D , 
 
 instead of spending whole days reading Collier, 
 Hickes, and vile translations of Plato and Epictetus, 
 will but form the resolution of taking care of her 
 house and minding her dairy, things may go tole- 
 rably. It is not likely that their tender loves will 
 give them many sweet babes to provide for.
 
 230 LETTERS WRITTEN 
 
 I met the lover yesterday, going to the alehouse 
 in liis dirty night-gown, with a book under his arm 
 
 to entertain the club ; and as Mrs. D was with 
 
 me at the time, I pointed out to her the charming 
 creature : she blushed and looked prim ; but quoted 
 a passage out of Herodotus, in which it is said that 
 the Persians wore long night-gowns. There is 
 really no more accounting for the taste in marriage 
 of many of our sex, than there is for the appetite of 
 your neighbour Miss S — y, who makes such waste 
 of chalk and charcoal when they fall in her way. 
 
 As marriage produces children, so children pro- 
 duce care and disputes ; and wrangling, as is said 
 (at least by old bachelors and old maids), is one of 
 the sweets of the conjugal state. You tell me that 
 
 our friend Mrs. is at length blessed with a 
 
 son ; and that her husband, who is a great philo- 
 sopher, (if his own testimony is to be depended 
 upon,) insists on her suckling it herself. You ask 
 my advice on this matter ; and to give it you frank- 
 ly, I really think that Mr. 's demand is unrea- 
 sonable, as his wife's constitution is tender, and her 
 temper fretful. A true philosopher would consider 
 these circumstances, but a pedant is always throw- 
 ing his system in your face, and applies it equally 
 to all things, times, and places, just like a taylor 
 who would make a coat out of his own head, with- 
 out any regard to the bulk or figure of the person 
 that must wear it. All those fine-spun arguments 
 that he has drawn from Nature to stoj:) your mouths.
 
 BEFORE THE YEAR 1717. 231 
 
 weigh, I must own to you, but very little with me. — 
 This same Nature is indeed a specious word, nay, 
 there is a great deal in it, if it is properly under- 
 stood and applied, but I cannot bear to hear people 
 using it to justify what common sense must disavow. 
 Is not Nature modified by art in many things ? 
 Was it not designed to be so ? And is it not happy 
 for human society that it is so ? Would you like 
 to see your husband let his beard grow, until he 
 would be obliged to put the end of it in his pocket, 
 because this beard is the gift of Nature ? The 
 instincts of Nature point out neither taylors, nor 
 weavers, nor mantua-makers, nor sempsters, nor 
 milliners; and yet I am very glad that we don't 
 run naked like the Hottentots. But not to wander 
 from the subject — I grant that Nature has furnished 
 the mother with milk to nourish her child ; but I 
 maintain at the same time, that if she can find 
 better milk elsewhere, she ought to prefer it with- 
 out hesitation. I don't see why she should have 
 more scruple to do this, than her husband has to 
 leave the clear fountain, which Nature gave him, 
 to quench his thirst, for stout October, port, or 
 claret. Indeed, if Mrs. — — was a buxom, sturdy 
 woman, who lived on plain food, took regular exer- 
 cise, enjoyed proper returns of rest, and was free 
 from violent passions (which you and I know is not 
 the case), she might be a good nurse for her child ; 
 but as matters stand, I do verily think that the 
 milk of a good comely cow, who feeds quietly in her
 
 232 LETTERS WRITTEN BEFORE 1717. 
 
 meadow, never devours ragouts, nor drinks ratifia, 
 nor frets at quadrille, nor sits up 'till three in the 
 morning elated with gain or dejected with loss, I 
 do think that the milk of such a cow, or of a nurse 
 that came as near it as possible, would be likely to 
 nourish the young squire much better than hers. If 
 it be true that the child sucks in the mother's passions 
 with her milk, this is a strong argument in favour 
 of the cow, unless you may be afraid that the young 
 squire may become a calf; but how many calves 
 are there both in state and church, who have been 
 brought up with their mothers' milk ! 
 
 I promise faithfully to communicate to no mor- 
 tal the letter you wrote me last. What you say of 
 the two rebel lords, I believe to be true ; but I can 
 do nothing in the matter. If my projects don't fail 
 in the execution, I shall see you before a month 
 passes. Give my service to Dr. Blackbeard. — He 
 is a good man, but I never saw in my life such a 
 persecuting face cover a humane and tender heart. 
 I imagine (within myself) that the Smithfield priests, 
 who burned the protestants in the time of Queen 
 Mary, had just such faces as the doctor's. If we 
 were papists, I should like him very much for my 
 confessor ; his seeming austerity would give you and 
 I a great reputation for sanctity, and his good indul- 
 gent heart would be the very thing that would suit 
 us in the affair of penance and ghostly direction. 
 
 Farewell, my dear Lady, &c. &c.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. HEWET.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. HEWET.* 
 
 'Tis so long since I had a letter from dear Mrs. 
 Hewet, I should think her no longer in the land of 
 the living, if Mr. Resingade did not assure me he 
 was happier than I, and had heard of your health 
 from your own hand ; which makes me fancy that 
 my last miscarried, and perhaps you are blaming 
 me at the same time that you are thinking me 
 
 * The originals of these letters were bequeathed, with other 
 papers, to Lady Wastneys, relict of Sir Hardolph Wastneys, of 
 Headon Hall. They were, chiefly, written by Lady M. Pierre- 
 pont about two years previously to her marriage; and exhibit 
 a lively portrait of the manners of a young woman of quality at 
 the beginning of the last century. 
 
 Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Hewet, was the youngest daugh- 
 ter of Richard Bettinson, esq. by Albina, daughter and coheir 
 of Edward Cecil, Lord Viscount Wimbleton. She married Mr. 
 T. Hewet, surveyor-general of his majesty's woods and works. 
 He was knighted in 1719, and settled at Shireoaks, in Notting- 
 hamshire, where he died in 1726. His lady long survived him, 
 and was remarkable for her accomplishments and beauty.
 
 236 LETTERS TO 
 
 neglectful of you. Apropos of Mr. Resingade — 
 we are grown such good friends, I assure you, that 
 we write Italian letters to each other, and I have 
 the pleasure of talking to him of Madame Hewet. 
 He told me he would send you the two tomes of 
 Madame de Noyer's Memoirs. I fancy you will 
 find yourself disappointed in them, for they are 
 horridly grave and insipid ; and, instead of the 
 gallantry you might expect, they are full of dull 
 morals. I was last Thursday at the new Opera, 
 and saw Nicolini strangle a lion with great gal- 
 lantry. But he represented nakedness so naturally, 
 I was surprised to see those ladies stare at him 
 without any confusion, that pretend to be so vio- 
 lently shocked at a poor double entendre or two in 
 a comedy ; which convinced me that those prudes 
 who would cry fie ! fie ! at the word naked, have 
 no scruples about the thing. The marriage of 
 Lord Willoughby goes on, and he swears he will 
 bring the lady down to Nottingham races. How 
 far it may be true, I cannot tell. By what fine 
 gentlemen say, you know, it is not easy to guess at 
 what they mean. The lady has made an acquaint- 
 ance with me after the manner of Pyramus and 
 Thisbe : I mean over a wall three yards high, which 
 separates our garden from Lady Guildford's. The 
 young ladies had found out a way to pull out two 
 or three bricks, and so climb up and hang their 
 chins over the wall, where we, mounted on chairs, 
 used to have many belles conversations a la derobee
 
 MRS. HEWET. 237 
 
 for fear of the okl mother. This trade continued 
 several days ; but fortune seldom permits long plea- 
 sures. By long standing on the wall, the bricks 
 loosened ; and, one fatal morning, down drops Miss 
 Nelly ; and, to complete this misfortune, she fell 
 
 into a little sink, and bruised her poor self to 
 
 that terrible degree, she is forced to have surgeons, 
 plaisters, and God knows what, which discovered 
 the whole intrigue ; and their mamma forbade them 
 ever to visit us, but by the door. Since that time, 
 all our communications have been made in a vulgar 
 manner, visiting in coaches, &c. &c. which took 
 away half the pleasure. You know danger gives 
 a haut gout to every thing. This is our secret his- 
 tory — pray let it be so still — but I hope all the 
 world will know that I am most entirely yours, 
 
 M. P. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 I HOPE my dear Mrs. Hewet does not believe 
 that I follow my inclination, when I am two or 
 three posts before I return thanks for her most 
 agreeable letters; but in this busy town there is 
 very little time at one's own disposal. My greatest 
 pleasure is at Mrs. Selwyn's :* I came from thence 
 just now, and T believe am the only young woman 
 in town that am in my own house at ten o'clock 
 
 * Albinia Bettinson, Mrs. Hcwet's elder sister, married 
 Major-general William Selwyn, of Matson in Gloucestershire.
 
 238 LETTERS TO 
 
 to-night. This is the night of Count Turrucca's 
 ball, to which he has invited a few bare-faced, and 
 the whole town en masque. I sup})ose you will have 
 a description of it, from some who were at it; I 
 can only give it at second-hand, and will therefore 
 say nothing of it. I have begun to learn Italian, 
 and am much mortified I cannot do it of a signor 
 of Monsieur Resingade's recommendation ; but 'tis 
 always the fate of women to obey, and my papa 
 has promised me to a Mr. Cassotti. I am afraid 
 I shall never understand it so well as you do — but 
 laissons cela, and talk of somewhat more enter- 
 taining. 
 
 Next to the great ball, what makes the most 
 noise is the marriage of an old maid, who lives in 
 this street, without a portion, to a man of 7,000/. 
 per annum, and they say 40,000/. in ready money. 
 Her equipage and liveries outshine any body's in 
 town. He has presented her with 3,000/. in jewels ; 
 and never was man more smitten with these charms 
 that had lain invisible for these forty years ; but, 
 with all his glory, never bride had fewer enviers, 
 the dear beast of a man is so filthy, frightful, odious, 
 and detestable. I would turn away such a foot- 
 man, for fear of spoiling my dinner, while he waited 
 at table. They were married on Friday, and came 
 to church en parade on Sunday. I happened to sit 
 in the pew with them, and had the honour of see- 
 ing Mrs. Bride fall fast asleep in the middle of the 
 sermon, and snore very comfortably ; which made
 
 MRS. HEWET. 239 
 
 several women in the church think the bridegroom 
 not quite so ugly as they did before. Envious 
 people say 'twas all counterfeited to please him> 
 but I believe that to be scandal ; for I dare swear, 
 nothing but downright necessity could make her 
 miss one word of the sermon. He professes to 
 have married her for her devotion, patience, meek- 
 ness, and other Christian virtues he observed in 
 her : his first wife (who has left no children) being 
 very handsome, and so good-natured as to have 
 ventured her own salvation to secure his. He 
 has married this lady to have a companion in that 
 paradise where his first has given him a title. I 
 believe I have given you too much of this couple ; 
 but they are not to be comprehended in few words. 
 My dear Mrs. Hewet, remember me, and believe 
 that nothing can put you out of my head. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 Arlington-street. 
 
 I DO not doubt but that before this time, my 
 dear Mrs. Hewet has a thousand times called me 
 ungrateful, and as often repented of the many 
 kindnesses she has done me in the country. Les 
 apparences sont trompeuses — I am as much your 
 servant as ever, and think of you with the friend- 
 ship and acknowledgment I owe you. A train of 
 disagreeable events have hindered my having one
 
 240 LETTEHS TO 
 
 leisure moment ; and at this very time my poor 
 head is distracted with such a variety of gallimatias, 
 that I cannot tell you one bit of news. The 
 fire I suppose you have had a long and true account 
 of, though not perhaps that we were raised at three 
 o'clock, and kept waking 'till five, by the most 
 dreadful sight I ever saw in my life. It was near 
 enough to fright all our servants half out of their 
 senses : however, we escaped better than some of 
 our neighbours. Mrs. Braithwayte, a Yorkshire 
 beauty, who had been but two days married to a 
 Mr. Coleman, ran out of bed e/z chemise, and her 
 husband followed her in his, in which pleasant dress 
 they ran as far as St. James's-street, where they 
 met with a chair, and prudently crammed them- 
 selves both into it, observing the rule of dividing 
 the good and bad fortune of this life, resolved to 
 run all hazards together, and ordered the chairmen 
 to carry them both away, perfectly representing, 
 both in love and nakedness, and want of eyes to 
 see that they were naked, our first happy parents. 
 Sunday last I had the pleasure of hearing the whole 
 history from the lady's own mouth. 
 
 The next most extraordinary adventure, is the 
 famous quarrel between her Grace of Hamilton 
 with Captain Hero ; but I suppose you cannot be 
 ignorant of so surprising an event. 
 
 Deaths nor marriages I know of none, but Sir 
 Stephen Evans, that hanged himself, and my sister 
 Evelyn, who will be married next week. The post-
 
 MRS. HE WET. 241 
 
 bell rings ; my next shall be longer, with some ac- 
 count of your fair family.* 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 I SUPPOSE my dear Mrs. Hewet has by this 
 time resolved never to think more on so insen- 
 sible and ungrateful a creature, that could be so 
 long in returning thanks for such a letter, and has 
 repented of past favours. I cannot blame your 
 resentment, appearances are so much against me ; 
 and yet I am not so much to blame as you imagine. 
 You expressed a desire of seeing a second part of 
 the Atalantis. I had just then sent to London for 
 it, and did not question having it last Saturday. I 
 hoped that a book you had a mind to see might 
 atone for the nothingness of my letter, and was 
 resolved not to send one without the other ; but, 
 like an unfortunate projector as I am, my designs 
 are always followed by disappointment. Saturday 
 came, and no book ; God forgive me, I had cer- 
 tainly wished the lady who was to send it me 
 hanged, but for the hopes it was come by the Not- 
 tingham carrier, and then I should have it on 
 Monday ; but, after waiting Monday and Tuesday, 
 I find it is not come at all. Now, madam, I do 
 
 * Lady Evelyn Pierrepont was married to John the first 
 Earl Gower, 19th March, 1712; the date of this letter, there- 
 fore, must have been in the beginning of that month. 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 LETTERS TO 
 
 not question your forgiveness, and your hope, that 
 when I do not write to Mrs. Hewet, there is some 
 unavoidable cause for my silence. Your news and 
 your book very much diverted me : it is an old, 
 but very pleasant, Spanish novel. When we leave 
 this place I am not able to tell you. I have no 
 reason to wish it, but, since I cannot see you, that 
 it may be in my power to write you more enter- 
 taining letters. I had some last post told me that 
 Lady Essex Saville was going to be married to 
 Lord Lonsdale. I won't swear to the truth of it, 
 for people make no conscience of what they write 
 into the country, and think any thing good enough 
 for poor us. There is another story that I had 
 from a hand I dare depend upon. The Duke of 
 Grafton and Dr. Garth ran a foot-match in the 
 mall of 200 yards, and the latter, to his immortal 
 glory, beat. I pray God you mayn't have heard 
 this already. I am promised a cargo of lampoons 
 from the Bath, and if they come safe, you shall 
 share them with me. My dear Mrs. Hewet, could 
 I contribute any way to your diversion, it would be 
 the height of my ambition. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 Nov. 12. 
 
 You have not then received my letter ? Well ! I 
 shall run mad. I can suffer any thing rather than
 
 MRS. IIEWET. 243 
 
 that you should continue to think me ungrateful. 
 I think 'tis the last of pains to be thought criminal, 
 where one most desires to please, as I am sure it 
 is always my wish to dear Mrs. He wet. 
 
 I am very glad you have the second part of the 
 New Atalantis : if you have read it, will you be so 
 good as to send it me ? and in return, I promise to 
 get you the key to it. I know 1 can. But do you 
 know what has happened to the unfortunate au- 
 thoress ? 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 agree- 
 able, 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 attempting any thing but 
 heavy panegyric ; and we shall be teazed with no- 
 thing but heroic poems, with names at length, and 
 false characters, so daubed with flattery, that they 
 are the severest kind of lampoons, for they both 
 scandalize the writer and the subject, like that vile 
 paper the Tatler. 
 
 I believe, madam, you will think I have dwelt
 
 244 LETTERS TO 
 
 too long on this business ; but I am in a violent 
 passion about it. My dear Mrs. Hewet, is it im- 
 possible you should come here ? I would not ask 
 it if I had a coach to wait upon you ; but I am not 
 born to have any thing I have a mind to. All the 
 news I know is, that Mrs. Reeves is married to 
 Colonel Sydney (if you know neither of them, I'll 
 send you their pictures at full length) ; and that 
 giddy rake Cresswell, to a fortune of 2000/. a-year. 
 I send you the Bath lampoons — Corinna is Lady 
 Manchester, and the other lady is Mrs. Cartwright, 
 who, they say, has pawned her diamond necklace, 
 to buy Valentine a snuff-box. These wars make 
 men so violent scarce, that these good ladies take 
 up with the shadows of them. This is the sum 
 total of all the news I know, and you see I am 
 willing to divert you all in my power. I fancy the 
 ill spelling of the lampoons will make you laugh 
 more than the verses ; indeed I am ashamed for 
 her who wrote them. As soon as possible, be 
 pleased to send me the second part of the Ata- 
 lantis, &c. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 Ten thousand thanks to you for Madame de 
 Noyer's letters ; I wish Signor Roselli may be as 
 diverting to you as she has been to me. The stories 
 are very extraordinary ; but I know not whether 
 she has not added a few aoremens of invention to
 
 MRS. HEWET. 245 
 
 them : however, there is some truth. I have been 
 told, in particular, that the history of the fair un- 
 fortunate Madame de Barbesierre is so, by people 
 who could not be suspected of romancing. Don't 
 you think that the court of England would furnish 
 stories as entertaining ? Say nothing of my malice; 
 but I cannot help wishing that Madame de Noyer 
 would turn her thoughts a little that way. I fancy 
 she would succeed better than the authoress of the 
 New Atalantis. I am sure I like her method much 
 better, which has, I think, hit that difficult path 
 between the gay and the severe, and is neither too 
 loose, nor affected by pride. 
 
 I take an interest in Mr. Selwyn's success. In 
 a battle like that, I think it may be called so to 
 come off alive. I should be so sensible of any 
 affliction that could touch you or Mrs. Selwyn, 
 that I may very well rejoice when you have no occa- 
 sion for any. Adieu, madam. This post has brought 
 me nothing but compliments, without one bit of 
 news. I heard the last, that Lord Stair was wound- 
 ed. You can tell me whether to believe it or no. 
 
 Excuse my dulness ; and be so good as never to 
 read a letter of mine but in one of those minutes 
 when you are entirely alone, weary of every thing, 
 and mquiete to think what you shall do next. All 
 ])eople who live in the country must have some of 
 those minutes, and I know so well what they are, 
 that I believe even my letters may be welcome, 
 when they are to take them off your hands.
 
 246 LETTERS TO 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 I HAVE a thousand thanks to give to my dear Mrs. 
 Hewet for her news, and above all the letter ; and 
 I would not have delayed them, but your messenger 
 was in haste, and I was resolved to write you a long 
 scribble. My advices of Saturday say, that a peace 
 will positively be concluded. This comes from the 
 same hand that wrote so contrary on Thursday, 
 and I depend very much on the intelligence. I am 
 charmed with your correspondante, for I hope it is 
 a woman ; and if it is, I reckon her an honour to 
 our sex. I am in no fear of the reflection you men- 
 tion ; and, being perfectly innocent, God knows ,^ 
 am far from thinking I can be suspected. Your 
 news, and no news, I know not what to make of. 
 At present, my domestic affairs go on so ill, I want 
 spirits to look abroad. I have got a cold that dis- 
 ables my eyes, and disorders me every other way. 
 Mr. Mason has ordered me blooding, to which I have 
 submitted, after long contestation. You see how 
 stupid I am; I entertain you with discourses of 
 physic, but I have the oddest jumble of disagreeable 
 things in my head that ever plagued poor mortals : 
 a great cold, a bad peace, people I love in disgrace, 
 sore eyes, the horrid prospect of a civil war, and the 
 thoughts of a filthy potion to take. I believe no- 
 body ever had such a melange before. Our coach- 
 man, dear man, arrived safe last night, but when we
 
 MRS. HEWET. 247 
 
 remove, God only knows. If possible, I will wait 
 on you at Clipston, but this physic may prevent all 
 my good intentions. My companions are your 
 servants. I had forgot the Spectators : one is not 
 worth mentioning ; the other is so plain and so 
 good sense, I wonder any body of five years old 
 does not find out that he is in the right.* 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 I WOULD have writ long ago to dear Mrs. Hewet, 
 but I waited for the good news of saying when I 
 might hope to see you, which I now despair of 
 for this long time. We go next week into Wilt- 
 *^ shire, which will be quite a new world to us. I 
 was about eight years old when I left it, and have 
 entirely forgot every thing in it. I am sorry we 
 shall not see you, though I am still in hopes we 
 shall return into Nottinghamshire the latter end of 
 the year ; but all that is supposals, and I have no 
 ground to believe it, but that I wish it very much. 
 You can expect no news from one who has nothing 
 at present in her head but packing up, and the 
 ideas that naturally come upon going to a place, 
 I may almost say, I never saw, so perfectly have 
 I forgotten it. Be so good when you see Mrs. 
 Levenz to ask her if she received my letter ; if she 
 
 * The originals of this letter, and that at page 251, were lately 
 in the possession of Mr. Upeott.
 
 248 LETTERS TO 
 
 did not, I am sure I must suffer very much in her 
 opinion, and appear very ungrateful, after her in- 
 quiry when I was sick. Mrs. Hewet should never 
 talk of being rivalled ; there is no such, thing as 
 not liking her, or liking any body else better. It 
 is a provoking thing to think, so many tedious 
 years as we have passed at Thoresby, we should 
 always be asunder so many dirty miles, and the 
 first summer you come nearer, I am tossed to the 
 other side of the world, where I do not know so 
 much as one creature, and am afraid I shall not 
 meet with such agreeable neighbours as in Not- 
 tinghamshire. But destiny must be followed, and 
 I own, was I to choose mine, it should never be 
 to stay perpetually in the same place. I should 
 even prefer little storms to an eternal calm ; and 
 though I am displeased not to see you, I am not 
 sorry to see a new part of the kingdom. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Hewet, preserve me your friend- 
 ship wherever my fortune carries me, and believe 
 that I am equally in all places yours. M. P. 
 
 Continue your direction to Arlington-street. 
 
 Till this minute I was in hopes of waiting on dear 
 Mrs. Hewet before we left the country, which made 
 me defer writing ; but now positive orders oblige 
 us to go to-morrow, and the horses must rest to- 
 day, so that this paper must give you thanks for 
 me, for all the many favours which could not have
 
 MRS. IlEWET. 249 
 
 been bestowed on one who could have had a more 
 quick and lasting sense of them. When I am in 
 London, I will certainly send you all that passes, 
 though I fancy you have it from people better both 
 at writing and intelligence. 
 
 Mrs. C. whose character you desire to know, is 
 a lady who has made a great noise in the world ; 
 but I never thought she would come to make such 
 a figure in it. The lord she has snapt made a 
 lampoon on her last winter. For my part, I never 
 heard her speak in my life. She is generally 
 thought handsome. If Miss Selwyn (as I wish she 
 may) supplies her place,* there will be one much 
 handsomer. Amidst the hurry of taking such a 
 journey to-morrow, I am sure you will forgive my 
 letter's being no longer : you know people can 
 never leave your company, or writing to you, with- 
 out regret. Write to me where to direct to you, 
 and direct to me in Arlington-street, near St. 
 James's, London. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 Most of the neighbours hereabouts have been to 
 see me, but they are very few, and few of those few 
 that are supportable — none agreeable. This part 
 of the world is so different from Nottinghamshire, 
 that I can hardly pei:suade myself it is in the same 
 
 * Probably at coui l.
 
 250 LETTERS TO 
 
 kingdom. The men here are all Sylvias, no Myr- 
 tillos. If they could express themselves so well, 
 they would say, like him, 
 
 " Mille ninfc darei per una fera 
 Che da Melampo mio cacciata fosse; 
 Godasi queste gioje 
 Chi n' ha di me piu gusto ; io non le sento." 
 
 Though they cannot say it in Italian verse, they 
 often speak to that purpose in English prose over 
 a bottle, insensible of other pleasures than hunting 
 and drinking. The consequence of which is, the 
 poor female part of their family being seldom per- 
 mitted a coach, or at best but a couple of starved 
 jades to drag a dirty chariot, their lords and masters 
 having no occasion for such a machine, as their 
 mornings are spent among hounds, and the nights 
 with as beastly companions, with what liquor they 
 can get in this country, which is not very famous 
 for good drink. If this management did not hinder 
 me the company of my she neighbours, I should 
 regret the absence of the Pastor Fidos, being of the 
 opinion of Sylvia in Tasso : 
 
 " Altri segua i diletti dell' amore, 
 Se pur v' e nell' amor alcun dlletto." 
 
 I would fain persuade you to practise your Italian. 
 I fear I shall forget to speak it, for want of some- 
 body to speak it to. Amongst the rest of the ad- 
 vantages I should have in your conversation (if I 
 should be so happy as to be with you), I would en- 
 deavour to improve in that polite language. I find
 
 MRS. HEWET. 251 
 
 • 
 
 you are very busy about politics ; we are the same 
 here, particularly in the pulpit, where the parsons 
 would fain become as famous as Sacheverel, and 
 are very sorry that they cannot have the honour of 
 being tried too. For my part, I content myself in 
 my humble sphere, am passive in their disputes, and 
 endeavour to study my Italian in peace and quiet- 
 ness. But people mistake very much in placing 
 peace in woods and shades, for I believe solitude 
 puts people out of humour, and makes them dis- 
 posed to quarrel, or there would not be so many 
 disputes about religion and liberty, by creatures 
 that never understood the first, nor have, or are 
 likely to have, a taste of the latter. 
 
 " Crush'd by the stint of thirty pounds a-year." 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 I WOULD willingly return dear Mrs. Hewet some- 
 thing more, for diverting me so well, than dry 
 thanks impertinently expressed. 'Tis reported that 
 Lady Charlotte Finch is to marry old Conoway, 
 and Lady Margaret Tufton, Lord Brooke.* Beside 
 the dismal changes of state, this is all I know. I 
 fear I write nonsense ; but it happens miraculously 
 to be in a room full of company, and if I omit this 
 opportunity, I know not when I may have another 
 
 * These intended marriages never took place.
 
 252 LETTERS TO 
 
 of seiuling. Mr. Sterne, the titular bishop, was last 
 week married to a very pretty woman, Mrs. Bate- 
 man, wliom he fell in love with for falling backward 
 from her horse leaping a ditch, where she displayed 
 all her charms, which he found irresistible. Mrs. 
 White, Mrs. Sutton, and Mrs. More, are all with 
 me ; and I am so embarrassed with my civilities 
 tour a tour, that I have hardly calmness of spirit to 
 tell you, in a composed way, that I am your thank- 
 ful humble servant, M. W. M. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 York, Nov. 1713. 
 'Tis not owing either to insensibility or ingra- 
 titude that I have not yet returned my thanks to 
 dear Mrs. Hewet for her obliging letter ; but the 
 weakness of my sight will not permit me to express 
 the dictates of my heart, and I am forced to sit by 
 the fireside and think you a thousand thanks, when 
 I would be putting them upon paper. I rejoice 
 that Lady Harriet has shewn some sensibility, as 
 unworthy an object as she has chosen ; yet I think 
 'tis better than (as I feared she had) dutifully 
 making over all her senses along with her fortune, 
 for the use of her grace ; I thought her other facul- 
 ties as imperfect as that of hearing. I am glad she 
 is not such a stock as I took her to be. I beg your 
 pardon that I must write a letter without news, but
 
 MRS. HEWET. 253 
 
 I do not know one bit, if it were to stand one in- 
 stead of my neck-verse. I am here waiting the 
 meeting of the parliament, and am persuaded you 
 will be in London before me; if not, I will endea- 
 vour to see you. You talk of the Duke of Leeds — 
 I hear that he has placed his heroic love upon 
 the bright charms of a pewterer's wife ; and, after 
 a long amour, and many perilous adventures, has 
 stolen the fair lady, which, in spite of his wrinkles 
 and grand-child, persuade people of his youth and 
 gallantry. You see what stuff I am forced to 
 wTite ; but to such I am compelled, excepting I 
 should entertain you with York loves and piques, 
 which would be as dull to you as what passed at 
 the last wake. 'Tis impossible to laugh at what 
 they do, without having first laughed at what 
 they are. 
 
 I am, madam, yours, M. W. M. 
 
 This is abrupt; but the post will wait for no 
 man. 
 
 TO MRS. HEWET. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, 1717. 
 
 I DARE say my dear Mrs. Hewet thinks me the 
 most stupid thing alive, to neglect so agreeable 
 a correspondence ; but it has hitherto been utterly 
 out of my power to continue it. I have been hur- 
 ried up and down, without intermission, these last 
 eight months. Wholly taken up either in going
 
 254 LETTERS TO MRS. IIEWET. 
 
 post, or unavoidable court attendance. You know 
 very well how little leisure it is possible to find on 
 either of those employments. I like travelling ex- 
 tremely, and have had no reason to complain of 
 having had too little of it, having now gone through 
 all the Turkish dominions in Europe, not to reckon 
 my journeys through Hungary, Bohemia, and the 
 whole tour of Germany ; but those are trifles to 
 this last. I cannot, however (thank God,) com- 
 plain of having suffered by fatigue, either in my 
 own healtli or that of my family. My son never 
 was better in his life. This country is certainly 
 one of the finest in the world ; hitherto all I see is 
 so new to me, it is like a fresh scene of an opera 
 every day. I will not tire you with descriptions 
 of places or manners, which perhaps you have no 
 curiosity for ; but only desire you would be so good 
 as to let me hear as oft as you can (which can be 
 no other than very seldom), what passes on your 
 side of the globe. Before you can receive this, 
 you must consider all things as six months old, 
 which now appear new to me. There will be a 
 great field for you to write, if your charity extends 
 so far, as it will be entirely disinterested and free 
 from ostentation (it not being possible for me here 
 to boast of your letters), and it will be very bene- 
 ficial to your precious soul, which I pray Heaven 
 to put into your head to consider and practise ac- 
 cordingly. M. W. M.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 DURING MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY
 
 THE ORIGINAL PREFACE. 
 BY A LADY. 
 
 WRITTEN IN 1724. 
 
 I WAS going, like common editors, to advertise 
 the reader of the beauties and excellencies of the 
 work laid before him. To tell him, that the il- 
 lustrious author had opportunities that other tra- 
 vellers, whatever their quality or curiosity may 
 have been, cannot obtain ; and a genius capable of 
 making the best improvement of every opportunity. 
 But if the reader, after perusing one letter only, has 
 not discernment to distinguish that natural ele- 
 gance, that delicacy of sentiment and observation, 
 that easy gracefulness and lovely simplicity (which 
 is the perfection of writing), in which these Letters 
 exceed all that has appeared in this kind, or almost 
 in any other, let him lay the book down, and leave 
 it to those who have. 
 
 The noble author had the goodness to lend me 
 her MS. to satisfy my curiosity in some enquiries I 
 had made concerning her travels ; and when I had 
 it in my hands, how was it possible to part with it ? 
 I once had the vanity to hope I might acquaint 
 the public, that it owed this invaluable treasure to 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 ORIGINAL PREFACE. 
 
 my importunities. But, alas ! the most ingenious 
 author has condemned it to obscurity during her 
 life ; and conviction, as well as deference, obliges 
 me to yield to her reasons. However, if these Let- 
 ters appear hereafter, when I am in my grave, let 
 this attend them, in testimony to posterity, that, 
 among her contemporaries, one woman, at least, was 
 just to her merit. 
 
 There is not any thing so excellent, but some 
 will carp at it ; and the rather, because of its ex- 
 cellency. But to such hypercritics I shall not say 
 ********* * 
 
 I confess, I am malicious enough to desire, that 
 the world should see to how much better purpose 
 the Ladies travel than their Lords ; and that, 
 whilst it is surfeited with male Travels, all in the 
 same tone, and stuffed with the same trifles, a lady 
 has the skill to strike out a new path, and to em- 
 bellish a worn-out subject with a variety of fresh and 
 elegant entertainment. For, besides the vivacity 
 and spirit which enliven every part, and that in- 
 imitable beauty which spreads through the whole ; 
 besides the purity of the style, for which it may 
 justly be accounted the standard of the English 
 tongue ; the reader will find a more true and accu- 
 rate account of the customs and manners of the 
 several nations with whom this lady conversed, than 
 he can in any other author. But, as her ladyship's 
 penetration discovers the inmost follies of the heart, 
 so the candour of her temper passed over them with
 
 ORIGINAL PREFACE. 259 
 
 an air of pity, rather than reproach ; treating 
 with the politeness of a court and the gentleness 
 of a lady, what the severity of her judgment could 
 not but condemn. 
 
 In short, let her own sex, at least, do her jus- 
 tice ; lay aside diabolical Envy, and its brother 
 Malice,* with all their accursed company, sly whis- 
 pering, cruel backbiting, spiteful detraction, and 
 the rest of that hideous crew, which, I hope, are 
 very falsely said to attend the Tea-table, being 
 more apt to think they frequent those public places 
 where virtuous women never come. Let the men 
 malign one another, if they think fit, and strive 
 to pull down merit, when they cannot equal it. 
 Let us be better-natured, than to give way to any 
 unkind or disrespectful thought of so bright an or- 
 nament of our sex merely because she has better 
 sense ; for I doubt not but our hearts will tell us, 
 that this is the real and unpardonable offence, what- 
 ever may be pretended. Let us be better Chris- 
 tians, than to look upon her with an evil eye, only 
 because the Giver of all good gifts has entrusted 
 and adorned her with the most excellent talents. 
 Rather let us freely own the superiority of this 
 sublime genius, as I do in the sincerity of my 
 soul ; pleased that a woman triumphs, and proud 
 to follow in her train. Let us offer her the palm 
 
 * This fair and elegant prefacer has resolved that Malice 
 should be of the masculine gender : I believe it is both mascu- 
 line and feminine, and I heartily wish it were neuter. 
 
 s 2
 
 260 ORIGINAL PREFACE. 
 
 which is 60 justly her due ; and if we pretend to 
 any laurels, lay them willingly at her feet. 
 
 December 18, 1724. M. A. 
 
 } 
 
 Charm'd into love of what obscures my fame, 
 If I had wit, I 'd celebrate her name. 
 And all the beauties of her mind proclaim : 
 Till Malice, deafen'd with the mighty sound. 
 Its ill-concerted calumnies confound ; 
 Let fall the mask, and with pale Envy meet, 
 To ask, and find, their pardon at her feet. 
 
 You see. Madam, how I lay every thing at your 
 feet. As the tautology shews the poverty of my 
 genius, it likewise shews the extent of your empire 
 over my imagination. 
 
 May 31, 1725.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 DURING MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY.* 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR.f 
 
 Rotterdam, Aug. 3, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I FLATTER myself, dear sister, that I shall give 
 you some pleasure in letting you know that I have 
 safely passed the sea, though we had the ill fortune 
 of a storm. We were persuaded by the captain of 
 the yacht to set out in a calm, and he pretended 
 there was nothing so easy as to tide it over ; but, 
 after two days slowly moving, the wind blew so 
 hard, that none of the sailors coukl keep their feet, 
 and we were all Sunday night tossed very hand- 
 
 * These letters bear dates precisely as they appear in the 
 original copy given by Lady Mary to the Rev. Mr. Sowden, at 
 the Hague, except in one instance, the reason for altering 
 which is hereafter explained. 
 
 f Lady Frances Pierrepont^ second daughter of Evelyn, first 
 duke of Kingston, married John Ereskine, Earl of Mar, who was 
 secretary of state for Scotland, in 1703, joined the Pretender 
 in 1715, was attainted in 1716, and died at Aix-la-Chapelle in 
 1732. George L confirmed to Lady Mar the jointure on Lord 
 Mar's forfeited estate, to which she was entitled by her mar- 
 riage settlement, with remainder to her daughter. Lady Frances 
 Ereskine. She resided many years at Paris.
 
 262 LETTERS DURING 
 
 somely. I never saw a man more frighted than the 
 captain. 
 
 For my part, I have been so lucky neither to 
 suffer from fear nor sea-sickness ; though, I confess, 
 I was so impatient to see myself once more upon 
 dry land, that I would not stay till the yacht could 
 get to Rotterdam, but went in the long-boat to 
 Helvoetsluys, where we had voitures to carry us to 
 the Brill. 
 
 I was charmed with the neatness of that little 
 town ; but my arrival at Rotterdam presented me 
 a new scene of pleasure. All the streets are paved 
 with broad stones, and before many of the meanest 
 artificers' doors are placed seats of various-coloured 
 marbles, so neatly kept, that, I assure you, I walked 
 almost 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 street with more application 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 it is not some celebrated 
 fair ; but I see it is every day the same. 'Tis cer- 
 tain no town can be more advantageously situated 
 for commerce. 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 Eng- 
 land, that I have much ado to persuade myself
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 263 
 
 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 importunity 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. 
 
 You see, hitherto, dear sister, I make no com- 
 plaints ; and, if I continue to like travelling as 
 well as I do at present, I shall not repent my pro- 
 ject. It will go a great way in making me satisfied 
 with it, if it affords me an opportunity of enter- 
 taining you. But it is not from Holland that you 
 may expect a dis'mterested offer. I can write enough 
 in the style of Rotterdam to tell you plainly, in 
 one word, that I expect returns of all the London 
 news. You see I have already learnt to make a 
 good bargain ; and that it is not for nothing I will 
 so much as tell you, I am your affectionate sister. 
 
 TO MRS. SKERRET. 
 
 Hague, Aug.5,0. S. 171G. 
 I MAKE haste to tell you, dear madam, that, after 
 all the dreadful fatigues you threatened me with, 
 
 * Afterward the second wife of Robert first Earl of Orford.— 
 This letter, we suspect, was not addressed to Miss Skcrret, the
 
 264< LETTERS DURING 
 
 I am hitherto very well pleased with my journey. 
 We take care to make such short stages every day, 
 that I rather fancy myself upon parties of pleasure 
 than upon the road ; and sure nothing can be more 
 agreeable than travelling in Holland. The whole 
 country appears a large garden ; the roads are well 
 paved, shaded on each side with rows of trees, and 
 bordered with large canals, full of boats, passing 
 and repassing. Every twenty paces gives you the 
 prospect of some villa, and every four hours that of 
 a large town, so surprisingly neat, I am sure you 
 would be charmed with them. The place I am 
 now at is certainly one of the finest villages in the 
 world. Here are several squares finely built, and 
 (what I think a particular beauty) the whole set 
 with thick large trees. The Vor-hout is, at the 
 same time, the Hyde-Park and Mall of the people 
 of quality; for they take the air in it both on foot 
 and in coaches. There are shops for wafers, cool 
 liquors, &c. 
 
 I have been to see several of the most celebrated 
 gardens, but I will not teaze you with their de- 
 scriptions. I dare say you think my letter already 
 long enough. But I must not conclude without 
 begging your pardon for not obeying your com- 
 
 second wife of Sir Robert Walpole, but to her mother. It 
 seems that Lady Mary's intimacy with Miss Skerret (Molly 
 Skerret) did not commence till the time of her residing at 
 Twickenham. The style too, of the letter itself, leads one to 
 suppose it was addressed to an older person.
 
 MR. WOllTLEY'S EMBASSY. 265 
 
 mands in sending the lace you ordered me. Upon 
 my word, I can yet find none that is not dearer 
 than you may buy it at London. If you want any 
 India goods, here are great variety of pennyworths ; 
 and I shall follow your orders with great pleasure 
 and exactness, being. 
 
 Dear Madam, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MRS. S. C. 
 
 Nimegvien, Aug. 13, O.S. 1716. 
 
 I AM extremely sorry, my dear S. that your fears 
 of disobliging your relations, and their fears for 
 your health and safety, have hindered me from 
 enjoying the happiness of your company, and you 
 the pleasure of a diverting journey. I receive some 
 degree of mortification from every agreeable no- 
 velty, or pleasing prospect, by the reflection of your 
 having so unluckily missed the delight which I 
 know it would have given you. 
 
 If you were with me in this town, you would be 
 ready to expect to receive visits from your Notting- 
 ham friends. No two places were ever more re- 
 sembling : one has but to give the Maese the name 
 of the Trent, and there is no distinguishing the 
 prospect. The houses, like those of Nottingham, 
 are built one above another, and are intermixed in 
 the same manner with trees and gardens. The 
 tower they call Julius Ciesar's has the same situa- 
 tion with Nottingham castle ; and I cannot help
 
 266 LETTERS DURING 
 
 fancying I see from it the Trent-field, Adboulton, 
 &c. places so well known to us. 'Tis true, the 
 fortifications make a considerable difierence. All 
 the learned in the art of war bestow great com- 
 mendations on them ; for my part, that know no- 
 thing of the matter, I shall content myself with 
 telling you, 'tis a very pretty walk on the ramparts, 
 on which there is a tower, very deservedly called 
 the Belvidere; where people go to drink coffee, 
 tea, &c. and enjoy one of the finest prospects in the 
 world. The public walks have no great beauty, 
 but the thick shade of the trees, which is solemnly 
 delightful. But I must not forget to take notice 
 of the bridge, which appeared very surprising to 
 me. It is large enough to hold hundreds of men, 
 with horses and carriages. They give the value of 
 an English two-pence to get upon it, and then 
 away they go, bridge and all, to the other side of 
 the river, with so slow a motion, one is hardly sen- 
 sible of any at all. 
 
 I was yesterday at the French church, and stared 
 very much at their manner of service. The parson 
 clapped on a broad-brimmed hat in the first place, 
 which gave him entirely the air of what d'ye call 
 him, in Bartholomew fair, which he kept up by 
 extraordinary antic gestures, and preaching much 
 such stuff as the other talked to the puppets. How- 
 ever, the congregation seemed to receive it with 
 great devotion ; and I was informed by some of 
 his flock that he is a person of particular fame
 
 MR. woiitley's embassy. 267 
 
 amongst them. I believe, by this time, you are as 
 much tired with my account of him, as I was with 
 his sermon ; but I am sure your brother will ex- 
 cuse a digression in favour of the church of Eng- 
 land. You know, speaking disrespectfully of the 
 Calvinists, is the same thing as speaking honour- 
 ably of the church. Adieu, my dear S. always re- 
 member me ; and be assured I can never forget 
 you, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE LADY RICH.* 
 
 Cologn, Aug. 16, O. S. 1716. 
 If my Lady Rich could have any notion of the 
 fatigues that I have suffered these two last days, I 
 am sure she would own it a great proof of regard that 
 I now sit down to write to her. We hired horses from 
 Nimeguen hither, not having the conveniency of 
 the post, and found but very indifferent accommo- 
 dations at Reinberg, our first stage ; but that was 
 nothing to what I suffered yesterday. We were in 
 hopes to reach Cologn : our horses tired at Stamel, 
 three hours from it, where I was forced to pass the 
 night in my clothes, in a room not at all better 
 than a hovel ; for though I have my own bed with 
 me, I had no mind to undress, where the wind 
 came from a thousand places. We left this wretch- 
 
 * Lady Rich was the wife of Sir Robert Rich, Hart, of Lon- 
 don. She was a daughter of Colonel Griffin, and had an ap- 
 pointment about the person of the Princess of Wales, after- 
 wards Queen Caroline,
 
 268 LETTERS DURING 
 
 cd lodging at daybreak, and about six this morn- 
 ing came safe here, where I got immediately into 
 bed. I slept so well for three hours, that I found 
 myself perfectly recovered, and have had spirits 
 enough to go and see all that is curious in the 
 town, that is to say, the churches, for here is no- 
 thing else worth seeing. 
 
 This is a very large town, but the most part of 
 it is old built. The Jesuits' church is the neatest, 
 which was shewed me, in a very complaisant man- 
 ner, by a handsome young Jesuit ; who, not know- 
 ing who I was, took a liberty in his compliments 
 and railleries, which very much diverted me. Hav- 
 ing never before seen any thing of that nature, I 
 could not enough admire the magnificence of the 
 altars, the rich images of the saints (all of massy 
 silver), and the enchassur^es of the relicks ; though I 
 could not help murmuring, in my heart, at the pro- 
 fusion of pearls, diamonds, and rubies, bestowed in 
 the adornment of rotten teeth and dirty rags. I 
 own that I had wickedness enough to covet St. Ur- 
 sula's pearl necklaces ; though perhaps this was no 
 wickedness at all, an image not being certainly 
 one's neighbour ; but I went yet farther, and wish- 
 ed she herself converted into dressing-plate. I 
 should also gladly see converted into silver a great 
 St. Christopher, which I imagine would look very 
 well in a cistern. 
 
 These were my pious reflections ; though I was 
 very well satisfied to sec, piled up to the honour of
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 269 
 
 our nation, the skulls of the eleven thousand vir- 
 gins. I have seen some hundreds of relicks here of 
 no less consequence ; but I will not imitate the 
 common style of travellers so far as to give you a 
 list of them, being persuaded that you have no 
 manner of curiosity for the titles given to jaw- 
 bones and bits of worm-eaten wood. — Adieu, I am 
 just going to supper, where I shall drink your 
 health in an admirable sort of Lorrain wine, which 
 I am sure is the same you call Burgundy in Lon- 
 don, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL.* 
 
 Nuremberg, Aug. 22, O. S. 1716. 
 
 After five days travelling post, I could not sit 
 down to write on any other occasion, than to tell 
 my dear Lady Bristol, that I have not forgotten her 
 obliging command, of sending her some account of 
 my travels. 
 
 I have already passed a large part of Germany, 
 have seen all that is remarkable in Cologn, Frank- 
 fort, Wurtsburg, and this place. 'Tis impossible 
 not to observe the difference between the free 
 towns and those under the government of absolute 
 princes, as all the little sovereigns of Germany are. 
 
 * Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Sir Thomas Felton, Bart, 
 of Playford, co. Suffolk, second wife of John Hervey, first Earl 
 of Bristol. She died in 1741.
 
 270 LETTERS DURING 
 
 In the first, there appears an air of commerce and 
 plenty. The streets are well built, and full of peo- 
 ple, neatly and plainly dressed. The shops are 
 loaded with merchandise, and the commonalty are 
 clean and cheerful. In the other, you see 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. 1 cannot help fan- 
 cying one under the figure of a clean Dutch citi- 
 zen's wife, and the other like a poor town lady of 
 pleasure, painted and ribboned out in her head- 
 dress, with tarnished silver-laced shoes, a ragged 
 under-petticoat, a miserable mixture of vice and 
 poverty. 
 
 They have sumptuary laws in this town, which 
 distinguish their rank by their dress, prevent the 
 excess which ruins so many other cities, and has a 
 more agreeable effect to the eye of a stranger than 
 our fashions. I think, after the Archbishop of Cam- 
 bray having declared for them, I need not be 
 ashamed to own, that I wish these laws were in 
 force in other parts of the world. When one con- 
 siders impartially the merit of a rich suit of clothes 
 in most places, the respect and the smiles of favour 
 it procures, not to speak of the envy and the sighs 
 it occasions, (which is very often the principal 
 charm to the wearer,) one is forced to confess, 
 that there is need of an uncommon understanding 
 to resist the temptation of pleasing friends and
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 271 
 
 mortifying rivals; and that it is natural to young 
 people to fall into a folly, which betrays them to that 
 want of money which is the source of a thousand 
 basenesses. What numbers of men have begun 
 the world with generous inclinations, that have 
 afterwards been the instruments of bringing misery 
 on a whole people, being led by vain expence into 
 debts, that they could clear no other way but by 
 the forfeit of their honour, and which they never 
 could have contracted, if the respect the many pay 
 to habits was fixed by law only to a particular co- 
 lour or cut of plain cloth ! These reflections draw 
 after them others that are too melancholy. I will 
 make haste to put them out of your head by the 
 farce of relicks, with which I have been entertained 
 in all the Romish churches. 
 
 The Lutherans are not quite free from these fol- 
 lies. I have seen here, in the principal church, a 
 large piece of the cross set in jewels, and the point 
 of the spear, which they told me, very gravely, was 
 the same that pierced the side of our Saviour. But 
 I was particularly diverted in a little Roman-catho- 
 lic church which is permitted here, where the pro- 
 fessors of that religion are not very rich, and con- 
 sequently cannot adorn their images in so rich a 
 manner as their neighbours. For, not to be quite 
 destitute of all finery, they have dressed up an 
 image of our Saviour over the altar in a fair full- 
 bottomed wig very well powdered. I imagine I see 
 your ladyship stare at this article, of which you
 
 272 LETTERS DURING 
 
 very much doubt the veracity ; but, upon my word, 
 I have not yet made use of the privilege of a tra- 
 veller ; and my whole account is written with the 
 same plain sincerity of heart, with which I assure 
 you that I am, dear madam, yours, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MRS. THISTLETHWAYTE. 
 
 Ratisbon, Aug. 30, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I HAD the pleasure of receiving yours but the 
 day before I left London. I give you a thousand 
 thanks for your good wishes, and have such an 
 opinion of their efficacy, that I am persuaded I 
 owe in part to them the good luck of having pro- 
 ceeded so far on my long journey without any ill 
 accident. For I don't reckon it any, to have been 
 stopped a few days in this town by a cold, since it 
 has not only given me an opportunity of seeing all 
 that is curious in it, but of making some acquaint- 
 ance with the ladies, who have all been to see me 
 
 with great civility, particularly Madame , 
 
 the wife of our King's envoy from Hanover. She 
 has carried me to all the assemblies, and I have 
 been magnificently entertained at her house, which 
 is one of the finest here. 
 
 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
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S ExMBASSY. 273 
 
 point of ceremony. But. instead of joining in the 
 design of making the town as pleasant to one an- 
 other as they can, and improving their little socie- 
 ties, they amuse theniselves no other way than with 
 perpetual quarrels, which they take care to eter- 
 nise, by leaving them to their successors ; and 
 an envoy to Ratisbon receives, regularly, half a 
 dozen quarrels among the perquisites of his em- 
 ployment. 
 
 You may be sure the ladies are not wanting, on 
 their side, in cherishing and improving these im- 
 portant picques, which divide the town almost into 
 as many parties as there are families. 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 complaint 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 were to stay among them, there would 
 be no possibility of continuing so, their quarrels 
 running so high, that they will not be civil to those 
 that visit their adversaries. The foundation of 
 these everlasting disputes turns entirely upon rank, 
 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 Ex- 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 LETTERS DURING 
 
 cellency to every body, which would include the 
 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 motion 
 of a reference. And, indeed, I began to think my- 
 self ill-natured, to offer to take from them, in a 
 town where there are so few diversions, so enter- 
 taining 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 imperti- 
 nent pride in me, that I have hitherto been saucily 
 civil to every body, as if I 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. 
 
 I have been to see the churches here, and had 
 the permission of touching the relicks, which was 
 never suffered in places where I was not known. 
 I had, by this privilege, the opportunity of making 
 an observation, which, I doubt not, might have been 
 made in all the other churches, that the emeralds 
 and rubies which they shew round their relicks and 
 images are most of them false ; though they tell 
 you, that many of the Ci'osses and Madonas, set 
 round with these stones, have been the gifts of the 
 emperors and other great princes. I don't doubt, in- 
 deed, but they were at first jewels of value ; but the 
 good fathers have found it convenient to apply them 
 to other uses, and the people are just as well satis- 
 fied with bits of glass. Among these relicks they
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 275 
 
 shewed me a prodigious claw set in gold, which they 
 called the claw of a griffin ; and I could not forbear 
 asking the reverend priest that shewed it. Whether 
 the griffin was a saint ? This question almost put 
 him beside his gravity ; but he answered. They 
 only kept it as a curiosity. I was very much scan- 
 dalised at a large silver image of the Trinity, where 
 the Father is represented under the figure of a de- 
 crepit old man, with a beard down to his knees, 
 and a triple crown on his head, holding in his arms 
 the Son, fixed on the cross, and the Holy Ghost, in 
 the shape of a dove, hovering over him. 
 
 Madam is come this minute to call me 
 
 to the assembly, and forces me to tell you, very 
 abruptly, that I am ever your, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Vienna, Sept. 8, O. S. 171 G. 
 
 I AM now, my dear sister, safely arrived at Vi- 
 enna ; and, I thank God, have not at all suffered 
 in my health, nor (what is dearer to me) in that of 
 my child,* by all our fatigues. 
 
 We travelled by water from Ratisbon, a journey 
 perfectly agreeable, down the Danube, in one of 
 those little vessels, that they very properly call 
 wooden houses, having in them all the conveniences 
 of a palace, stoves in the chambers, kitchens, &c. 
 
 * Edward Wortley Montagu, her only son, was born 1713. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 LETTERS DUKINC 
 
 They are rowed by twelve men each, and move with 
 such incredible swiftness, that in the same day you 
 have the pleasure of a vast variety of prospects ; 
 and, within the space of a few hours, you have the 
 pleasure of seeing a populous city adorned with 
 magnificent palaces, and the most romantic soli- 
 tudes, which appear distant from the commerce of 
 mankind, the banks of the Danube being charm- 
 ingly diversified with woods, rocks, mountains co- 
 vered with vines, fields of corn, large cities, and 
 ruins of ancient castles. I saw the great towns of 
 Passau and Lintz, famous for the retreat of the 
 Imperial court when Vienna was besieged. 
 
 !This town, which has the honour of being the em- 
 peror'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. They are built of fine white stone, 
 and are excessively high. For, as the town is too 
 little for the number of the people that desire to 
 live in it, the builders seem to have projected to re- 
 pair that misfortune, by clapping one town on the 
 top of another, most of the houses being of five, 
 and some of them six stories. You may easily ima- 
 gine, that the streets being so narrow, the rooms 
 are extremely dark ; and, what is an inconveni- 
 ency much more intolerable, in my opinion, there 
 is no house that has so few as five or six families in
 
 Mil. VVORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 277 
 
 it. The apartments of the greatest ladies, and 
 even of the ministers of state, are divided but by a 
 partition from that of a taylor or shoemaker ; and 
 I know nobody 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 to whoever will take 
 them ; and 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 fur- 
 niture such as is seldom seen in the palaces of sove- 
 reign princes in other countries. Their apartments 
 are adorned with hangings of the finest tapestry 
 of Brussels, prodigious large looking-glasses in sil- 
 ver frames, fine japan tables, beds, chairs, cano- 
 pies, and window curtains of the richest Genoa da- 
 mask or velvet, almost covered with gold lace or 
 embroidery. The whole is made gay by pictures, 
 and vast jars of japan china, and in almost 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 say, the good taste 
 and magnificence of their tables very well answered 
 to that of their furniture. I have been more than 
 once entertained with fifty dishes of meat, all served
 
 278 LETTERS DURING 
 
 in silver, and well dressed ; the dessert proportion- 
 able, 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. 
 
 I was yesterday at Count Schonbrunn* the vice- 
 chancellor's garden, where I was invited to dinner. 
 I must own, I never saw a place so perfectly de- 
 lightful as the Fauxburg of Vienna. It is very 
 large, and almost wholly composed of delicious 
 palaces. If the emperor found it proper to permit 
 the gates of the town to be laid open, that the 
 Fauxburg might be joined to it, he would have 
 one of the largest and best-built cities in Europe. 
 Count Schonbrunn's villa is one of the most mag- 
 nificent ; the furniture, all rich brocades, so well 
 fancied and fitted up, nothing can look more gay 
 and splendid ; not to speak of a gallery, full of ra- 
 rities of coral, mother of pearl, &c. and, throughout 
 the whole house, a profusion of gilding, carving, 
 fine paintings, the most beautiful porcelain, statues 
 of alabaster and ivory, and vast orange and lemon 
 trees in gilt pots. The dinner was perfectly fine 
 
 * The palace of Schonbrunn is distant about two miles from 
 Vienna. It was designed by John Bernard Fischers, the Palla- 
 dio of Germany, in 1696, and was afterwards used as a hunting- 
 seat by the emperor and his court.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 279 
 
 and well ordered, and made still more agreeable 
 by the good-hmiiour of the count. 
 
 I have not yet been at court, being forced to 
 stay for my gown, without which there is no wait- 
 ing on the empress ; though I am not without great 
 impatience to see a beauty that has been the ad- 
 miration of so many different nations. When I 
 have had that honour, I will not fail to let you 
 know my real thoughts, always taking a par- 
 ticular pleasure in communicating them to my 
 dear sister. 
 
 TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Twick'nam, Aug. 18, 1716. 
 Madam, 
 
 I CAN say little to recommend the letters I am 
 
 beginning to write to you, but that they will be 
 
 the most impartial representations of a free heart, 
 
 and the truest copies you ever saw, though of a very 
 
 mean original. Not a feature will be softened, 
 
 or any advantageous light employed to make the 
 
 ugly thing a little less hideous, but you shall find it 
 
 in all respects most horribly like. You will do me 
 
 an injustice if you look upon any thing I shall 
 
 say from this instant, as a compliment either to 
 
 you or to myself: whatever I write will be the 
 
 real thought of that hour, and I know you will 
 
 no more expect it of me to persevere till death in 
 
 every sentiment or notion I now set down, than
 
 280 LETTERS DURING 
 
 you would imagine a man's face should never 
 change after his picture was once drawn. 
 
 The freedom I shall use in this manner of 
 thinking aloud (as somebody calls it), or talk- 
 ing upon paper, may indeed prove me a fool, 
 but it will prove me one of the best sort of 
 fools, the honest ones. And since what folly Ave 
 have will infallibly buoy up at one time or other 
 in spite of all our art to keep it down, it is almost 
 foolish to take any pains to conceal it at all, and 
 almost knavish to do it from those that are our 
 friends. If Momus his project had taken, of having 
 windows in our breasts, I should be for carrying it 
 further, and making those windows casements : that 
 while a man shewed his heart to all the world, he 
 might do something more for his friends, e'en take 
 it out, and trust it to their handling. I think I 
 love you as well as King Herod could Herodias 
 (though I never had so much as one dance with 
 you), and would as freely give you my heart in a 
 dish as he did another's head. But since Jupiter 
 will not have it so, I must be content to shew my 
 taste in life as I do my taste in painting, by loving 
 to have as little drapery as possible, because it is 
 good to use people to what they must be acquainted 
 with ; and there will certainly come some day of 
 judgment to uncover every soul of us. We shall 
 then see how the prudes of this world owed all 
 their fine figure only to their being a little straiter 
 laced, and that they were naturally as arrant
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 281 
 
 squabs as those that went more loose, nay, as those 
 that never girded their loins at all. 
 
 But a particular reason to engage you to write 
 your thoughts the more freely to me, is, that I 
 am confident no one knows you better. For I find, 
 when others express their opinion of you, it falls 
 very short of mine, and I am sure, at the same time, 
 theirs is such as you would think sufficiently in 
 your favour. 
 
 You may easily imagine how desirous I must be 
 of a correspondence with a person who had taught 
 me long ago, that it was as possible to esteem at 
 first sight as to love ; and who has since ruined 
 me for all the conversation of one sex, and almost 
 all the friendship of the other. I am but too sen- 
 sible, through your means, that the company of 
 men wants a certain softness to recommend it, 
 and that of women wants every thing else. How 
 often have I been quietly going to take possession 
 of that tranquillity and indolence I had so long 
 found in the country, when one evening of your 
 conversation has spoiled me for a solitaire too ! 
 Books have lost their effect upon me ; and I was 
 convinced, since I saw you, that there is something 
 more powerful than philosophy, and, since I heard 
 you, that there is one alive wiser than all the sages. 
 A plague of female wisdom ! it makes a man ten 
 times more uneasy than his own ! What is very 
 strange, Virtue herself, when you have the dressing 
 her, is too amiable for one's repose. What a
 
 282 LETTERS DURING 
 
 world of good might you have done in your time, 
 if you had allowed half the fine gentlemen who 
 have seen you, to have but conversed with you ? 
 They would have been strangely caught, while 
 they thought only to fall in love with a fair face, 
 and you had bewitched them with reason and vir- 
 tue ; two beauties, that the very fops pretend to no 
 acquaintance with. 
 
 The unhappy distance at which we correspond, 
 removes a great many of those punctilious restric- 
 tions and decorums that oftentimes in nearer con- 
 versation prejudice truth to save good breeding. I 
 may now hear of my faults, and you of your good 
 qualities, without a blush on either side. We con- 
 verse upon such unfortunate generous terms, as 
 exclude the regards of fear, shame, or design in 
 either of us. And methinks it would be as ungene- 
 rous a part to impose even in a single thought upon 
 each other, in this state of separation, as for spirits 
 of a different sphere, who have so little intercourse 
 with us, to employ that little (as some would make 
 us think they do) in putting tricks and delusions 
 upon poor mortals. 
 
 Let me begin, then, madam, by asking you a 
 question, which may enable me to judge better of 
 my own conduct than most instances of my life. 
 In what manner did I behave the last hour I saw 
 you ? What degree of concern did I discover when 
 I felt a misfortune, which I hope you never will 
 feel, that of parting from what one most esteems ?
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 283 
 
 For if my parting looked but like that of your com- 
 mon acquaintance, I am the greatest of all the hy- 
 pocrites that ever decency made. 
 
 I never since pass by the house but with the 
 same sort of melancholy that we feel upon seeing 
 the tomb of a friend, which only serves to put us in 
 mind of what we have lost. I reflect upon the 
 circumstances of your departure, your behaviour 
 in what I may call your last moments, and I 
 indulge a gloomy kind of satisfaction in thinking 
 you gave some of those last moments to me. I 
 would fain imagine this was not accidental, but 
 proceeded from a penetration which I know you 
 have in finding out the truth of people's senti- 
 ments, and that you were not unwilling the last 
 man that would have parted with you should be 
 the last that did. I really looked upon you then, 
 as the friends of Curtius might have done upon 
 that hero in the instant he was devoting himself to 
 glory, and running to be lost, out of generosity. I 
 was obliged to admire your resolution in as great a 
 degree as I deplored it ; and could only wish that 
 Heaven would reward so much merit as was to be 
 taken from us, with all the felicity it could enjoy 
 elsewhere. May that person for whom you have 
 left all the world, be so just as to prefer you to all 
 the world. I believe his good understanding has 
 engaged him to do so hitherto, and I think his 
 gratitude must for the future. May you continue 
 to think him worthy of whatever you have done ;
 
 284 LETTERS DURING 
 
 may you ever look upon him with the eyes of a 
 first lover, nay, if possible, with all the unreason- 
 able happy fondness of an unexperienced one, sur- 
 rounded with all the enchantments and ideas of 
 romance and poetry. In a word, may you receive 
 from him as many pleasures and gratifications as 
 even I think you can give. I wish this from my 
 heart, and while I examine what passes there in re- 
 gard to you, I cannot but glory in my own heart 
 that it is capable of so much generosity. I am, 
 with all unalterable esteem and sincerity. 
 
 Madam, 
 Your most faithful obedient humble servant, 
 
 A. Pope. 
 
 TO MR. POPE.* 
 
 Vienna, Sept. 14, O. S. 1716. 
 
 Perhaps you'll laugh at me for thanking you 
 very gravely for all the obliging concern you ex- 
 press for me. 'Tis certain that I may, if I please, 
 
 * In the eighth volume of Pope's Works, are first published 
 thirteen of his letters to Lady M. W. M. communicated to Dr. 
 Warton by the present Primate of Ireland. These MSS. are 
 in the possession of Lord Dudley Coutts Stuart. As many are 
 without date, the arrangement of them must be directed by 
 circumstances ; and as most of them were written to Lady 
 Mary during her first absence from England, we shall advert to 
 them, as making a part of this correspondence. — The letter of 
 Pope's, to which this is an answer, was first printed from the 
 original MS. in the Works of Lady M. W. Montagu, 1803.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 285 
 
 take the fine things you say to me for wit and rail- 
 lery ; and, it may be, it would be taking them 
 right. But I never in my life was half so well 
 disposed to believe you in earnest as I am at pre- 
 sent ; and that distance which makes the continu- 
 ation of your friendship improbable, has very much 
 increased my faith in it. 
 
 I find that I have (as well as the rest of my sex), 
 whatever face I set on't, a strong disposition to be- 
 lieve in miracles. Don't fancy, however, that I 
 am infected by the air of these popish countries. I 
 have, indeed, so far wandered from the discipline of 
 the Church of England, as to have been last Sun- 
 day at the opera, which was performed in the gar- 
 den of the Favorita ; and I was so much pleased 
 with it, I have not yet repented my* seeing it. No- 
 thing of that kind ever was more magnificent ; and 
 I can easily believe what I am told, that the deco- 
 rations 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 easy 
 to imagine the beauty of this scene, which I took 
 particular notice of But all the rest were perfect- 
 ly fine in their kind. The story of the opera is the 
 enchantment of Alcina, which gives opportunities 
 for a great variety of machines, and changes of the
 
 286 LETTERS DURING 
 
 scenes, which are performed with a surprising swift- 
 ness. The theatre is so hirge, 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 hundred 
 and eight. No house could hold such large deco- 
 rations ; 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 hap- 
 pening, the opera was broken off, and the company 
 crowded away in such confusion, that I was almost 
 squeezed to death. 
 
 But if their operas are thus delightful, their co- 
 medies are in as high a degree ridiculous. They 
 have but one playhouse, where I had the curi- 
 osity to go to a German comedy, and was very 
 glad it happened to be the story of Amphitrion. 
 As that subject has been already handled by a 
 Latin, French, and English poet, I was curious to 
 see what an Austrian author would make of it. I 
 understand enough of that language to compre- 
 hend the greatest part of it ; and besides, I took 
 with me a lady, who had the goodness to explain to 
 me every word. The way is, to take a box, which 
 holds four, for yourself and company. The fixed 
 price is a gold ducat. I thought the house very 
 low and dark ; but I confess, the comedy admirably 
 recompensed that defect. I never laughed so 
 much in my life. It began with Jupiter's falling 
 m love out of a peep-hole in the clouds, and ended
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 287 
 
 with the birth of Hercules. But what was most 
 pleasant, was the use Jupiter made of his me- 
 tamorphosis ; for you no sooner saw him under the 
 figure of Amphitrion, but, instead of flying to Alc- 
 mena with the raptures Mr. Dryden puts into his 
 mouth, he sends for Amphitrion's taylor and cheats 
 him of a laced coat, and his banker of a bag of mo- 
 ney, a Jew of a diamond ring, and bespeaks a great 
 supper in his name ; and the greatest part of the 
 comedy turns upon poor Amphitrion's being tor- 
 mented by these people for their debts. Mercury 
 uses Sosia in the same manner. But I could not 
 easily pardon the liberty the poet has taken of 
 larding his play with not only indecent expres- 
 sions, but such gross words as I don't think our 
 mob would suffer from a mountebank. Besides, 
 the two Sosias very fairly let down their breeches 
 in the direct view of the boxes, which were full of 
 people of the first rank, that seemed very well 
 pleased with their entertainment, and assured me 
 this was a celebrated piece. 
 
 I shall conclude my letter with this remarkable 
 relation, very well worthy the serious consideration 
 of Mr. Collier.* I won't trouble you with farewel 
 compliments, which I think generally as imperti- 
 
 * Jeremy Collier, an English divine, eminent for his piety 
 and wit. In 1698 he wrote " A short View of the Immorality 
 and Profaneness of the English Stage, together with the Sense 
 of Antiquity on this subject," 8vo. This tract excited the re- 
 sentment of the wits, and engaged him in a controversy with 
 Congreve and Vanbrugh.
 
 288 LETTERS DURING 
 
 nent as courtesies at leaving the room, when the 
 visit had been too long already. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Vienna, Sept. 14, O. S. 1716. 
 
 Though I have so lately troubled you, my dear 
 sister, with a long letter, yet I will keep my pro- 
 mise in giving you an account of my first going to 
 court. 
 
 In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in 
 a gown, and adorned with a gorget and the other 
 implements thereunto belonging : a dress very 
 inconvenient, but which certainly shews the neck 
 and shape to great advantage. I cannot forbear 
 giving you some description of the fashions here, 
 which are more monstrous and contrary to all com- 
 mon 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 foundation 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.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 280 
 
 Their hair is prodigiously powdered, to conceal the 
 mixture, and set out with three or four rows of bod- 
 kins (wonderfully large, that stick out two or three 
 inches from their hair), made of diamonds, pearls, 
 red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainly re- 
 quires as much art and experience to carry the 
 load upright, as to dance upon May-day with the 
 garland. Their whalebone petticoats outdo ours 
 by several yards' circumference, and cover some 
 acres of ground. 
 
 You may easily suppose how this extraordinary 
 dress sets off and improves the natural ugliness 
 with which God Almighty has been pleased to en- 
 dow them, generally speaking. Even the lovely 
 empress herself is obliged to comply, in some de- 
 gree, with these absurd fashions, which they would 
 not quit for all the world. I had a private audience 
 (according to ceremony) 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, however, 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 forces adoration. She has a 
 vast quantity of fine fair hair ; but then her person ! 
 — one must speak of it poetically to do it rigid 
 justice ; all that the poets have said of the mien of 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 LETTERS DURING 
 
 Juno, the air of Venus, come not up to the truth. 
 The Graces move with her ; the famous statue of 
 Medicis was not formed with more delicate pro- 
 portions ; nothing can be added to the beauty of 
 her neck and hands. Till I saw them, I did not 
 believe there were any in nature so perfect, and I 
 was almost sorry that my rank here did not permit 
 me to kiss them ; but they are kissed sufficiently ; 
 for every body that waits on her pays that homage 
 at their entrance, and when they take leave. 
 
 When the ladies were come in, she sat down to 
 Quinze. I could not play at a game I had never 
 seen before, and she ordered me a seat at her right 
 hand, and had the goodness to talk to me very much, 
 with that grace so natural to her. I expected 
 every moment, when the men were to come in to 
 pay their court ; but this drawing-room is very 
 different from that of England ; no man enters it 
 but the grand-master, who comes in to advertise 
 the empress of the approach of the emperor. His 
 imperial majesty did me the honour of speaking to 
 me in a very obliging manner ; but he never speaks 
 to any of the other ladies ; and the whole passes 
 with a gravity and air of ceremony that has some- 
 thing very formal in it. 
 
 The empress Amelia, dowager of the late em- 
 peror Joseph, came this evening to wait on the 
 reigning empress, followed by the two archduchesses 
 her daughters, who are very agreeable young prin- 
 cesses. Their imperial majesties rose and went to
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 291 
 
 meet her at the door of the room, after which she 
 was seated in an armed chair, next the empress, 
 and in the same manner at supper, and there the 
 men had the permission of paying their court. 
 The archduchesses sat on chairs with backs without 
 arras. The table was entirely served, and all the 
 dishes set on, by the empress's maids of honour, 
 which are twelve young ladies of the first quality. 
 They have no salary, but their chamber at court, 
 where they live in a sort of confinement, not being 
 suffered to go to the assemblies or public places in 
 town, except in compliment to the wedding of a 
 sister maid, whom the empress always presents with 
 her picture set in diamonds. The three first of 
 them are called Ladies of the Key, and wear gold 
 keys by their sides ; but what I find most pleasant, 
 is the custom which obliges them, as long as they 
 live, after they have left the empress's service, to 
 make her some present every year on the day of 
 her feast. Her majesty is served by no married 
 women but the grande maitresse, who is generally a 
 widow of the first quality, always very old, and is 
 at the same time groom of the stole, and mother of 
 the maids. The dressers are not at all in the figure 
 they pretend to in England, being looked upon no 
 otherwise than as downright chambermaids. 
 
 I had an audience next day of the empress mo- 
 ther, a princess of great virtue and goodness, but 
 who piques herself too much on a violent devotion. 
 She is perpetually performing extraordinary acts 
 
 u 2
 
 292 LETTERS DURING 
 
 of penance, without having ever done any thing to 
 deserve them. She has the same number of maids 
 of honour, whom she suffers to go in colours ; but 
 she herself never quits her mourning ; and sure 
 nothing can be more dismal than the mourning 
 here, even for a brother. There is not the least 
 bit of linen to be seen ; all black crape instead of 
 it. The neck, ears, and side of the face, are covered 
 with a plaited piece of the same stuff, and the face 
 that peeps out in the midst of it, looks as if it were 
 pilloried. The widows wear, over and above, a 
 crape forehead cloth ; and in this solemn weed go 
 to all the public places of diversion without scruple. 
 The next day I was to wait on the empress 
 Amelia, who is now at her palace of retirement, 
 half a mile from the town. I had there the pleasure 
 of seeing a diversion wholly new to me, but which 
 is the common amusement of this court. The 
 empress herself was seated on a little throne at the 
 end of the fine alley in the garden, and on each side 
 of her were ranged two parties of her ladies of 
 quality, headed by two young archduchesses, all 
 dressed in their hair full of jewels, with fine light 
 guns in their hands ; and at proper distances were 
 placed three oval pictures, which were the marks 
 to be shot at. The first was that of a Cupid, filling 
 a bumper of Burgundy, and the motto, ' Tis easy to 
 be valiant here. The second a Fortune, holding a 
 garland in her hand, the motto. For her whom For- 
 tune favours. The third was a Sword, with a laurel
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 293 
 
 wreath on the point, the motto, Here is no shame 
 to the vanquished. — Near the empress was a gilded 
 trophy wreathed with flowers, and made of little 
 crooks, on which were hung rich Turkish hand- 
 kerchiefs, tippets, ribbons, laces, &c. for the small 
 prizes. The empress gave the first with her own 
 hand, which was a fine ruby ring set round with 
 diamonds, in a gold snuff-box. There was for the 
 second, a little Cupid set with brilliants : and be- 
 sides these, a set of fine china for the tea-table en- 
 chased in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gal- 
 lantries of the same nature. All the men of quality 
 at Vienna were spectators ; but the ladies only had 
 permission to shoot, and the archduchess Amelia 
 carried off the first prize. I was very well pleased 
 with having seen this entertainment, and I do not 
 know but it might make as good a figure as the 
 prize-shooting in the Eneid, if I could write as well 
 as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the 
 emperor, and there is rarely a week without some 
 feast of this kind, which makes the young ladies 
 skilful enough to defend a fort. They laughed 
 very much to see me afraid to handle a gun. 
 
 My dear sister, you will easily pardon an abrupt 
 conclusion. I believe, by this time, you are ready 
 to fear I shall never conclude at all.
 
 294f LETTERS DURING 
 
 TO THE LADY RICH. 
 
 Vienna, Sept. 20, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I AM extremely pleased, but not at all sur- 
 prised, at the long delightful letter you have had 
 the goodness to send me. I know that you can 
 think of an absent friend even in the midst of a 
 court, and you love to oblige, where you can have 
 no view of a return ; and I expect from you that 
 you should love me, and think of me, when you 
 don't see me. 
 
 I have compassion for the mortifications that you 
 tell me befel our little friend, and I pity her much 
 more, since I know that they are only owing to 
 the barbarous customs of our country. Upon my 
 word, if she were here, she would have no other 
 fault but that of being something too young for 
 the fashion, and she has nothing to do but to trans- 
 plant herself hither about seven years hence, to 
 be again a young and blooming beauty. I can 
 assure you that wrinkles, or a small stoop in the 
 shoulders, nay, even grey hairs, are no objection 
 to the making new conquests. I know you cannot 
 easily figure to yourself a young fellow of five-and- 
 twenty ogling my Lady Suffolk with passion, or 
 pressing to hand the Countess of Oxford from an 
 opera. But such are the sights I see every day, 
 and I don't perceive any body surprised at them 
 but myself. A woman, till five-and-thirty, is only 
 looked upon as a raw girl, and can possibly make
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 295 
 
 no noise in the world till about forty. I don't 
 know what your ladyship may think of this matter ; 
 but 'tis a considerable comfort to me, to know 
 there is upon earth such a paradise for old wo- 
 men ; and I am content to be insignificant at pre- 
 sent, in the design of returning when I am fit to 
 appear nowhere else. I cannot help lamenting on 
 this occasion, the pitiful case of too many good 
 English ladies, long since retired to prudery and 
 ratafia, whom if their stars had luckily conducted 
 hither, would shine in the first rank of beau- 
 ties. Besides, that perplexing word reputation has 
 quite another meaning here than what you give 
 it at London ; and getting a lover is so far from 
 losing, that 'tis properly getting reputation ; la- 
 dies being much more respected in regard to the 
 rank of their lovers, than that of their husbands. 
 
 But what you'll think very odd, the two sects 
 that divide our whole nation of petticoats, are 
 utterly unknown in this place. Here are neither 
 coquettes nor prudes. No woman dares appear 
 coquette enough to encourage two lovers at a time. 
 And I have not seen any such prudes as to pretend 
 fidelity to their husbands, who are certainly the 
 best natured set of people in the world, and look 
 upon their wives' gallants as favourably as men 
 do upon their deputies, that take the troublesome 
 part of their business off their hands. They have 
 not, however, the less to do on that account ; for 
 they are generally deputies in another place them-
 
 296 LETTERS DURING 
 
 selves ; in one word, 'tis the established custom 
 for every lady to have two husbands, one that bears 
 the name, and another that performs the duties. 
 And these engagements are so well known, that 
 it would be a downright affront, and publicly re- 
 sented, if you invited a woman of quality to dinner, 
 without at the same time inviting her two at- 
 tendants of lover and husband, between whom she 
 sits in state with great gravity. The sub-marri- 
 ages generally last twenty years together, and the 
 lady often commands the poor lover's estate, even 
 to the utter ruin of his family. 
 
 These connections, indeed, are as seldom begun 
 by any real passion as other matches ; for a man 
 makes but an ill figure that is not in some com- 
 merce of this nature ; and a woman looks out for 
 a lover as soon as she's married, as part of her 
 equipage, without which she could not be genteel ; 
 and the first article of the treaty is establishing 
 the pension, which remains to the lady in case the 
 gallant should prove inconstant. This chargeable 
 point of honour I look upon as the real founda- 
 tion of so many wonderful instances of constancy. 
 I really know some women of the first quality, 
 whose pensions are as well known as their annual 
 rents, and yet nobody esteems them the less ; on 
 the contrary, their discretion would be called in 
 question, if they should be suspected to be mis- 
 tresses for nothing. A great part of their emula- 
 tion consists in trying who shall get most ; and
 
 MR. vvortley's embassy. 297 
 
 liaving no intrigue at all is so far a disgrace, that, 
 I'll assure you, a lady, who is very much my friend 
 here, told me but yesterday, how much I was 
 obliged to her for justifying my conduct in a con- 
 versation relating to me, where it was publicly 
 asserted that I could not possibly have common 
 sense, since I had been in town above a fortnight 
 and had made no steps towards commencing an 
 amour. My friend pleaded for me, that my stay 
 was uncertain, and she believed that was the cause 
 of my seeming stupidity ; and this was all she 
 could find to say in my justification. 
 
 But one of the pleasantest adventures I ever 
 met with in my life was last night, and it will give 
 you a just idea in what a delicate manner the belles 
 passions are managed in this country. I was at the 
 
 assembly of the Countess of , and the young 
 
 Count of leading me down stairs, asked me 
 
 how long I was to stay at Vienna ? I made an- 
 swer, that my stay depended on the emperor, and 
 it was not in my power to determine it. Well, 
 madam, (said he,) whether your time here is to be 
 long or short, I think you ought to pass it agree- 
 ably, and to that end you must engage in a little 
 affair of the heart. — My heart (answered I grave- 
 ly enough) does not engage very easily, and I 
 have no design of parting with it. I see, madam, 
 (said he sighing,) by the ill nature of that answer, 
 I am not to hope for it, which is a great mortifica- 
 tion to me that am charmed with you. But, how-
 
 298 LETTERS DURING 
 
 ever, I am still devoted to your service ; and since 
 I am not worthy of entertaining you myself, do me 
 the honour of letting me know whom you like best 
 among us, and I '11 engage to manage the affair 
 entirely to your satisfaction. — You may judge in 
 what manner I should have received this compli- 
 ment in my own country ; but I was well enough 
 acquainted with the way of this, to know that he 
 really intended me an obligation, and I thanked 
 him with a very grave courtesy for his zeal to serve 
 me, and only assured him I had no occasion to make 
 use of it. 
 
 Thus you see, my dear, that gallantry and good- 
 breeding are as different, in different climates, as 
 morality and religion. Who have the rightest 
 notions of both, we shall never know till the day 
 of judgment; for which great day of eclaircisse- 
 7nent, I own there is very little impatience in your, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 TO MRS. THISTLETHWAYTE. 
 
 Vienna, Sept. 26, O.S. 1716. 
 I WAS never more agreeably surprised than by 
 your obliging letter. 'Tis a peculiar mark of my 
 esteem that I tell you so ; and I can assure you, 
 that if I loved you one grain less than I do, I 
 should be very sorry to see it so diverting as it 
 is. The mortal aversion I have to writing, makes 
 me tremble at the thoughts of a new correspondent ; 
 and I believe I have disobliged no less than a dozen
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 299 
 
 of my London acquaintance by refusing to hear 
 from them, though I did verily think they intended 
 to send me very entertaining letters. But I had 
 rather lose the pleasure of reading several witty 
 things, than be forced to write many stupid ones. 
 
 Yet, in spite of these considerations, I am charm- 
 ed with this proof of your friendship, and beg a 
 continuation of the same goodness, though I fear 
 the dulness of this will make you immediately re- 
 pent of it. It is not from Austria that one can 
 write with vivacity, and I am already infected with 
 the phlegm of the country. Even their amours and 
 their quarrels are carried on with a surprising 
 temper, and they are never lively but upon points 
 of ceremony. There, I own, they shew all their 
 passions ; and 'tis not long since two coaches, meet- 
 ing 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 fully de- 
 termined to die upon the spot, rather than yield in 
 a point of that importance, 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 they refused to stir, till the expedient 
 could be found out of taking them both out in 
 chairs exactly in the same moment. After the 
 ladies were agreed, it was with some difficulty that 
 the pas was decided between the two coachmen, 
 no less tenacious of their rank than the ladies.
 
 300 LETTERS DURING 
 
 ^This passion is so omnipotent in the breasts of 
 the women, that even their husbands never die but 
 they are ready to break their hearts, because that 
 fatal hour puts an end to their rank, no widows 
 having any place at Vienna. The men are not 
 much less touched with this point of honour, and 
 they do not only scorn to marry, but even to make 
 love to any woman of a family not as illustrious as 
 their own ; and the pedigree is much more con- 
 sidered by them, than either the complexion or 
 features of their mistresses. Happy are the she's 
 that can number amongst their ancestors counts 
 of the empire ; they have neither occasion for 
 beauty, money, nor good conduct, to get them 
 husbands. 'Tis true, as to money, it is seldom 
 any advantage to the man they marry ; the laws 
 of Austria confine the woman's portion to two thou- 
 sand florins (about two hundred pounds English), 
 and whatever they have beside remains in their 
 own possession and disposal. Thus, here are many 
 ladies much richer than their husbands, who are, 
 however, obliged to allow them pin-money agree- 
 ably to their quality ; and I attribute to this 
 considerable branch of prerogative, the liberty that 
 they take upon other occasions. 
 
 I am sure you, that know my laziness and ex- 
 treme indifference on this subject, will pity me, en- 
 tangled amongst all these ceremonies, which are 
 a wonderful burthen to me, though I am the envy 
 of the whole town, having, by their own customs.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 301 
 
 the pas before them all. They indeed so revenge 
 upon the poor envoys this great respect shewn to 
 ambassadors, that (with all my indifference) I 
 should be very uneasy to suffer it. Upon days of 
 ceremony they have no entrance at court, and on 
 other days must content themselves with walking 
 after every soul, and being the very last taken no- 
 tice of. But I must write a volume to let you 
 know all the ceremonies, and I have already said 
 too much on so dull a subject, which, however, 
 employs the whole care of the people here. I need 
 not, after this, tell you how agreeably time slides 
 away with me ; you know as well as I do the 
 taste of. Yours, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE LADY X- 
 
 Vienna, Oct. 1, O. S. 1716. 
 You desire me, madam, to send you some ac- 
 counts of the customs here, and at the same time 
 a description of Vienna. I am always willing to 
 obey your commands; but you must, upon this 
 occasion, take the will for the deed. If I should 
 undertake to tell you all the particulars, in which 
 the manners here differ from ours, I must write a 
 whole quire of the dullest stuff that ever was read, 
 or printed without being read. Their dress agrees 
 with the French or English in no one article but 
 wearing petticoats. They have many fashions pe-
 
 302 LETTERS DURING 
 
 culiar to themselves ; they think it indecent for a 
 widow ever to wear green or rose colour, but all the 
 other gayest colours at her own discretion. The 
 assemblies here are the only regular diversion, the 
 operas being always at court, and commonly on 
 some particular occasion. Madam Rabutin has the 
 assembly constantly every night at her house ; and 
 the other ladies, whenever they have a mind to 
 display the magnificence of their apartments, or 
 oblige a friend by complimenting them on the day 
 of their saint, they declare that on such a day the 
 assembly shall be at their house in honour of the 
 
 feast of the Count or Countess such a one. 
 
 These days are called days of Gala, and all the 
 friends or relations of the lady whose saint it is, 
 are obliged to appear in their best clothes and all 
 their jewels. The mistress of the house takes no 
 particular notice of any body, nor returns any body's 
 visit ; and whoever pleases may go, without the 
 formality of being presented. The company are 
 entertained with ice in several forms, winter and 
 summer ; afterwards they divide into several par- 
 ties of ombre, piquet, or conversation, all games of 
 hazard being forbidden. 
 
 I saw t'other day the gala for Count Altheim, 
 the emperor's favourite, and never in my life saw 
 so many fine clothes ill-fancied. They embroider 
 the richest gold stuffs ; and provided they can 
 make their clothes expensive enough, that is all 
 the taste they shew in them. On other days, the
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 303 
 
 general dress is a scarf, and what you please 
 under it. 
 
 But now I ara speaking of Vienna, I am sure 
 you expect I should say something of the convents ; 
 they are of all sorts and sizes, but I am best pleased 
 with that of St. Lawrence, where the ease and 
 neatness they seem to live with, appears to be 
 much more edifying than those stricter orders, 
 where perpetual penance and nastiness must breed 
 discontent and wretchedness. The nuns are all 
 of quality. I think there are to the number of 
 fifty. They have each of them a little cell per- 
 fectly clean, the walls of which are covered with 
 pictures more or less fine, according to their quali- 
 ty. A long white stone gallery runs by all of them, 
 furnished with the pictures of exemplary sisters ; 
 the chapel is extremely neat and richly adorned^ 
 But I could not forbear laughing at their shewing 
 me a wooden head of our Saviour, which, they as- 
 sured me, spoke during the siege of Vienna ; and, 
 as a proof of it, bid me mark his mouth, which had 
 been open ever since. Nothing can be more be- 
 coming than the dress of these nuns. It is a white 
 robe, the sleeves of which are turned up with fine 
 white callico, and their head-dress the same, except- 
 ing a small veil of black crape that falls behind. 
 They have a lower sort of serving nuns, that wait 
 on them as their chambermaids. They receive all 
 visits of women, and play at ombre in their cham- 
 bers, with permission of their abbess, which is
 
 304 LETTERS DURING 
 
 very easy to be obtained. I never saw an old wo- 
 man so good-natured ; she is near fourscore, and 
 yet shews very little sign of decay, being still lively 
 and cheerful. She caressed me as if I had been her 
 daughter, giving me some pretty things of her own 
 work, and sweetmeats in abundance. The grate is 
 not of the most rigid ; it is not very hard to put a 
 head through, and I don't doubt but a man, a little 
 more slender than ordinary, might squeeze in his 
 whole person. The young Count of Salmes came 
 to the grate while I was there, and the abbess gave 
 him her hand to kiss. But I was surprised to find 
 here the only beautiful young woman I have seen 
 at Vienna, and not only beautiful, but genteel, 
 witty, and agreeable, of a great family, and who 
 had been the admiration of the town. I could not 
 forbear shewing my surprise at seeing a nun like 
 her. She made me a thousand obliging compli- 
 ments, and desired me to come often. It will be 
 an infinite pleasure to me, (said she, sighing,) but I 
 avoid, with the greatest care, seeing any of my for- 
 mer acquaintance, and whenever they come to our 
 convent, I lock myself in my cell. I observed tears 
 come into her eyes, which touched me extremely, 
 and I began to talk to her in that strain of tender 
 pity she inspired me with ; but she would not own 
 to me that she is not perfectly happy. I have since 
 endeavoured to learn the real cause of her retire- 
 ment, without being able to get any other accounts 
 but that every body was surprised at it, and nobody 
 guessed the reason.
 
 MR. VVOllTLEY'S EMBASSY. 305 
 
 I have been several times to see her ; but it 
 gives me too much melancholy to see so agreeable 
 a young creature buried alive. I am not surprised 
 that nuns have so often inspired violent passions ; 
 the pity one naturally feels for them, when they 
 seem worthy of another destiny, making an easy 
 way for yet more tender sentiments. I never in 
 my life had so little charity for the Roman-catholic 
 religion, as since I see the misery it occasions ; so 
 many poor unhappy women ! and then the gross 
 superstition of the common people, who are, some 
 or other of them, day and night offering bits of 
 candle to the wooden figures that are set up al- 
 most in every street. The processions I see very 
 often, are a pageantry as offensive, and apparently 
 contradictory to common sense, as the pagods of 
 China. God knows whether it be the womanly 
 spirit of contradiction that works in me ; but there 
 never before was such zeal against popery in the 
 
 heart of. 
 
 Dear madam, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MR. POPE.* 
 
 Vienna, Oct. 10, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I DESERVE not all the reproaches you make me. 
 If I have been some time without answering your 
 
 * Pope's letter, to which this is in reply, is printed in War- 
 ton's edition, vol. viii. p. 388. 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 LETTERS DURING 
 
 letter, it is not that I don't know how many thanks 
 are due to you for it ; or that I am stupid enough 
 to prefer any amusements to the pleasure of hearing 
 from you ; but after the professions of esteem you 
 have so obligingly made me, I cannot help delay- 
 ing, as long as I can, shewing you that you are 
 mistaken. If you are sincere when you say you 
 expect to be extremely entertained by my letters, 
 I ought to be mortified at the disappointment that 
 I am sure you will receive when you hear from me ; 
 though I have done my best endeavours to find out 
 something worth writing to you. 
 
 I have seen every thing that was to be seen with 
 a very diligent curiosity. Here are some fine villas, 
 particularly the late Prince of Litchtenstein's ; but 
 the statues are all modern, and the pictures not of 
 the first hands. 'Tis true, the emperor has some of 
 great value. I was yesterday to see the repository, 
 which they call his treasure, where they seem to 
 have been more diligent in amassing a great quan- 
 tity of things, than in the choice of them. I spent 
 above five hours there, and yet there were very few 
 things that stopped me long to consider them. But 
 the number is prodigious, being a very long gallery 
 filled on both sides, and five large rooms. There 
 is a vast quantity of paintings, among which are 
 many fine miniatures ; but the most valuable pic- 
 tures are a few of Corregio, those of Titian being 
 at the Favorita. 
 
 The cabinet of jewels did not appear to me so
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 307 
 
 rich as I expected to see it. They shewed me here 
 a cup, about the size of a tea-dish, of one entire 
 emerald, which they had so particular a respect for, 
 that only the emperor has the liberty of touching 
 it. There is a large cabinet full of curiosities of 
 clock-work, only one of which I thought worth 
 observing, that w^as a craw-fish, with all the mo- 
 tions so natural, that it was hard to distinguish it 
 from the life.* 
 
 The next cabinet was a large collection of agates, 
 some of them extremely beautiful, and of an un- 
 common size, and several vases of lapis lazuli. 
 I was surprised to see the cabinet of medals so 
 poorly furnished ; I did not remark one of any 
 value, and they are kept in a most ridiculous dis- 
 order. As to the antiques, very few of them de- 
 serve that name. Upon my saying they were mo- 
 dern, I could not forbear laughing at the answer 
 of the profound antiquary that shewed them, that 
 they were ancient enough ; for, to his knowledge, 
 they had been there these forty years. But the next 
 cabinet diverted me yet better, being nothing else 
 but a parcel of wax babies, and toys in ivory, very 
 well worthy to be presented to children of five years 
 old. Two of the rooms were wholly filled with 
 
 * The Imperial cabinet at Vienna has been greatly im- 
 proved since 1716, by the Emperors Joseph and Ferdinand. 
 In the classes of mineralogy, and a collection of medals, it now 
 yields to few others in Europe- See Eckel. Catal. Musaei 
 Csesarei Vindobon. Numm. Vet. fol. 1779, and Baron Bornn's 
 Shells of the Imp. Mus. at Vienna, fol. 1780. 
 
 X 2
 
 308 LETTERS DURING 
 
 these trifles of all kinds, set in jewels, amongst 
 which I was desired to observe a crucifix, that they 
 assured me had spoken very wisely to the Emperor 
 Leopold. I won't trouble you with a catalogue of 
 the rest of the lumber ; but I must not forget to 
 mention a small piece of loadstone that held up an 
 anchor of steel too heavy for me to lift. This is 
 what I thought most curious in the whole treasure. 
 There are some few heads of ancient statues ; but 
 several of them are defaced by modern additions. 
 
 I foresee that you will be very little satisfied 
 with this letter, and I dare hardly ask you to be 
 good-natured enough to charge the dulness of it on 
 the barrenness of the subject, and to overlook the 
 stupidity of. Your, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Prague, Nov. 17, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I HOPE my dear sister wants no new proofs of 
 my sincere affection for her : but I am sure, if you 
 do, I could not give you a stronger than writing at 
 this time, after three days, or, more properly speak- 
 ing, three nights and days, hard post-travelling. 
 
 The kingdom of Bohemia is the most desert of 
 any I have seen in Germany. The villages are so 
 poor, and the post-houses so miserable, that clean 
 straw and fair water are blessings not always to be 
 met with, and better accommodation not to be 
 hoped for. Though I carried my own bed with
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 309 
 
 me, I could not sometimes find a place to set it up 
 in ; and I rather chose to travel all night, as cold 
 as it is, wrapped up in my furs, than go into the 
 common stoves, w^hich are filled with a mixture of 
 all sorts of ill scents. 
 
 This town was once the royal seat of the Bohe- 
 mian kings, and is still the capital of the kingdom. 
 There are yet some remains of its former splendour, 
 being one of the largest towns in Germany, but, 
 for the most part, old built and thinly inhabited, 
 which makes the houses very cheap. Those people 
 of quality, who cannot easily bear the expence of 
 Vienna, choose to reside here, where they have 
 assemblies, music, and all other diversions (those of 
 a court excepted), at very moderate rates, all things 
 being here in great abundance, especially the best 
 wild-fowl I ever tasted. I have already been visited 
 by some of the most considerable ladies, whose 
 relations I know at Vienna. They are dressed 
 after the fashions there, after the manner that the 
 people at Exeter imitate those of London ; that is, 
 their imitation is more excessive than the original. 
 'Tis not easy to describe what extraordinary figures 
 they make. The person is so much lost between 
 head-dress and petticoat, that they have as much 
 occasion to write upon their backs, *' This is a 
 Woman" for the information of travellers, as 
 ever sign-post painter had to write, *^ This is a 
 Bear." 
 
 I will not forget to write to you again from
 
 310 LETTERS DURING 
 
 Dresden and Leipzig, being much more solicitous 
 to content your curiosity, than to indulge my own 
 repose. I am, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Leipzig, Nov. 21, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I BELIEVE, dear sister, you will easily forgive my 
 not writing to you from Dresden, as I promised, 
 when I tell you that I never went out of my chaise 
 from Prague to this place. 
 
 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 precipices that divide Bohemia from Sax- 
 ony, at the bottom of which runs the river Elbe ; 
 but I cannot say that I had reason to fear drown- 
 ing in it, being perfectly convinced that, in case of 
 a tumble, it was utterly impossible to come alive to 
 the bottom. In many places the road is so nar- 
 row, that I could not discern an inch of space 
 between the wheels and the precipice. Yet I was 
 so good a wife as not to wake Mr. Wortley, who 
 was fast asleep by my side, to make him share in 
 my fears, since the danger was unavoidable, till I 
 perceived, by the bright light of the moon, our pos- 
 tilions nodding on horseback, while the horses were 
 on a full gallop. Then indeed I thought it very
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S embassy. 311 
 
 convenient to call out to desire them to look where 
 they were going. My calling waked Mr. Wortley, 
 and he was much more surprised than myself at 
 the situation we were in, and assured me that he 
 passed the Alps five times in different places, with- 
 out ever having gone a road so dangerous. I have 
 been told since that it is common to find the bo- 
 dies 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 myself to write. 
 After passing these dreadful rocks, Dresden ap- 
 peared to me a wonderfully agreeable situation, in 
 a fine large plain on the banks of the Elbe. I was 
 very glad to stay there a day to rest myself. The 
 town is the neatest I have seen in Germany ; most 
 of the houses are new built ; the Elector's palace is 
 very handsome, and his repository full of curiosities 
 of different kinds, with a collection of medals very 
 much esteemed. Sir Robert Sutton, our King's en- 
 voy, came to see me here, and Madame de L , 
 
 whom I knew in London, when her husband was 
 minister to the King of Poland there. She offered 
 me all things in her power to entertain me, and 
 brought some ladies with her, whom she presented 
 to me. The Saxon ladies resemble the Austrian no 
 more than the Chinese do those of London ; they 
 are very genteelly dressed after the English and 
 French modes, and have generally pretty faces, but 
 they are the most determined minaudihres in the
 
 312 LETTERS DURING 
 
 whole world. They would think it a mortal sin 
 against good-breeding, if they either spoke or 
 moved in a natural manner. They all affect a lit- 
 tle soft lisp, and a pretty pitty-pat step ; which 
 female frailties ought, however, to be forgiven them, 
 in favour of their civility and good-nature to stran- 
 gers, which I have a great deal of reason to praise. 
 The Countess of Cozelle is kept prisoner in a 
 melancholy castle, some leagues from hence ; and 
 I cannot forbear telling you what I have heard of 
 her, because it seems to me very extraordinary, 
 though I foresee I shall swell my letter to the size 
 
 of a pacquet. She was mistress to the King of 
 
 Poland (Elector of Saxony), with so absolute a do- 
 minion over him, that never any lady had so much 
 power in that court. They tell a pleasant story of 
 his Majesty's first declaration of love, which he 
 made in a visit to her, bringing in one hand a bag 
 of a hundred thousand crowns, and in the other a 
 horse-shoe, which he snapped asunder before her 
 face, leaving her to draw the consequences of such 
 remarkable proofs of strength and liberality. I 
 know not which charmed her most ; but she con- 
 sented to leave her husband, and to give herself up 
 to him entirely, being divorced publicly in such a 
 manner as, by their laws, permits either party to 
 marry again. God knows whether it was at this 
 time, or in some other fond fit, but it is certain the 
 King had the weakness to make her a formal con- 
 tract of marriage, which, though it could signify
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 313 
 
 nothing during the life of the Queen, pleased her so 
 well, that she could not be contented without tell- 
 ing it to all the people she saw, and giving herself 
 the airs of a queen. Men endure every thing while 
 they are in love ; but when the excess of passion 
 was cooled by long possession, his Majesty began 
 to reflect on the ill consequences of leaving such a 
 paper in her hands, and desired to have it restored 
 to him. But she rather chose to endure all the 
 most violent effects of his anger, than give it up ; 
 and though she is one of the richest and most ava- 
 ricious ladies of her country, she has refused the 
 offer of the continuation of a large pension, and the 
 security of a vast sum of money she has amassed ; 
 and has at last provoked the King to confine her 
 person to a castle, where she endures all the terrors 
 of a strait imprisonment, and remains still inflexi- 
 ble either to threats or promises. Her violent pas- 
 sions have brought her indeed into fits, which it is 
 supposed will soon put an end to her life. I can- 
 not forbear having some compassion for a woman 
 that suffers for a point of honour, however mis- 
 taken, especially in a country where points of 
 honour are not over-scrupulously observed among 
 ladies. 
 
 I could have wished Mr. Wortley's business had 
 permitted him a longer stay at Dresden. 
 
 Perhaps I am partial to a town where they pro- 
 fess the Protestant religion ; but every thing seem- 
 ed to me with quite another air of politeness than
 
 314 LETTERS DURING 
 
 I liave found in other places. Leipzig, where I 
 am at present, is a town very considerable for its 
 trade ; and I take this opportunity of buying 
 pages' liveries, gold stuffs for myself, &c. all things 
 of that kind being at least double the price at Vi- 
 enna ; partly because of the excessive customs, and 
 partly through want of genius and industry in the 
 people, who make no one sort of thing there ; so 
 that the ladies are obliged to send even for their 
 shoes out of Saxony. The fair here is one of the 
 most considerable in Germany, and the resort of 
 all the people of quality, as well as of the mer- 
 chants. This is also a fortified town ; but I avoid 
 ever mentioning fortifications, being sensible that I 
 know not how to speak of them. I am the more 
 easy under my ignorance, when I reflect that I am 
 sure you will willingly forgive the omission ; for if I 
 made you the most exact description of all the ra- 
 velins and bastions I see in my travels, I dare swear 
 you would ask me. What is a ravelin ? and. What 
 
 is a bastion ? 
 
 Adieu, my dear sister ! 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Brunswick, Nov. 23, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I AM just come to Brunswick, a very old town, 
 but which has the advantage of being the capital 
 of the Duke of Wolfenbuttle's dominions, a family 
 (not to speak of its ancient honours) illustrious by
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 315 
 
 having its younger branch on the throne of Eng- 
 land, and having given tw^o empresses to Germany. 
 I have not forgotten to drink your health here in 
 mum, which I think very well deserves its reputa- 
 tion of being the best in the world. This letter is 
 the third I have written to you during my journey ; 
 and I declare to you, that if you don't send me im- 
 mediately a full and true account of all the changes 
 and chances among our London acquaintance, I 
 will not write you any description of Hanover 
 (where I hope to be to-night), though I know you 
 have more curiosity to hear of that place than any 
 other. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL. 
 
 Hanover, Nov. 25, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I RECEIVED your ladyship's letter but the day 
 before I left Vienna, though, by the date, I ought 
 to have had it much sooner ; but nothing was 
 ever worse regulated than the post in most parts 
 of Germany. I can assure you, the pacquet at 
 Prague was behind my chaise, and in that manner 
 conveyed to Dresden, so that the secrets of half 
 the country were at my mercy, if I had had any 
 curiosity for them. I would not longer delay my 
 thanks for yours, though the number of my ac- 
 quaintances here, and my duty of attending at 
 court, leave me hardly any time to dispose of. I
 
 316 LETTERS DUlllNG 
 
 am extremely pleased that I can tell you, without 
 flattery or partiality, that our young prince* has 
 all the accomplishments that it is possible to have 
 at his age, with an air of sprightliness and under- 
 standing, and something so very engaging and 
 easy in his behaviour, that he needs not the advan- 
 tage of his rank to appear charming. I had the 
 honour of a long conversation with him last night, 
 before the King came in. His governor retired 
 on purpose (as he told me afterwards) that I might 
 make some judgment of his genius, by hearing 
 him speak without constraint; and I was surprised 
 at the quickness and politeness that appeared in 
 every thing he said ; joined to a person perfectly 
 agreeable, and the fine fair hair of the princess. 
 
 This town is neither large nor handsome ; but 
 the palace is capable of holding a much greater 
 court than that of St. James's. The King has had 
 the goodness to appoint us a lodging in one part 
 of it, without which we should have been very ill 
 accommodated ; for the vast number of English 
 crowds the town so much, it is very good luck to get 
 one sorry room in a miserable tavern. I dined 
 to-day with the Portuguese ambassador, who thinks 
 himself very happy to have two wretched parlours 
 in an inn. I have now made the tour of Germany, 
 and cannot help observing a considerable difference 
 between travelling here and in England. One 
 sees none of those fine seats of noblemen, so com- 
 
 * Afterwards Frederick Prince of Wales.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 317 
 
 mon amongst us, nor any thing like a country gen- 
 tleman's house, though they have many situations 
 perfectly fine. But the whole people are divided 
 into absolute sovereignties, where all the riches and 
 magnificence are at court, or into communities of 
 merchants, such as Nuremburg and Frankfort, 
 where they live always in town for the convenience 
 of trade. The King's company of French come- 
 dians play here every night. They are very well 
 dressed, and some of them not ill actors. His 
 Majesty dines and sups constantly in public. The 
 court is very numerous, and his affability and good- 
 ness make it one of the most agreeable places in the 
 
 world. 
 
 Dear madam, your, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE LADY RICH. 
 
 Hanover, Oct. 1, O. S. 1716. 
 I AM very glad, my dear Lady Rich, that you 
 have been so well pleased, as you tell me, at the 
 report of my returning to England ; though, like 
 other pleasures, I can assure you, it has no real 
 foundation. I hope you know me enough to take 
 my word against any report concerning me. 'Tis 
 true, as to distance of place, I am much nearer to 
 London than I was some weeks ago ; but as to 
 the thoughts of a return, I never was farther off in 
 my life. I own, 1 could with great joy indulge the
 
 '318 LETTERS DURING 
 
 l)leasing hopes of seeing you, and tlie very few 
 others that share my esteem ; but while Mr. Wort- 
 ley is determined to proceed in his design, I am 
 determined to follow him. 
 
 I am running on upon my own affairs, that is to 
 say, I am going to write very dully, as most people 
 do when they write of themselves. I will make 
 haste to change the disagreeable subject, by telling 
 you that I am now got into the region of beauty. 
 All the women have literally rosy cheeks, snowy 
 foreheads and bosoms, jet eye-brows, and scarlet 
 lips, to which they generally add coal-black hair. 
 Those perfections never leave them till the hour 
 of their deaths, and have a very fine effect by can- 
 dle-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 nearly approaching the fire, which 
 they for that reason carefully avoid, though it is 
 now such excessively cold weather, that I believe 
 they suffer extremely by that piece of self-denial. 
 
 The snow is already very deep, and the people 
 begin to slide about in their traineaus. This is a 
 favourite diversion all over Germany. They are 
 little machines fixed upon a sledge, that hold a 
 lady and gentleman, and are drawn by one horse. 
 The gentleman has the honour of driving, and they 
 move with a prodigious swiftness. The lady, the 
 horse, and the traineau, are all as fine as they can
 
 MR. vvortley's embassy. 319 
 
 be made ; and when there are many of them toge- 
 ther, it is a very agreeable show. At Vienna, where 
 all pieces of magnificence are carried to excess, 
 there are sometimes machines of this kind, that 
 cost five or six hundred pounds English. 
 
 The Duke of Wolfenbuttle is now at this court ; 
 you know he is nearly related to our King, and 
 uncle to the reigning Empress, who is, I believe, 
 the most beautiful princess upon earth. She is now 
 with child, which is all the consolation of the impe- 
 rial court for the loss of the Archduke. I took my 
 leave of her the day before I left Vienna, and she 
 began to speak to me with so much grief and ten- 
 derness, of the death of that young prince, I had 
 much ado to withhold my tears. You know that I 
 am not at all partial to people for their titles ; but 
 I own that I love that charming princess (if I may 
 use so familiar an expression) ; and if I had not, I 
 should have been very much moved at the tragical 
 end of an only son, born after being so long de- 
 sired, and at length killed by want of good ma- 
 nagement, weaning him in the beginning of the 
 winter. 
 
 Adieu, dear Lady Rich ; continue to write to me, 
 and believe none of your goodness is lost upon 
 
 Your, &c.
 
 320 LETTERS DUlllNCJ 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Blankenburg, Oct. 17, O. S. 1716. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours, dear sister, the very day I left 
 Hanover. You may easily imagine I was then in 
 too great a hurry to answer it ; but you see I take 
 the first opportunity of doing myself that pleasure. 
 
 I came here the 15th, very late at night, after a 
 terrible journey, in the worst roads and weather 
 that ever poor traveller suffered. I have taken this 
 little fatigue merely to oblige the reigning Empress, 
 and carry a message from her Imperial Majesty to 
 the Duchess of Blankenburg, her mother, who is a 
 princess of great address and good-breeding, and 
 may be still called a fine woman. It was so late 
 when I came to this town, I did not think it proper 
 to disturb the Duke and Duchess with the news of 
 my arrival ; so I took up my quarters in a misera- 
 ble inn : but as soon as I had sent my compliments 
 to their highnesses, they immediately sent me their 
 own coach and six horses, which had however 
 enough to do to draw us up the very high hill on 
 which the castle is situated. The Duchess is ex- 
 tremely obliging to me, and this little court is not 
 without its diversions. The Duke taillys at basset 
 every night ; and the Duchess tells me she is so 
 well pleased vv'ith my company, that it makes her 
 play less than she used to do. I should find it very 
 difficult to steal time to write, if she was not now
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 321 
 
 at church, where I cannot wait on her, not under- 
 standing the language enough to pay my devotions 
 in it. 
 
 You will not forgive me, if I do not say some- 
 thing of Hanover ; I cannot tell you that the town 
 is either large or magnificent. The opera-house, 
 which was built by the late Elector, is much finer 
 that that of Vienna. I was very sorry that the ill 
 weather did not permit me to see Hernhausen in 
 all its beauty ; but, in spite of the snow, I thought 
 the gardens very fine. I was particularly surprised 
 at the vast number of orange-trees, much larger 
 than any 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, to see a 
 present from a gentleman of this country, of 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 perfect- 
 ly delicious. You know they are naturally the 
 growth of Brazil, and I could not imagine how 
 they came here, but by enchantment. Upon en- 
 quiry, I learnt that they have brought their stoves 
 to such perfection, they lengthen their summer as 
 long as they please, giving to every plant the de- 
 gree of heat it would receive from the sun in its na- 
 tive soil. The effect is very nearly the same ; I 
 am surprised we do not practise in England so use- 
 ful an invention. 
 
 VOL. 1. Y
 
 322 LETTERS DURING 
 
 This reflection leads me to consider our obsti- 
 nacy in shaking with cold five months in the year, 
 rather than make use of stoves, which are certainly 
 one of the greatest conveniences of life. Besides, 
 they are so far from spoiling the form of a room, 
 that they add very much to the magnificence of it, 
 when they are painted and gilt, as they are at Vi- 
 enna, or at Dresden, where they are often in the 
 shapes of china jars, statues, or fine cabinets, so 
 naturally represented, that they are not to be dis- 
 tinguished. If ever I return, in defiance to the 
 fashion, you shall certainly see one in the chamber 
 of. Dear sister. Your, &c. 
 
 I will write often, since you desire it : but I must 
 beg you to be a little more particular in yours ; 
 you fancy me at forty miles' distance, and forget 
 that, after so long an absence, I cannot understand 
 hints. 
 
 TO THE LADY RICH. 
 
 Vienna, Jan. 1, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I HAVE just received here at Vienna, your lady- 
 ship's compliments on my return to England, sent 
 me from Hanover. 
 
 You see, madam, all things that are asserted 
 with confidence are not absolutely true ; and that 
 you have no sort of reason to complain of me for 
 making my designed return a mystery to you, 
 when you say, all the world are informed of it.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 323 
 
 You may tell all the world in my name, that they 
 are never so well informed of my affairs as I am 
 myself; that I am very positive I am at this time 
 at Vienna, where the carnival is begun, and all sorts 
 of diversions are carried to the greatest height, ex- 
 cept that of masquing, which is never permitted 
 during a war with the Turks. The balls are in 
 public places, where the men pay a gold ducat* at 
 entrance, but the ladies nothing. I am told that 
 these houses get sometimes a thousand ducats in a 
 night. They are very magnificently furnished, and 
 the music good, if they had not that detestable cus- 
 tom of mixing hunting horns with it, that almost 
 deafen the company. But that noise is so agree- 
 able here, they never make a concert without them. 
 The ball always concludes with English country 
 dances, to the number of thirty or forty couple, 
 and so ill danced, that there is very little pleasure 
 in them. They know but half a dozen, and they 
 have danced them over and over these fifty years : 
 I would fain have taught them some new ones, but 
 I found it would be some months' labour to make 
 them comprehend them. 
 
 Last night there was an Italian comedy acted 
 at court. The scenes were pretty, but the comedy 
 itself such intolerably low farce, without either wit 
 or humour, that I was surprised how all the court 
 could sit there attentively for four hours together. 
 
 About nine shillings. 
 
 - Y 2
 
 324 LETTERS DURING 
 
 No women are suffered to act on the stage, and 
 the men dressed like them were such awkward 
 figures, they very much added to the ridicule of the 
 spectacle. What completed the diversion, was the 
 excessive cold, which was so great, I thought I 
 should have died there. 
 
 It is now the very extremity of the winter here ; 
 the Danube is entirely frozen, and the weather not 
 to be supported without stoves and furs ; but, how- 
 ever, the air so clear, almost every body is well, and 
 colds not half so common as in England. 1 am 
 persuaded there cannot be a purer air, nor more 
 wholesome, than that of Vienna. The plenty and 
 excellence of all sorts of provisions are greater here 
 than in any place I ever was before, and it is not 
 very expensive to keep a splendid table. It is 
 really a pleasure to pass through the markets, and 
 see the abundance of what we should think rarities, 
 of fowls and venison, that are daily brought in from 
 Hungary and Bohemia. They want nothing but 
 shell-fish, and are so fond of oysters, that they have 
 them sent from Venice, and eat them very greedily, 
 stink or not stink. 
 
 Thus I obey your commands, madam, in giving 
 you an account of Vienna, though I know you will 
 not be satisfied with it. You chide me for my 
 laziness, in not telling you a thousand agreeable 
 and surprising things, that you say you are sure I 
 have seen and heard. Upon my word, madam, it 
 is my regard to truth, and not laziness, that I do
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 325 
 
 not entertain you with as many prodigies as other 
 travellers use to divert their readers with. I might 
 easily pick up wonders in every town I pass through, 
 or tell you a long series of popish miracles ; but I 
 cannot fancy that there is any thing new in letting 
 you know that priests will lie, and the mob believe, 
 all the world over. Then as for news, that you are 
 so inquisitive about, how can it be entertaining to 
 you (that don't know the people) that the Prince 
 
 of has forsaken the Countess of ? or 
 
 that the Prince such a one has an intrigue with the 
 Countess such a one ? Would you have me write 
 
 novels like the Countess of D' ? and is it not 
 
 better to tell you a plain truth, 
 
 That I am, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Vienna, Jan. 16, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I AM now, dear sister, to take leave of you for 
 a long time, and of Vienna for ever ; designing to- 
 morrow to begin my journey through Hungary, in 
 spite of the excessive cold, and deep snows, which 
 are enough to damp a greater courage than I am 
 mistress of. But my principles of passive obedience 
 carry me through every thing. 
 
 I have had my audience of leave of the Empress. 
 His Imperial Majesty was pleased to be present 
 when I waited on the reigning Empress ; and after
 
 326 LETTERS DURING 
 
 a very obliging conversation, both their Imperial 
 Majesties invited me to take Vienna in my road 
 back ; but I have no thoughts of enduring over 
 again so great a fatigue. I delivered a letter from 
 the Duchess of Blankenburg. I staid but a few 
 days at that court, though her highness pressed me 
 very much to stay ; and when I left her, engaged 
 me to write to her. 
 
 I wrote you a long letter from thence, which I 
 hope you have received, though you don't men- 
 tion it ; but I believe I forgot to tell you one 
 curiosity in all the German courts, which I cannot 
 forbear taking notice of: All the princes keep 
 favourite dwarfs. The Emperor and Empress have 
 two of these little monsters, as ugly as devils, 
 especially the female ; but they are all bedaubed 
 with diamonds, and stand at her Majesty's elbow 
 in all public places. The Duke of Wolfenbuttle 
 has one, and the Duchess of Blankenburg is not 
 without hers, but indeed the most proportionable 
 I ever saw. I am told the King of Denmark has so 
 far improved upon this fashion, that his dwarf is his 
 chief minister. I can assign no reason for their 
 fondness for these pieces of deformity, but the opi- 
 nion all the absolute princes have, that it is below 
 them to converse with the rest of mankind ; and, 
 not to be quite alone, they are forced to seek their 
 companions among the refuse of human nature, 
 these creatures being the only part of their court 
 privileged to talk freely to them.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 3^7 
 
 I am at present confined to my chamber by a 
 sore throat ; and am really glad of the excuse, to 
 avoid seeing people that I love w^ell enough to be 
 very much mortified when I think I am going to 
 part with them for ever. It is true, the Austrians 
 are not commonly the most polite people in the 
 world, nor the most agreeable. But Vienna is 
 inhabited by all nations, and I had formed to myself 
 a little society of such as were perfectly to my own 
 taste. And though the number was not very great, 
 I could never pick up, in any other place, such a 
 number of reasonable, agreeable people. We were 
 almost always together, and you know I have ever 
 been of opinion that a chosen conversation, com- 
 posed of a few that one esteems, is the greatest 
 happiness of life. 
 
 Here are some Spaniards of both sexes, that have 
 all the vivacity and generosity of sentiments an- 
 ciently ascribed to their nation ; and, could I be- 
 lieve that the whole kingdom were like them, I 
 would wish nothing more than to end my days 
 there. The ladies of my acquaintance have so 
 much goodness for me, they cry whenever they see 
 me, since I have determined to undertake this 
 journey. And, indeed, I am not very easy when I 
 reflect on what I am going to suffer. Almost every 
 body I see frights me with some new difficulty. 
 Prince Eugene has been so good as to say all the 
 things he could to persuade me to stay till the 
 Danube is thawed, that I may have the conveniency
 
 328 LETTERS DURING 
 
 of going by water ; assuring me, that the houses in 
 Hungary are such as are no defence against the 
 weather ; and that I shall be obliged to travel 
 three or four days between Buda and Essek, with- 
 out finding any house at all, through desert plains 
 covered with snow, w^here the cold is so violent, 
 many have been killed by it. I own these terrors 
 have made a very deep impression on my mind, 
 because I believe he tells me things truly as they 
 are, and nobody can be better informed of them. 
 
 Now I have named that great man, I am sure 
 you expect I should say something particular of 
 him, having the advantage of seeing him very often; 
 but I am as unwilling to speak of him at Vienna, 
 as I should be to talk of Hercules in the court of 
 Omphale, if I had seen him there. I don't know 
 what comfort other people find in considering the 
 weakness of great men (because, perhaps, it brings 
 them nearer to their level), but 'tis always a mor- 
 tification to me to observe that there is no perfec- 
 tion in humanity. The young Prince of Portugal 
 is the admiration of the whole court ; he is hand- 
 some and polite, with a great vivacity. All the 
 officers tell wonders of his gallantry the last cam- 
 paign. He is lodged at court with all the honours 
 due to his rank. — Adieu, dear sister : this is the 
 last account you will have from me of Vienna. If 
 I survive my journey, you shall hear from me again. 
 I can say with great truth, in the words of Moneses, 
 / have long learnt to hold myself as iiothuig ; but
 
 MR. WOllTLEY'S EMBASSY. 329 
 
 when I think of the fatigue my poor infant must 
 suffer, I have all a mother's fondness in my eyes, 
 and all her tender passions in my heart. 
 
 F.S. I have written a letter to my Lady , that 
 
 I believe she won't like ; and, upon cooler reflection, 
 I think I had done better to have let it alone ; but 
 I was downright peevish at all her questions, and 
 her ridiculous imagination that I have certainly 
 seen abundance of wonders which I keep to myself 
 out of mere malice. She is very angry that I won't 
 lie like other travellers. I verily believe she expects 
 I should tell her of the Anthropophagi, men whose 
 heads grow below their shoulders ; however, pray 
 say something to pacify her. 
 
 FROM MR. POPE. 
 
 If you must go from us, I wish at least you 
 might pass to your banishment by the most pleasant 
 way ; might all your road be roses and myrtles, 
 and a thousand objects rise round you, agreeable 
 enough to make England less desireable to you. I 
 am glad, madam, your native country uses you so 
 well as to justify your regret for it : it is not for 
 me to talk of it with tears in my eyes ; I can never 
 think that place my country, where I cannot call 
 a foot of paternal earth my own. Indeed, it may 
 seem some alleviation, that when the wisest thing 
 I can do is to leave my country, that which was
 
 330 LEITEIIS DURING 
 
 most agreeable in it should be taken from thence 
 beforehand. I could overtake you with pleasure 
 in Italy (if you took that way), and make that 
 tour in your company. Every reasonable enter- 
 tainment and beautiful view would be doubly in- 
 structive when you talked of it. I should at least 
 attend you to the sea-coast, and cast a last look 
 after the sails that transported you, if I liked Italy 
 enough to reside in it. But I believe I should be 
 as uneasy in a country where I saw others perse- 
 cuted by the rogues of my own religion, as where 
 I was so myself by those of yours. And it is not 
 impossible but I might run into Turkey in search 
 of liberty ; for who would not rather live a free man 
 among a nation of slaves, than a slave among a 
 nation of free men ? 
 
 In good earnest, if I knew your motions towards 
 Italy (on the supposition you go that course), and 
 your exact time, I verily think I shall be once more 
 happy in a sight of you next spring. I '11 con- 
 clude with a wish, God send you with us, or me 
 with you. 
 
 By what I have seen of Mons. Rousseau's works, 
 I should envy you his conversation. But I am sure 
 I envy him yours. 
 
 Mr. Addison has not had one Epithalamium that 
 I can hear of, and must even be reduced, like a 
 poorer and abetter poet, Spenser, to make his own. 
 
 Mr. Congreve is entirely yours, and has writ 
 twice to you ; he is not in town, but well. I am
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 331 
 
 in great health, and sit up all night; a just reward 
 for a fever I just come out of, that kept me in bed 
 seven days. 
 
 How may I send a large bundle to you ? 
 
 I beg you will put dates to your letters ; they 
 are not long enough. A. Pope. 
 
 TO MR. POPE. 
 
 Vienna, Jan. 16, O. S. 1717. 
 I HAVE not time to answer your letter, being in 
 the hurry of preparing for my journey ; but I 
 think I ought to bid adieu to my friends with 
 the same solemnity as if I was going to mount a 
 breach, at least, if I am to believe the information 
 of the people here, who denounce all sorts of ter- 
 rors to me ; and, indeed, the weather is at present 
 such, as very few ever set out in. I am threatened, 
 at the same time, with being frozen to death, buri- 
 ed in the snow, and taken by the Tartars, who ra- 
 vage that part of Hungary I am to pass. 'Tis true, 
 we shall have a considerable escorte^ so that possi- 
 bly I may be diverted with a new scene, by finding 
 myself in the midst of a battle. 
 
 How my adventures will conclude, I leave entire- 
 ly to Providence ; if comically, you shall hear of 
 
 them. Pray be so good as to tell Mr. Congreve 
 
 I have received his letter. Make him my adieus ; 
 if I live, I will answer it. The same compliment 
 to my Lady Rich.
 
 332 l.inTEUS DURING 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Peterwaradin, Jan. 30, O. S. 1717. 
 At length, dear sister, I am safely arrived, with 
 all my family, in good health, at Peterwaradin ; 
 having suffered so little from the rigour of the sea- 
 son (against which we were well provided by furs), 
 and found such tolerable accommodation every- 
 where, by the care of sending before, that I can 
 hardly forbear laughing when I recollect all the 
 frightful ideas that were given me of this journey. 
 These, I see, were wholly owing to the tenderness 
 of my Vienna friends, and their desire of keeping 
 me with them for this winter. 
 
 Perhaps it will not be disagreeable to you to give 
 a short journal of my journey, being through a coun- 
 try entirely unknown to you, and very little passed 
 even by the Hungarians themselves, who generally 
 choose to take the conveniency of going down 
 the Danube. We have had the blessing of being 
 favoured with finer weather than is common at 
 this time of the year ; though the snow was so 
 deep, we were obliged to have our own coaches 
 fixed upon traineaus, which move so swift and so 
 easily, 'tis by far the most agreeable manner of tra- 
 velling post. We came to Raab (the second day 
 from Vienna) on the seventeenth instant, where Mr. 
 Wortley sending word of our arrival to the gover- 
 nor, the best house in the town was provided for us.
 
 MR. woktley's embassy. 333 
 
 the garrison put under arms, a guard ordered at our 
 door, and all other honours paid to us. The "go- 
 vernor and all other officers immediately waited on 
 Mr. Wortley, to know if there was any thing to be 
 done for his service. The Bishop of Temeswar 
 came to visit us with great civility, earnestly press- 
 ing us to dine with him next day ; which we refus- 
 ing, as being resolved to pursue our journey, he sent 
 us several baskets of winter fruit, and a great va- 
 riety of Hungarian wines, with a young hind just 
 killed. This is a prelate of great power in this 
 country, of the ancient family of Nadasti, so consi- 
 derable for many ages in this kingdom. He is a 
 very polite, agreeable, cheerful old man, wearing 
 the Hungarian habit, with a venerable white beard 
 down to his girdle. 
 
 Raab is a strong town, well garrisoned and forti- 
 fied, and was a long time the frontier town between 
 the Turkish and German empires. It has its name 
 from the river Rab, on which it is situated, just on 
 its meeting with the Danube, in an open champaign 
 country. It was first taken by the Turks, under 
 the command of Pasha Sinan, in the reign of Sul- 
 tan Amurath III. in the year fifteen hundred and 
 ninety-four. The governor, being supposed to have 
 betrayed it, was afterwards beheaded by the Em- 
 peror's command. The Counts of Swartzenburg 
 and Palfi retook it by surprise, 1598 ; since which 
 time it has remained in the hands of the Germans, 
 though the Turks once more attempted to gain it
 
 334 LETTERS DURING 
 
 by stratagem in 1642. The cathedral is large 
 and well built, which is all I saw remarkable in 
 the town. 
 
 Leaving Comora on the other side the river, we 
 went the eighteenth to Nosmuhl, a small village, 
 where, however, we made shift to find tolerable ac- 
 commodation. We continued two days travelling 
 between this place and Buda, through the finest 
 plains in the world, as even as if they were paved, 
 and extremely fruitful ; but for the most part desert 
 and uncultivated, laid waste by the long wars be- 
 tween the Turk and the Emperor, and the more 
 cruel civil war occasioned by the barbarous persecu- 
 tion of the Protestant religion by the Emperor Leo- 
 pold. That prince has left behind him the charac- 
 ter of an extraordinary piety, and was naturally of 
 a mild merciful temper ; but, putting his consci- 
 ence into the hands of a Jesuit, he was more cruel 
 and treacherous to his poor Hungarian subjects, 
 than ever the Turk has been to the Christians; 
 breaking, without scruple, his coronation oath, and 
 his faith, solemnly given in many public treaties. 
 Indeed, nothing can be more melancholy than, in 
 travelling through Hungary, to reflect on the for- 
 mer flourishing state of that kingdom, and to see 
 such a noble spot of earth almost uninhabited. 
 Such are also the present circumstances of Buda 
 (where we arrived very early the twenty-second), 
 once the royal seat of the Hungarian kings, whose 
 palace was reckoned one of the most beautiful
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. S?>5 
 
 buildings of the age, now wholly destroyed, no 
 part of the town having been repaired since the 
 last siege, but the fortifications and the castle, 
 which is the present residence of the Governor- 
 general Ragule, an officer of great merit. He 
 came immediately to see us, and carried us in his 
 coach to his house, where I was received by his 
 lady with all possible civility, and magnificently 
 entertained. 
 
 This city is situated upon a little hill on the south 
 side of the Danube. The castle is much higher than 
 the town, and from it the prospect is very noble. 
 Without the walls lie a vast number of little houses, 
 or rather huts, that they call the Rascian town, 
 being altogether inhabited by that people. The 
 governor assured me, it would furnish twelve thou- 
 sand fighting men. These towns look very odd ; 
 their houses stand in rows, many thousands of them 
 so close together, that they appear at a little dis- 
 tance like old-fashioned thatched tents. They 
 consist, every one of them, of one hovel above, and 
 another under ground ; these are their summer and 
 winter apartments. Buda was first taken by Soly- 
 man the Magnificent in 1526, and lost the follow- 
 ing year to Ferdinand I. King of Bohemia. Soly- 
 man regained it by the treachery of the garrison, 
 and voluntarily gave it into the hands of King John 
 of Hungary ; after whose death, his son being an 
 infant, Ferdinand laid siege to it, and the Queen 
 mother was forced to call Solyman to her aid. He
 
 336 LETTERS DURING 
 
 indeed raised the siege, but left a Turkish garrison 
 in the town, and commanded her to remove her 
 court from thence, which she was forced to submit 
 to in 1541. It resisted afterwards the sieges laid 
 to it by the Marquis of Brandenburg in the year 
 1542 ; Count Swartzenburg in 1598 ; General 
 Rosworm in 1602 ; and the Duke of Lorrain, 
 commander of the Emperor's forces, in 1684; to 
 whom it yielded in 1686, after an obstinate de- 
 fence, Apti Bassa, the governor, being killed, fight- 
 ing in the breach with a Roman bravery. The loss 
 of this town was so important, and so much re- 
 sented by the Turks, that it occasioned the depos- 
 ing of their Emperor Mahomet IV. the year fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 We did not proceed on our journey till the 
 twenty-third, when we passed through Adam and 
 Todowar, both considerable towns when in the 
 hands of the Turks, but now quite ruined. The 
 remains, however, of some Turkish towns shew 
 something of what they have been. This part of 
 the country is very much overgrown with wood, 
 and little frequented. 'Tis incredible what vast 
 numbers of wild-fowl we saw, which often live here 
 to a good old age, — and, undisturb'd by guns, in quiet 
 sleep. We came the five-and-twentieth to Mo- 
 hatch, and were shewed the field near it, where 
 Lewis, the young King of Hungary, lost his army 
 and his life, being drowned in a ditch, trying to fly 
 from Balybeus, general of Solyman the Magnifi-
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 337 
 
 cent. This battle opened the first passage for the 
 
 Turks into the heart of Hungary. 1 don't name 
 
 to you the little villages, of which I can say nothing 
 remarkable ; but I'll assure you, I have always 
 found a warm stove, and great plenty, particular- 
 ly of wild boar, venison, and all kinds of gibier. 
 The few people that inhabit Hungary live easily 
 enough ; they have no money, but the woods and 
 plains afford them provision in great abundance : 
 they were ordered to give us all things necessary, 
 even what horses we pleased to demand, gratis ; but 
 Mr. Wortley would not oppress the poor country 
 people by making use of this order, and always 
 paid them to the full worth of what he had. They 
 were so surprised at this unexpected generosity, 
 which they are very little used to, that they always 
 pressed upon us, at parting, a dozen of fat phea- 
 sants, or something of that sort, for a present. 
 Their dress is very primitive, being only a plam 
 sheep's skin, and a cap and boots of the same stuff. 
 You may easily imagine this lasts them many win- 
 ters ; and thus they have very little occasion for 
 money. 
 
 The twenty-sixth, we passed over the frozen 
 Danube, with all our equipage and carriages. We 
 met on the other side General Veterani, who in- 
 vited us, with great civility, to pass the night at 
 a little castle of his, a few miles off, assuring us 
 we should have a very hard day's journey to reach 
 Essek. This we found but too true, the woods 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 338 LETTERS DURING 
 
 beino" very dangerous, and scarcely passable, from 
 the vast quantity of wolves that hoard in them. 
 We came, however, safe, though late, to Essek, 
 where we stayed a day, to dispatch a courier with 
 letters to the Pasha of Belgrade ; and I took that 
 opportunity of seeing the town, which is not very 
 large, but fair built, and well fortified. This was 
 a town of great trade, very rich and populous, 
 when in the hands of the Turks. It is situated on 
 the Drave, which runs into the Danube. The 
 bridge was esteemed one of the most extraordinary 
 in the world, being eight thousand paces long, and 
 all built of oak. It was burnt, and the city laid in 
 ashes by Count Lesly, 1685, but was again re- 
 paired and fortified by the Turks, who, however, 
 abandoned it in 1687. General Dunnewalt then 
 took possession of it for the Emperor, in whose 
 hands it has remained ever since, and is esteemed 
 one of the bulwarks of Hungary. 
 
 The twenty-eighth, we went to Bocorwar, a very 
 large Rascian town, all built after the manner I 
 have described to you. We were met there by 
 Colonel , who would not suffer us to go any- 
 where but to his quarters, where I found his wife, 
 a very agreeable Hungarian lady, and his niece and 
 daughter, two pretty young women, crowded into 
 three or four Rascian houses cast into one, and 
 made as neat and convenient as those places are 
 capable of being made. The Hungarian ladies are
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. .S39 
 
 much handsomer than those of Austria. All the 
 Vienna beauties are of that country ; they are ge- 
 nerally very fair and well-shaped, and their dress, I 
 think, is extremely becoming. This lady was in a 
 gown of scarlet velvet, lined and faced with sables, 
 made exact to her shape, and the skirt falling to 
 her feet. The sleeves are strait to their arms, and 
 the stays buttoned before, with two rows of little 
 buttons of gold, pearl, or diamonds. On their 
 heads they wear a tassel of gold, that hangs low 
 on one side, lined with sable or some other fine 
 fur. — They gave us a handsome dinner, and 
 I thought the conversation very polite and agree- 
 able. They would accompany us part of our 
 way. 
 
 The twenty-ninth, we arrived here, where we 
 were met by the commanding officer, at the head of 
 all the officers of the garrison. We are lodged in 
 the best apartment of the governor's house, and en- 
 tertained in a very splendid manner by the Empe- 
 ror's order. We wait here till all points are adjust- 
 ed, concerning our reception on the Turkish fron- 
 tiers. Mr. Wortley's courier, which he sent from 
 Essek, returned this morning, with the pasha's an- 
 swer in a purse of scarlet satin, which the interpre- 
 ter here has translated. It is to promise him to 
 be honourably received. I desired him to appoint 
 where he would be met by the Turkish convoy. — 
 He has dispatched the courier back, naming Bet- 
 
 z 2
 
 340 LETTERS DURING 
 
 sko, a village in the midway between Peterwaradin 
 and Belgrade. We shall stay here till we receive 
 his answer. 
 
 Thus, dear sister, I have given you a very parti- 
 cular, and (I am afraid you '11 think) a tedious ac- 
 count, of this part of my travels. It was not an 
 affectation of shewing my reading, that has made 
 me tell you some little scraps of the history of the 
 towns I have passed through ; I have always avoid- 
 ed any thing of that kind, when I spoke of places 
 that I believe you knew the story of as well as my- 
 self. But Hungary being a part of the world which, 
 I believe, is quite new to you, I thought you might 
 read with some pleasure an account of it, which I 
 have been very solicitous to get from the best 
 hands. However, if you don't like it, 'tis in your 
 power to forbear reading it. I am, dear sister, 
 &c. 
 
 I am promised to have this letter carefully sent 
 to Vienna. 
 
 FROM MR. POPE. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 I NO more think I can have too many of your 
 letters, than that I could have too many writings 
 to entitle me to the greatest estate in the world ; 
 which I think so valuable a friendship as yours is 
 equal to. I am angry at every scrap of paper lost.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S embassy. 341 
 
 as at something that interrupts the history of my 
 title; and though it is but an odd compliment to 
 compare a fine lady to Sibyl, your leaves, methinks, 
 like hers, are too good to be committed to the 
 winds ; though I have no other way of receiving 
 them but by those unfaithful messengers. I have 
 had but three, and I reckon in that short one from 
 Dort, which was rather a dying ejaculation than a 
 letter. But I have so great an opinion of your 
 goodness, that had I received none, I should not 
 have accused you of neglect or insensibility. I 
 am not so wrong-headed as to quarrel with my 
 friends the minute they don't write ; I 'd as soon 
 quarrel at the sun the minute he did not shine, 
 which he is hindered from by accidental causes, and 
 is in reality all that time performing the same 
 course, and doing the same good offices as ever. 
 
 You have contrived to say in your last, the two 
 most pleasing things to me in nature ; the first is, 
 that whatever be the fate of your letters, you will 
 continue to write in the discharge of your consci- 
 ence. This is generous to the last degree, and a 
 virtue you ought to enjoy. Be assured in return, 
 my heart shall be as ready to think you have done 
 every good thing, as yours can be to do it ; so 
 that you shall never be able to favour your absent 
 friend, before he has thought himself obliged to you 
 for the very favour you are then conferring. 
 
 The other is, the justice you do me in taking 
 what I writ to you in the serious manner it was
 
 342 LETTERS DURING 
 
 meant : it is the point upon which I can bear no 
 suspicion, and in wliich, above all, I desire to be 
 thought serious : it would be the most vexatious 
 of all tyranny, if you should pretend to take for 
 raillery, what is the mere disguise of a discontented 
 heart, that is unwilling to make you as melancholy 
 as itself; and for wit, what is really only the na- 
 tural overflowing and warmth of the same heart, 
 as it is improved and awakened by an esteem for 
 you : but, since you tell me you believe me, I fancy 
 my expressions have not at least been entirely un- 
 faithful to those thoughts, to which I am sure they 
 can never be equal. May God increase your faith 
 in all truths that are as great as this ; and depend 
 upon it, to whatever degree your belief may ex- 
 tend, you can never be a bigot. 
 
 If you could see the heart I talk of, you would 
 really think it a foolish good kind of thing, with 
 some qualities as well deserving to be half laughed 
 at, and half esteemed, as any in the world : its 
 grand foible, in regard to you, is the most like rea- 
 son of any foible in nature. Upon my faith, this 
 heart is not, like a great warehouse, stored only 
 with my own goods, with vast empty spaces to be 
 supplied as fast as interest or ambition can fill them 
 up ; but it is every inch of it let out into lodgings 
 for its friends, and shall never want a corner at 
 your service ; where I dare affirm, madam, your 
 idea lies as warm and as close as any idea in 
 Christendom.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 343 
 
 If I don't take care, I shall write myself all out 
 to you ; and if this correspondence continues on 
 both sides at the free rate I would have it, we shall 
 have very little curiosity to encourage our meeting 
 at the day of judgment. I foresee that the further 
 you go from me, the more freely I shall write ; 
 and if (as I earnestly wish) you would do the same, 
 I can't guess where it will end : let us be like mo- 
 dest people, who, when they are close together, 
 keep all decorums ; but if they step a little aside, 
 or get to the other end of a room, can untie gar- 
 ters or take off shifts without scruple. 
 
 If this distance (as you are so kind as to say) 
 enlarges your belief of my friendship, I assure you 
 it has so extended my notion of your value, that 
 I begin to be impious on your account, and to 
 wish that even slaughter, ruin, and desolation, 
 might interpose between you and Turkey ; I wish 
 you restored to us at the expence of a whole peo- 
 ple : I barely hope you will forgive me for saying 
 this, but I fear God will scarce forgive me for de- 
 siring it. 
 
 Make me less wicked then. Is there no other 
 expedient to return you and your infant in peace to 
 the bosom of your country ? I hear you are going 
 to Hanover : can there be no favourable planet at 
 this conjuncture, or do you only come back so far 
 to die twice? Is Eurydice once more snatched to 
 the shades ? If ever mortal had reason to hate the 
 King, it is I ; for it is my particular misfortune to
 
 344 LETTERS DURING 
 
 be almost the only innocent man whom he has 
 
 made to suffer, both by his government at home, and 
 
 his negotiations abroad. 
 
 A. Pope 
 
 TO MR. POPE. 
 
 Belgrade, Feb. 12, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I DID verily intend to w^rite you a long letter 
 from Peterwaradin, where I expected to stay three 
 or four days ; but the pasha here was in such haste 
 to see us, that he dispatched the courier back 
 (which Mr. Wortley had sent to know the time he 
 would send the convoy to meet us) without suffer- 
 ing him to pull off his boots. 
 
 My letters were not thought important enough 
 to stop our journey ; and we left Peterwaradin the 
 next day, being waited on by the chief officers of 
 the garrison, and a considerable convoy of Germans 
 and Rascians. The Emperor has several regi- 
 ments of these people ; but, to say the truth, they 
 are rather plunderers than soldiers ; having no pay, 
 and being obliged to furnish their own arms and 
 horses ; they rather look like vagabond gypsies, or 
 stout beggars, than regular troops. 
 
 I cannot forbear speaking a word of this race of 
 creatures, who are very numerous all over Hungary. 
 They have a patriarch of their own at Grand 
 Cairo, and are really of the Greek church ; but 
 their extreme ignorance gives their priests occasion
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 345 
 
 to impose several new notions upon them. These 
 fellows, letting their hair and beard grow inviolate, 
 make exactly the figure of the Indian bramins. 
 They are heirs-general to all the money of the 
 laity ; for which, in return, they give them formal 
 passports signed and sealed for heaven ; and the 
 wives and children only inherit the house and cat- 
 tle. In most other points they follow the Greek 
 church. 
 
 This little digression has interrupted my telling 
 you we passed over the fields of Carlowitz, where 
 the last great victory was obtained by Prince Eu- 
 gene over the Turks. The marks of that glorious 
 bloody day are yet recent, the field being yet strew- 
 ed with the skulls and carcases of unburied men, 
 horses, and camels. I could not look, without hor- 
 ror, on such numbers of mangled human bodies, nor 
 without reflecting on the injustice of war, that 
 makes murder not only necessary but meritorious. 
 Nothing seems to be a plainer proof of the irra- 
 tionality of mankind (whatever fine claims we pre- 
 tend to reason) than the rage with which they con- 
 test for a small spot of ground, when such vast parts 
 of fruitful earth lie quite uninhabited. It is true, 
 custom has now made it unavoidable; but can 
 there be a greater demonstration of want of reason, 
 than a custom being firmly established, so plainly 
 contrary to the interest of man in general ? I am 
 a good deal inclined to believe Mr. Hobbes, that 
 t\ie state of nature is astute of war; but thence I
 
 346 LETTERS DURING 
 
 conclude human nature not rational, if the word 
 reason means common sense, as I suppose it does. 
 I have a great many admirable arguments to sup- 
 port this reflection ; I won't however trouble you 
 with them, but return, in a plain style, to the his- 
 tory of my travels. 
 
 We were met at Betsko (a village in the midway 
 between Belgrade and Peterwaradin) by an aga of 
 the janisaries, with a body of Turks, exceeding the 
 Germans by one hundred men, though the pasha 
 had engaged to send exactly the same number. 
 You may judge by this of their fears. I am really 
 persuaded, that they hardly thought the odds of 
 one hundred men set them even with the Germans ; 
 however, I was very uneasy till they were parted, 
 fearing some quarrel might arise, notwithstanding 
 the parole given. 
 
 We came late to Belgrade, the deep snows mak- 
 ing the ascent to it very difficult. It seems a 
 strong city, fortified on the east side by the Danube, 
 and on the south by the river Save, and was for- 
 merly the barrier of Hungary. It was first taken 
 by Solyman the Magnificent, and since by the 
 Emperor's forces, led by the Elector of Bavaria. 
 The Emperor held it only two years, it being re- 
 taken by the Grand Vizier. It is now fortified 
 with the utmost care and skill the Turks are capa- 
 ble of, and strengthened by a very numerous gar- 
 rison of their bravest janisaries, commanded by a 
 pasha seraskier (i. e. general), though this last
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 347 
 
 expression is not very just ; for, to say truth, the 
 seraskier is commanded by the janisaries. These 
 troops have an absolute authority here, and their 
 conduct carries much more the aspect of rebellion, 
 than the appearance of subordination. You may 
 judge of this by the following story, which, at the 
 same time, will give you an idea of the admirable 
 intelligence of the governor of Peterwaradin, though 
 so few hours distant. We were told by him at 
 Peterwaradin, that the garrison and inhabitants of 
 Belgrade were so weary of the war, they had killed 
 their pasha about two months ago, in a mutiny, 
 because he had suffered himself to be prevailed 
 upon, by a bribe of five purses (five hundred pounds 
 sterling), to give permission to the Tartars to ra- 
 vage the German frontiers. We were very well 
 pleased to hear of such favourable dispositions in 
 the people ; but when we came hither, we found 
 that the governor had been ill-informed, and the 
 real truth of the story to be this. The late pasha 
 fell under the displeasure of his soldiers, for no 
 other reason but restraining their incursions on 
 the Germans. They took it into their heads, from 
 that mildness, that he had intelligence with the 
 enemy, and sent such information to the Grand 
 Signior at Adrianople ; but, redress not coming 
 quick enough from thence, they assembled them- 
 selves in a tumultuous manner, and by force dragged 
 their pasha before the cadi and nmfti, and there 
 demanded justice m a mutinous way ; one crying
 
 348 LETTERS DURING 
 
 out. Why he protected the infidels ? Another, Why 
 he squeezed them of their money ? The pasha 
 easily guessing their purpose, calmly replied to 
 them, that they asked him too many questions, and 
 that he had but one life, which must answer for all. 
 They then immediately fell upon him with their 
 scimitars (without waiting the sentence of their 
 heads of the law), and in a few moments cut him 
 in pieces. The present pasha has not dared to 
 punish the murder ; on the contrary, he affected 
 to applaud the actors of it, as brave fellows, that 
 knew to do themselves justice. He takes all pre- 
 tences of throwing money among the garrison, and 
 suffers them to make little excursions into Hungary, 
 where they burn some poor Rascian houses. 
 
 You may imagine, I cannot be very easy in a 
 town which is really under the government of an 
 insolent soldiery. — We expected to be immediately 
 dismissed, after a night's lodging here ; but the 
 pasha detains us till he receives orders from Adria- 
 nople, which may possibly be a month a-coming. 
 In the mean time, we are lodged in one of the 
 best houses, belonging to a very considerable man 
 amongst them, and have a whole chamber of jani- 
 saries to guard us. My only diversion is the con- 
 versation of our host, Achmet Bey, a title some- 
 thing like that of count in Germany. His father 
 was a great pasha, and he has been educated in the 
 most polite eastern learning, being perfectly skilled 
 in the Arabic and Persian languages, and an ex-
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 349 
 
 traordinary scribe, which they call effendi. This 
 accomplishment makes way to the greatest prefer- 
 ments ; 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 liberty of conversing 
 with me. He has explained to me many pieces of 
 Arabian poetry, which, I observe, are in numbers 
 not unlike ours, generally of an 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 be- 
 lieved I understood Persian. I have frequent dis- 
 putes with him concerning the difference of our 
 customs, particularly the confinement 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 
 
 * The Persian tales appeared first in Europe as a translation, 
 by Monsieur Petit de la Croix ; and what are called " The 
 Arabian Nights," in a similar manner, by Monsieur Galland. 
 The Tales of the Genii, said in the title-page to have been 
 translated by Sir Charles Morell, were, in fact, entirely com- 
 posed by James Ridley, esq.
 
 350 LETTERS DURING 
 
 is more polite than many Christian men of quality. 
 I 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. 
 
 But these amusements do not hinder my wish- 
 ing heartily to be out of this place ; though the 
 weather is colder than I believe it ever was 
 any-where but in Greenland. We have a very 
 large stove constantly kept hot, and yet the win- 
 dows of the room are frozen on the inside. — God 
 knows when I may have an opportunity of sending 
 this letter : but I have written it for the discharge 
 of my own conscience ; and you cannot now re- 
 proach me, that one of yours makes ten of mine. 
 Adieu. 
 
 TO HER R. H. THE PRINCESS OF WALES.* 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 I HAVE now, madam, finished a journey that has 
 not been undertaken by any Christian since the time 
 of the Greek emperors : and I shall not regret all the 
 fatigues I have suffered in it, if it gives me an oppor- 
 tunity of amusing your royal highness by an ac- 
 count of places utterly unknown amongst us ; the 
 Emperor's ambassadors, and those few English that 
 have come hither, always going on the Danube to 
 Nicopolis. But the river was now frozen, and Mr. 
 
 * Afterwards Queen Caroline, wife of George II.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 351 
 
 Wortley was so zealous for the service of his Ma- 
 jesty, that he would not defer his journey to wait 
 for the conveniency of that passage. 
 
 We crossed the deserts of Servia, almost quite 
 overgrown with wood, through a country naturally 
 fertile. The inhabitants are industrious ; but the 
 oppression of the peasants is so great, they are 
 forced to abandon their houses, and neglect their 
 tillage, all they have being a prey to the janissaries, 
 whenever they please to seize upon it. We had a 
 guard of five hundred of them, and I was almost in 
 tears every day to see their insolencies in the poor 
 villages through which we passed. 
 
 After seven days' travelling through thick woods, 
 we came to Nissa, once the capital of Servia, situ- 
 ated in a fine plain on the river Nissava, in a very 
 good air, and so fruitful a soil, that the great plenty 
 is hardly credible. I was certainly assured, that 
 the quantity of wine last vintage was so prodigious, 
 that they were forced to dig holes in the earth to 
 put it in, not having vessels enough in the town 
 to hold it. The happiness of this plenty is scarcely 
 perceived by the oppressed people. I saw here a 
 new occasion for my compassion. The wretches 
 that had provided twenty waggons for our baggage 
 from Belgrade hither for a certain hire, being all 
 sent back without payment, some of their horses 
 lamed, and others killed, without any satisfaction 
 made for them. The poor fellows came round the 
 house weeping and tearing their hair and beards in
 
 352 LETTERS DURING 
 
 a most pitiful manner, without getting any thing 
 but drubs from the insolent soldiers. I cannot 
 express to your royal highness how much I was 
 moved at this scene. I would have paid them the 
 money out of my own pocket, with all my heart ; 
 but it would only have been giving so much to the 
 aga, who would have taken it from them without 
 any remorse. 
 
 After four days' journey from this place over 
 the mountains, we came to Sophia, situated in a 
 large beautiful plain on the river Isca, and sur- 
 rounded with distant mountains. It is hardly pos- 
 sible to see a more agreeable landscape. The city 
 itself is very large, and extremely populous. Here 
 are hot baths, very famous for their medicinal vir- 
 tues. — Four days' journey from hence we arrived 
 at Philippopolis, after having passed the ridges 
 between the mountains of Hasmus and Rhodope, 
 which are always covered with snow. This town is 
 situated on a rising ground near the river Hebrus, 
 and is almost wholly inhabited by Greeks : here are 
 still some ancient Christian churches. They have 
 a bishop ; and several of the richest Greeks live 
 here ; but they are forced to conceal their wealth 
 with great care, the appearance of poverty (which 
 includes part of its inconveniences) being all their 
 security against feeling it in earnest. The country 
 from hence to Adrianople is the finest in the 
 world. Vines grow wild on all the hills ; and the 
 perpetual spring they enjoy makes every thing gay
 
 MR. WORTLEYS EMBASSY. 353 
 
 and flourishing. But this climate, happy as it 
 seems, can never be preferred to England, with all 
 its frosts and snows, 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 their master. 
 
 This theme would carry me very far, and I am 
 sensible I have already tired out your royal high- 
 ness's patience. But my letter is in your hands, 
 and you may make it as short as you please, by 
 throwing it into the fire, when weary of reading it. 
 
 I am, madam. 
 With the greatest respect, &c. 
 
 TO THE LADY RICH. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I AM now got into a new world, where every 
 thing I see appears to me a change of scene ; and 
 I write to your ladyship with some content of mind, 
 hoping, at least, that you will find the charms of 
 novelty in my letters, and no longer reproach me, 
 that I tell you nothing extraordinary. 
 
 I won't trouble you with a relation of our tedious 
 journey ; but 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 
 
 VOL. I. 2 a
 
 354 LETTERS DURING 
 
 stopped here one day on purpose to see them ; 
 and, designing to go incognito, 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 trouble- 
 some. They are made a good deal in the manner 
 of the Dutch stage-coaches, having wooden lattices 
 painted and gilded ; the inside being also painted 
 with baskets and nosegays of flowers, intermixed 
 commonly with little poetical mottos. 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 thus per- 
 mits the ladies to 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 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 
 are two raised sofas of marble, one above another. 
 There were four fountains of cold water in this
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 355 
 
 room, falling first into marble basons, 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 sul- 
 phur 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 turning into it, to 
 temper it to what degree of warmth the bathers 
 pleased to have. 
 
 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 that shewed 
 the least surprise or impertinent curiosity, but re- 
 ceived 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 
 such a stranger. I believe, upon the whole, there 
 were two hundred women, and yet none of those 
 disdainful smiles, and satirical whispers, that never 
 fail in our assemblies when any body appears that 
 is not dressed exactly in the fashion. They re- 
 peated over and over to me ; " Guzel, pek guzel," 
 which is nothing but Charming, very charming. — 
 The first sofas were covered with cushions and rich 
 carpets, on which sat the ladies ; and on the se- 
 cond, their slaves behind them, but without any 
 distinction of rank by their dress, all being in the 
 state of nature, that is, in plain English, stark 
 
 2 A 2
 
 356 LETTERS DURING 
 
 naked, without any beauty or defect concealed. 
 Yet there was not the least wanton smile or immo- 
 dest gesture amongst them. They walked and 
 moved with the same majestic grace which Milton 
 describes our general mother with. There were 
 many amongst them as exactly proportioned as 
 ever any goddess was drawn by the pencil of a 
 Guido or Titian, — and most of their skins shining- 
 ly white, only adorned by their beautiful hair di- 
 vided into many tresses, hanging on their shoul- 
 ders, braided either with pearl or ribbon, perfectly 
 representing the figures of the Graces. 
 
 I was here convinced of the truth of a reflection 
 I have often made. That if it were the fashion to go 
 naked, the face would be hardly observed. I per- 
 ceived that the ladies of the most delicate skins 
 and finest shapes had the greatest share of my ad- 
 miration, though their faces were sometimes less 
 beautiful than those of their companions. To tell 
 you the truth, I had wickedness enough to wish 
 secretly that Mr. Jervas* could have been there 
 invisible. I fancy it would have very much im- 
 proved his art, to see so many fine women naked, 
 in different postures, some in conversation, some 
 working, others drinking coffee or sherbet, and 
 
 * Charles Jervas was a pupil of Sir Godfrey Kneller. He 
 was the friend of Pope, and much celebrated for his portraits of 
 females. The beauties of his day were proud to be painted 
 by his hand, after Pope had published his celebrated epistle to 
 him, in which he is complimented as " selling a thousand years 
 of bloom."
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 357 
 
 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 town is told, 
 scandal invented, &c. — They generally take this 
 diversion once a-week, and stay there at least four 
 or five hours, without getting cold by immediately 
 coming out of the hot bath into the cold room, which 
 was very surprising to me. The lady that seemed 
 the most considerable among them, entreated me 
 to sit by her, and would fain have undressed me 
 for the bath. I excused myself with some diffi- 
 culty. They being, however, all so earnest in per- 
 suading me, I was at last forced to open my shirt, 
 and shew them my stays ; which satisfied them 
 very well ; for, I saw, they believed I was locked 
 up in that machine, and that it was not in my 
 own power to open it, which contrivance they 
 attributed to my husband.— I was charmed with 
 their civility and beauty, and should have been 
 very glad to pass more time with them ; but Mr. 
 Wortley resolving to pursue his journey next 
 morning early, I was in haste to see the ruins of 
 Justinian's church, which did not afford me so 
 agreeable a prospect as I had left, being little 
 more than a heap of stones. 
 
 Adieu, madam : I am sure I have now enter- 
 tained you with an account of such a sight as you 
 never saw in your life, and what no book of travels
 
 358 LETTERS DURING 
 
 could inform you of, as it is no less than death for 
 a man to be found in one of these places.* 
 
 TO THE ABBOT 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 You see that I am very exact in keeping the 
 promise you engaged me to make. I know not, 
 however, whether your curiosity will be satisfied 
 with the accounts I shall give you, though I can 
 assure you, the desire I have to oblige you to the 
 
 * Dr. Russel, an author of great credit, in his History of 
 Aleppo, questions the truth of the account here given by Lady 
 Mary Wortley, affirming that the native ladies of that city, 
 with whom, as their physician, he had permission to converse 
 through a lattice, denied to him the prevalence, and almost 
 the existence of the custom she describes, and even seemed 
 as much scandalized at hearing of it, as if they had been born 
 and bred in England. The writer of this note confesses to hav- 
 ing entertained doubts upon this point, arising from the state- 
 ment of Dr. Russel ; but these doubts were removed by the tes- 
 timony of a lady, who travelled some years ago in Turkey, and 
 was several months an inmate of the English ambassador's 
 house at Pera, whose veracity no one who knew her, could 
 doubt, and whose word would have been taken, before the 
 oaths of a whole haram. That lady, having been prevented, by 
 circumstances, from visiting the baths at Constantinople, had an 
 opportunity of doing so at Athens, and there she found Lady 
 Mary's account strictly correct in the main points, although 
 the sight did not inspire her with the same degree of admira- 
 tion. To use a trite metaphor, she found Lady Mary's outline 
 faithful, but her colouring too vivid. It may therefore be 
 fairly presumed that the Aleppo ladies, perceiving the Doctor's 
 opinion of the custom, thought fit to disclaim it, or that it 
 really did not prevail in that particular city, and their know- 
 ledge went no further.
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 359 
 
 utmost of my power, has made me very diligent in 
 my enquiries and observations. It is certain we 
 have but very imperfect accounts of the manners 
 and religion of these people ; this part of the world 
 being seldom visited but by merchants, who mind 
 little but their own affairs, or travellers, who make 
 too short a stay to be able to report any thing 
 exactly of their own knowledge. The Turks are too 
 proud to converse familiarly with merchants ; who 
 can only pick up some confused informations, which 
 are generally false ; and can give no better account 
 of the ways here, than a French refugee, lodging 
 in a garret in Greek-street, could write of the court 
 of England. 
 
 The journey we have made from Belgrade hi- 
 ther, cannot possibly be passed by any out of a 
 public character. The desert woods of Servia are 
 the common refuge of thieves, who rob fifty in a 
 company, so that we had need of all our guards to 
 secure us ; and the villages are so poor, that only 
 force could extort from them necessary provisions. 
 Indeed the janisaries had no mercy on their po- 
 verty, killing all the poultry and sheep they could 
 find, without asking to whom they belonged ; while 
 the wretched owners durst not put in their claim, 
 for fear of being beaten. Lambs just fallen, geese 
 and turkies big with egg, all massacred without dis- 
 tinction ! I fancied I heard the complaints of Me- 
 libeus for the hope of his flock. When the pashas 
 travel, it is yet worse. These oppressors are not 
 content with eating all that is to be eaten belong-
 
 360 LETTERS DUJllNG 
 
 ing to the peasants ; after they have crammed 
 themselves and their numerous retinue, they have 
 the impudence to exact what they call teeth-money 
 a contribution for the use of their teeth, worn with 
 doing them the honour of devouring their meat. 
 This is literally and exactly true, however extrava- 
 gant it may seem ; and such is the natural corrup- 
 tion of a military government, their religion not 
 allowing of this barbarity any more than ours does. 
 I had the advantage of lodging three weeks at 
 Belgrade, with a principal effendi, that is to say, a 
 scholar. This set of men are equally capable of 
 preferments in the law or the church, these two 
 sciences being cast into one, and a lawyer and a 
 priest being the same word in the Turkish lan- 
 guage. They are the only men really considerable 
 in the empire ; all the profitable employments and 
 church revenues are in their hands. The Grand- 
 Signior, though general heir to his people, never 
 presumes to touch their lands or money, which go, 
 in an uninterrupted succession, to their children. 
 It is true, they lose this privilege by accepting a 
 place at court, or the title of pasha ; but there are 
 few examples of such fools among them. You may 
 easily judge of the power of these men, who have 
 engrossed all the learning, and almost all the wealth, 
 of the empire. They are the real authors, though 
 the soldiers are the actors, of revolutions. They 
 deposed the late Sultan Mustapha ; and their 
 power is so well known, that it is the Emperor's in- 
 terest to flatter them.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 361 
 
 This is a long digression. I was going to tell 
 you that an intimate daily conversation with the 
 effendi Achmet-Bey gave me an opportunity of 
 knowing their religion and morals in a more par- 
 ticular manner than perhaps any Christian ever did. 
 I explained to him the difference between the reli- 
 gion of England and Rome; and he was pleased 
 to hear there were Christians that did not worship 
 images, or adore the Virgin Mary. The ridicule 
 of transubstantiation appeared very strong to him. 
 — — Upon comparing our creeds together, I am 
 
 convinced that if our friend Dr. had free 
 
 liberty of preaching here, it would be very easy to 
 persuade the generality to Christianity, whose no- 
 tions are very little different from his. Mr. Whis- 
 ton would make a very good apostle here. I don't 
 doubt but his zeal will be much fired, if you com- 
 municate this account to him ; but tell him, he 
 must first have the gift of tongues, before he can 
 possibly be of any use. 
 
 Mahometism is divided into as many sects as 
 Christianity ; and the first institution as much 
 neglected and obscured by interpretations. I can- 
 not here forbear reflecting on the natural inclina- 
 tion of mankind to make mysteries and novelties. 
 
 The Zeidi, Kudi, Jabari, &c. put me in mind of 
 
 the Catholics, Lutherans, and Calvinists, and are 
 equally zealous against one another. But the most 
 prevailing opinion, if you search into the secret of 
 the effendis, is plain deism. This is indeed kept 
 from the people, who are amused with a thousand
 
 362 LETTERS DURING 
 
 different notions, according to the different interest 
 of their preachers. — There are very few amongst 
 them (Achmet-Eey denied there were any) so ab- 
 surd, as to set up for wits by declaring they believe 
 no God at all. And Sir Paul Rycaut is mistaken 
 (as he commonly is) in calling the sect muterin* 
 (i. e. the secret with us) atheists, they being deists, 
 whose impiety consists in making a jest of their 
 prophet, Achmet-Bey did not own to me that he 
 was of this opinion ; but made no scruple of de- 
 viating from some part of Mahomet's law, by drink- 
 ing wine with the same freedom we did. When 
 I asked him how he came to allow himself that 
 liberty ? he made answer, that all the creatures of 
 God are good, and designed for the use of man ; 
 however, that the prohibition of wine was a very wise 
 maxim, and meant for the common people, being 
 the source of all disorders among them ; but that 
 the prophet never designed to confine those that 
 knew how to use it with moderation : nevertheless, 
 he said that scandal ought to be avoided, and that 
 he never drank it in public. This is the general 
 way of thinking among them, and very few forbear 
 drinking wine that are able to afford it. He as- 
 sured me, that if I understood Arabic, I should be 
 very well pleased with reading the Alcoran, which 
 is so far from the nonsense we charge it with, that 
 
 * See D'Ohsson, Tableau General de I'Empire Othoman, 5 
 vols. 8vo. 1791, in which the religious code of the Moham- 
 medans, and of each sect, is very satisfactorily detailed.
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 363 
 
 it is the purest morality, delivered in the very best 
 language. I have since heard impartial Christians 
 speak of it in the same manner ; and I don't doubt 
 but that all our translations are from copies got 
 from the Greek priests, who would not fail to 
 falsify it with the extremity of malice. No body 
 of men ever were more ignorant, or more corrupt : 
 yet they differ so little from the Romish church, that, 
 I confess, nothing gives me a greater abhorrence 
 of the cruelty of your clergy, than the barbarous 
 persecution of them, whenever they have been their 
 masters, for no other reason than their not acknow- 
 ledging the pope. The dissenting in that one article 
 has got them the titles of heretics and schismatics ; 
 and, what is worse, the same treatment. I found 
 at Philippopolis a sect of Christians that call them- 
 selves Paulines. They shew an old church, where, 
 they say, St. Paul preached ; and he is their favourite 
 saint, after the same manner that St. Peter is at 
 Rome ; neither do they forget to give him the 
 same preference over the rest of the apostles. 
 
 But of all the religions I have seen, that of the 
 Arnaouts seems to me the most particular. They 
 are natives of Arnaoutlich, the ancient Macedonia, 
 and still retain the courage and hardiness, though 
 they have lost the name, of Macedonians, being the 
 best militia in the Turkish empire, and the only 
 check upon the janisaries. They are foot soldiers; 
 we had a guard of them, relieved in every con- 
 siderable town we passed : they are all clothed and
 
 364 LETTERS DURING 
 
 armed at tlieir own expence, dressed in clean white 
 coarse cloth, carrying guns of a prodigious length, 
 which they run with upon their shoulders as if they 
 did not feel the weight of them, the leader singing 
 a sort of rude tune, not unpleasant, and the rest 
 making up the chorus. These people, living be- 
 tween Christians and Mahometans, and not being 
 skilled in controversy, declare that they are utterly 
 unable to judge which religion is best; but, to be 
 certain of not entirely rejecting the truth, they 
 very prudently follow both. They go to the 
 mosques on Fridays, and to the church on Sundays, 
 saying for their excuse, that at the day of judgment 
 they are sure of protection from the true prophet ; 
 but which that is, they are not able to determine in 
 this world, I believe there is no other race of man- 
 kind, who have so modest an opinion of their own 
 capacity. 
 
 These are the remarks I have made on the diver- 
 sity of religions I have seen. I don't ask your par- 
 don for the liberty I have taken in speaking of the 
 Roman. I know you equally condemn the quackery 
 of all churches, as much as you revere the sacred 
 truths, in which we both agree. 
 
 You will expect I should say something to you 
 of the antiquities of this country ; but there are 
 few remains of ancient Greece. We passed near 
 the piece of an arch, which is commonly called 
 Trajan's Gate, from a supposition that he made 
 it to shut up the passage over the mountains be-
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 365 
 
 tween Sophia and Philippopolis. But I rather 
 believe it the remains of some triumphal arch 
 (though I could not see any inscription) ; for, if 
 that passage had been shut up, there are many 
 others that would serve for the march of an army ; 
 and, notwithstanding the story of Baldwin Earl of 
 Flanders being overthrown in these straits, after 
 he won Constantinople, I don't fancy the Germans 
 would find themselves stopped by them at this day. 
 It is true, the road is now made (with great indus- 
 try) as commodious as possible, for the march of 
 the Turkish army ; there is not one ditch or puddle 
 between this place and Belgrade that has not a 
 large strong bridge of planks built over it; but the 
 precipices are not so terrible as I had heard them 
 represented. At these mountains we lay at the 
 little village Kiskoi, wholly inhabited by Christians, 
 as all the peasants of Bulgaria are. Their houses 
 are nothing but little huts, raised of dirt baked 
 in the sun ; and they leave them, and fly into the 
 mountains, some months before the march of the 
 Turkish army, who would else entirely ruin them, 
 by driving away their whole flocks. This precau- 
 tion secures them in a sort of plenty ; for, such vast 
 tracts of land lying in common, they have the 
 liberty of sowing what they please, and are gene- 
 rally very industrious husbandmen. I drank here 
 several sorts of delicious wine. The women dress 
 themselves in a great variety of coloured glass 
 beads, and are not ugly, but of a tawny complexion.
 
 366 LETTERS DURING 
 
 I have now told you all that is worth telling you, 
 and perhaps more, relating to my journey. When 
 I am at Constantinople, I'll try to pick up some 
 curiosities, and then you shall hear again from 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 As I never can forget the smallest of your lady- 
 ship's commands, my first business here has been to 
 enquire after the stuffs you ordered me to look for, 
 without being able to find what you would like. 
 The difference of the dress here and at London is 
 so great, the same sort of things are not proper for 
 caftans and manteaus. However, I will not give 
 over my search, but renew it again at Constantino- 
 ple, though I have reason to believe there is nothing 
 finer than what is to be found here, as this place is 
 at present the residence of the court. The Grand- 
 Signior's eldest daughter was married some few 
 days before I came hither ; and, upon that occasion, 
 the Turkish ladies display all their magnificence. 
 The bride was conducted to her husband's house in 
 very great splendor. She is widow of the late 
 Vizier, who was killed at Peterwaradin, though that 
 ought rather to be called a contract than a mar- 
 riage, since she never has lived with him ; however, 
 the greatest part of his wealth is hers. He had the
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 367 
 
 permission of visiting her in the seraglio ; and, be- 
 ing one of the handsomest men in the empire, had 
 very much engaged her affections. — When she saw^ 
 this second husband, who is at least fifty, she 
 could not forbear bursting into tears. He is in- 
 deed a man of merit, and the declared favourite of 
 the Sultan (which they call mosdyp), but that is not 
 enough to make him pleasing in the eyes of a girl 
 of thirteen. 
 
 The government here is entirely in the hands 
 of the army : the Grand-Signior, with all his abso- 
 lute power, is as much a slave as any of his sub- 
 jects, and trembles at a janisary's frown. Here 
 is, indeed, a much greater appearance of sub- 
 jection than among us : a minister of state is not 
 spoken to, but upon the knee ; should a reflection 
 on his conduct he dropped in a coffee-house (for 
 they have spies everywhere), the house would be 
 rased to the ground, and perhaps the whole com- 
 pany put to the torture. No huzzaing mobs, sense- 
 less pamphlets, and tavern disputes about politics ; 
 
 A consequential ill that freedom draws; 
 A bad effect, — but from a noble cause. 
 
 None of our harmless calling names ! but when a 
 minister here displeases the people, in three hours' 
 time he is dragged even from his master's arms. 
 They cut ofP hands, head, and feet, and throw them 
 before the palace gate, with all the respect in the 
 world ; while the Sultan (to whom they all profess 
 an unlimited adoration) sits trembling in his apart-
 
 368 LETTERS DURING 
 
 ment, and dare neither defend nor revenge his fa- 
 vourite. This is the blessed condition of the most 
 absolute monarch upon earth, who ov^'ns no law but 
 his luilL 
 
 I cannot help wishing, in the loyalty of my heart, 
 that the parliament would send hither a ship-load 
 of your passive-obedient men, that they might see 
 arbitrary government in its clearest and strongest 
 light, where it is hard to judge whether the prince, 
 people, or ministers, are most miserable. I could 
 make many reflections on this subject; but I know, 
 madam, your own good sense has already furnished 
 you with better than I am capable of. 
 
 I went yesterday along with the French embas- 
 sadress to see the Grand-Signior* in his passage to 
 the mosque. He was preceded by a numerous 
 guard of janisaries, with vast white feathers on 
 their heads, as also by the spahis and bostangees 
 (these are foot and horse guards), and the royal 
 gardeners, which are a very considerable body of 
 men, dressed in different habits of fine lively co- 
 lours, so that, at a distance, they appeared like a 
 parterre of tulips. After them the aga of the ja- 
 nisaries, in a robe of purple velvet, lined with sil- 
 ver tissue, his horse led by two slaves richly dressed. 
 Next him the kyzldr-aga (your ladyship knows this 
 
 * Achmet III. who reigned from 1703 to 1730, recovered the 
 Morea from the Venetians, but lost Belgrade, Peterwaradin, 
 and Temesvar, to the Imperialists. He preferred his palace at 
 Adrianople to the Ottoman Porte, which lost him the favour of 
 the janisaries.
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 369 
 
 is the chief guardian of the seraglio ladies) in a deep 
 yellow cloth (which suited very well to his black 
 face) lined with sables. Last came his sublimity 
 himself, arrayed in green lined with the fur of a 
 black Moscovite fox, which is supposed worth a 
 thousand pounds sterling, and mounted on a fine 
 horse, with furniture embroidered with jewels. Six 
 more horses richly caparisoned 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. 
 
 It would be too tedious to tell your ladyship the 
 various dresses and turbants by which their rank 
 is distinguished ; but they were all extremely rich 
 and gay, to the number of some thousands ; so that, 
 perhaps, there cannot be seen a more beautiful pro- 
 cession. The Sultan appeared to us a handsome 
 man of about forty, with something, however, se- 
 vere in his countenance, and his eyes very full and 
 black. He happened 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 full leisure to consider him. The French em- 
 bassadress agreed with me as to his good mien : I 
 see that lady very often ; she is young, and her con- 
 versation would be a great relief to me, if I could 
 persuade her to live without those forms and cere- 
 monies that make life so formal and tiresome. But 
 she is so delighted with her guards, her four-and- 
 VOL. I. 2 b
 
 370 LETTERS DURING 
 
 twenty footmen, gentlemen ushers, &c. that she 
 would rather die than make me a visit without 
 them ; not to reckon a coachful of attending dam- 
 sels yclep'd maids of honour. What vexes me is, 
 that as long as she will visit me 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 attendants, preceded by our guards, who might 
 have summoned the people to see what they had 
 never seen, nor ever perhaps would see again — two 
 young Christian embassadresses at the same time. 
 Your ladyship may easily imagine we drew a vast 
 crowd of spectators, but all silent as death. If any 
 of them had taken the liberties of our mobs upon 
 any strange sight, our janisaries had made no scru- 
 ple of falling on them with their scimitars, without 
 danger for so doing, being above law. 
 
 These people however (I mean the janisaries) 
 have some good qualities ; they are very zealous 
 and faithful where they serve, and look upon it as 
 their business to fight for you on all occasions. Of 
 this I had a very pleasant instance in a village on 
 this side Philippopolis, where we were met by our 
 domestic guards. I happened to bespeak pigeons 
 for supper, upon which one of my janisaries 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
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 371 
 
 about, but could get none. My janisary, in the 
 height of his zeal for my service, immediately locked 
 him up prisoner in his room, telling him he de- 
 served 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. 
 Accordingly, he 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. This inviolable league makes them 
 so powerful, that the greatest man at court never 
 speaks to them but in a flattering tone ; and in 
 Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himself 
 a janisary, to secure his estate. 
 
 But I have already said enough ; and I dare 
 swear, dear madam, that, by this time, 'tis a very 
 comfortable reflection to you, that there is no pos- 
 sibility of your receiving such a tedious letter but 
 once in six months; 'tis that consideration has 
 given me the assurance of entertaining you so long, 
 and will, I hope, plead the excuse of, dear madam. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 See
 
 r}72 LETTERS DURING 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I WISH to God, dear sister, that you were as re- 
 gular in letting me know what passes on your side 
 of the globe, as I am careful in endeavouring to 
 amuse you by the account of all I see here that I 
 think worth your notice. You content yourself 
 with telling me over and over, that the town is 
 very dull : it may possibly be dull to you, when 
 every day does not present you with something 
 new ; but for me that am in arrears at least two 
 months' news, all that seems very stale with you 
 would be very fresh and sweet here. Pray let me 
 into more particulars, and I will try to awaken 
 your gratitude, by giving you a full and true rela- 
 tion of the novelties of this place, none of which 
 would surprise you more than a sight of my person, 
 as I am now in my Turkish habit, though I believe 
 you would be of my opinion, that 'tis admirably 
 becoming. — I intend to send you my picture ; in 
 the mean time accept of it here. 
 
 The first part of my dress is a pair of drawers, 
 very full, that reach to my shoes, and conceal the 
 legs more modestly than your petticoats. They 
 are of a thin rose-coloured damask, brocaded with 
 silver flowers. My shoes are of white kid leather, 
 embroidered with gold. Over this hangs my smock, 
 of a fine white silk gauze, edged with embroidery.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 373 
 
 This smock has wide sleeves, hanging half way 
 down the arm, and is closed at the neck with a 
 diamond button ; but the shape and colour of the 
 bosom are very well to be distinguished through it. 
 The antery is a waistcoat, made close to the shape, 
 of white and gold damask, with very long sleeves 
 falling back, and fringed with deep gold fringe, and 
 should have diamond or pearl buttons. My caftan^ 
 of the same stuff with my drawers, is a robe exactly 
 fitted to my shape, and reaching to my feet, with 
 very long strait falling sleeves. Over this is my 
 girdle, of about four fingers broad, which all that 
 can afford it have entirely of diamonds or other 
 precious stones ; those who will not be at that ex- 
 pence, have it of exquisite embroidery on satin ; 
 but it must be fastened before with a clasp of dia- 
 monds. The curdee is a loose robe they throw off 
 or put on according to the weather, being of a rich 
 brocade (mine is green and gold), either lined 
 with ermine or sables ; the sleeves reach very 
 little below the shoulders. The head-dress is com- 
 posed of a cap, called talpock, which is in winter of 
 fine velvet embroidered with pearls or diamonds, 
 and in summer of a light shining silver stuff. This 
 is fixed on one side of the head, hanging a little 
 way down with a gold tassel, and bound on, either 
 with a circle of diamonds (as I have seen several) 
 or a rich embroidered handkerchief. On the other 
 side of the head, the hair is laid flat ; and here the 
 ladies are at liberty to shew their fancies ; some
 
 374 LETTERS DURING 
 
 putting flowers, others a plume of heron's feathers, 
 and, in short, what they please ; but the most 
 general fashion is a large bouquet of jewels, made 
 like natural flowers ; that is, the buds, of pearl ; 
 the roses, of different coloured rubies ; the jessa- 
 mines, of diamonds ; the jonquils, of topazes, &c. 
 so well set and enamelled, 'tis hard to imagine any 
 thing of that kind so beautiful. The hair hangs 
 at its full length behind, divided into tresses braid- 
 ed with pearl or ribbon, which is always in great 
 quantity. 
 
 I never saw in my life so many fine heads of hair. 
 In one lady's, I have counted a hundred and ten 
 of the tresses, all natural ; but it must be owned, 
 that every kind of beauty is more common here 
 than with us. 'Tis surprising to see a young wo- 
 man that is not very handsome. They have natu- 
 rally the most beautiful complexion in the world, 
 and generally large black eyes. I can assure you 
 with great truth, that the court of England (though 
 I believe it the fairest in Christendom) does not 
 contain so many beauties as are under our protec- 
 tion here. They generally shape their eye-brows; 
 and both Greeks and Turks have the custom of 
 putting round their eyes a black tincture, that, 
 at a distance, or by candle-light, adds very much to 
 the blackness of them. I fancy many of our ladies 
 would be overjoyed to know this secret ; but 'tis 
 too visible by day. They dye their nails a rose-
 
 MR. woktley's embassy. 375 
 
 colour ; but, I own, I cannot enough accustom my- 
 self to this fashion to find any beauty in it. 
 
 As to their morality or good conduct, I can say, 
 like Harlequin, that 'tis just as it is with you ; and 
 the Turkish ladies don't commit one sin the less 
 for not being Christians. Now that I am a little 
 acquainted with their ways, I cannot forbear ad- 
 miring, either the exemplary discretion or extreme 
 stupidity of all the writers that have given accounts 
 of them. 'Tis very easy to see, they have in reality 
 more liberty than we have. No woman, of what 
 rank soever, is permitted to go into the streets 
 without two murlins ; one that covers her face all 
 but her eyes, and another that hides the whole 
 dress of her head, and hangs half way down her 
 back. Their shapes are also wholly concealed, by 
 a thing they call aferigee, which no woman of any 
 sort appears without ; this has strait sleeves, that 
 reach to their finger-ends, and it laps all round 
 them, not unlike a riding-hood. In winter 'tis of 
 cloth, and in summer of plain stuff or silk. You 
 may guess then how effectually this disguises them, 
 so that there is no distinguishing the great lady 
 from her slave. 'Tis impossible for the most jea- 
 lous husband to know his wife when he meets her ; 
 and no man dare touch or follow a woman in the 
 street. 
 
 This perpetual masquerade gives them entire 
 liberty of following their inclinations without dan-
 
 376 LE'lTEUS DURING 
 
 ger of discovery. The most usual method of in- 
 trigue is, to send an appointment to the lover to 
 meet the lady at a Jew's shop, which are as noto- 
 riously convenient as our Indian-houses ; and yet 
 even those who don't make use of them, do not 
 scruple to go to buy pennyw^orths, and tumble over 
 rich goods, which are chiefly to be found amongst 
 that sort of people. The great ladies seldom let 
 their gallants know who they are ; and 'tis so diffi- 
 cult to find it out, that they can very seldom guess 
 at her name, whom they have corresponded with 
 for above half a year together. You may easily 
 imagine the number of faithful wives very small in 
 a country where they have nothing to fear from a 
 lover's indiscretion, since we see so many have the 
 courage to expose themselves to that in this world, 
 and all the threatened punishment of the next, 
 which is never preached to the Turkish damsels. 
 Neither have they much to apprehend from the 
 resentment of their husbands ; those ladies that are 
 rich having all their money in their own hands. 
 
 Upon the whole, I look upon the Turkish women 
 as the only free people in the empire : the very 
 divan pays respect to them ; and the Grand-Signior 
 himself, when a pasha is executed, never violates 
 the privileges of the harem (or women's apartment), 
 which remains unsearched and entire to the widow. 
 They are queens of their slaves, whom the husband 
 has no permission so much as to look upon, except 
 it be an old woman or two that his lady chooses.
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 377 
 
 'Tis true, their law permits them four wives ; but 
 there is no instance of a man of quality that makes 
 use of this liberty, or of a woman of rank that would 
 suffer it. When a husband happens to be incon- 
 stant (as those things will happen), he keeps his 
 mistress in a house apart, and visits her as privately 
 as he can, just as it is with you. Amongst all the 
 great men here, I only know the tefterdar {i. e. 
 treasurer) that keeps a number of she slaves for his 
 own use (that is, on his own side of the house ; for 
 a slave once given to serve a lady is entirely at her 
 disposal), and he is spoken of as a libertine, or what 
 we should call a rake, and his wife won't see him, 
 though she continues to live in his house. 
 
 Thus you see, dear sister, the manners of man- 
 kind do not differ so widely as our voyage-writers 
 would make us believe. Perhaps it would be more 
 entertaining to add a few surprising customs of my 
 own invention ; but nothing seems to me so agree- 
 able as truth, and I believe nothing so acceptable 
 to you. I conclude therefore with repeating the 
 great truth of my being. Dear sister, &c. 
 
 FROM MR. POPE. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 If to live in the memory of others have any thing 
 desirable in it, 'tis what you possess with regard to 
 me, in the highest sense of the words. There is
 
 378 LETTERS DURING 
 
 not a day in which your figure does not appear be- 
 fore me ; your conversations return to my thoughts, 
 and every scene, place, or occasion, where I have 
 enjoyed them, are as livelily painted, as an imagi- 
 nation equally warm and tender can be capable to 
 represent them. Yet how little accrues to you 
 from all this, when not only my wishes, but the 
 very expressions of them, can hardly ever arrive to 
 be known to you! I cannot tell whether you have 
 seen half the letters I have writ ; but if you had, I 
 have not said in them half of what I designed to 
 say ; and you can have seen but a faint, slight, 
 timorous eschantillon of what my spirit suggests, 
 and my hand follows slowly and imperfectly, in- 
 deed unjustly, because discreetly and reservedly. 
 When you told me there was no way left for our 
 correspondence but by merchant ships, I watched 
 ever since for any that set out, and this is the first 
 I could learn of. I owe the knowledge of it to Mr. 
 Congreve (whose letters, with my Lady Rich's, ac- 
 company this). However, I was impatient enough 
 to venture two from Mr. Methuen's office : they 
 have miscarried ; you have lost nothing but such 
 words and wishes as I repeat every day in your 
 memory, and for your welfare. I have had thoughts 
 of causing what I write for the future to be tran- 
 scribed, and to send copies by more ways than one, 
 that one at least might have a chance to reach you. 
 The letters themselves would be artless and natural 
 enough to prove there could be no vanity in this
 
 MR. vvortley's embassy. 379 
 
 practice, and to shew it proceeded from the belief 
 of their being welcome to you, not as they came 
 from me, but from England. My eye-sight is 
 grown so bad, that I have left off all correspond- 
 ence except with yourself; in which methinks I am 
 like those people who abandon and abstract them- 
 selves from all that are about them (with whom 
 they might have business and intercourse), to em- 
 ploy their addresses only to invisible and distant 
 beings, whose good offices and favours cannot reach 
 them in a long time, if at all. If I hear from you, 
 I look upon it as little less than a miracle, or extra- 
 ordinary visitation from another world ; 'tis a sort 
 of dream of an agreeable thing, which subsists no 
 more to me ; but, however, it is such a dream as 
 exceeds most of the dull realities of my life. Indeed, 
 what with ill-health and ill-fortune, I am grown so 
 stupidly philosophical as to have no thought about 
 me that deserves the name of warm or lively, but 
 that which sometimes awakens me into an imagina- 
 tion that I may yet see you again. Compassionate 
 a poet, who has lost all manner of romantic ideas ; 
 except a few that hover about the Bosphorus and 
 Hellespont, not so much for the fine sound of their 
 names, as to raise up images of Leander, who was 
 drowned in crossing the sea to kiss the hand of fair 
 Hero. This were a destiny less to be lamented, 
 than what we are told of the poor Jew, one of your 
 interpreters, who was beheaded at Belgrade as a 
 spy. I confess such a death would have been a
 
 380 LEn^ERS DURING 
 
 great disappointment to me ; and I believe Jacob 
 Tonson will hardly venture to visit you after this 
 news. 
 
 You tell me, the pleasure of being nearer the 
 sun has a great effect upon your health and spirits. 
 You have turned my affections so far eastward that 
 I could almost be one of his worshippers ; for I 
 think the sun has more reason to be proud of rais- 
 ing your spirits, than of raising all the plants and 
 ripening all the minerals in the earth. It is my 
 opinion, a reasonable man might gladly travel three 
 or four thousand leagues to see your nature and 
 your wit in their full perfection. What may not 
 we expect from a creature that went out the most 
 perfect of this part of the world, and is every day 
 improving by the sun in the other ! If you do not 
 now write and speak the finest things imaginable, 
 you must be content to be involved in the same im- 
 putation with the rest of the East, and be con- 
 cluded to have abandoned yourself to extreme effe- 
 minacy, laziness, and lewdness of life. 
 
 I make not the least question but you could give 
 me great eclaircissements upon many passages in 
 Homer, since you have been enlightened by the 
 same sun that inspired the father of poetry. You 
 are now glowing under the climate that animated 
 him ; you may see his images rising more boldly 
 about you in the very scenes of his story and ac- 
 tion ; you may lay the immortal work on some 
 broken column of a hero's sepulchre, and read the
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 381 
 
 fall of Troy in the shade of a Trojan ruin. But if, 
 to visit the tomb of so many heroes, you have not 
 the heart to pass over that sea where once a lover 
 perished, you may at least, at ease in your own 
 window, contemplate the fields of Asia in such a 
 dim and remote prospect as you have of Homer in 
 my translation. 
 
 I send you, therefore, with this, the third volume 
 of the Iliad, and as many other things as fill a 
 wooden box, directed to Mr. Wortley. Among the 
 rest, you have all I am worth, that is, my works : 
 there are few things in them but what you have al- 
 ready seen, except the epistle of Eloisa to Abelard, 
 in which you will find one passage, that I cannot 
 tell whether to wish you should understand or not. 
 
 For the news in London, I '11 sum it up in short : 
 we have masquerades at the theatre in the Hay- 
 market, of Mr. Heideker's institution ; they are 
 very frequent, yet the adv^entures are not so nume- 
 rous but that of my Lady Mohun still makes the 
 chief figure. Her marriage to young Mordant, and 
 all its circumstances, I suppose you '11 have from 
 Lady Rich or Miss Griffin. The political state is 
 under great divisions, the parties of Walpole and 
 Stanhope as violent as Whig and Tory. The K. 
 and P. continue two names ; there is nothing like a 
 coalition, but at the masquerade : however the 
 Princess is a dissenter from it, and has a very small 
 party in so unmodish a separation. 
 
 The last I received from your hands was from
 
 382 LETTERS DURING 
 
 Peterwariidin ; it gave me tlie joy of thinking you 
 in good health and humour : one or two expressions 
 in it are too generous ever to be forgotten by me. 
 I writ a very melancholy one just before, which was 
 sent to Mr. Stanyan, to be forwarded through 
 Hungary. It would have informed you how mean- 
 ly I thought of the pleasures of Italy, without the 
 qualification of your company, and that mere sta- 
 tues and pictures are not more cold to me than I 
 to them. I have had but four of your letters ; I 
 have sent several, and wish I knew how many you 
 have received. For God's sake, madam, send to 
 me as often as you can, in the dependance that 
 there is no man breathing more constantly or more 
 anxiously mindful of you. Tell me that you are 
 well, tell me that your little son is well, tell me 
 that your very dog (if you have one) is well. De- 
 fraud me of no one thing that pleases you ; for, 
 whatever that is, it will please me better than any 
 
 thing else can do. 
 
 I am always yours, 
 
 A. Pope. 
 
 TO MR. POPE. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 1717. 
 
 I DARE say you expect at least something very 
 new in this letter, after I have gone a journey not 
 undertaken by any Christian for some hundred 
 years. The most remarkable accident that hap-
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S embassy. 383 
 
 pened to me, was my being very near overturned 
 into the Hebrus ; and, if I had much regard for the 
 glories that one's name enjoys after death, I should 
 certainly be sorry for having missed the romantic 
 conclusion of swimming down the same river in 
 which the musical head of Orpheus repeated verses 
 so many ages since : 
 
 " Caput a cervice revulsum, 
 Gurgite cum medio portans Oeagrius Hebrus 
 Volveret, Eurydicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua, 
 Ah I miseram Eurydicen ! anima fugiente vocabat, 
 Eurydicen toto referebant flumine ripae." 
 
 Who knows but some of your bright wits might 
 have found it a subject affording many poetical 
 turns, and have told the world, in an heroic elegy, 
 that. 
 
 As equal were our souls, so equal were our fates ? 
 I despair of ever hearing so many fine things said 
 of me, as so extraordinary a death would have 
 given occasion for. 
 
 I am at this present moment writing in a house 
 situated on the banks of the Hebrus, which runs 
 under my chamber window. My garden is all full 
 of cypress trees, upon the branches of which several 
 couple of true turtles are saying soft things to one 
 another from morning till night. How naturally 
 do boughs and voius come into my mind at this mi- 
 nute ! and must not you confess, to my praise, that 
 'tis more than an ordinary discretion that can resist 
 the wicked suggestions of poetry, in a place where
 
 384 LETTERS DURING 
 
 truth, for once, furnishes 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 rivers are set with rows of fruit-trees, 
 under which all the most considerable 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 are 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 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 of the river, and playing on a rural instru- 
 ment, perfectly answering the description of the 
 Qx\c\entjistula, being composed of unequal reeds, 
 with a simple but agreeable softness in the sound. 
 
 Mr. Addison might here make the experiment he 
 speaks of in his travels ; there not being one instru- 
 ment of music among the Greek or Roman statues, 
 that is not to be found in the hands of the people 
 of this country. The young lads generally divert 
 themselves with making garlands for their favourite 
 lambs, which I have often seen painted and adorned 
 with flowers, lying at their feet while they sung or 
 played. It is not that they ever read romances.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 385 
 
 but these are the ancient amusements here, and as 
 natural to them as cudgel-playing and foot-ball to 
 our British swains ; the softness and warmth of the 
 climate forbidding all rough exercises, which were 
 never so much as heard of amongst them, and natu- 
 rally inspiring a laziness and aversion to labour, 
 which the great plenty indulges. These gardeners 
 are the only happy race of country people in Turkey. 
 They furnish all the city with fruits and herbs, and 
 seem to live very easily. They are most of them 
 Greeks, and have little houses in the midst of their 
 gardens, where their wives and daughters take a 
 liberty not permitted in the town, I mean, to go 
 unveiled. These wenches are very neat and hand- 
 some, and pass their time at their looms under the 
 shade of the trees. 
 
 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 Bri- 
 ton, but his Idylliums had been filled with descrip- 
 tions of threshing and churning, both which are un- 
 known here, the corn being all trodden out by oxen ; 
 and butter (I speak it with sorrow) unheard of. 
 
 I read over your Homer here with an infinite plea- 
 sure, 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 
 
 VOL. I. 2 c
 
 386 LETTERS DURING 
 
 fashion, being yet retained. 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 
 that pains to introduce their own manners as has 
 been generally practised by other nations, that 
 imagine themselves more polite. It would be too 
 tedious to you to point out all the passages that re- 
 late to present customs. But I can assure you that 
 the princesses and great ladies pass their time at 
 their looms, embroidering veils and robes, surround- 
 ed by their maids, which are always very numerous, 
 in the same manner as we find Andromache and 
 Helen described. The description 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 half a 
 dozen of old bashaws (as I do very often), 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 Euro- 
 tas. 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 some- 
 thing in them wonderfully soft. The steps are va- 
 ried according to the pleasure of her that leads the 
 dance, but always in exact time, and infinitely
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 387 
 
 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 the 
 Grecian dances, the Turkish being very different. 
 
 I should have told you, in the first place, that 
 the Eastern manners give a great light into many 
 Scripture passages that appear odd to us, their 
 phrases being commonly what we should call Scrip- 
 ture language. The vulgar Turk is very different 
 from what is spoken at court, or amongst the people 
 of figure, who always mix so much Arabic and Per- 
 sian in their discourse, that it may very well be 
 called another language. And 'tis as ridiculous 
 to make use of the expressions commonly used, in 
 speaking to a great man or lady, as it would be 
 to speak broad Yorkshire or Somersetshire in the 
 drawing-room. Besides this distinction, they have 
 what they call the sublime, that is, a style proper 
 for poetry, and which is the exact Scripture style. 
 I believe you will be pleased to see a genuine ex- 
 ample of this ; and I am very glad I have it in my 
 power to satisfy your curiosity, by sending you a 
 faithful copy of the verses that Ibrahim Pasha, the 
 reigning favourite, has made for the young prin- 
 cess, his contracted wife, whom he is not yet per- 
 mitted to visit without witnesses, though she is 
 gone home to his house. He is a man of wit and 
 learning; and whether or no he is capable of 
 writing good verse, you may be sure, that, on such 
 an occasion, he would not want the assistance of 
 
 2c 2
 
 388 LETTERS DURING 
 
 the best poets in the empire. Thus the verses 
 may be looked upon as a sample of their finest 
 poetry; and I don't doubt you'll be of my mind, 
 that it is most wonderfully resembling The Song of 
 Solomon, which was also addressed to a royal bride. 
 
 Turkish Verses addressed to the Sultana, eldest 
 daughter of Sultan Achmet III. 
 
 STANZA I. 
 
 ver. 1. The nightingale now wanders in the vines: 
 Her passion is to seek roses. 
 
 2. I went down to admire the beauty of the vines : 
 The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul. 
 
 3. Your eyes 'are black and lovely, 
 
 But wild and disdainful as those of a stag.* 
 
 , -STANZA II. 
 
 1. The wkVd possession is delay'd from day to day ; 
 
 The cruel Sultan Achmet will not permit me 
 To see those cheeks, more vermilion than roses. 
 
 2. I dare not snatch one of your kisses ; 
 
 The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul. 
 
 3. Your eyes are black and lovely. 
 
 But wild and disdainful as those of a stag. 
 
 STANZA III. 
 
 1. The wretched Ibrahim sighs in these verses: 
 
 One dart from your eyes has pierc'd thro' my heart. 
 
 2. Ah ! when will the hour of possession arrive ? 
 Must I yet wait a long time ? 
 
 The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul. 
 
 * Sir W. Jones, in the preface to his Persian Grammar, 
 objects to this translation. The expression is merely analogous 
 to the " BouwTris " of Homer.
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 389 
 
 VER. 3. Ah I Sultana I stag-ey'd — an angel amongst angels ! 
 I desire, — and, my desire remains unsatisfied. — 
 Can you take delight to prey upon my heart? 
 
 STANZA IV. 
 
 1. My cries pierce the heavens ! 
 My eyes are without sleep! 
 
 Turn to me, Sultana — let me gaze on thy beauty. 
 
 2. Adieu! 1 go down to the grave. 
 
 If you call me I return. 
 
 My heart is — hot as sulphur; — sigh, and it will flame. 
 
 3. Crown of my life ! fair light of my eyes ! 
 My Sultana ! my princess ! 
 
 I rub my face against the earth ; — I am drown'd in 
 
 scalding tears — I rave ! 
 Have you no compassion ? Will you not turn to look 
 
 upon me ? 
 
 I have taken abundance of pains to get these 
 verses in a literal translation ; and if you were 
 acquainted with my interpreters, I might spare 
 myself the trouble of assuring you, that they have 
 received no poetical touches from their hands. 
 In my apinion (allowing for the inevitable faults of 
 a prose translation into a language so very different) 
 there is a good deal of beauty in them. The epithet 
 oi stag-eifd (though the sound is not very agreeable 
 in English) pleases me extremely ; and I think it a 
 very lively image of the fire and indifference in his 
 mistress's eyes. Monsieur Boileau has very justly 
 observed, that we are never to judge of the eleva- 
 tion of an expression in an ancient author by the 
 sound it carries with us ; since it may be extremely 
 fine with them, when, at the same time, it appears
 
 390 LETTERS DURING 
 
 low or uncouth to us. You are so well acquainted 
 with Homer, you cannot but have observed the 
 same thing, and you must have the same indulgence 
 for all Oriental poetry. 
 
 The repetitions at the end of the two first stanzas 
 are meant for a sort of chorus, and are agreeable to 
 the ancient manner of writing. The music of the 
 verses apparently changes in the third stanza, where 
 the burthen is altered ; and I think he very artfully 
 seems more passionate at the conclusion, as 'tis 
 natural for people to warm themselves by their own 
 discourse, especially on a subject in which one is 
 deeply concerned : 'tis certainly far more touching 
 than our modern custom of concluding a song of 
 passion with a turn which is inconsistent with it. 
 The first verse is a description of the season of the 
 year ; all the country now being full of nightingales, 
 whose amours with roses is an Arabian fable, as 
 well known here as any part of Ovid amongst us, 
 and is much the same as if an English poem should 
 begin by saying — " Now Philomela sings." Or 
 what if I turned the whole into the style of English 
 poetry, to see how it would look ? 
 
 STANZA I. 
 
 " Now Philomel renews her tender strain, 
 Indulging all the night her pleasing pain : 
 
 I sought the groves to hear the wanton sing. 
 There saw a face more beauteous than the spring. 
 
 Your large stag-eyes, where thousand glories play, 
 As bright, as lively, but as wild as they.
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 391 
 
 STANZA II. 
 
 " In vain I 'm promis'd such a heav'nly prize ; 
 Ah! cruel Sultan ! who delay 'st my joys I 
 
 While piercing charms transfix my am'rous heart, 
 I dare not snatch one kiss to ease the smart. 
 
 Those eyes ! like, &c. 
 
 STANZA III. 
 
 " Your wretched lover in these lines complains ; 
 From those dear beauties rise his killing pains. 
 
 When will the hour of wish'd-for bliss arrive ? 
 Must I wait longer ? — Can I wait and live ? 
 
 Ah ! bright Sultana ! maid divinely fair I 
 Can you, unpitying, see the pains I bear ? 
 
 STANZA IV. 
 
 " The heavens relenting, hear my piercing cries, 
 I loathe the light, and sleep forsakes my eyes ; 
 Tui'n thee. Sultana, ere thy lover dies : 
 
 Sinking to earth, I sigh the last adieu; 
 Call me, my goddess, and my life renew. 
 
 My queen ! my angel ! my fond heart's desire ! 
 I rave — my bosom burns with heav'nly fire ! 
 Pity that passion which thy charms inspire." 
 
 I have taken the liberty, in the second verse, of 
 following what I suppose the true sense of the 
 author, though not literally expressed. By his 
 saying. He went down to admire the beauty of the 
 vines, and her charms ravished his soul, I understand 
 a poetical fiction, of having first seen her in a 
 garden, where he was admiring the beauty of the 
 spring. But I could not forbear retaining the com- 
 parison of her eyes with those of a stag, though.
 
 o92 LETTERS DURING 
 
 l)cilKips, the novelty of it may give it a burlesque 
 sound in our language. I cannot determine upon 
 the whole how well I have succeeded in the trans- 
 lation, neither do I think our English proper to 
 express such violence of passion, which is very sel- 
 dom felt amongst us. We want also those com- 
 pound words which are very frequent and strong 
 in the Turkish language. 
 
 You see I am pretty far gone in Oriental learn- 
 ing ; and, to say truth, I study very hard. I wish 
 my studies may give me an occasion of entertaining 
 your curiosity, which will be the utmost advantage 
 hoped for from them by. Yours, &c. 
 
 TO MRS. S. C. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. S. 
 
 In my opinion, dear S. I ought rather to quarrel 
 with you for not answ^ering my Nimeguen letter of 
 August till December, than to excuse my not writing 
 again till now. I am sure there is on my side a 
 very good excuse for silence, having gone such 
 tiresome land-journeys, though I don't find the 
 conclusion of them so bad as you seem to imagine. 
 I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you 
 fancy me. The great number of Greeks, French, 
 English, and Italians, that are under our protec- 
 tion, make their court to me from morning till 
 night ; and, I Ml assure you, are many of them very 
 fine ladies ; for there is no possibility for a Chris-
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 393 
 
 tian to live easily under this government but by the 
 protection of an embassador — and the richer they 
 are, the greater is their danger. 
 
 Those dreadful stories you have heard of the 
 •plague have very little foundation in truth. I 
 own I have much ado to reconcile myself to the 
 sound of a word which has always given me such 
 terrible ideas, though I am convinced there is little 
 more in it than in a fever. As a proof of this, let 
 me tell you that we passed through two or three 
 towns most violently infected. In the very next 
 house where we lay (in one of those places) two per- 
 sons died of it. Luckily for me, I was so well deceived 
 that I knew nothing of the matter ; and I was made 
 believe, that our second cook had only a great cold. 
 However, we left our doctor to take care of him, 
 and yesterday they both arrived here in good health ; 
 and I am now let into the secret that he has had 
 the plague. Tliere are many that escape it ; neither 
 is the air ever infected. I am persuaded that it 
 would be as easy a matter to root it out here as out 
 of Italy and France ; but it does so little mischief, 
 they are not very solicitous about it, and are con- 
 tent to suffer this distemper instead of our variety, 
 which they are utterly unacquainted with. 
 
 A propos of distempers, I am going to tell you 
 a thing that will make you wish yourself here. 
 The small-pox, so fatal, and so general amongst us, 
 is here entirely liar luless by the invention of ingraft- 
 ing, which is the term they give it. There is a set
 
 394 LETTERS DURING 
 
 of old women who make it their business to per- 
 form 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 par- 
 ties for this purpose, and when they are met (com- 
 monly 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 vein 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 matter as can lye 
 upon the head of her needle, and after that binds 
 up the little wound with a hollow bit of shell ; 
 and in this manner opens four or five veins. 
 The Grecians have commonly the superstition of 
 opening one in the middle of the forehead, one in 
 each arm, and one 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 conceal- 
 ed. 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
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 395 
 
 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 
 embassador says pleasantly, that they take the 
 small-pox here by way of diversion, as they take 
 the waters in other countries. There is no ex- 
 ample of any one that has died in it ; and you 
 may believe I am well satisfied of the safety of 
 this experiment, since I intend to try it on my 
 dear little son. 
 
 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 distemper is too 
 beneficial to them not to expose to all their re- 
 sentment the hardy wight that should undertake 
 to put an end to it. Perhaps, if I live to re- 
 turn, I may, however, have courage to war with 
 them. Upon this occasion admire the heroism in 
 the heart of your friend, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MRS. THISTLETHWAYTE. 
 
 Adrianople, April 1, O. 8. 1717. 
 
 I CAN now tell dear Mrs. Thistlethwayte that 
 I am safely arrived at the end of my very long 
 journey. I will not tire you with the account of
 
 396 LETTERS DURING 
 
 the many fatigues I have suffered. You would 
 rather be informed of the strange things that are 
 to be seen here ; and a letter out of Turkey that 
 has nothing extraordinary in it, would be as great a 
 disappointment as my visitors will receive at London 
 if I return thither without any rarities to shew them. 
 
 What shall I tell you of? You never saw 
 
 camels in your life ; and, perhaps, the description 
 of them will appear new to you : I can assure 
 you the first sight of them was so to me ; and 
 though I have seen hundreds of pictures of those 
 animals, I never saw any that was resembling 
 enough to give a true idea of them. I am going 
 to make a bold observation, and possibly a false 
 one, because no one has ever made it before me ; 
 but I do take them to be of the stag kind ; their 
 legs, bodies, and necks, are exactly shaped like 
 them, and their colour very near the same. 'Tis 
 true, they are much larger, being a great deal 
 higher than a horse ; and so swift, that, after the 
 defeat of Peterwaradin, they far outran the swiftest 
 horses, and brought the first news of the loss of 
 the battle to Belgrade. They are never thorough- 
 ly tamed ; the drivers take care to tie them one to 
 another with strong ropes, fifty in a string, led 
 by an ass, on which the driver rides. I have seen 
 three hundred in one caravan. They carry the 
 third part more than any horse ; but, 'tis a par- 
 ticular art to load them, because of the bunch on 
 their backs. They seem to me very ugly creatures ;
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 397 
 
 their heads being ill-formed and disproportioned to 
 their bodies. They carry all the burthens ; and 
 the beasts destined to the plough are buffaloes, an 
 animal you are also unacquainted with. They are 
 larger and more clumsy than an ox ; they have 
 short, thick, black horns close to their heads, which 
 grow turning backwards. They say this horn 
 looks very beautiful when 'tis well polished. They 
 are all black, with very short hair on their hides, 
 and have extremely little white eyes, that make 
 them look like devils. The country people dye 
 their tails, and the hair of their forehead, red, by 
 way of ornament. 
 
 Horses are not put here to any laborious work, 
 nor are they at all fit for it. They are beautiful 
 and full of spirit, but generally little, and not 
 strong, as the breed of colder countries ; very gen- 
 tle, however, with all their vivacity, and also swift 
 and sure-footed. I have a little white favourite 
 that I would not part with on any terms ; he 
 prances under me with so much fire, you would 
 think that I had a great deal of courage to dare to 
 mount him ; yet, I '11 assure you, I never rid a 
 horse so much at my command in my life. My 
 side-saddle is the first that was ever seen in this 
 part of the world, and is gazed at with as much 
 wonder as the ship of Columbus in the first disco- 
 very of America. Here are some little birds held 
 in a sort of religious reverence, and, for that reason, 
 multiply prodigiously : turtles, on the account of
 
 398 LETTERS DURING 
 
 their innocence ; and storks, because they are sup- 
 posed to make every winter the pilgrimage to 
 Mecca. To say truth, they are the happiest sub- 
 jects under the Turkish government, and are so 
 sensible of their privileges, that they walk the 
 streets without fear, and generally build in the 
 low parts of houses. Happy are those whose 
 houses are so distinguished, as the vulgar Turks 
 are perfectly persuaded that they will not be that 
 year attacked either by fire or pestilence. I have 
 the happiness of one of their sacred nests under my 
 chamber-window. 
 
 Now I am talking of my chamber, I remember 
 the description of the houses here will be as new to 
 you as any of the birds or beasts. I suppose you 
 have read, in most of our accounts of Turkey, that 
 their houses are the most miserable pieces of build- 
 ing in the world. I can speak very learnedly on 
 that subject, having been in so many of them ; and 
 I assure you 'tis no such thing. We are now lodg- 
 ed in a palace belonging to the Grand-Signior. I 
 really think the manner of building here very agree- 
 able, and proper for the country. 'Tis true they 
 are not at all solicitous to beautify the outsides of 
 their houses, and they are generally built of wood, 
 which I own is the cause of many inconveniences ; 
 but this is not to be charged on the ill taste of the 
 people, but on the oppression of the government. 
 Every house at the death of its master is at the 
 Grand-Signior's disposal ; and, therefore, no man
 
 MR. wortley's embassy. 399 
 
 cares to make a great expence, which he is not 
 sure his family will be the better for.* All their 
 design is to build a house commodious, and that 
 will last their lives ; and they are very indifferent 
 if it falls down the year after. 
 
 Every house, great and small, is divided into two 
 distinct parts, which only join together by a narrow 
 passage. The first house has a large court before 
 it, and open galleries all round it, which is to me 
 a thing very agreeable. This gallery leads to all 
 the chambers, which are commonly large, and with 
 two rows of windows, the first being of painted glass : 
 they seldom build above two stories, each of which 
 has galleries. The stairs are broad, and not often 
 above thirty steps. This is the house belonging to 
 the lord, and the adjoining one is called the haram, 
 that is, the ladies' apartment (for the name o^seraoiio 
 is peculiar to the Grand- Siguier) ; it has also a gal- 
 lery running round it towtirds the garden, to which 
 all the windows are turned, and the same number of 
 chambers as the other, but more gay and splendid, 
 both in painting and furniture. The second row of 
 windows is very low, with grates like those of con- 
 vents ; the rooms are all spread with Persian car- 
 pets, and raised at one end of them (my chambers 
 are raised at both ends) about two feet. This is 
 the sofa, which is laid with a richer sort of carpet, 
 and all round it a sort of couch, raised half a foot, 
 
 * If it be not put into " vacuf;" that is, annexed to some 
 mosque or fountain.
 
 400 LETTERS DURING 
 
 covered with ricli silk according to the fancy or 
 magnificence of the owner. Mine is of scarlet cloth, 
 with a gold fringe ; round about this are placed, 
 standing against the wall, two rows of cushions, 
 the first very large, and the next little ones ; and 
 here the Turks display their greatest magnificence. 
 They are generally brocade, or embroidery of gold 
 wire upon white satin ; — nothing can look more gay 
 and splendid. These seats are also so convenient 
 and easy, that I believe I shall never endure chairs 
 as long as I live. The rooms are low, which I 
 think no fault, and the ceiling is always of wood, 
 generally inlaid or painted with flowers. They 
 open in many places with folding-doors, and serve 
 for cabinets, I think, more conveniently than ours. 
 Between the windows are little arches to set pots 
 of perfume, or baskets of flowers. But what pleases 
 me best, is the fashion of having marble fountains 
 in the lower part of the room, which throw up 
 several spouts of water, giving at the same time an 
 agreeable coolness, and a pleasant dashing sound, 
 falling from one basin to another. Some of these 
 are very magnificent. Each house has a bagnio, 
 which consists generally in two or three little rooms, 
 leaded on the top, paved with marble, with basins, 
 cocks of water, and all conveniences for either hot 
 or cold baths. 
 
 You will perhaps be surprised at an account so 
 different from what you have been entertained with 
 by the common voyage-writers, who are very fond
 
 MR. WORTLEY'S EMBASSY. 401 
 
 of speaking of what they don't know. It must be 
 under a very particular character, or on some ex- 
 traordinary occasion, that a Christian is admitted 
 into the house of a man of quality ; and their harams 
 are always forbidden ground. Thus they can only 
 speak of the outside, which makes no great appear- 
 ance ; and the women's apartments are always built 
 backward, removed from sight, and have no other 
 prospect than the gardens, which are inclosed with 
 very high walls. There are none of our parterres in 
 them ; but they are planted with high trees, which 
 give an agreeable shade, and, to my fancy, a pleas- 
 ing view. In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, 
 that is, a large room, commonly beautified with a 
 fine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine 
 or ten steps, and inclosed with gilded lattices, round 
 which vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles, make a 
 sort of green wall. Large trees are planted round 
 this place, which is the scene of their greatest plea- 
 sures, and where the ladies spend most of their 
 hours, employed by their music or embroidery. In 
 the public gardens there are public chiosks, where 
 people go that are not so well accommodated at 
 home, and drink their coffee, sherbet, &c. Neither 
 are they ignorant of a more durable manner of 
 building : their mosques are all of freestone, and the 
 public hamis, or inns, extremely magnificent, many 
 of them taking up a large square, built round with 
 shops under stone arches, where poor artificers are 
 lodged gratis. They have always a mosque joining 
 VOL. I. 2d
 
 402 LETTERS, ETC. 
 
 to them, and the body of the hmm is a most noble 
 hall, capable of holding three or four hundred per- 
 sons, the court extremely spacious, and cloisters 
 round it, that give it the air of our colleges. I own 
 I think it a more reasonable piece of charity than 
 the founding of convents. 
 
 I think I have now told you a great deal for once. 
 If you don't like my choice of subjects, tell me 
 what you would have me write upon ; there is no- 
 body more desirous to entertain you than, dear Mrs. 
 Thistlethwayte, Yours, &c. &c. 
 
 1 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. 
 
 <
 
 h\ 
 
 university of California ^ 1 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FAClLi^^^ ! 
 
 Return thismatenaUotheU^ 
 
 fromwliichrtwasborrowe^ 
 
 30»>i-8,'65i 
 
 / I
 
 uc 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 339 357 6