Lady Mary Wortley Montague - Lewis Melville
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What Montagu's feelings were can only be imagined. It is almost certain
that he felt himself vastly aggrieved. Nothing could have been more
delicate or complimentary than Addison's letter, but it did not, and
could not, disguise the main fact. It was easy for the Secretary of
State to suggest that at least one reason for the recall was that
Montagu must be anxious to return, but that certainly could not have
deceived the Ambassador who was, indeed, so little anxious to get home
that he remained at Constantinople until the following June. Likewise,
the statement that he would be able to promote the King's service in
Parliament, flattering as it read, meant, of course, nothing at all.
Certainly, though Montagu sat in the House of Commons until his death,
office was never offered him in any Administration.
Lady Mary found herself again with child. Whether this pleased her or
not no one can say, but in a letter to Mrs. Thistlethwayte she treated
the incident divertingly enough.
"I wish I could return your goodness with some diverting accounts from
hence. But I know not what part of the scenes here would gratify your
curiosity, or whether you have any curiosity at all for things so far
distant. To say the truth, I am, at this present writing, not very much
turned for the recollection of what is diverting, my head being wholly
filled with the preparations necessary for the increase of my family,
which I expect every day. You may easily guess at my uneasy situation.
But I am, however, in some degree comforted, by the glory that accrues
to me from it, and a reflection on the contempt I should otherwise fall
under. You won't know what to make of this speech: but, in this country,
it is more despicable to be married and not fruitful, than it is with us
to be fruitful before marriage. They have a notion, that, whenever a
woman leaves off bringing children, it is because she is too old for
that business, whatever her face says to the contrary, and this opinion
makes the ladies here so ready to make proofs of their youth (which is
as necessary, in order to be a received beauty, as it is to shew the
proofs of nobility, to be admitted knight of Malta), that they do not
content themselves with using the natural means, but fly to all sorts of
quackeries, to avoid the scandal of being past child-bearing, and often
kill themselves by them. Without any exaggeration, all the women of my
acquaintance that have been married ten years, have twelve or thirteen
children; and the old ones boast of having had five-and-twenty or thirty
a-piece, and are respected according to the number they have produced.
When they are with child, it is their common expression to say, They
hope God will be so merciful to them to send two this time; and when I
have asked them sometimes, How they expected to provide for such a flock
as they desire? they answered, That the plague will certainly kill half
of them; which, indeed, generally happens, without much concern to the
parents, who are satisfied with the vanity of having brought forth so
plentifully.
"The French Ambassadress is forced to comply with this fashion as well
as myself. She has not been here much above a year, and has lain in
once, and is big again. What is most wonderful is, the exemption they
seem to enjoy from the curse entailed on the sex. They see all company
the day of their delivery, and, at the fortnight's end, return visits,
set out in their jewels and new clothes. I wish I may find the influence
of the climate in this particular. But I fear I shall continue an
Englishwoman in that affair."
Lady Mary gave birth to a daughter, Mary, in February. "I don't mention
this as one of my diverting adventures," she wrote to Lady Mar, "though
I must own that it is not half so mortifying here as in England, there
being as much difference as there is between a little cold in the head,
which sometimes happens here, and the consumptive cough, so common in
London. Nobody keeps their house a month for lying in; and I am not so
fond of any of our customs to retain them when they are not necessary. I
returned my visits at three weeks' end."
So soon as possible after this domestic event, preparations for the
return journey were made. The party went by sea to Tunis, thence to
Genoa, Turin, Lyons, and Paris. Their arrival at Paris in October was
notified by Lady Mar to her husband: "You'll be surprised to hear 657
[i.e., Lady Mary] is here. She arrived the day after me. You may believe
how much incognito I am. 'Twas in vain to attempt being so. Twould fill
a whole letter to tell you the people that have been to see me. I was
very much pleased at seeing 657 and she appeared to be the same." The
sisters had not met for three years.
CHAPTER X
A SCANDAL
Montagu re-enters the House of Commons--His miserliness--Pope refers to
it--Comments on Society--Lady Mary and a first-class scandal--Remond--
His admiration for her--Her imprudent letters to him--The South Sea
Bubble--Lady Mary speculates for Remond--She loses money for him--He
demands to be re-imbursed--He threatens to publish her letters--She
states the case in letters to Lady Mar--Lady Mary meets Pope--His letters
to her when she was abroad--He affects to be in love with her--Her
matter-of-fact replies--Her parody of his verses, "On John Hughes and
Sarah Drew."
Montagu, on his return to England, again entered the House of Commons,
where he represented Huntingdon from 1722 to 1734, and then for
Peterborough from 1734 to 1747 and from 1754 to 1761. Whether it was
lack of ambition or just want of appreciation of his talents by the
leaders of his party, there is no evidence. Even with his family
connections and his wealth, he was never offered a place in any
Administration, nor, it must be confessed, did he in any way distinguish
himself in Parliament. As the years passed, his chief pleasure, if
indeed it was not his only one, was in the hoarding of money--in this
pursuit he was splendidly successful. From references to Lady Mary in
contemporary correspondence, it would appear that she too had no small
streak of the miser in her. Pope, after his quarrel with her, referred
to Montagu as "Worldly," "Shylock," and "Gripus," and in the fourth
Epistle of the _Essay on Man_ wrote:
"Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus and Gripus' wife."
Also he lampooned them under the style of Avidieu and Avidieu's wife,
who
"Sell their presented partridges or fruits,
And humbly live on rabbits and on roots;
One half-pint bottle serves them both to dine,
And is at once their vinegar and wine.
But on some lucky day (as when they found
A lost bank note, or heard their son was drowned),
At such a feast old vinegar to spare
Is what two souls so generous cannot bear:
Oil, though it stink, they drop by drop impart,
But souse the cabbage with a bounteous heart."
Lady Mary took her place, as of right, as a leader of society, and for a
while plunged into the gaieties of the town. "Public places flourish
more than ever," she wrote to her sister. "We have assemblies for every
day in the week, besides Court, operas, and masquerades. With youth and
money, 'tis certainly possible to be well diverted in spite of malice
and ill-nature, though they are more and more powerful every day. For my
part, as it is my established opinion that this globe of ours is no
better than a Holland cheese, and the walkers about in it mites, I
possess my soul in patience, let what will happen--and I should feel
tolerably easy, though a great rat came and ate half of it." That is a
philosophical outlook with a vengeance!
However, Lady Mary managed on the whole to enjoy herself. "The town
improves in gaiety every day; the young people are younger than they
used to be, and all the old are grown young. Nothing is talked of but
entertainments of gallantry by land and water, and we insensibly begin
to taste all the joys of arbitrary power. Politics are no more; nobody
pretends to wince or kick under their burdens; but we go on cheerfully
with our bells at our ears, ornamented with ribands, and highly
contented with our present condition; so much for the general state of
the nation," she made her comment on polite circles. "We are much
mistaken here as to our ideas of Paris--to hear gallantry has deserted
it, sounds as extraordinary to me as a want of ice in Greenland.
We have nothing but ugly faces in this country, but more lovers than
ever. There are but three pretty men in England, and they are all in
love with me, at this present writing. This will amaze you extremely;
but if you were to see the reigning girls at present, I will assure you,
there is very little difference between them and old women."
Lady Mary could never resist a good story, and, indeed, never made any
attempt to do so, and she usually wrote them down to amuse Lady Mar.
"'Tis but reasonable I should conclude with a farce, that I may not
leave you in ill humour. I have so good an opinion of your taste, to
believe Harlequin in person will never make you laugh so much as the
Earl of Stair's furious passion for Lady Walpole (aged fourteen and some
months). Mrs. Murray undertook to bring the business to bear, and
provided the opportunity (a great ingredient you'll say); but the young
lady proved skittish. She did not only turn this heroic flame into
present ridicule, but exposed all his generous sentiments, to divert her
husband and father-in-law. His lordship is gone to Scotland; and if
there was anybody wicked enough to write about it, there is a subject
worthy the pen of the best ballad-maker in Grub-street."
* * * * *
"Lord Townshend has renewed his lease of life by his French journey, and
is at present situated in his house in Grosvenor-street in perfect
health. My good lady is coming from the Bath to meet him with the joy
you may imagine. Kitty Edwin has been the companion of his [her?]
pleasures there. The alliance seems firmer than ever between them, after
their Tunbridge battles, which served for the entertainment of the
public. The secret cause is variously guessed at; but it is certain Lady
Townshend came into the great room gently behind her friend, and tapping
her on the shoulder with her fan, said aloud, _I know where, how, and
who_. These mysterious words drew the attention of all the company,
and had such an effect upon poor Kitty, she was carried to her lodgings
in strong hysterics. However, by the intercession of prudent mediators
peace was concluded; and if the conduct of these heroines was considered
in a true light, perhaps it might serve for an example even to higher
powers, by showing that the surest method to obtain a lasting and
honourable peace, is to begin with vigorous war. But leaving these
reflections, which are above my capacity, permit me to repeat my desire
of hearing often from you. Your letters would be my greatest pleasure if
I had flourished in the first years of Henry the Eighth's court; judge
then how welcome they are to me in the present desolate state of this
deserted town of London."
Lady Mary's own morals were more than once assailed; but this did not
prevent her humorous attack on society at large: "Those things [Bills of
Divorce] grow more fashionable every day, and in a little time won't be
at all scandalous. The best expedient for the public, and to prevent the
expense of private families, would be a general act of divorcing all the
people of England. You know those that pleased might marry again; and it
would save the reputation of several ladies that are now in peril of
being exposed every day."
Not long after Lady Mary had returned to England, about the winter of
1720, she, who loved to retail malicious stories about others, found
herself, to her great dismay, the subject of a first-class scandal.
When Lady Mary was in Paris, Remond was introduced to her by the Abbe
Conti. He had seen a letter or two addressed by her to the Abbe, and
expressed himself with enthusiasm of her brilliance as a correspondent.
Presently he came to England, and sought out Lady Mary, who was no more
immune from flattery than most folk of either sex. How far the intimacy
developed from the platonic to the amorous it is impossible to say. That
Remond made love to her there can be little doubt. Sir Leslie Stephen
holds the view that she did not encourage his passion. Anyhow, it is
beyond question that she wrote him imprudent letters, which he was
prudent enough to keep.
Lady Mary basked in the admiration of Remond, and thought to reward him
for his intelligence, at no cost to herself, by putting him on to "a
good thing." Also, getting a little fearsome of his very marked
attentions, or perhaps it was only wearying of them, she thought, as she
confessed to her sister, the Countess of Mar, it would be the more easy
to rid herself of this somewhat turbulent lover.
At this time the famous "boom" known as the South Sea Bubble was at the
height of its brief career. The South Sea Company had taken over the
National Debt, on terms, and its stock, carefully manipulated, rose by
leaps and bounds. In 1714 the stock stood at 85. After the defeat of the
rebellion of 1715, it was quoted at prices varying from par to 106. In
the autumn of 1719, when rumours of its great scheme were spread about
the town, it rose to 126. Early in the following year it could not be
purchased for less than 400. It fluctuated wildly, going up and down
hundreds of points. On June 2, 1720, it went up in the morning to 890,
in the afternoon fell to 640; and many who were speculating in
differences were utterly ruined. Later in the day it recovered, though
only to 770. Ultimately it rose to 1,000. Of course the prices were
fictitious, but everyone in society tried their luck, and while some
came out of it with a fortune, the majority lost practically every penny
they had. The directors, most of whom were guilty of fraud, made vast
sums of money. That astute financier, Robert Walpole, speculated on a
vast scale, sold out before the slump, and realised a fortune more than
sufficient to enable him to rebuild Houghton and to gather together his
famous collection of pictures. On the other hand the Duke of Portland,
who held on too long, was so hard hit that he had to solicit the post of
Captain-General of Jamaica.
Remond held some South Sea stock, and, acting on Lady Mary's advice,
sold out at a considerable profit. Not content with his gains, however,
he insisted, just before his departure for France, on leaving in Lady
Mary's hands L900 for investment as opportunity should arise.
Reluctantly Lady Mary consented--she would probably have agreed almost
to anything, so anxious was she that Remond should leave the country.
On August 22, 1720, Pope, with the best intentions in the world, wrote
to Lady Mary: "I was made acquainted last night that I might depend upon
it as a certain gain to buy the South Sea stock at the present price,
which will assuredly 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 despatched the bearer with all speed to you."
No doubt the phrase "the first and best hands," was intended to convey
the fact that his informant was his friend and neighbour, James Craggs
the younger, the Secretary of State who was so deeply involved in the
affairs of the South Sea Company that when the "bubble" burst he only
escaped prosecution by conveniently dying of small-pox. Acting on the
hint given by Pope, Lady Mary purchased stock for herself and Remond.
The stock fell rapidly--in August it stood at 750 and in December at
130. What she lost is not known, but she had been sufficiently involved
to make her desire to sell her diamonds, and more than once she asked
Lady Mar if there was a market for the jewels in Paris. Remond's L900
had dwindled to L400. On receiving these distressful tidings, the
Frenchman believed, or affected to believe, that he had been swindled,
and he threatened, unless he were repaid in full, he would publish Lady
Mary's letters to him. Lady Mary's fear was lest the matter should come
to the cognisance of her husband: it would certainly be unfair to
Montagu to suggest that he might not have forgiven his wife for a
love-affair; but he would certainly never have pardoned her any
transaction that cost him money.
Many malicious things were said about this business. Walpole gave a
version utterly discreditable to Lady Mary, and Pope, after the quarrel,
referred to the matter in the second book of the _Dunciad_:
"Whence hapless Monsieur much complains at Paris
Of wrongs from Duchesses and Lady Maries."
The case was put by Lady Mary in a series of letters to her sister, Lady
Mar, to whom she could unburden herself freely, and who might be able to
influence Remond, who was then at Paris.
[1721.]
"From the tranquil and easy situation in which you left me, dear sister,
I am reduced to that of the highest degree of vexation, which I need not
set out to you better than by the plain matter of fact, which I heartily
wish I had told you long since; and nothing hindered me but a certain
_mauvaise honte_ which you are reasonable enough to forgive, as very
natural, though not very excusable where there is nothing to be ashamed
of; since I can only accuse myself of too much good-nature, or at worst
too much credulity, though I believe there never was more pains taken to
deceive any body. In short, a person whose name is not necessary,
because you know it, took all sorts of methods, during almost two years
[_sic_], to persuade me that there never was so extraordinary an
attachment (or what you please to call it) as they had for me. This
ended in coming over to make me a visit against my will, and, as was
pretended, very much against their interest. I cannot deny I was very
silly in giving the least credit to this stuff. But if people are so
silly, you'll own 'tis natural for any body that is good-natured to pity
and be glad to serve a person they believe unhappy upon their account.
It came into my head, out of a high point of generosity (for which I
wish myself hanged), to do this creature all the good I possibly could,
since 'twas impossible to make them happy their own way. I advised him
very strenuously to sell out of the subscription, and in compliance to
my advice he did so; and in less than two days saw he had done very
prudently. After a piece of service of this nature, I thought I could
more decently press his departure, which his follies made me think
necessary for me. He took leave of me with so many tears and grimaces
(which I can't imagine how he could counterfeit) as really moved my
compassion; and I had much ado to keep to my first resolution of
exacting his absence, which he swore would be his death. I told him that
there was no other way in the world I would not be glad to serve him in,
but that his extravagances made it utterly impossible for me to keep him
company. He said that he would put into my hands the money that I had
won for him, and desired me to improve it, saying that if he had enough
to buy a small estate, and retire from the world, 'twas all the
happiness he hoped for in it. I represented to him that if he had so
little money as he said, 'twas ridiculous to hazard at all. He replied
that 'twas too little to be of any value, and he would either have it
double or quit. After many objections on my side and replies on his, I
was so weak to be overcome by his entreaties, and flattered myself also
that I was doing a very heroic action, in trying to make a man's fortune
though I did not care for his addresses. He left me with these
imaginations, and my first care was to employ his money to the best
advantage. I laid it all out in stock, the general discourse and private
intelligence then scattered about being of a great rise. You may
remember it was two or three days before the fourth subscription, and
you were with me when I paid away the money to Mr. Binfield. I thought I
had managed prodigious well in selling out the said stock the day after
the shutting the books (for a small profit) to Cox and Cleeve,
goldsmiths of very good reputation. When the opening of the books came,
my men went off, leaving the stock upon my hands, which was already sunk
from near nine hundred pounds to four hundred pounds. I immediately writ
him word of this misfortune, with the sincere sorrow natural to have
upon such an occasion, and asked his opinion as to the selling the stock
remaining in. He made me no answer to this part of my letter, but a long
eloquent oration of miseries of another nature. I attributed this
silence to his disinterested neglect of his money; but, however,
resolved to make no more steps in his business without direct orders,
after having been so unlucky. This occasioned many letters to no
purpose; but the very post after you left London, I received a letter
from him, in which he told me that he had discovered all my tricks; that
he was convinced I had all his money remaining untouched: and he would
have it again, or he would print all my letters to him; which though,
God knows, very innocent in the main, yet may admit of ill
constructions, besides the monstrousness of being exposed in such a
manner. I hear from other people that he is liar enough to publish that
I have borrowed the money of him; though I have a note under his hand,
by which he desires me to employ it in the funds, and acquits me of
being answerable for the losses that may happen. At the same time, I
have attestations and witnesses of the bargains I made, so that nothing
can be clearer than my integrity in this business; but that does not
hinder me from being in the utmost terror for the consequences (as you
may easily guess) of his villany; the very story of which appears so
monstrous to me, I can hardly believe myself while I write it; though I
omit (not to tire you) a thousand aggravating circumstances. I cannot
forgive myself the folly of ever regarding one word he said; and I see
now that his lies have made me wrong several of my acquaintances, and
you among the rest, for having said (as he told me) horrid things
against me to him. 'Tis long since that your behaviour has acquitted you
in my opinion; but I thought I ought not to mention, to hurt him with
you, what was perhaps more misunderstanding, or mistake, than a designed
lie. But he has very amply explained his character to me. What is very
pleasant is, that, but two posts before, I received a letter from him
full of higher flights than ever. I beg your pardon (dear sister) for
this tedious account; but you see how necessary 'tis for me to get my
letters from this madman. Perhaps the best way is by fair means; at
least, they ought to be first tried. I would have you, then (my dear
sister), try to make the wretch sensible of the truth of what I advance,
without asking for the letters, which I have already asked for. Perhaps
you may make him ashamed of his infamous proceedings by talking of me,
without taking notice that you know of his threats, only of my dealings.
I take this method to be the most likely to work upon him. I beg you
would send me a full and true account of this detestable affair
(enclosed to Mrs. Murray). If I had not been the most unlucky creature
in the world, his letter would have come while you were here, that I
might have shewed you both his note and the other people's. I knew he
was discontented, but was far from imagining a possibility of this
thing. I give you a great deal of trouble, but you see I shall owe you
the highest obligation if you can serve me: the very endeavouring of it
is a tie upon me to serve you the rest of my life without reserve and
with eternal gratitude."
[Twickenham, 1721.]
"I am now at Twickenham: 'tis impossible to tell you, dear sister, what
agonies I suffer every post-day; my health really suffers so much from
my fears, that I have reason to apprehend the worst consequences. If
that monster acted on the least principles of reason, I should have
nothing to fear, since 'tis certain that after he has exposed me he will
get nothing by it. Mr. Wortley can do nothing for his satisfaction I am
not willing to do myself. I desire not the least indulgence of any kind.
Let him put his affair into the hands of any lawyer whatever. I am
willing to submit to any examination; 'tis impossible to make a fairer
offer than this is: whoever he employs may come to me hither on several
pretences. I desire nothing from him, but that he would send no letters
nor messages to my house at London, where Mr. Wortley now is. I am come
hither in hopes of benefit from the air, but I carry my distemper about
me in an anguish of mind that visibly decays my body every day. I am too
melancholy to talk of any other subject. Let me beg you (dear sister) to
take some care of this affair, and think you have it in your power to do
more than save the life of a sister that loves you."
[Twickenham, 1721.]