Lady Mary Wortley Montague - Lewis Melville
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So early as 1721, Lady Mary, writing to Lady Mar, mentions that "the
most considerable incident that has happened a good while, was the
ardent affection that Mrs. Hervey and her dear spouse[7] took to me.
They visited me twice or thrice a day, and were perpetually cooing in my
rooms. I was complaisant a great while; but (as you know) my talent has
never lain much that way. I grew at last so weary of those birds of
paradise, I fled to Twickenham, as much to avoid their persecutions as
for my own health, which is still in a declining way." Lady Mary did not
like Lady Hervey, the beautiful "Molly" Lepell, whom Gay eulogised:
"Hervey, would you know the passion
You have kindled in my breast?
Trifling is the inclination
That by words can be expressed.
In my silence see the lover;
True love is by silence known;
In my eyes you'll best discover,
All the power of your own."
[Footnote 7: The Hon. John Hervey (1696-1743), younger son of John,
first Earl of Bristol; known as Lord Hervey after the death of his elder
brother Carr in 1723; Vice-Chamberlain of George II's Household, 1730;
created Baron Hervey of Ickworth, 1733, Lord Privy Seal, 1740-1742.]
For Hervey, however, Lady Mary came to have a strong liking that many
believed to have, as she would have said, bordered upon "the tender";
although it is on record that she once remarked that she divided the
human race into men, women, and Herveys. They met whenever they could;
when they could not meet they corresponded. Pope bitterly resented the
intimacy between Lady Mary and Hervey, and in the _Epistle of Arbuthnot_
gave vent to the malignity with which his soul had been for years
overflowing:
"P. Let Sporus tremble.
A. What? That thing of silk;
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly on the wheel?
P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted Child of dirt, that stinks and stings;
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne'er tastes and beauty ne'er enjoys:
So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
Or at the ear of Eve,[8] familiar toad.
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In pun, or politics, or tales, or lies.
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.
His wit all see-saw, between that and this,
Now high, now low, now make up, now miss,
And he himself one vile antithesis.
Amphibious thing! that acting either part,
The trifling head, or the corrupted heart;
Fop at the hostel, flatterer at the board,
Now trips a lady, and now struts a Lord.
Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have expressed,
A cherub's face--a reptile all the rest.
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none can trust,
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust."
[Footnote 8: Queen Caroline.]
This was a heavy price to pay for the favours even of Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu.
Whatever the relations between Lady Mary and Hervey, Lady Hervey was not
indulgent to them, which may have inspired Lady Mary to write to her
sister: "Lady Hervey, by aiming too high, has fallen very low; and is
reduced to trying to persuade folks she has an intrigue, and gets nobody
to believe her; the man in question taking a great deal of pains to
clear himself of the scandal." Lady Hervey and Mrs. Murray were active
partisans of Lord Grange in his persecution of Lady Mary, and aided him
in his attempts to get possession of her sister, Lady Mar.
The bad terms on which Lady Mary and Lady Hervey were is most clearly
defined by Lady Louisa Stuart: "At the time of Lady Mary Wortley's return
home [in 1762, after an absence abroad of more than twenty years], Lady
Hervey was living in great intimacy with Lady Bute, for whom she
professed, and it is believed really felt, the highest esteem and
admiration. 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 declare 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 explanation 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."
During this period there were several domestic happenings in Lady Mary's
family.
On March 5, 1726, died her father, the Duke of Kingston. After the
accession of George I, the Marquess of Dorchester (as he then was) was
high in favour at Court, and honours were showered upon him with a
lavish hand. He was in 1714 appointed Lord Lieutenant of Wiltshire, and
in the same year Chief Justice in Eyre, north of Trent, which latter
dignity he held for two years. In August, 1715, he was created Duke of
Kingston upon Hull, in the county of Yorkshire. He held the high office
of Lord Privy Seal from 1716 to 1719 in the Administrations of Townshend
and Stanhope, in the latter year becoming Lord President of the Council.
When Walpole became First Lord of the Treasury, the Duke again became
Lord Privy Seal, and held the post until his death. He was given the
Garter in 1719, and was four times named as one of the Lord Justices of
the Realm during the King's absences from England on visits to Hanover.
He had married, secondly, Isabella, fifth daughter of William Bentinck,
first Earl of Portland, by his first wife, Anne, daughter of Sir Edward
Villiers, who survived him two years.
The Duke had never really forgiven Lady Mary for eloping. Her defiance
of him hurt his pride inordinately. Everyone else to some degree at
least he could control; his young daughter not at all. Only so far were
they ever reconciled that he would occasionally visit the Montagus at
their London house and play with the children.
In his later years the Duke's health was unsatisfactory, but it was not
thought that the end was so near. "I have now to tell you of the
surprising death of my father, and a great deal of surprising management
of the people about him, which I leave informing you until another time,
being now under some spirit of hurry myself," Lady Mary wrote to Lady
Mar in March, 1726. "I am unfeignedly sorry that I cannot send you word
of a considerable legacy for yourself." On April 15 she supplemented
this account; but not to a degree to make it very intelligible:
"To be sure, the shock must be very great to you whenever you heard it;
as indeed it was to us all here, being so sudden. It is to no purpose
now to relate particulars, but only renewing our grief. I can't forbear
telling you the Duchess has behaved very oddly in endeavouring to get
the guardianship of the young Duke and his sister, contrary to her
husband's will; but the boy, when he was fourteen, confirmed the
trustees his grandfather left; so that ended all disputes; and Lady
Fanny is to live with my aunt Cheyne. There is a vast number of things
that have happened, and some people's behaviour so extraordinary in this
melancholy business, that it would be great ease of mind if I could tell
it you; but I must not venture to speak too freely in a letter."
A week or so later, some further details were forthcoming:
"I received yours, dear sister, this minute, and am very sorry both for
your past illness and affliction; though _au bout du compte_, I don't
know why filial piety should exceed fatherly fondness. So much by way of
consolation. As to the management at that time--I do verily believe, if
my good aunt and sister had been less fools, and my dear mother-in-law
less mercenary, things might have had a turn more to your advantage and
mine too; when we meet, I will tell you many circumstances which would
be tedious in a letter. I could not get my sister Gower to join to act
with me, and mamma and I were in an actual scold when my poor father
expired; she has shewn a hardness of heart upon this occasion that would
appear incredible to any body not capable of it themselves. The addition
to her jointure is, one way or other, L2000 per annum; so her good Grace
remains a passable rich widow, and is already presented by the town with
a variety of young husbands; but I believe her constitution is not good
enough to let her amorous inclinations get the better of her covetous."
Lady Mary was very angry, because she heard that at the end her father
had really expressed a great deal of kindness to her, and even a desire
of talking to her, which the Duchess would not permit. However, he left
her in his will, she having married without a settlement, L6,000 for her
separate use during her life, with reversion to her daughter.
As regards the heir, she wrote: "The Duke of Kingston has hitherto had so
ill an education, 'tis hard to make any judgment of him; he has spirit,
but I fear he will never have his father's good sense. As young noblemen
go, 'tis possible he may make a good figure among them."
The young Duke was sent to France, and there was much discussion as to
what should be done with his sister, Lady Frances Pierrepont. Her having
L400 per annum for maintenance, has, Lady Mary remarked ironically,
"awakened the consciences of half her relations to take care of her
education, and (excepting myself) they have all been squabbling about
her. My sister Gower carries her off to-morrow morning to Staffordshire.
The lies, twaddles, and contrivances about this affair are innumerable.
I should pity the poor girl if I saw she pitied herself."
Lady Gower did not long enjoy her victory over her friends and her fond
relations, for she died in June, 1727.
In May, 1732, Lord Mar died at Aix-la-Chapelle. Lady Mary's sister, Lady
Mar, in later years suffered from mental irregularity. Her brother-in-law,
James Erskine, Lord Grange, endeavoured to secure possession of her
person by some process of law, but was thwarted by Lady Mary, who
obtained a warrant from the King's Bench. For years Lady Mar remained in
her sister's custody. She survived until 1761. There was a rumour that
Lady Mary treated her badly, but there is no reason to believe that
there was any substantial ground for the accusation.
Lady Mary's daughter, Mary, married in 1736, John Stuart, third Earl of
Bute, the favourite of the Princess of Wales, and afterwards Prime
Minister.
CHAPTER XIII
ON THE CONTINENT (1739-1744)
Lady Mary leaves England--She does not return for twenty years--Montagu
supposed to join her--The domestic relations of the Montagus--A
septennial act for marriage--Lady Mary corresponds with her
husband--Dijon--Turin--Venice--Bologna--Florence--The Monastery of La
Trappe--Horace Walpole at Florence--His comments on Lady Mary and her
friends--Reasons for his dislike of her--Rome--The Young Pretender and
Henry, Cardinal York--Wanderings--Cheapness of life in Italy--Lady
Mary's son, Edward--He is a great trouble to his parents--His absurd
marriage--His extravagance and folly--Account of his early years--He
visits Lady Mary at Valence--Her account of the interviews.
In July, 1739, Lady Mary went abroad. She did not return until the
beginning of 1762, a few months before her death.
She went abroad without her husband, and, indeed, they never met again.
At first, apparently, he had intended to join her--at least so she gave
Lady Pomfret to understand:
"You have put me to a very difficult choice, yet, when I consider we are
both in Italy, and yet do not see one another, I am astonished at the
capriciousness of my fortune" (she wrote from Venice late in 1739). "My
affairs are so uncertain, I can answer for nothing that is future. I
have taken some pains to put the inclination for travelling into Mr.
Wortley's head, and was so much afraid he would change his mind, that I
hastened before him in order (at least) to secure my journey. He
proposed following me in six weeks, his business requiring his presence
at Newcastle. Since that, the change of scene that has happened in
England has made his friends persuade him to attend parliament this
session: so that what his inclinations, which must govern mine, will be
next spring I cannot absolutely foresee. For my own part, I like my own
situation so well that it will be a displeasure to me to change it. To
postpone such a conversation as yours a whole twelvemonth is a terrible
appearance; on the other hand, I would not follow the example of the
first of our sex, and sacrifice for a present pleasure a more lasting
happiness. In short, I can determine nothing on this subject. When you
are at Florence, we may debate it over again."
So little is known of the domestic relations of the Montagus that it is
hazardous to advance a conjecture. One writer has suggested that there
was a quarrel over money, but there are no grounds to support this.
Another has it that Lady Mary's flirtations or intrigues did not meet
with her husband's approval. Yet another thinks that Montagu found his
wife with her sharp tongue, very ill to live with.
The Montagus had been married for seven-and-twenty years; their younger
child was now twenty-one. Since Montagu assisted Lady Mary as a girl
with her Latin studies, they do not seem to have had much in common.
Lady Mary cut a figure in the social world; Montagu was a nonentity in
political life and seemed content so to be. Perhaps they were tired of
each other, and welcomed a separation that at the outset was intended
only to be temporary. "It was from the customs of the Turks that I first
had the thought of a septennial bill for the benefit of married
persons," Lady Mary once said to Joseph Spence; and it is more than
likely that she would have taken advantage of such an Act of Parliament
had it been in existence.
That there was no definite breach is evident from the fact that husband
and wife corresponded, though it must be confessed that her letters to
her husband are almost uniformly dull, except when the topic is their
son. On the other hand, there was certainly no especial degree of
friendship between them, and in one of her letters Lady Mary said
pointedly: "You do not seem desirous to hear news, which makes me not
trouble you with any." For the rest there are descriptions of the places
which Lady Mary visited and an account of the people she met.
Lady Mary proceeded from Dover to Calais, and thence to Dijon, where she
arrived in the middle of August. Wherever she went she found herself
among friends. "There is not any town in France where there is not
English, Scotch or Irish families established; and I have met with
people who have seen me (though often such as I do not remember to have
seen) in every town I have passed through; and I think the farther I go,
the more acquaintance I meet," she told her husband. At Dijon there were
no less than sixteen families of fashion. Lord Mansel had lodgings in
the house with her at Dijon, and Mrs. Whitsted, a daughter of Lord
Bathurst, resided in the same street. She met Lady Peterborough, and
just missed the Duke of Rutland, at St. Omer. At Port Beauvoisin she ran
across Lord Carlisle.
From Turin, she travelled, on the advice of Lord Carlisle, to Vienna,
which he declared was the best place in Italy in which to stay. The fact
that it was the intention of Lady Pomfret to remove from Sienna to
Vienna was the deciding factor. She liked the latter city so well that
she remained there until August of the following year (1740). It had one
great merit in Lady Mary's eyes, that it was cheap. Next to that, she
derived pleasure from the consideration with which she was treated. "I
like this place extremely, and am of opinion you would do so too: as to
cheapness, I think 'tis impossible to find any part of Europe where both
the laws and customs are so contrived purposely to avoid expenses of all
sorts; and here is a universal liberty that is certainly one of the
greatest _agrements_ in life. We have foreign ambassadors from all parts
of the world, who have all visited me. I have received visits from many
of the noble Venetian ladies; and upon the whole I am very much at my
ease here. If I was writing to Lady Sophia, I would tell her of the
comedies and operas which are every night, at very low prices; but I
believe even you will agree with me that they are ordered to be as
convenient as possible, every mortal going in a mask, and consequently
no trouble in dressing, or forms of any kind." So Lady Mary wrote to
Lady Pomfret on October 10; and a few days later she supplemented the
information in a letter to her husband:
"I find myself very well here. I am visited by the most considerable
people of the town, and all the foreign ministers, who have most of them
made great entertainments for me. I dined yesterday at the Spanish
ambassador's, who even surpassed the French in magnificence. He met me
at the hall-door, and the lady at the stair-head, to conduct me through
the long apartment; in short, they could not have shown me more honours,
if I had been an ambassadress. She desired me to think myself patrona
del casa, and offered me all the services in her power, to wait on me
where I pleased, &c. They have the finest palace in Venice. What is very
convenient, I hear it is not at all expected I should make any dinners,
it not being the fashion for anybody to do it here but the foreign
ministers; and I find I can live here very genteelly on my allowance. I
have already a very agreeable general acquaintance; though when I came,
here was no one I had ever seen in my life, but the Cavaliere Grimani
and the Abbe Conti. I must do them [the] justice to say they have taken
pains to be obliging to me. The Procurator brought his niece (who is at
the head of his family) to wait on me; and they invited me to reside
with them at their palace on the Brent, but I did not think it proper to
accept of it. He also introduced me to the Signora Pisani Mocenigo, who
is the most considerable lady here. The Nuncio is particularly civil to
me; he has been several times to see me, and has offered me the use of
his box at the opera. I have many others at my service, and, in short
it, is impossible for a stranger to be better received than I am. Here
are no English, except a Mr. Bertie and his governor, who arrived two
days ago, and who intends but a short stay."
Lady Mary thoroughly enjoyed herself at Venice, where she found a
variety of occupations to occupy her time. In the mornings she was
"wrapt up among my books with antiquarians and virtuosi"; in the
afternoons there were visits to pay and receive; in the evenings dinners
(at other people's expense--which fact did not detract from her
pleasure), assemblies, and the theatre and the opera. In fact, she found
there every delight except scandal, but that she did not miss, because
she said, she "never found any pleasure in malice." So strange a thing
is human nature that perhaps she believed it!
"Upon my word, I have spoken my real thoughts in relation to Venice; but
I will be more particular in my description, lest you should find the
same reason of complaint you have hitherto experienced" (she wrote in
November to Lady Pomfret). "It is impossible to give any rule for the
agreeableness of conversation; but here is so great a variety, I think
'tis impossible not to find some to suit every taste. Here are foreign
ministers from all parts of the world, who, as they have no Court to
employ their hours, are overjoyed to enter into commerce with any
stranger of distinction. As I am the only lady here at present, I can
assure you I am courted, as if I was the only one in the world. As to
all the conveniences of life, they are to be had at very easy rates; and
for those that love public places, here are two playhouses and two
operas constantly performed every night, at exceeding low prices. But
you will have no reason to examine that article, no more than myself;
all the ambassadors having boxes appointed them; and I have every one of
their keys at my service, not only for my own person, but whoever I
please to carry or send. I do not make much use of this privilege, to
their great astonishment. It is the fashion for the greatest ladies to
walk the streets, which are admirably paved; and a mask, price sixpence,
with a little cloak, and the head of a domino, the genteel dress to
carry you everywhere. The greatest equipage is a gondola, that holds
eight persons, and is the price of an English chair. And it is so much
the established fashion for everybody to live their own way, that
nothing is more ridiculous than censuring the actions of another. This
would be terrible in London, where we have little other diversion; but
for me, who never found any pleasure in malice, I bless my destiny that
has conducted me to a part where people are better employed than in
talking of the affairs of their acquaintance. It is at present excessive
cold (which is the only thing I have to find fault with), but in
recompense we have a clear bright sun, and fogs and factions things
unheard of in this climate."
Certainly everybody did the utmost to make Venice agreeable to Lady
Mary. With all her good opinion of herself and of her position, she
found herself treated with more distinction than she "could possibly
expect." When, on Christmas Eve, she went to see the ceremony of High
Mass celebrated by the Doge, she was surprised to find that he had set
aside for her and the Prince of Wolfenbuttel a gallery, to which none
were admitted but their parties. "A greater compliment could not have
been paid me if I had been a sovereign Princess." To her husband she
wrote: "It is impossible to be better treated, I may even say more
courted, than I am here."
All the English who came to Venice, as a matter of course paid their
respects to Lady Mary.
"Lord Fitzwilliam arrived here three days ago; he came to see me the
next day, as all the English do, who are much surprised at the
civilities and familiarity which I am with the noble ladies. Everybody
tells me 'tis what never was done but to myself; and I own I have a
little vanity in it, because the French ambassador told me when I first
came, that though the Procurator Grimani might persuade them to visit
me, he defied me to enter into any sort of intimacy with them: instead
of which they call me out almost every day on some diversion or other,
and are desirous to have me in all their parties of pleasure. I am
invited to-morrow to the Foscarini to dinner, which is to be followed
by a concert and a ball, where I shall be the only stranger, though here
are at present a great number come to see the regatta, which is fixed
for the 29th of this month, N.S. I shall see it at the Procurator
Grimani's, where there will be a great entertainment that day. My own
house is very well situated to see it, being on the Grand Canal; but I
would not refuse him and his niece, since they seem desirous of my
company, and I shall oblige some other ladies with my windows. They are
hired at a great rate to see the show."
There was just one fly in the ointment. "I am impatient to hear good
sense pronounced in my native tongue; having only heard my language out
of the mouths of boys and governors for these five months" (she
complained to Lady Pomfret). "Here are inundations of them broke in upon
us this carnival, and my apartment must be their refuge; the greater
part of them having kept an inviolable fidelity to the languages their
nurses taught them; their whole business abroad (as far as I can
perceive) being to buy new clothes, in which they shine in some obscure
coffee-house, where they are sure of meeting only one another; and after
the important conquest of some waiting gentlewoman of an opera queen,
whom perhaps they remember as long as they live, return to England
excellent judges of men and manners. I find the spirit of patriotism so
strong in me every time I see them, that I look on them as the greatest
blockheads in nature; and, to say truth, the compound of booby and
_petit maitre_ makes up a very odd sort of animal."
It was not until the middle of August (1740) that Lady Mary left Venice,
going first to Bologna, where she stayed a day or two "to prepare for
the dreadful passage of the Apennines." On her way to Florence, she
visited the monastery of La Trappe--her account of which may be given as
a companion portrait to that of the nunnery printed in an earlier
chapter.
"The monastery of La Trappe, is of French origin, and one of the most
austere and self-denying orders I have met with. In this gloomy retreat
it gave me pain to observe the infatuation of men, who have devoutly
reduced themselves to a much worse condition than that of the beasts.
Folly, you see, is the lot of humanity, whether it arises in the flowery
paths of pleasure, or the thorny ones of an ill-judged devotion. But of
the two sorts of fools, I shall always think that the merry one has the
most eligible fate; and I cannot well form a notion of that spiritual
and ecstatic joy, that is mixed with sighs, groans, hunger, and thirst,
and the other complicated miseries of monastic discipline. It is a
strange way of going to work for happiness to excite an enmity between
soul and body, which Nature and Providence have designed to live
together in union and friendship, and which we cannot separate like man
and wife when they happen to disagree. The profound silence that is
enjoined upon the monks of La Trappe is a singular circumstance of their
unsociable and unnatural discipline, and were this injunction never to
be dispensed with, it would be needless to visit them in any other
character than as a collection of statues; but the superior of the
convent suspended in our favour that rigorous law, and allowed one of
the mutes to converse with me, and answer a few discreet questions. He
told me that the monks of this order in France are still more austere
than those of Italy, as they never taste wine, flesh, fish, or eggs; but
live entirely upon vegetables. The story that is told of the institution
of this order is remarkable, and is well attested, if my information is
good. Its founder was a French nobleman whose name was Bouthillior de
Rance, a man of pleasure and gallantry, which were converted into the
deepest gloom of devotion by the following incident. His affairs obliged
him to absent himself, for some time, from a lady with whom he had lived
in the most intimate and tender connexions of successful love. At his
return to Paris he proposed to surprise her agreeably, and, at the same
time, to satisfy his own impatient desire of seeing her, by going
directly and without ceremony to her apartment by a back stair, which he
was well acquainted with--but think of the spectacle that presented
itself to him at his entrance into the chamber that had so often been
the scene of love's highest raptures! his mistress dead--dead of the
small-pox--disfigured beyond expression--a loathsome mass of putrified
matter--and the surgeon separating the head from the body, because the
coffin had been made too short! He stood for a moment motionless in
amazement, and filled with horror--and then retired from the world, shut
himself up in the convent of La Trappe, where he passed the remainder of
his days in the most cruel and disconsolate devotion.--Let us quit this
sad subject."