Part 18 (1/2)
Avignon, November 20, 1743.
”As to my son's behaviour at Montelimart, it is nothing more than a proof of his weakness; and how little he is to be depended on in his most solemn professions. He told me that he had made acquaintance with a lady on the road, who has an a.s.sembly at her house at Montelimart, and that she had invited him thither. I asked immediately if she knew his name. He a.s.sured me no, and that he pa.s.sed for a Dutch officer by the name of Durand. I advised him not go thither, since it would raise a curiosity concerning him, and I was very unwilling it should be known that I had conversed with him, on many accounts. He gave me the most solemn a.s.surances that no mortal should know it; and agreed with me in the reasons I gave him for keeping it an entire secret; yet rid straight to Montelimart, where he told at the a.s.sembly that he came into this country purely on my orders, and that I had stayed with him two days at Orange; talking much of my kindness to him, and insinuating that he had another name, much more considerable than that he appeared with. I knew nothing of this, till several months after, that a lady of that country came hither, and meeting her in company, she asked me if I was acquainted with Monsieur Durand. I had really forgot he had ever taken that name, and made answer no; and that if such a person mentioned me, it was probably some _chevalier d'industrie_ who sought to introduce himself into company by a supposed acquaintance with me. She made answer, the whole town believed so, by the improbable tales he told them; and informed me what he had said; by which I knew what I have related to you.
”I expect your orders in relation to his letters.”
Edward was still anxious to join the army, and his parents were not averse to the scheme. Lady Mary, however, thought that certain precautions should be taken in the event of his securing a commission.
”It is my opinion,” she wrote to Montagu in January, 1744, ”he should have no distinction, in equipage, from any other cornet; everything of that sort will only serve to blow his vanity and consequently heighten his folly. Your indulgence has always been greater to him than any other parent's would have been in the same circ.u.mstances. I have always said so, and thought so. If anything can alter him, it will be thinking firmly that he has no dependence but on his own conduct for a future maintenance.”
Edward obtained a commission, and was present at Fontenoy.
On his return to England, in 1747, he was elected to Parliament for the family borough of Huntingdon. This he held until 1754, when he was returned for the borough of Bossiney, in Cornwall, which he represented for the next eight years.
Of his subsequent career it is not necessary to say anything here, except that his father left him an annuity of 1,000 a year, to be increased to 2,000 on his mother's death. Lady Mary in her will bequeathed him one guinea.
CHAPTER XIV
LADY MARY AS A READER
Her fondness for reading--Her difficulty to get enough books while abroad--Lady Bute keeps her supplied--Lady Mary's catholic taste in literature--Samuel Richardson--The vogue of _Clarissa Harlowe_--Lady Mary tells a story of the Richardson type--Henry Fielding--_Joseph Andrews--Tom Jones_--Her high opinion of Fielding and Steele--Tobias Smollett--_Peregrine Pickle--_Lady Vane's _Memoirs of a Lady of Quality_--Sarah Fielding--Minor writers--Lord Orrery's _Remarks on Swift_--Bolingbroke's works--Addison and Pope--Dr. Johnson.
In her quiet retreat, Lady Mary found plenty of time for books. ”I yet retain and carefully cherish my taste for reading,” she wrote to her daughter in 1752. ”If relays of eyes were to be hired like post-horses, I would never admit any but select companions: they afford a constant variety of entertainment, and is almost the only one pleasing in the enjoyment and inoffensive in the consequence.”
Her trouble was that she could not get books enough to occupy her time.
She was always asking Lady Bute to send her some, and was duly grateful when they reached her. ”I fancy you are now saying, 'tis a sad thing to grow old; what does my poor mamma mean by troubling me with criticisms on books that n.o.body but herself will ever read? You must allow something to my solitude.” And again: ”I thank G.o.d my taste still continues for the gay part of reading. Wiser people may call it trifling, but it serves to sweeten life to me, and is worst better than the generality of conversation.”
Lady Mary's taste in books was catholic. She has seen the ”Memoirs of her old friend, the d.u.c.h.ess of Maryborough,” but would be glad of the _Apology for a late Resignation_ and of Colin Campbell's books on _Architecture_. She has read Mrs. Lennox's _The Female Quixote_, and much of Sarah Fielding; and she desires Henry Fielding's posthumous works, with his _Memoirs of Jonathan Wild_ and _The Journey to the Next World;_ also the _Memoirs of Verocand_, a man of pleasure, and those of a Young Lady. ”You will call all this trash, trumpery, etc.,” she said to her daughter. ”I can a.s.sure you I was more entertained by G. Edwards than H. St. John, of whom you have sent me duplicates. I see new story books with the same pleasure your eldest daughter does a new dress, or the youngest a new baby. I thank G.o.d, I can find playthings for my age.
I am not of Cowley's mind, that this world is
'A dull, ill-acted comedy;'
nor of Mr. Philips's, that it is
'A too well-acted tragedy.'
”I look upon it as a very pretty farce, for those that can see it in that light. I confess a severe critic, that would examine by ancient rules, might find many defects, but 'tis ridiculous to judge seriously of a puppet-show. Those that can laugh, and be diverted with absurdities, are the wisest spectators, be it of writings, actions, or people.”
Presently Lady Mary is asking for books the names of which she has seen in the-newspapers: ”_Fortunate Mistress, Accomplished Rake, Mrs.
Charke's Memoirs, Modern Lovers, History of Two Orphans, Memoirs of David Ranger, Miss Mostyn, d.i.c.k Hazard, History of a Lady Platonist, Sophia Shakespear, Jasper Banks, Frank Hammond, Sir Andrew Thompson, Van a Clergyman's Son, Cheantles and Celemena_. I do not doubt at least the greater part of these are trash, lumber, etc.; however, they will serve to pa.s.s away the idle time, if you will be so kind as to send them to your most affectionate mother.”
Richardson Lady Mary liked in spite of herself, as so many others then and since have done, though it is true that she spoke of the ”very extraordinary (and I think undeserved) success of Pamela, which, she said, was all the fas.h.i.+on at Paris and Versailles, and is still the joy of the chambermaids of all nations.”
”I was such an old fool as to weep over _Clarissa Harlowe_, like any milkmaid of sixteen over the ballad of the _Lady's Fall_” (she wrote to her daughter). ”To say truth, the first volume softened me by a near resemblance of my maiden days; but on the whole 'tis most miserable stuff. Miss How, who is called a young lady of sense and honour, is not only extreme silly, but a more vicious character than Sally Martin, whose crimes are owing at first to seduction, and afterwards to necessity; while this virtuous damsel, without any reason, insults her mother at home and ridicules her abroad; abuses the man she marries; and is impertinent and impudent with great applause. Even that model of affection, Clarissa, is so faulty in her behaviour as to deserve little compa.s.sion. Any girl that runs away with a young fellow, without intending to marry him, should be carried to Bridewell or to Bedlam the next day. Yet the circ.u.mstances are so laid as to inspire tenderness, notwithstanding the low style and absurd incidents; and I look upon this and _Pamela_ to be two books that will do more general mischief than the works of Lord Rochester. There is something humorous in _R. Random_, that makes me believe that the author is H. Fielding. I am horribly afraid I guess too well the writer of those abominable insipidities of _Cornelia, Leonora_, and the _Ladies' Drawing Room_.”
”This Richardson is a strange fellow,” she said in another letter. ”I heartily despise him, and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his works in a most scandalous manner.”