TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFord.

[Came to London, Monday, Oct. 12th, O.S.; received at Welbeck, Thursday, Oct. 15th, O.S. 1747.]

Brescia, Sept. 1 [1747].

DEAREST MADAM,-This is the fourth letter I have wrote since I have had the honour of yours, and am in so much pain for your health, that I have little enjoyment in the recovery of my own. I am willing to flatter myself that your silence is occasioned by the irregularity of the post, which this unhappy war often interrupts: the fear of this never reaching you, puts a great damp on my writing; yet I could not be easy without endeavouring (at least) to give you my repeated assurances of that everlasting affection I shall always feel for your ladyship, which you so highly deserve, and have by so many obligations acquired. I have lived this eight months in the country, after the same manner (in little) that I fancy you do at Welbeck, and find so much advantage from the air and quiet of this retreat, that I do not think of leaving it. I walk and read much, but have very little company except that of a neighbouring convent. I do what good I am able in the village round me, which is a very large one; and have had so much success, that I am thought a great physician, and should be esteemed a saint if I went to mass. My house is a very convenient one, and if I could have your ladyship's dear conversation, I may truly say my life would be very comfortable that is a melancholy thought, when I reflect on the impossibility of that happiness being obtained by (dearest madam)

Your most faithfully devoted humble servant. Be pleased to direct to Brescia par Venise.

TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE.

Brescia, Dec. 17, N.S. [1747].

DEAR CHILD, I received yours of October 14th but yesterday the negligence of the post is very disagreeable. I

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have at length had a letter from Lady Oxford, by which I find mine to her has miscarried, and perhaps the answer which I have now wrote may have the same fate.

1

I wish you joy of your young son; may he live to be a blessing to you. I find I amuse myself here in the same manner as if at London, according to your account of it; that is, I play at whist every night with some old priests that I have taught it to, and are my only companions. To say truth, the decay of my sight will no longer suffer me to read by candlelight, and the evenings are now long and dark, that I am forced to stay at home. I believe you'll be persuaded my gaming makes nobody uneasy, when I tell you that we play only a penny per corner. 'Tis now a that I have lived wholly in the country, and have 'no design of quitting it. I am entirely given up to rural amusements, and have forgot there are any such things as wits or fine ladies in the world. However, I am pleased to hear what happens to my acquaintance. I wish you would inform me what is become of the Pomfret family, and who Sir Francis Dashwood has married. I knew him at Florence: he seemed so nice in the choice of a wife, I have some curiosity to know who it is that has had charms enough to make him enter into an engagement he used to speak of with fear and trembling.

year

I am ever, dear child, your most affectionate mother. My service to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grandchildren.

TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE.

Brescia, Jan. 5 [1748].

DEAR CHILD, I am glad to hear that yourself and family are in good health; as to the alteration you say you find in

1 James Archibald Stuart, second son of the Earl of Bute, the ancestor of Lord Wharncliffe. He was born September 19th, 1747.-T.

2 He married Sarah, daughter and co-heir of Thomas Gould, Esq., of Ivor, county of Bucks, and widow of Sir Richard Ellis, Bart.-D. Horace Walpole, in a letter to Sir Horace Mann, dated 6th of March, 1746, speaks of " Sir Francis Dashwood's new wife, a poor forlorn Presbyterian prude."-T.

the world, it is only owing to your being better acquainted with it. I have never in all my various travels seen but two sorts of people, and those very like one another; I mean men and women, who always have been, and ever will be, the same. The same vices and the same follies have been the fruit of all ages, though sometimes under different names. I remember, when I returned from Turkey, meeting with the same affectation of youth amongst my acquaintance that you now mention amongst yours, and I do not doubt but your daughter will find the same, twenty years hence, among hers. One of the greatest happinesses of youth is the ignorance of evil, though it is often the ground of great indiscretions, and sometimes the active part of life is over before an honest mind finds out how one ought to act in such a world as this. I am as much removed from it as it is possible to be on this side the grave; which is from my own inclination, for I might have even here a great deal of company; the way of living in this province being what I believe it is now in the sociable part of Scotland, and was in England a hundred years ago. I had a visit in the beginning of these holidays of thirty horse of ladies and gentlemen, with their servants (by the way, the ladies all ride like the late Duchess of Cleveland). They came with the kind intent of staying with me at least a fortnight, though I had never seen any of them before; but they were all neighbours within ten miles round. I could not avoid entertaining them at supper, and by good luck had a large quantity of game in the house, which, with the help of my poultry, furnished out a plentiful table. I sent for the fiddles, and they were so obliging as to dance all night, and even dine with me next day, though none of them had been in bed; and were much disappointed I did not press them to stay, it being the fashion to go in troops to one another's houses, hunting and dancing together a month in each castle. I have not yet returned any of their visits, nor do not intend it of some time, to avoid this expensive hospitality. The trouble of it is not very great, they not expecting any ceremony. I left the room about one o'clock, and they continued their ball in the saloon above stairs, without being at all offended at my departure. But the greatest diversion I had was to see a lady of my

own age comfortably dancing with her own husband, some years older; and I can assert that she jumps and gallops with the best of them.1

May you always be as well satisfied with your family as you are at present, and your children return in your age the tender care you have of their infancy. I know no greater happiness that can be wished for you by your most affectionate mother.

My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grandchildren.

To MR. WORTLEY MONTAgu.

Lovere [February 2, N.S. 1748]. YOURS of the 1st of December, O.S., came to me this morning, February 2, N.S. I hope your health continues good, since you say nothing to the contrary. I think the Duchess of Manchester's silence is the most reasonable part of her conduct; complainers are seldom pitied, and boasters yet seldomer believed. Her retirement is, in my opinion, no proof either of her happiness or discontent, since her appearance in the world can never be pleasing to her, having sense enough to know 'tis impossible for her to make a good figure in it. I was shown at Genoa an ode

1 Portions of this paragraph in the original are now torn off.-T. 2 The Duchess of Manchester mixed very little with the world after her marriage to Mr. Hussey, one of those nine days' wonders which never fail to put all idle tongues in motion. The satirical lines of Hanbury Williams are well known:

"Sunk is her power, her sway is o'er;

She'll be no more ador'd--no more

Shine forth the public care.

Oh, what a falling off is here,

From her whose frown made wisdom fear,
Whose scorn begot despair."

Their worthless author had married a friend of hers, Lady Frances Coningsby, the only child of Lord Coningsby; and he used her as moths that fly into a candle, and as heiresses that marry rakes are pretty sure to be used. Something made him suspect the duchess of spiriting her up to resistance; a piece of hostility which he revenged by levelling at her grace the shafts of his wit, even before her extraordinary match

on Ch. Ch.,1 as a production of Dr. Broxholme. I own I thought it much in his style, and am apt to believe (from what I know of Sir Ch. H.2) he is more likely to have the vanity to father it, than the wit to write it. I have seen heaps of his poetry, but nothing to distinguish him from the tribe of common versifiers. The last I saw was an ode addressed to Mr. Dodington on his courtship to the late D. [Duchess] of Argyll; those two you mention have never reached me. I should be very much obliged if you would

send me copies of them.

The winter here begun with the last month; the snow is still on the ground in some places, but the air much softened, and we reckon the spring begun. I hear the new provoked ridicule. Extraordinary it must be called; yet Mr. Hussey was a gentleman of birth and fortune; and as he descended maternally from the Duchess of Tyrconnel (Grammont's Belle Jennings, sister to the Duchess of Marlborough), he was likewise her own relation, But then she stood on the topmost height both of fashion and quality; and had ever piqued herself upon being more delicate, more fastidious, in modern cant more exclusive, than the finest of the fine ladies her compeers. In short, she seemed a person whom few men, and those only of the highest class in situation and talents, might dare to look up to. Therefore her accepting a wild Irishman, younger than herself, utterly unknown to all her set of company, and differing widely from them in habits and manners, did unavoidably astonish the world, and set the wicked part of it a-laughing. The laugh, however, was checked when the Irishman, who could build no rhymes, drew his sword in answer to Sir Charles Hanbury's odes; and the wit, absconding, chose to lie concealed till the storm blew over. The duchess, as it appears from Lady Mary's observations, had the wisdom to be silent about the success of her venture. But, perhaps, the act which diverted her neighbours, secured a reasonable share of happiness for herself; since her husband, without the niceties of refinement, had a warm heart and a high sense of honour, which led him to treat her affectionately; and to show a scrupulous regard to her wishes, even after decease. He was created Lord Beaulieu in 1762.-W. Other authorities give a different account of the affair with Mr. Hussey. See Works of Sir C. H. Williams, 1822. Preface, p. 9.-T.

1 Charles Churchill. This probably refers to Sir Charles's verses, entitled "General Churchill's Address to Venus. Written in December, 1739;" Mr. Churchill being just then made deputy ranger of St. James's Park, under Lord Weymouth.-T.

2 Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, according to the report of those who remembered him, was so pompous and heavy in conversation, that some time passed before the world could believe him the author of such lively and spirited verses as the "Satires on Sir Robert Walpole's Successors," &c. &c.-W.