MEN AND MANNERS OF THE EIGHT EENTH CENTURY. BOOK I. POPE AND LADY MARY. CHAPTER I. Birth and LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU was born in 1690 and died in 1762. She was Lady Mary Pierrepont, the daughter of the Duke of Kingston, thus by birth belong- parentage. ing to the best society of her time. She married Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu, a diplomatist and, amongst other things, a personal friend of Addison, and thus was brought in contact with the literary people. She was herself a brilliant letter-writer, and her letters have been published. These things fit her especially for my purpose, as, during a long life she saw and was a part of that society which we desire to become acquainted with, Social position. the circle of wits and fashionable people, of brilliant writers and dull peers, of men of genius who condescended to frivolity and women of the world who aspired to wisdom. Her letters were edited in 1837 by her great-grandson, Lord Wharncliffe, whose book is already old-fashioned, and for this reason has a flavor more suited to the present purpose than later less flattering though perhaps better considered estimates of Lady Mary. There can be no doubt that she was celebrated, even from her childhood, for a vivacious intellect, precocious mental acquirements, and for the beauty and grace of her person. Incident of the Literary progress. A trifling incident, which Lady Mary loved to recall, will prove how much she was the object of her father'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 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 caresses, and, what perhaps already pleased her better than either, heard her wit and beauty loudly extolled on every side. Never again, she has said later, did she pass so happy a day. However, it is probable that her father, whose amusement in her ceased when she grew past the age of sitting on his knee and playing with a doll, consigned all his daughters alike to the care of a good homespun governess such as her letters describe, and, having thus done his supposed duty toward them, held himself at liberty to pursue his own pleasures, which lay elsewhere than at home. Her mother died when Lady Mary was four years old. But, admitting that Lady Mary's talents were only self-cultivated, her literary progress might not be the less considerable. When industry, inspirited by genius, toils from free choice, and there exists, unchecked, that large devouring appetite for reading seldom felt but in the first freshness of 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 uncounted 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 flower-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 found 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." 99 66 99 66 Nevertheless, though laboring to acquire what may be termed masculine knowledge [this was written in 1836] 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 luxury of reading every romance as yet invented. For she possessed, and left after her, the whole library cele- Old romances. brated in Mrs. Lennox's "Female Quixote," viz.: "Cleopatra,' "Cassandra," "Clelia, Cyrus,' 'Pharamond," "Ibrahim," etc., etc., all, like the Lady Arabella's collection, “Englished mostly by persons of honor." The chief favorite appears to have been a translation of Monsieur Honoré d'Urfé's "Astrea," once the delight of Henri Quatre [died 1715] and his court, and still admired and quoted by the savants who flourished under 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, in her fairest youthful hand, the names and characteristics of the chief personages, thus: the beautiful 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 outward hue, and marked by the wear and tear of almost a century, might have been disrespectfully treated by her junior grandchildren and their nursery 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 [the only daughter of Lady Mary became Lady Bute], and ever after made part of her family. Her spectacles were always to be |