of this homily had in her time played many parts on the social stage, and had had her exits and her entrances, "the end being perfect ruin," or nearly so. In 1743, while a maid of honor to the Princess of Wales, she had contracted a clandestine marriage with Mr. Augustus Hervey, a young sea lieutenant, and brother of the Earl of Bristol, who, after a few days of wedded bliss, sailed away to Port Mohun in his country's service, while the bride resumed her virginal duties at the court of St. James's. Lady Mary's journal, begun in 1766, the two bulky volumes of which, now printed as a first instalment, barely embrace three years, was composed in the form of weekly or bi-weekly news-letters addressed to her sisters, and continued almost without inwho have turned over the leaves of an old terruption for twenty-five years. Those book of fashions and asked themselves in amused wonder how their grandmothers ulous, will understand the effect produced could have made themselves look so ridic The secret was well kept for many years, and when, finally, the husband took steps to establish the marriage, not with a view to domestic happiness, but to divorce, for which his wife had fully qualified herself, she succeeded in obtaining a judgment in the Spiritual Court legally by a cursory glance at these volumes, establishing her contention that no such but which, studied more closely, become contract had been entered into between them. Considering herself thus free she, in 1769, publicly married one of her many lovers, the old Duke of Kingston, who, dying six years later, left her the greater part of his large disposable possessions. In order to recover these his Grace's heirs determined to have the duke's marriage annulled on the ground of its having been bigamous; and the Duchess of Kingston was accordingly arraigned before the House of Peers on the charge of having "by force of arms feloniously married Evelyn Pierpoint, her husband, Augustus John Hervey, being then alive." Acting in the double capacity of a court of appeal and a criminal court, my lords quashed the decision of the spiritual judges upon which the prisoner rested her defence, and, rising one by one, with hand laid on heart, each noble lord declared her to be "Guilty, upon my honor." Bigamy was in those days a capital offence, and the handsome and witty twicewedded maid of honor, who had by this time attained the mature age of fifty, would doubtless have been sentenced to branding and transportation to the colonies but for the happy accident of Mr. Hervey having, shortly before the trial, succeeded to his brother's earldom. The convict being able to plead privilege of peerage, as Countess of Bristol, thus escaped the penalty of her crime. It may be conceived how such an incident must have agitated fashionable society, and what a theme it afforded for the gossips. 66 Why all this fuss?" asks Horace Walpole, "and what are we coming to if wearisome beyond description. Never, perhaps, was there told in pretentious print the story of a more vapid or frivo lous life. From first to last there is no vestige of a high purpose, a serious pursuit, an ennobling thought; an intellectual or artistic taste. With the few exceptions hereafter referred to, the journal is only a fine lady's record of a dull, unvarying round of assemblies and card parties, of Petty gossip and stale scandals, interspersed with much twaddling sentiment, religious cant, and disagreeable details of dinners and suppers eaten, with their effect upon the digestive organs of the writer. Originality or depth of feeling is not to be expected in so artificial a nature, but there is something exceptional in such an entire absence of any sense of duty, of sympathy or consideration for others, as the journal betrays. One entry, indeed, from its novelty of tone arrests attention: Thank you for inquiring after Alphen; she is perfectly well now, but has eat no meat since her illness. She has broth and bread twice a day, which agrees with her surpris ingly. So after all this grande dame could descend to minister by the bedside of some humble friend or faithful dependent; but we read on and are disillusioned; Alphen was a dog. Lady Mary is much dissatisfied with the bad company that she meets at the court of St. James's, which want of exclusiveness she attributes to a recent regulation under which the right of entrée ⚫ Letter to Rev. William Mason. 7th Aug., 1775 was extended to the wives of privy councillors. Indeed there remained only two ceremonials worthy of being graced by her presence, and these, a coronation and the trial of a peer, were in the nature of things of comparatively rare occurrence. Although, then, court news is regularly recorded in the journal, and mention is made among other important events of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Fourth, having been "put in breeches" on a given day, it is mainly made up of tedious accounts of the routine of fashionable society, in which eating plays a very important part. Here are a few extracts illustrative of the Lady Mary's culinary experiences as she records them for the information of her sisters: It was two o'clock before I returned to the inn, where I found my dinner ready. It was not good by any means. Tough chickens, mutton not half rosted, pees villenously old, and the jam current tart made in a glass, you know. I eat, however, heartily, and returned a little after seven where I am now waiting for my supper. Eat my rosted apples; read a little in the bible; went to bed. Rose at my usual hour. After breakfast worked in my garden an hour was an hour and a half in dressing. At five went to Mackenzie's. Eat more than usual of an excellent haunch of venison undressed, eat my supper and prepared for bed. I was very indiscreet and eat so many little eels that my stomach was disordered last night. We had two very large carp for supper, but very muddy. At a ball at Lord Hertford's, where dancing began at half past seven, "every. thing at supper was cold excepting pees, beans, soops and fish," notwithstanding which her ladyship boasts of having had a "very good stomach." Card-playing ranks only next to eating, the games being Lu, quadrille, cribbage, tresdille, faron, quinze, and occasionally "a ruber of whisk." The stakes appear to have been high, since Lady Mary's winnings or losings at one sitting occa sionally exceed fifty guineas: Lady Harrington's party broke up sooner than usual, and she came to our table. I lost five guineas, came home about half after eleven, read a little in the bible, and went to bed. Played at Lu; won eleven guineas, and did not come home till near twelve o'clock. Read three chapters in Revelations. His Royal Highness was just sitting down Made forty-two visits. Set off half-an-hour after six to return visits; made thirty-six and ended at Lady Holderness. Played at Lu, and won sixteen guineas. Hertford, where I played at Lu till eleven, Made thirty-two visits, and ended at Lord and won eleven guineas. The old Duchess of Argyll considered the "Assembly in King Street," as the future "Almack's" was then called, an improper resort for young people; but Lady Mary had no fault to find with it except on the score of its dulness; whereas she declared Ranelagh to be always bril liant. I think I never saw so much great company there was ten Duchesses, Countesses in plenty, and I believe I may say, hundreds of the nobility; but not one Royal Person. Here is a conversation between two grandes dames which is thought worthy of being recorded in the journal: The Duchess of Bedford, who, you know, did gives herself airs, said at Gunneysbury, ever anybody see such creatures as the Princes of Sax Goth?" I asked her Grace if she had seen them." knew them? "No, it was the first time she that honor, and that I could assure her that I then told her that I had the eldest Prince was not only very sensible, but had the manners of a man of distinction. This seemed to offend her, for she turned to me and said: "I am very glad to hear it! I wish your Ladyship may be hereditary Princess of Sax Goth." I smiled, and thanked her Grace for the great honor she did me, but assured her that I made no wishes on that subject. The picture of the great world of fashion, as presented in the journal, is not an agreeable one. We hear much in the present day of the decadence of manners, and of the striking superiority in that respect of the great ladies and the fine gentlemen of four or five generations back. There can be no doubt that they were more ceremonious, but there are no traces in Lady Mary Coke's social records of that refined tone and high breeding which we are apt to ascribe to our ancestors. On the contrary, their stilted language, their bows and courtesies, seem to have been only the veneer employed to cover a mass of much coarseness and no little vice. It is never very safe to compare the morals of one age with that of another; but modern society, if not "better," may certainly claim to be more "decent" than that of a century ago. Would such a scene as Lady Mary here records be possible in the present day? * I forgot to tell you a story of Sir William Stanhope. He sent to some entertainment, where the king of Denmark was invited, a particular kind of wine. . . which his Majesty liked of all things; and expressed a desire to have some of it if it could be got, which was immediately communicated to Sir William. But the wine was not to be had in this country and Sir William had no more; upon which he sent a message to his Majesty, expressing his concern that he had none left, nor anything else that he knew of worthy of his acceptance, unless Lady Stanhope, whom he freely offered to his Majesty.t Although the journal betrays not the least interest in learning or science of any description, there is throughout Lady Mary's records an assumption of high intellectual cultivation; indeed there is nothing except her virtue, upon which she appears to have more prided herself than her literary acquirements, though the few books she refers to are of the most trivial character. Once indeed she does mention having passed several hours in a library; but the object of her studies proves to have been nothing more ab Christian the Eighth, who had then recently been married to the youngest sister of George the Third, ↑ It was of this pair of whom, shortly after their marriage in 1763, Walpole writes to Sir Horace Mann: "We sent you Sir William Stanhope and my lady, a fond couple; you have returned them to us very differWhen they came to Blackheath he got out of the chaise to go to his brother Lord Chesterfield's; made her a low bow, and said: 'Madam, I hope I shall never see your face again.' She replied, Sir, I will take all the care I can that you never shall."" and had come to England on a visit. ent. struse than the question as to whether or not Prince George of Denmark had kept a master of the horse. It is amusing to note the surprise with which she records an instance of her failure to influence a powerful mind: "You know that Mr. Hume is a great infidel. I have had some conversation with him, but have no hope of converting him from his erroneous way of thinking." One would like to have seen the historian's face while being examined in his catechism by the court lady. As gold miners will incur the cost and labor of crushing tons of quartz for the sake of abstracting a few ounces of the pure ore, so Lady Louisa Stuart took the trouble to dig through the superincumbent mass of rubbish of which the journal mainly consists, in order to discover and bring to the surface the few atoms, scattered here and there, which serve to illus. trate contemporary history or manners, and which the memoir presents in a con cise and attractive form. Among these scant materials, not the least interesting are the records of Lady Mary's visits to the principal Continental courts, in the course of which her overweening vanity and all-absorbing egotism are thrown into such broad relief as to afford an amusing running commentary upon her experiences of foreign society. When, for instance, in Berlin the great Frederick declined to grant her the private audience demanded, she consoled herself with the reflection that this refusal was due to reasons of State, because of her own importance as a political personage. At Vienna, however, she was received with marked distinction, and on her departure the empress presented her with her portrait set in diamonds. For the two following years, accordingly, Lady Mary indulges in enthusiastic recollections of her Most Gracious Majesty; but on her return to Vienna in 1775, her love of meddling and self-assertion induced her to make herself a conspicuous partisan in a court cabal, a proceeding which Maria Theresa so severely resented that the visitor left the court in a state of dudgeon and anger, allayed only by a proud satisfaction in being able to count the great Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary among her personal enemies. Taking Paris on her homeward way she was imprudent enough to proclaim her Own version of this incident, and in doing so to speak of her Imperial Majesty in terms of vituperation and contempt. The young queen of France, at best little dis posed to lavish much favor upon one whom Lady Louisa describes at that time as "a tall elderly English noblewoman, full fraught with all the forms, etiquettes, decorums, and nice observances of her country and order; wearing a large flat hoop, long ruffles and sweeping train; holding herself very upright and speaking very bad French," no sooner learnt that this new arrival at her brilliant court had indulged in language disrespectful to her mother, than she repelled her advances with such insulting coldness that Lady Mary claimed the protection and intervention of Horace Walpole, who had once been among her most devoted admirers, who had portrayed her virtues in his most eloquent prose, and celebrated her charms in glowing verse. Even in those salad days, however, he was able to detect specks upon the sun of his worship, for in a letter to Sir Horace Mann he remarks of her that "though a great lady she has a rage for great personages, and for being one of them herself; and with these pretensions and profound gravity, has made herself ridiculous at home, and delighted to promener sa folie par toute l'Europe." Her virtue is unimpeachable, her friendship violent, her anger deaf to remonstrance. She has cried for forty people and quarrelled with four hundred. she might be happy and respected, but will always be miserable from the folly of her views, and her passion for the extraordinary. Again to Lady Ossory: Lady Mary Coke has had a hundred distresses abroad, that do not weigh a silver penny altogether. She is like Don Quixote, who went in search of adventures, and when he found none imagined them. When she now appealed to him to become her champion in a crusade against the French court, and he, after having heard all she had to say, found her so completely in the wrong as not to feel justified in espousing her cause, she denounced him as a traitor unworthy of her further regard. Lady Mary Coke [he now writes to his old friend in Florence in a tone little indicative of a broken heart] has repaid some services I rendered her at Paris and elsewhere, with singular rudeness to me since my return, but she is mad. One so greatly born [writes the old Princess Amelia in doubtful grammar of Lady Mary, whom she had known in her early girlhood] must all wais be well come at my Table, and is constantly expected on Tuesdays, provide her great abilitys from those she thinks are she will be a little less contradicting, and hide inferior to hers. Extravagant, however, as was her adu lation of exalted rank, Lady Mary's love of domineering had by this time become so ingrained in her nature that she could not control it, even in the presence of royalty. George the Second's good - natuređ daughter had continued to bear with these infirmities of temper long after the patience of most of her other intimates had become exhausted; but when at last Lady Mary, smarting under her losses at the card-table, so far forgot herself as to in. dulge in some offensive remarks on the play of the Princess Amelia, which she declined to withdraw when asked to do so, her Royal Highness, after one or two more vain endeavors to bring her down from her high stilts, rose to her full height likewise, and assuming all the king's daughter: "Well, madam, your ladyship knows your own pleas ure best; I wish you health and happiness, for the future, and for the present Goodmorning.' Here!" to the page in waiting, "order Lady Mary Coke's carriage!" then gravely bowing in token of dismissal turned away. From that moment they never met again. The "honor, love, obedience, troops of friends," which should accompany old age, were certainly not for one constituted as was Lady Mary Coke. After paying her a visit in 1808, Lady Louisa Stuart writes: be eighty-two; still as violent and absurd as She is really a most astonishing woman to ever; all her faculties and her senses and nonsenses just the same! I have long looked for the time when she should become, as Wilkes said of himself, "an extinct volcano," but I believe now that she will blaze on to the very last. She died three years later, and here is her epitaph by the hand of one who knew her well: * Lady Mary Coke is dead at last. Lady With increasing years Lady Mary's Queensberry tells me that she died with a faults of temper and disposition hardened high-crowned beaver hat upon her head, and strengthened, till her aggressive self-proud Egypt's prouder queen." As Lord though in bed; like Cleopatra crowned: assertion became so intolerable as to alienate even her most indulgent friends Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in a letter to and acquaintances. Lord Gower. Seafield said of the Scottish parliament at | never failed to put inside — flowers which the Union: "here's an end to an auld sang,' had inspired a string of stornelli nearly she was vulgar; she said "this here" long enough to reach from Naples to and "that there".. Only think of Lord Bari; a stornello for every one, with a few Orford having been in love with this harpy! epics thrown in. From Blackwood's Magazine. THE GREAT WATER-CRESS TRAGEDY. I. But there is nothing perfect. That road from Naples to Bari had really seemed strewn with flowers, as, all the way back, Guido's fancy painted for him the first meeting after so long a parting in a hundred different ways, and each way more charming in turn than all the others. So of course it was in the one way of which his romance had scorned to dream. Not only, when he had flown up the stairs to the high story where he hoped to have Irene for he knew the household ar Of all unaccountable things it ought to be the most unaccountable that so studious, nay, learned a young man as Guido Floriani, clever, ambitious, a poet and a doctor of laws, should have set all his hopes of happiness upon nobody better rangements-all to himself, did he find than the daughter of the enameller, her father with her at an unaccustomed Fabio Vanucci a girl without a dowry, hour, and a stranger with her father, but and unable to read even a love-letter. he found something else: a certain chill Nay, more: though he was dead in love which he could not altogether refer to his with Irene when he left his and her native disappointment at the failure of his careBari to pursue his studies at Naples, and fully laid out plan for a joyful and unrethough he was a handsome and amiable strained meeting. Vanucci had certainly young man with no distaste for pleasure, changed somehow, and not-so Guido he came back from Naples to Bari deader felt for the better; and to the stranger in love with her than ever! the young man felt one of those antipathies at first sight which some people believe to be infallible warnings. Well, love has been answerable for more unaccountable things even than that; and it certainly never occurred to the young The stranger was pale, emaciated, caadvocate that there was even a certain daverous to the point of ghastliness; he lack of prudence for a lawyer without looked as if he were just about to step into, clients to want to marry a portionless girl or had just stepped out of, his grave. And when that girl's name was Irene Vanucci. this appearance was the more intensified And, be it said at once, there were miti- by his contrast with Guido's healthy gating circumstances; as he, being a doctor youth, the enameller's only too stout and of laws, would have put the matter in an- too florid vigor, and Irene's fresh grace other case than his own. She was very and charm. Such was the man's appearpretty; she was very good; she was very ance, that it ought, of right, to have ingentle; and she worshipped him to an ex-spired only pity, not aversion. His tent that would have satisfied the most exacting demands of a vainer man. Finally, they were in love with one another because-in short, because they were. pointed shoulders seemed almost to meet over his narrow chest; the sockets of his eyes were like caverns; his thin lips were drawn away from his darkened teeth and gums; and the complexion of his cheeks It had been good to see her face again, resembled some grey parchment on which after the long purgatory of absence, tem- a death-warrant had been plainly inscribed, pered indeed by a letter now and then, the signature being only too legibly reprebut written, as he knew, not by the hand sented by a hectic ring round each hollow. he wanted to kiss sixty times an hour, Then his hands, limp, waxen, and weak, and not in her own simple words, but by with long fingers and discolored nails, the crabbed fingers and in the high-flown were alone enough to tell a physician style of old Ulisse, who had probably tales. It was not, however, bodily disease composed and written identically the same that, to Guido at least, seemed to forbid letters for her mother; perhaps even for sympathy. The man looked — though the her grandmother, and for Guido's grand-idea might not have occurred to one who mother-who could tell? Not Ulisse, was not a poetas if he were being confor he never told; he had written so many sumed by his own wickedness, and yet love-letters that they meant no more to wickedness of so weak a sort as to make him than his fee. The real letter had one wonder that it should be able to con'been the flowers, one of which Irene had sume anything. |
