Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Her Life and Letters (1689-1762)Melville, Lewis
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Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Her Life and Letters (1689-1762)
Melville, Lewis
Montagu, Mary Wortley, Lady 1689-1762; Montagu, Mary Wortley, Lady 1689-1762 -- Correspondence
"You do me wrong in imagining (as I perceive you do) that my reason for
being solicitous for your having that place, was in view of spending
more money than we do. You have no cause of fancying me capable of such
a thought. I don't doubt but Lord H[alifa]x will very soon have the
Staff, and it is my belief you will not be at all the richer: but I
think it looks well, and may facilitate your election; and that is all
the advantage I hope from it. When all your intimate acquaintance are
preferred, I think you would have an ill air in having nothing; upon
that account only, I am sorry so many considerable places are disposed
on [_sic_]. I suppose, now, you will certainly be chose somewhere or
other; and I cannot see why you should not pretend to be Speaker. I
believe all the Whigs would be for you, and I fancy you have a
considerable interest amongst the Tories, and for that reason would be
very likely to carry it. 'Tis impossible for me to judge of this so well
as you can do; but the reputation of being thoroughly of no party, is (I
think) of use in this affair, and I believe people generally esteem you
impartial; and being chose by your country is more honourable than
holding _any_ place from _any_ king."
The relations between Lady Mary and her husband did not improve. Not
only did he neglect to write to her when he left her in the country, but
he does not at any time appear to have had any desire to have her with
him in town. Lady Mary showed extreme, in fact overmuch, forbearance,
but towards the end of November her patience gave out: "I cannot forbear
any longer telling you, I think you use me very unkindly."
"I don't say so much of your absence, as I should do if you was in the
country and I in London; because I would not have you believe I am
impatient to be in town, when I say I am impatient to be with you; but I
am very sensible I parted with you in July and 'tis now the middle of
November," she went on to say. "As if this was not hardship enough, you
do not tell me you are sorry for it. You write seldom, and with so much
indifference as shews you hardly think of me at all. I complain of ill
health, and you only say you hope 'tis not so bad as I make it. You
never enquire after your child. I would fain flatter myself you have
more kindness for me and him than you express; but I reflect with grief
a man that is ashamed of passions that are natural and reasonable, is
generally proud of those that [are] shameful and silly."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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