or to
Constantinople, and had set out for his post, accompanied by the witty
and beautiful wife for whom he cared so little. Ever since he first met
her and presented her with a copy of "Quintus Curtius," in honor of her
Latinity, and some original verses of his own, in earnest of his
admiration, he had been an exacting, impatient lover. After his marriage
he seems to have grown absolutely indifferent to her, leaving her alone
for months together while he remained in town, and pleading as his excuse
his Parliamentary duties. {149} She who, on the contrary, had made no
unreasonable display of affection for the lover, appears to have become
deeply attached to the husband, and to have been bitterly pained by his
careless indifference, an indifference which at last, and it would appear
most unwillingly, she learned to return. When this life had been lived
for a year or two Queen Anne died, and with Walpole's accession to power
Mr. Wortley got office, and brought his beautiful wife up from Yorkshire
to be the wonder and admiration of the English Court and the Hanoverian
monarch. For two bright years Lady Mary shone like a star in the
brilliant constellation of women, of wits, of politicians, and men of
letters, who thronged St. James's Palace and peopled St. James's parish.
Then came the Constantinople embassy. Lady Mary had always a longing for
foreign travel, and now that her desires were gratified she enjoyed
herself with all the delight of a child and all the intelligence of a
gifted woman. Travel was a rare pleasure for women then. A young
English gentleman made the grand tour, and brought back, if he were
foolish, nothing better than a few receipts for strange dishes, and some
newer notions of vice than he had set out with; if he were wise he became
"possessed of the tongues," and bore home spoils of voyage in the shape
of Titians and Correggios and Raphaels--genuine or the reverse--to stock
a picture-gallery in the family mansion. But women very seldom travelled
much in those days. Certainly no man or woman could then write of
travels as Mary Wortley Montagu could and did. We may well imagine the
delight with which Mistress Skerret and Lady Rich and the Countess of
Bristol, languid Lord Hervey's mother, and adoring Mr. Pope received
these marvellous letters, which were destined to rank with the epistles
of the younger Pliny and of Madame de Sevigne. Mr. Pope--whose
translation of the "Odyssey" had not yet ma