extraordinary mark of it, having determined to set up my statue in the most conspicuous place: the marble was bespoke, and the sculptor bargained with, before I knew any thing of the matter; and it would have been erected without my knowledge, if it had not been necessary for him to see me to take the resemblance. I thanked them very much for the intention; but utterly refused complying with it, fearing it would be reported, (at least in England,) that I had set up my own statue. They were so obstinate in the design, I was forced to tell them my religion would not permit it. I seriously believe it would have been worshipped, when I was forgotten, under the name of some saint or other, since I was to have been represented with a book in my hand, which would have passed for a proof of canonization. This compliment was certainly founded on reasons not unlike those that first famed goddesses, I mean being useful to them, in which I am second to Ceres. If it be true she taught the art of sowing wheat, it is certain I have learned them to make bread, in which they continued in the same ignorance Misson complains of, (as you may see in his letter from Padua.) I have introduced French rolls, custards, minced pics, and plumbpudding, which they are very fond of. 'Tis impossible to bring them to conform to syllabub, which is so unnatural a mixture in their eyes, they are even shocked to see me eat it: but I expect immortality from the science of butter-making, in which they are become so skilful from my instructions." Again she writes from the same place, under date the 10th of June, 1753:—“ I have been these six weeks, and still am, at my dairy-house, which joins to my garden. I believe I have already told you it is a long mile from the castle, which is situate in the midst of a very large village, once a considerable town, part of the walls still remaining, and has not vacant ground enough about it to make a garden, which is my greatest amusement, it being now troublesome to walk, or even go in the chaise till the evening. I have fitted up in this farm-house a room for myself, that is to say, strewed the floor with rushes, covered the chimney with moss and branches, and adorned the room with basons of earthen ware (which is made here to great perfection,) filled with flowers, and put in some straw chairs, and a couch bed, which is my whole furniture. This spot of ground is so beautiful, I am afraid you will scarce credit the description, which, however, I can assure you, shall be very literal, without any embellishment from imagination. It is on a bank, forming a kind of peninsula, raised from the river Oglio fifty feet, to which you may descend by easy stairs cut in the turf, and either take the air on the river, which is as large as the Thames at Richmond, or by walking an avenue two hundred yards on the side of it, you find a wood of a hundred acres, which was all ready cut into walks and ridings when I took it. I have only added fifteen bowers in different views, with seats of turf. They were easily made, here being a large quantity of underwood, and a great number of wild vines, which twist to the top of the highest trees, and from which they make a very good sort of wine they call brusco. I am now writing to you in one of these arbours, which is so thick shaded, the sun is not troublesome, even at noon. Another is on the side of the river, where I have made a camp kitchen, that I may take the fish, dress, and eat it immediately, and at the same time see the barks, which ascend or descend every day to or from Mantua, Guastalla, or Ponte de Vie, all

considerable towns. This little wood is carpetted in their succeeding seasons, with violets and strawberries, inhabited by a nation of nightingales, and filled with game of all kinds, excepting deer and wild boar, the first being unknown here, and it not being large enough for the other. My garden was a plain vineyard when it came into my hands not two years ago, and it is, with a small expense, turned into a garden that (apart from the advantage of the climate) I like better than that of Kensington. The Italian vineyards are not planted like those in France, but in clumps, fastened to trees planted in equal ranks, (commonly fruit trees,) and continued in festoons from one to another, which I have turned into covered galleries of shade, that I can walk in the heat without being incommoded by it. I have made a dining-room of verdure capable of holding a table of twenty covers; the whole ground is three hundred and seventeen feet in length, and two hundred in breadth. You see it is far from large; but so prettily disposed, though I say it, that I never saw a more agreeable rustic garden, abounding with all sorts of fruit, and producing a variety of wines. I would send you a pipe if I did not fear the customs would make you pay too dear for it. I believe my description gives you but an imperfect idea of my garden. Perhaps I shall succeed better in describing my manner of life, which is as regular as that of any monastery. I generally rise at six, and as soon as I have breakfasted, put myself at the head of my needle-women, and work with them till nine. I then inspect my dairy, and take a turn among my poultry, which is a very large inquiry. I have at present two hundred chickens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, and peacocks. All things have hitherto prospered under my care; my bees and silk-worms are doubled, and I am told that, without accidents, my capital will be so in two years' time. At eleven o'clock I retire to my books; I dare not indulge myself in that pleasure above an hour. At twelve I constantly dine, and sleep after dinner till about three. I then send for some of my old priests, and either play at piquet or whist, till 'tis cool enough to go out. One evening I walk in my wood, where I often sup, take the air on horseback the next, and go on the water the third. The fishery of this part of the river belongs to me; and my fisherman's little boat-to which I have a green lute-string awning-serves me for a barge. He and his son are my rowers without any expense, he being very well paid by the profit of the fish, which I give him on condition of having every day one dish for my table. Here is plenty of every sort of fresh water fish, excepting salmon; but we have a large trout so like it, that I, who have almost forgot the taste, do not distinguish it. We are both placed properly in regard to our different times of life: you amidst the fair, the gallant, and the gay; I, in a retreat, where I enjoy every amusement that solitude can afford. I confess I sometimes wish for a little conversation; but I reflect that the commerce of the world gives more uneasiness than pleasure, and quiet is all the hope that can reasonably be indulged at my age." These extracts are alike creditable to her ladyship's head and heart. They prove that she had preserved the freshness of her feelings throughout a life spent, from early years, in circles by no means favourable to simple tastes and unsophisticated habits.

We give one other extract from her correspondence, as a specimen of the justness of her criticism, and the acuteness of her political views.

Writing to her daughter, she says of Lord Bolingbroke's works, they furnish "a glaring proof how far vanity can blind a man, and how easy it is to varnish over to one's self the most criminal conduct. He declares he always loved his country, though he confesses he endeavoured to betray her to popery and slavery; and loved his friends, though he abandoned them in distress, with all the blackest circumstances of treachery. His account of the peace of Utrecht is almost equally unfair or partial; I shall allow that, perhaps, the views of the whigs, at that time, were too vast, and the nation, dazzled by military glory, had hopes too sanguine; but surely the same terms that the French consented to, at the treaty of Gertruydenberg, might have been obtained; or if the displacing of the duke of Marlborough raised the spirits of our enemies to a degree of refusing what they had before offered, how can he excuse the guilt of removing him from the head of a victorious army, and exposing us to submit to any articles of peace, being unable to continue the war? I agree with him, that the idea of conquering France is a wild extravagant notion, and would, if possible, be impolitic; but she might have been reduced to such a state, as would have rendered her incapable of being terrible to her neighbours for some ages: nor should we have been obliged, as we have done almost ever since, to bribe the French ministers to let us live in quiet. So much for his political reasonings, which, I confess, are delivered in a florid, easy style; but I cannot be of Lord Orrery's opinion, that he is one of the best English writers. Well turned periods, or smooth lines, are not the perfection either of prose or verse; they may serve to adorn, but can never stand in the place of good sense. Copiousness of words, however ranged, is always false eloquence, though it will ever impose on some sort of understandings. How many readers and admirers has Madame de Sevigné, who only gives us, in a lively manner, and fashionable phrases, mean sentiments, vulgar prejudices, and endless repetitions? Sometimes the tittle tattle of a fine lady, sometimes that of an old nurse, always tittle tattle; yet so well gilt over by airy expres. sions and a flowing style, she will always please the same people to whom Lord Bolingbroke will shine as a first-rate author. She is so far to be excused, as her letters were not intended for the press; while he labours to display to posterity all the wit and learning he is master of, and sometimes spoils a good argument by a profusion of words, running out into several pages a thought that might have been more clearly expressed in a few lines; and, what is worse, often falls into contradiction and repetitions, which are almost unavoidable to all voluminous writers, and can only be forgiven to those retailers, whose necessity compels them to diurnal scribbling, who load their meaning with epithets, and run into digressions, because, in the jockey phrase, it rids ground, that is, covers a certain quantity of paper to answer the demand of the day. A great part of Lord Bolingbroke's letters are designed to show his reading, which, indeed, appears to have been very extensive; but I cannot perceive that such a minute account of it can be of any use to the pupil he pretends to instruct; nor can I help thinking he is far below either Tillotson or Addison, even in style, though the latter was sometimes more diffuse than his judgment approved, to furnish out the length of a daily Spectator. I own I have small regard for Lord Bolingbroke as an author, and the highest contempt for him as a man. He

came into the world greatly favoured both by nature and fortune, blest with a noble birth, heir to a large estate, endowed with a strong constitution, and, as I have heard, a beautiful figure, high spirits, a good memory, and a lively apprehension, which was cultivated by a learned education: all these glorious advantages being left to the direction of a judgment stifled by unbounded vanity, he dishonoured his birth, lost his estate, ruined his reputation, and destroyed his health by a wild pursuit of eminence even in vice and trifles."

These extracts must, we think, impress the reader with a very favourable view of Lady Mary's talents, and of her epistolary style. wrote verses which are always sprightly and entertaining; but it is to the ease and beauty of her letters that she owes her rank in English literature. She returned to England in 1761, and died in 1762. Her works were published in four volumes, 12mo, by Mr Dallaway of the Herald's college, London, in 1803.

Lady Mary's son, Edward Wortley Montague, born in 1713, was one of the most singular characters of his age. After spending a rambling life in various parts of Europe, he set out for the East, where he first embraced Roman Catholicism, and then Mahommedanism. He was a man of considerable genius, and wrote some pieces of merit ; but he seems to have been latterly, at least, deranged in his intellect. He died at Padua in 1776.

Henrietta, Countess of Suffolk.

BORN A. D. 1688.-Died A. D. 1767.

WE can scarcely overlook this lady, after the notice we have just bestowed on her not more gifted contemporary. To her letters and those of Lady Mary Wortley Montague we are indebted for much of our information respecting the political parties of their day; the letters them-. selves are, besides, models of epistolary composition.

Henrietta Hobart was the eldest daughter of Sir Henry Hobart, the fourth baronet of his family, and sister of Hobart, earl of Buckinghamshire. In 1708 she married the honourable Charles Howard, third sor. of Henry, fifth earl of Suffolk. The union was unfortunate; though it may be doubted whether the husband deserved all the reproaches which Horace Walpole has heaped upon him. When the Hanoverian succession became a matter of daily expectation, the young couple repaired to the court of Hanover, where they succeeded in ingratiating themselves with the future king and queen of Britain. On the accession of George I., to use the words of the editor of Lady Suffolk's correspondence," the elder whig politicians became ministers to the king. The most promising of the young lords and gentlemen of the party, and the prettiest and liveliest of the young ladies, formed the new court of the prince and princess of Wales. The apartment of the bedchamberwoman in waiting became the fashionable evening rendezvous of the most celebrated wits and beauties. In this brilliant circle were formed the intimacies and friendships which produced the following correspondence: Though Miss Bellenden, one of the maids of honour, bore away the palm of beauty, and her colleague, Miss Lepell, that of

grace and wit, Mrs Howard's good sense, amiability, and sweetness of temper and manners, made her a universal favourite; and it was her singular good fortune to be at once distinguished by her mistress, and beloved by her companions."

Every one has heard of Lady Hobart's undue intimacy with George II. The editor of her letters holds her guiltless of the charges which have been so often preferred against her on this score. His argument is by no means convincing, but we shall let her ladyship have the benefit of it:-"It is remarkable," he says, "that though her favour with the prince seemed gradually to increase, that with the princess kept pace with it. This latter circumstance should, it may be thought, have prevented any scandal which might otherwise have arisen from the former: but although, as Walpole allows, that the propriety and decency of Mrs Howard's behaviour were so great that she was always treated as if her character never had been questioned-her friends affecting to suppose that her connexion with the prince had been confined to pure friendship,'-yet the world certainly suspected a more tender attachment; and Walpole has, in his 'Reminiscences', made direct charges of this nature, with such confidence and particularity, that the transitory scandal of the day has been, on his authority, embodied in the graver pages of history. But a careful perusal of all Lady Suffolk's original papers obliges the editor to declare, that he not only finds a large proportion of Walpole's anecdotes to be unfounded; but that he has not, in Mrs Howard's correspondence with the king, nor the notes of her conversations with the queen, nor in any of her most confidential papers, found a single trace of the feeling which Walpole so confidently imputes. Lady Suffolk, in her old age, became Mr Walpole's neighbour, and their acquaintance grew into intimacy; but most of what he relates of her early life he had from his father and his father's friends, who were inflamed with violent personal and political prejudices against Mrs Howard. It is therefore not surprising that stories, thus envenomed by faction, should be often unfounded, and always exaggerated. Walpole had, moreover, a decided antipathy to George the Second; and the friendship of his later years for Lady Suffolk was not strong enough to control his early inclination to depreciate that monarch. Individual instances of his mistakes and misrepresentations will appear in the notes; but it is necessary thus generally to state, that all his anecdotes relative to George the Second and Mrs Howard must be received with great caution. There is no doubt that Mr Howard took some violent steps to remove his lady from her situation in the princess's family; and this circumstance the world admitted, and Walpole quotes, as proof that there was reason for the jealousy of the husband. It appears, however, that, in this inference, as to Mr Howard's motives, the world and Walpole were certainly mistaken. It is well-known, that within a very few years after their arrival in England, a difference broke out between George the First and his son : this rupture was not only violent but public, and never was completely healed. The old king's resentment, open as it was against his son, was still more rooted against the princess, whom to his familiars he used, with a whimsical mixture of respect and rage, to designate as 'cette diablesse Madame la Princesse.' In this unhappy dispute Mr and Mrs Howard were soon involved. He was groom of the bedchamber to the