Mrs. Delany (Mary Granville) : a memoir, 1700-1788

Preface

In 1861-62 Mrs. Delanys Autobiography and Correspondence, edited by the late Lady Llanover, was published by Mr. Bentley in six volumes, the price being five pounds the set. This edition, the size and cost of which placed it beyond the reach of the general public, has long been out of print. In 1898 I received permission from the representatives of Mrs. Delany\s family to prepare an abridged or popular version of the book. In this work I have had the kind help and encouragement of the late editor's daughter, the Honourable Mrs. Herbert of Llanover, who was so good as to give me the opportunity of examining the manuscripts, pictures, embroideries, and other relics of Mrs. Delany which are now preserved at Llanover. Among the papers I found several interesting unpublished letters as well as some curious records of the social life of the period. Those that are in Mrs. Delany's own hand are inserted, in their proper order, in the body of the work, while the remainder will be found in a supplemental chapter. Mr. Ram, Q.C., another

PREFACE

descendant of the Granville family, was kind enough to lend me a packet of Mrs. Delany's unpublished letters, from which some characteristic passages are quoted.

I have to thank Messrs. Macmillan & Co., to whom Mr. Bentley's publishing rights have passed, for permission to print extracts from the Autobiography and Correspondence.

Contents

CHAP.

PAGE 1

. 116

Chapter I (1700-1717)

Mrs. Delany, born Mary Granville, was a daughter of the famous house which claims descent through the Earls of Corbeil from Rollo, first Duke of Normandy, and whose ancient lineage and territorial influence, together with the brilliant achievements of several of its members, placed it at one time in the foremost ranks of the celebrated historical families of this nation. From their kinsman William Rufus the Granvilles (or Grenvilles, as they were also spelt) receired broad lands in the west country, and kept up such princely state at their seat at Stowe, near Bideford, that one Sir Roger, who flourished about the end of the fifteenth century, earned the name of the ' Great Housekeeper. 1 The most distinguished of Mary Granville's more immediate ancestors were Sir Richard Granville, the Elizabethan admiral, who, as the commander of the gallant Revenge, and the hero of 'England's naval Thermopylae,' has been celebrated in song and story ; and his grandsons, Sir Bevil, the Royalist general, who fell at the battle of Lansdown in 1643, and Sir Richard, who was known as 'the King's General in the a 1

West. 1 Clarendon gives enthusiastic testimony to the character of Sir Bevil in the following passage :

'That which would have clouded any victory, and made the loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil Granville. He was indeed an excellent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation were the foundation of what had been done in Cornwall ; and his temper and affection so public that no accident which happened could make any impression on him, and his example kept others from taking anything ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, a brighter courage and a gentler disposition were never married together to make the most cheerful and innocent conversation.'

At the time of his death Sir Bevil had in his pocket a letter from Charles i. acknowledging his services, and a patent for the earldom of Bath, a title that was taken up by his eldest son, John, after the Restoration. His youngest son, Bernard, who was the messenger chosen to convey to Charles n. the news that he was invited to return to his kingdom, left three sons and two daughters : Sir Bevil, Governor of Barbadoes ; George, Secretary of State for War under Queen Anne, created Baron Lansdowne in 1711 ; Bernard, the father of Mrs. Delany ; Anne, Maid of Honour to Queen Mary, and afterwards married to Sir John Stanley ; and Elizabeth, who died unmarried.

Colonel Bernard Granville, who, as the younger son of a younger son, occupied the position of a poor gentleman with a famous name, does not appear to have mended his fortune by his marriage with the beautiful daughter of Sir Martin Westcombe, Consul at Cadiz. Mary, the eldest daughter, afterwards Mrs. Delany, was born at Coulston, in Wiltshire, on May 14, 1700. It was in 2 consequence probably of her parents' 1 narrow means that the little girl, at the age of eight, was adopted by her childless aunt, Lady Stanley, who was then living in apartments at Whitehall, Sir John being secretary to the Lord Chamberlain. At first Mary, who had already spent two years at a school kept by a French refugee, found the lonely grandeur of Whitehall but a poor exchange for the fun and frolic of her school life. ' My uncle and aunt," 1 she observes in a fragment of autobiography written late in life, ' though very kind to me, were too grave and serious to supply the place of the companions I had left. But I soon found new companions to cheer me for those I had lost. The fine Gothic gate which divided Whitehall, commonly called the cock-pit, from King Street was inhabited by Hyde, Earl of Rochester. Lord Hyde, the Earl of Rochester's eldest son, married Miss Lewson, daughter of Lord Gower, and grand-daughter of Sir Bevil Granville, and they and their large family at this time all lived with Lord Rochester, and I soon grew into great intimacy with my young cousins. But chiefly my acquaintance was with Miss Catherine, afterwards the celebrated Duchess of Queensberry, who was exactly my own age, and whose wit, beauty, and oddities made her from her early years, when she was " Kitty, beautiful and young," to the end of a long life a general object of animadversion, censure, and admiration. . . .

'In the year 1710 I first saw Mr. Handel, who was introduced to my uncle by Mr. Heidegger, the famous manager of the opera, and the most ugly man that ever was formed. We had no better instrument in the house than a little spinet of mine, on which that great professor performed wonders. I was much struck by his playing, but struck as a child not as a judge, for the moment he was gone I seated myself to my instrument and played the best lesson I had then learnt. My uncle archly asked me whether I thought I should ever play as well as Mr. Handel. " If I did not think I should," cried I, " I would burn my instrument. 1 ' Such was the innocent presumption of childish ignorance."'

The autobiographical fragment ends with this anecdote, but in a series of letters, written at the request of her friend the Duchess of Portland, in 1740, Mrs. Delany gives many interesting reminiscences of her eventful youth. The persons mentioned are designated by fictitious names, the key to which was given by Mrs. Delany on a separate sheet of paper, each name having a letter of the alphabet which corresponded with those on the key. These recollections begin with the year 1714, when the death of Queen Anne made a great difference to the fortunes of the Granville family.

'The task you have set me, my dearest Maria, 1 writes Mrs. Delany, ' is a very hard one, and nothing but the complying with the earnest request from so tender a friend could persuade me to undertake it. You are so well acquainted with my family that it is unnecessary for me to inform you of the ebbs and flows that have attended it for many years : in the most prosperous time of our fortune you were not born. The death of Queen Anne made a considerable alteration in our affairs : we were of the discontented party, and not without reason ; not only my father, but all my relations that were in public employments, suffered greatly by this change. My father being a younger brother, his chief dependence was on the favour of the Court and his brother's friendship ; the first being withdrawn, he had recourse to the latter ; he was offered by him a retreat 4 in the country and an addition to the small remains of his fortune ; he retired with my mother, my sister, and myself. Anna (my sister's name), who was then a little girl, too young to consider how such a retirement might prove to her disadvantage, was delighted with a new scene.

' I was then fifteen years of age, had been brought up under the care of my aunt Valeria [Lady Stanley], a woman of extraordinary sense, remarkably well-bred and agreeable, who had been Maid of Honour to Queen Mary, was particularly favoured and distinguished by her, and early attained all the advantages of such an education under so great and excellent a princess, without the least taint or blemish incident to that state of life so dangerous to young minds. Her penetration made her betimes observe an impetuosity in my temper, which made her judge it necessary to mortify it by mortifying my spirit, lest it should grow too lively and unruly for my reason. I own I often found it rebellious, and could ill bear the frequent checks I met with, which I too easily interpreted into indignities, and have not been able wholly to reconcile to any other character from that day to this. Nevertheless, the train of mortifications that I have met with since convince me that it was happy for me to be early inured to disappointments and vexations. Valeria was very fond of me, but too generous to deprive my father and mother of what they might think a comfort in their retirement, so upon their going into the country I quitted her and went with them. -1

In an explanation appended to the above letter by Mrs. Delany, she relates that 'Alcander [Lord Lansdowne], the year after the accession of George i., was sent to the Tower at the same time with Lord Oxford.

My father, who then resided in Poland Street, upon this change in the affairs of his family, determined upon retiring into the country. He ordered two carriages to be at his door at six o'clock, and gave a charge to all his people not to mention his design, as he did not wish to take a solemn leave of his friends upon an absence of such uncertain duration. The man from whom the horses were hired, and who proved to be a spy, immediately, in hopes of a reward, gave information at the Secretary of State's office of these private orders, affirming that it was his belief the colonel and his family were going secretly out of the kingdom. I was sleeping in the same bed with my sister, when I was suddenly awakened by a disturbance in my room. My first idea was of being called to rise early in order to sit for my picture, which was then painting for my father, but the moment I looked round I saw two soldiers standing by the bedside with guns in their hands. I shrieked with terror, and started up in my bed. " Come, misses," cried one of the men, " make haste and get up, for you are going to Lord Townshend's " (then Secretary of State). I cried violently, and they desired me not to be frightened. My mother's maid was with difficulty admitted into the room to dress us. My little sister, then but nine years old, had conceived no terror from this intrusion, but when the maid was going to put on her frock, called out, "No, no, I won't wear that frock. I must wear my bib and apron ; I am going to Lord Townshend's."

'When we were dressed we were carried to my father and mother, whom we found surrounded by officers and messengers, two of each and sixteen soldiers being employed about the house. My father was extremely shocked by this scene, but supported himself with the £ utmost composure and magnanimity, his chief care being to calm and comfort my mother, who was greatly terrified, and fell into hysteric fits, one after the other. Here, before any removal could take place, whilst we were in the midst of our distress and alarm, my aunt Valeria forced her way into the room. Intelligence having reached her of the situation we were in, she instantly came, but was refused admittance. She was not, however, to be denied ; she told the officers that she would be answerable for everything to Lord Townshend, and insisted on passing with a courage and firmness that conquered their opposition. I can never forget her meeting with my father ; she loved him with the extremest affection, and could never part from him, even for a short absence, without tears. They embraced each other with the most tender sadness, and she was extremely good in consoling my poor mother. She entreated that the messengers would at least suffer her to convey them to their confinement herself in her own coach, but this they peremptorily refused. She then protested she would be responsible for carrying her two young nieces to her own house, instead of seeing them conveyed to the messenger's, and in this point she conquered, and being forced to separate from my father, she had us both put into her coach and carried to Whitehall . . ;

How Colonel Granville and his wife obtained their liberty we are not told, but it appears that in November of the same year they were allowed to leave town with their two daughters, and travelled for five days through miserable weather to their new home at Buckland, near Campden, in Gloucestershire. 'At the age that I left the fine world,' continues the narrator, ' I may own, without fear of much reproach, that I left it with regret. I had been brought up with the expectation of being Maid of Honour, Queen Anne having put down my name for the office with her own hand. I had been at one play and one opera, and thought the poets 1 description of the Elysian fields nothing to the delights of these entertainments ; I lamented the loss of my young companions, and the universal gaiety I parted with when I left London. I often repeated Mr. Pope's verses to a young lady on her leaving the town after the coronation. And to make the change appear still more gloomy, all this I quitted in November, travelled through miserable roads, and in a few days after our arrival at the farm, was blocked up from all intercourse with our neighbours by as severe a frost as was ever known in England, which prevented company coming to us, or our going abroad. At that time I thought it a loss, though my father's excellent temper, great cheerfulness, and uncommon good-humour made him exert himself for our entertainment at home ; and as I loved him excessively, and admired everything he said and did, I should soon have found consolation from his engaging manners, but the dejectedness of my mother's spirits, occasioned by the disappointments my father had met with in his fortune, and the not being able to give her children all the advantages in their situation she wished to do, made her unable to support herself, and often affected her to so great a degree as to prejudice her health. This hurt my father, and I felt it on a double account.

' Three months passed in this place without any variety. I was kept to my stated hours for practising, reading, writing, music, and French, and after that I was expected to sit down to work. My father generally read to us. In the evening I was called upon to make up a party at 8 whist with my father and mother and the minister of the parish . . . This was our chief entertainment till Roberto [Mr. Twyford] came into the neighbourhood, a young gentleman who was driven to shelter there by some hot-headed, misguided zealots [Sir William Wyndham and others]. Their chief betrayed them, and Roberto was obliged to seek for refuge at Tranio's [Mr. Tooker] who had been a great friend of his father's. He was twenty-two, tall, handsome, lively, and good-humoured. The first Sunday after he came he met us all at church, and my father asked him to eat beef and pudding with his landlord. He came, and the next day he came again. He pleased my father extremely : they grew so fond of each other that by degrees the farm was his home, and my mother was glad to encourage his visits.

'The spring passed on tolerably well, the days brightened and lengthened, and we had compliments and visits from all our neighbours. In March Roberto left us to return home, all things being quiet in the country at that time ; but he promised my father he would come and make him a visit the latter end of the year. About this time I contracted a friendship for Sappho [Sarah Kirkham, afterwards Mrs. Chapone], a clergyman's daughter in the neighbourhood. She had an uncommon genius and intrepid spirit, which, though really innocent, alarmed my father. He loved gentleness and reserve in the behaviour of women, and could not bear anything that seemed free or masculine. I was convinced of her innocence, and saw no fault in her. She entertained and flattered me, but by the improvement she has since made, I see she was not then the perfect creature I thought her. We wrote to each other every day, and met in the fields between our fathers 1 houses as often as we had an opportunity. Her extraordinary understanding, lively imagination, and humane disposition, which soon became conspicuous, at last reconciled my father to her, and he never after debarred me the pleasure of seeing her . . .

' At the end of the year Roberto returned according to his promise. I found his behaviour not at all what it used to be ; he was often silent and thoughtful. When I came down in a morning to practise my harpsichord, he was always in the room, and he would place himself beside me while I played. Whenever I went to my favourite bench he followed me immediately. One day he took me by the hand as I was coming downstairs, and said, " He almost wished he had never known the family." After he had been a month with us my mother took notice of his being more particular in his behaviour towards me ; even my little sister Anna made several observations that made Roberto blush, and me angry at her pertness. My mother cautioned me not to leave my room in a morning till she sent for me, and never permitted me to walk without a servant when she or my father could not go with me. Roberto, I believe, designed speaking to me first, in which being disappointed he applied to my father, and made proposals of marriage. He told him I had no fortune, and it was very probable, for this reason, his friends would not approve of his desire ; if they did, he had so high an opinion of him that he should be well pleased with his alliance. Upon which Roberto returned home to try what he could do with his friends, but after some months 1 trial to get his parents to consent he wrote my father that they were inexorable. This he apprehended before he went, and pressed me very much to marry him privately, but I was offended at the proposal, and desired him, if he could not gain the consent he 10 wished to have, to think no more of me. I little thought then how fatal this disappointment would prove to him. I was very easy when the affair was over, and rather glad of it. 1

The following autumn Mary received an invitation to stay with her uncle Lord Lansdowne (called Alcander in the Autobiography) at Longleat. Lord Lansdowne had been confined in the Tower, on account of his Jacobite sympathies, during the past two years, and had only recently been set at liberty. The intimate friend of Pope and Swift, he was himself a poet as well as a politician, and a man of singular charm of manner. 'The invitation, 1 writes Mary, ' was very agreeable to me, and thought too advantageous by my father and mother to be refused. My father accompanied me himself, and delivered me into Lord Lansdowne's hand, who received me with that grace and fondness so peculiar to his politeness and good-nature. Laura [Lady Lansdowne] x was at that time about twenty-seven years of age, very handsome, and had behaved herself very well. I soon grew fond of her, and was delighted with every mark of her favour, tho 1 the pleasure I received from my uncle's distinction of me far exceeded it. There was at that time a great deal of company in the house, and the design of going to Bath was put off till the spring. We danced every night, and had a good band of music in the house. Lord Lansdowne was magnificent in his nature, and valued no expense that would gratify it, which in the end hurt him and his family extremely.

' I now thought my present state and future prospects as happy as this world could make them. My father

1 Widow of Thomas Thynne, and daughter of the first Earl Jersey. Her son, Lord Weymouth, inherited Longleat.

had thoughts of returning home, well pleased at my being in such favour, but discontented with my uncle's treatment of himself, which was not what he expected. He told him that now he should lessen his income, supposing that by this time he had fallen into a method of living in the country, and did not want so large an income as at first setting out. Alcander reminded him at the same time how kind he was to his children. These were truths, but harsh to a generous and grateful mind, such as my father's was. The day before he left Lord Lansdowne's house my father opened his mind to me, and I afterwards wished I had returned with him that I might, by tender duty and affection, show him that I preferred his house and company to all flattering views that were laid before me — but it was his pleasure that I should stay. My two aunts soon grew jealous of the great favour shown to me by my uncle, and would never suffer me to spend an hour with him alone, which mortified me extremely ; for tho 1 I did not pretend to much penetration or judgment, I soon found their conversation much less instructive, as well as much less entertaining, than his. I had been brought up to love reading, they never read at all. Alcander delighted in making me read to him, which I did every day, till the ladies grew angry at my being so much with my uncle.

' About this time there came on a visit to Alcander an old friend and countryman of his, Gromio [Mr. Pendarves of Roscrow, Cornwall]. When he arrived we were at dinner; he sent in his name, upon which Alcander rose from table overjoyed, and insisted on his coming in to dinner. I expected to have seen somebody with the appearance of a gentleman, when the 12 poor old dripping, almost drowned Gromio was brought into the room, like Hob out of the well. His wig, his coat, his dirty boots, his large unwieldy person, and his crimson countenance were all subjects of great mirth and observation to me. I diverted myself at his expense for several days, and was well assisted by a young gentleman, brother to Laura, who had wit and malice. Gromio soon changed his first design of going away next day. The occasion of his coming was, it was stated, a quarrel he had had with a gentleman who had married his niece. Gromio offered to settle upon him his whole estate, provided he would, after his (Gromio's) death, take his name. Bassanio [Francis Bassett], proud of his family, refused to comply, upon which Gromio determined to dispose of his estate, and settle quietly for the rest of his life in the country. In order to execute this design he was going to London, and passing near Alcander's house, heard that the family were in the country, which determined him to make his journey one day longer by calling there.

' He talked of going every day, but still stayed on, and I, to my great sorrow, was after some time convinced that I was the cause of this delay ; his behaviour was too remarkable for me not to observe it, and I could easily perceive that I was the only person in the family that did not approve of it. Gromio was then nearly sixty, and I seventeen years of age. You may readily believe I was not pleased with what I suspected. I formed an invincible aversion to him, and everything he said or did by way of obliging me increased that aversion. I thought him ugly and disagreeable. He was fat, much afflicted with gout, and often sat in a sullen mood, which I conclude was from the gloominess of his temper. I knew that of all men living my uncle had the greatest opinion of and esteem for him, and I dreaded his making a proposal of marriage, as I knew it would be accepted. In order to prevent it I did not in the least disguise my great dislike to him. I behaved myself not only with indifference, but with rudeness ; when I dressed I considered what would become me least ; if he came into the room when I was alone I instantly left it, and took care to let him see I quitted it because he came there. I was often chid by my aunts for this behaviour. I told them plainly he was odious to me, in hopes they would have had good nature enough to have prevented what I saw ; but Laura called me childish, ignorant, and silly, and said that if I did not know what was for my own interest my friends must judge for me.

'Gromio was some time debating with himself whether he should declare his sentiments for me or not, conscious of the great disparity of years, and often staggered, as he told me afterwards, by my behaviour, but at last a violent fit of jealousy, raised by Vilarios' [Mr. Villiers] gallantry towards me, which I only took for very undesigning merriment, made him resolve to address himself to Alcander, and make such proposals as he thought might gain his consent. Lord Lansdowne, rejoiced at the opportunity of securing to his interest by such an alliance one of some consequence in his country, whose services he at that time wanted, readily embraced the offer, and engaged for my compliance ; he might have said obedience, for I was not entreated but commanded. One night, at one of our concerts, all the company (I suppose by agreement) went into the room where the music was performed. I got up to follow them, but my uncle called me back, and desired I would bear him company, for he was lame, 14 and could not walk into the next room. My spirits forebode what he was about to say, and when he bade me shut the door, I turned as pale as death. He took me by the hand, and after a very pathetic speech of his love and care of me, of my father's unhappy circumstances, my own want of fortune, and the little prospect I had of being happy if I disobliged those friends who were desirous of serving me, he told me of Gromio 1 s passion for me, and his offer of settling his whole estate upon me. He then, with great art and eloquence, told me all his good qualities and vast merit, and how despicable I should be if I could refuse him because he was not young and handsome ; and that if I did refuse him, he should conclude that my inclinations were engaged to Roberto, a name that I had not .heard nor thought of for above half a year — a name that had never before given me much disturbance, though now it added to my distress.

' How can I describe to you, dear friend, the cruel agitation of my mind ! Whilst my uncle talked to me, I did not once interrupt him : surprise, tender concern for my father, a consciousness of my own little merit, and the great abhorrence I had to Gromio, raised such a confusion of thoughts in my mind that it deprived me of the power of utterance, and after some moments 1 silence I burst into tears. Alcander grew warm upon this mark of my distress, and said, " I see, madam, you are not to be gained by merit ; and if Roberto is the obstacle to my friend's happiness, and he ever dares to come to this house, I will have him dragged through the horse-pond. 11 Such an expression from a man of my uncle's politeness made me tremble, for it plainly showed me how resolute and determined he was, and how vain it would be for me to urge any reason against his resolution. With great difficulty I said I was so sensible of his goodness to me, and of the gratitude I owed him, that I would submit to his demands, but must beg leave at that time to retire, and that he would excuse my appearing any more that evening. He gave me my liberty, and by a back way I avoided the company, and went to my own apartment, locked myself up in my closet, where I wept bitterly for two hours. Several messengers came to the door to call me, and at last my uncle sent me word he absolutely insisted on my coming to supper. Nothing could be at that time more vexatious to me, but I proposed one consolation, which was that Gromio and the rest of the family should see how unacceptable the proposal that had been made to me that afternoon was.