But before he launches on that troubled career, it is well to catch what glimpses we can obtain of Pitt in private life. It is the more necessary as this aspect soon disappears from sight, and his letters begin to assume that pompous and obsequious tone which we have come to believe was his natural style, but which it is obvious was assumed and affected for purposes of his own. Until he passes on to the stage, he is as bright, as livery, and as affectionate as any lad of his generation. It is beyond measure refreshing to see him at this period bantering, falling in love, the participator of revels if not a reveller himself. For afterwards no one saw him behind the scenes, no one was admitted to his presence until every feature had been composed and his wig and his vesture dramatically arranged. To catch a glimpse of him before he played a part has been hitherto an unknown luxury. But to do this we must now for a moment consider his sisters.

There were five of these, and among them was to be found in abundance the strain of violence and eccentricity that distinguished the Pitts.

'The eldest, Harriot,' writes Lord Camelford, 'was one of the most beautiful women of her time, but little produced in the great world, and died very young from anxiety of mind in consequence of a foolish engagement she entered into with Mr. Corbett, son of Sir William Corbett, to whom she was privately married.' She secured for a while, as we have seen, Lyttelton's transient affections. 'The second daughter, Catherine, had much goodness, but neither beauty nor wit to boast of. She married Robert Nedham,[33] a man of uncommon endowments, but of good Irish family and property, by whom she had several children.' The third was Ann, of whom more presently; and the fifth Mary.

The fourth was Betty, of whom, unlike three of her sisters, we seem to know too much. The curse of the Pitt blood was strong in her. Lord Camelford, her nephew, speaks of her 'diabolical disposition,' and says concisely that 'she had the face of an angel and the heart of all the furies,' and that she 'formed the most complicated character of vice that I have ever met with.' Family testimony is not always the most charitable, but outside witnesses in no way mitigate these expressions. Lord Shelburne says that she was received nowhere, owing to her profligate life. Horace Walpole brings an infamous charge against her, which we may well hope is a distortion of the natural fact that for some time she took up her abode with her eldest brother Thomas; though Thomas on parting with her said that her staying with him was extremely distasteful to him. She, in any case, openly lived as his mistress with Lord Talbot, a peer as eccentric as herself, and who promised her marriage, she said, whenever he should be free from the incumbrance of Lady Talbot.[34] Afterwards she went to Italy, became a Roman Catholic, started from Florence with the declared intention of marrying Mr. Preston, a Leghorn merchant, who seems however to have been unequal to the occasion.[35] Then she returned to England, virulent against her brother William, 'whose kindness to her,' says Horace Walpole, no biassed witness, 'has been excessive. She applies to all his enemies, and, as Mr. Fox told me, has even gone so far as to send a bundle of his letters to the author of The Test[36] to prove that Mr. Pitt has cheated her, as she calls it, out of a hundred a year, and which only prove that he once allowed her two, and, after all her wickedness, still allows her one.'[37] And yet on occasion she could call William the best of brothers and of men.[38] This, too, was characteristic of the breed.

At this period of her life she called herself, heaven knows why, Clara Villiers Pitt, or Villiers Clara Pitt (there is an engraving of her with the latter designation), and published a pamphlet recommending magazines of corn. Of her perhaps too much has been said; but it is necessary to demonstrate that William's family relations were not always easy: Thomas reviled him, Elizabeth reviled him, Ann, whoever was in fault, caused him much trouble, while Thomas's son, whom he peculiarly cherished, regarded him with peculiar animosity.

It should be mentioned, however, that Dutens met her in France some time during Pitt's paymastership, and gives us a picture of her, which also throws light on William's strong family affection. She was then handsome, with a fine figure, her face aflame with pride and intellect, her age apparently under thirty; she was abroad for her health. With her, as a companion, chosen by her brother, was a Miss Taylor, a much prettier girl, of whom Elizabeth was vigilantly jealous and with whom Dutens fell haplessly in love. Miss Pitt was then apparently on excellent terms with her illustrious brother, and gave Dutens a letter to him. She had indeed become enamoured of the young Frenchman, a passion which, we are not surprised to hear, she carried to indecorous lengths. He, however, escaped to England and presented his letter. Pitt called on him the same afternoon and thanked him for his attentions to a beloved sister. Dutens became intimate, showed the minister his compositions, and was favoured with an inspection of Pitt's. Then all suddenly changed, and he was denied access.[39] Betty had quarrelled with the family of Dutens, and had written to beg her brother to quarrel with Dutens.[40] Dutens, she said, had boasted in company that he was well with her, and that if her fortune and family answered expectation he might marry her. Consequently she desired her brother to order his footman to kick Dutens down stairs; in any case she implored him to quarrel with the young man. With this request Pitt unhesitatingly and unreasonably complied. We see here in one incident how warm were Pitt's family affections, and the difficulties under which they were cherished.

In 1761 she married John Hannan of the Middle Temple, 'of Sir William Hannan's family in Dorsetshire, a lawyer by profession, remarkable for his abilities, some years younger than myself, and possessed of a fortune superior to my own,' as Betty describes him in a hostile announcement of the engagement addressed to William. Nine years afterwards she died. Of Hannan, her husband, nothing further seems to be known; but it may be surmised that his lot was not enviable.

Mary, the youngest, seems to have been a spinster of no striking qualities. We know little of her, except that she was born in 1725 and died in 1782.[41] There exists one letter from William to her of the year 1753, and he mentions her in a letter, dated April 9, 1755, as living with him. And indeed he was always kind to her, as she seems to have habitually resided with him. Mrs. Montagu writes in July 1754: 'Miss Mary Pitt, youngest sister of Mr. Pitt, is come to stay a few days with me. She is a very sensible, modest, pretty sort of young woman, and as Mr. Pitt seem'd to take every civility shown to her as a favour, I thought this mark of respect to her one manner of returning my obligations to him.'[42] But even she, though colourless, seems not to have been wholly devoid of the Pitt temperament, though she seems to have always been on intimate terms with her family. 'She had,' says Lord Camelford, 'neither the beauty of two of her sisters, nor the wit and talents of her sister Ann, nor the diabolical dispositions of her sister Betty. She meant always, I believe, to do right to the best of her judgement, but that judgement was liable to be warped by prejudice, and by a peculiar twist in her understanding which made it very dangerous to have transactions with her.' The 'peculiar twist,' which even Mary could not escape, was innate in most Pitts.

We have kept Ann to the last, though she was third of the sisterhood in point of age, being born in 1712, and so four years younger than William, whose peculiar pet and crony she was for the earlier part of their lives. She was in her way almost as notable as he, and she resembled him in genius and temper, as Horace Walpole wittily observed, 'comme deux gouttes de feu.' But drops of fire, did they exist, would probably not amalgamate for long, and one would guess that Ann and William were too much alike to remain in permanent harmony. Perhaps, too, their extreme intimacy made them too well acquainted with each other's tender points, a dangerous knowledge when coupled with great powers of sarcasm. One might surmise, too, that Pitt's wife, always apparently cold to Ann, might be disinclined to encourage the renewal of an intimacy which might once more attract William's closest confidence, though we have a letter[43] from Ann, dated 1757, in which she speaks with nothing less than rapture of Lady Hester's kindness to her. Lady Hester's immaculate caligraphy and frigid style give in our easier days an impression of distance and austerity.

Ann, when she was little more than twenty, may be said to have entered public life by becoming a maid of honour to Queen Caroline, the wife of George II. From this moment she became one of that group of distinguished women, not blue but brilliant, who adorned England in the eighteenth century by their idiosyncrasies as much as by their abilities. She was courted and beloved by characters so famous as Gay's Duchess of Queensberry and George the Second's Lady Suffolk, and by Mrs. Montagu, who was much more blue than brilliant; for her essay on Shakespeare, so much lauded by her contemporaries, has long been dead and buried. In her dear Mrs. Pitt's conversation, declared this paragon of pedants, she saw Minerva without the formal owl on her helmet.

Among men she corresponded with her neighbour, Horace Walpole (who felt for her an affection tempered with alarm), Lord Chesterfield, and Lord Mansfield. 'She had charms enough to kindle a passion in the celebrated Lord Lyttelton,' says Camelford; Dr. Ayscough, a coarse and crafty ecclesiastic, whose acquaintance Pitt and Lyttelton had made at Oxford, and who was a trusted adviser of Frederick, Prince of Wales, sought her in marriage;[44] but there seem no other traces of the tender passion in her life. For the whim, if it indeed were not a joke, which made her ask Lady Suffolk to assist her to secure the hand of Lord Bath (then about seventy, when she herself was forty-six), hardly comes under that description. Ann was, indeed, made rather for admiration than for love. Bolingbroke, who called William 'Sublimity Pitt,' called Ann 'Divinity Pitt.'[45] But she was, one may gather, destitute of beauty,[46] and her vigorous originality of character and conversation inspired, we suspect, more awe than affection. The delightful sprightliness of youth is apt with age or encouragement to sour into a blistering insolence, and Ann had all the sarcastic powers of her brother. For example, Chesterfield calling on her in his later life complained of decay. 'I fear,' he said, 'that I am growing an old woman.' 'I am glad of it,' briskly replied Ann, 'I was afraid you were growing an old man, which you know is a much worse thing.'[47] An attractive, even fascinating, member of society, she was something too formidable for the ordinary man to take to his bosom and his hearth. Reviewing her life, we think that the real and sole object of her love was her brother William, even when her love for the moment vented itself, as love sometimes does, in quarrel. Strife was necessary to the Pitts, and when they waged war with each other it was no battle of roses. The disputes of lovers and relatives, like amicable lawsuits, are apt to become serious affairs, and with this race they were conflicts of the tomahawk. Be that as it may, and whatever the cause, William and Ann adored each other, kept house together, and then quarrelled with prodigious violence and effect. At present we are not near that point. Ann is her brother's 'little Nan,' 'little Jug,' and he is writing her the delightful letters contained in this chapter, written, says Camelford, who preserved them, with the passion of a lover rather than that of a brother. To us they represent rather the special relation of a brother and sister, when affection and intimacy have grown with their growth, from the nursery and the schoolroom to riper years, not unfrequently the sweetest and tenderest of human connections. Our only regret must be that William did not cherish Ann's letters as she did his, for they may well have possessed her peculiar charm. 'She equalled her brother, Lord Chatham,' writes her nephew, who knew them both well, 'in quickness of parts, and exceeded him in wit and in all those nameless graces and attentions by which conversation is enlivened and endeared.' At the same time, one may reluctantly admit that such letters of hers as survive, give one little desire for more. The same, however, may be said of her great brother's habitual epistles (for they can be called nothing less); and their correspondence together was something apart, the gay and engaging eclogue of two young hearts; so that Ann, like William, must have been at her best in her early letters to him.

And so we set forth these delightful letters of a lad of twenty-two to his favourite sister. They need no comment; of the allusions no explanation can now be given or would be worth giving; but the letters speak for themselves.[48]

Boconnock, Jan^y 3, 1730.

Dear Nanny,—As you have degraded my sheets From y^e rank and Quality of a Letter, merely for Containing a few Innocent Questions, I am determin'd to avoid such rigour for the future by Confining myself to bare narration: first, Then we are to have a ball this week at Mr. Hawky's Child-feast, (a Heathenish Name for the Christian Institution of Baptism), where the Ladies intend to shine most irresistably, and like enfants perdus, thrust themselves in the very front of y^e Battle, break some stubborn Tramontanne Hearts, or Die of the spleen upon the spot. The next thing I have to say, (Don't be afraid of a Question) Is, that we set out y^e end of the same week, and propose seeing you about a week after our departure. I'l say no more, least I should forget y^e restrictions I have Laid myself under and launch out into some Impious enquiries that don't suit my sex. Adieu, Dearest Nanny, till I have the pleasure of seeing you at Bath.[49]

The next letter is from Swallowfield, one of the Pitt houses. Ayscough has proposed to Ann. He is a favourite butt of William's, who seems to rejoice in his discomfiture.

Swallowfeild, Sep. y^e 29^th, 1730.

I am quite tired of waiting for a letter from my Dear Nanny, and am determin'd by way of revenge to fatigue you as much by obliging you to read a very long letter from myself, as you have me with the eager expectation of receiving one from you. The excuse you assign'd for not doing it sooner fills me with apprehensions for your health; Is it that you still converse only with Doctor Bave,[50] or that you have already changed the old Physician for the young Galant? Is it the want of conversation That denies you matter, or the entire engagement to it that won't allow you time for a letter? Be it as it will, I flatter myself into a beleif of the Latter, chusing rather to be very angry with you for your neglect of me, than sincerely afflicted for your want of health. I desire I may know from yourself what advances you make towards your recovery; you never can want a subject to write to me upon, while you have it in your power to entertain me with a prospect of seeing you perfectly restored to health, and in consequence of that to the sprightly exertion of your understanding and full display (as my Lady Lynn elegantly has it) of your Primitive Beauties. Why shou'd I mention Ayscough's overthrow! That is a conquest perhaps of a nature not so brilliant as to touch your heart with much exultation; But lett me tell you, a man of his wit in one's suite has no Ill air; You may hear enough of eyes and flames and such gentle flows of tender nonsense from every Fop that can remember, but I can assure you Child, a man can think that declares his Passion by saying Tis not a sett of Features I admire, &c. Such a Lover is the Ridiculous Skew,[51] who Instead of whispering his soft Tale to the woods and lonely Rocks, proclaims to all the world he loves Miss Nanny—FÂth (sic)—with the same confidence He wou'd pronounce an Heretical Sermon at St. Mary's. I must quit your admirer to enquire after the condition of the Colonel and his Lady,[52] and to assure' em of my most hearty wishes for Their health and happiness. I beg leave to repeat the same to Miss Lenard, who I hope will recruit her spirits after so much affliction with y^e holsome Application of a Fiddle. I shall communicate to you next Post a Translation of an Elegy of Tibullus By Lyttelton, who orders me to say it was done for you:[53] I shall then be able to say whether I go to Cornwall or no, so that you may know how to direct to me.

I need not say what you are to do with the hair enclosed to you from Mrs. Pitt. Adieu dear Nanny.

The next letter is from Blandford, where the writer is stopping on his way to Boconnoc, which he gives as his address at the end of the letter. He is still occupied with his sister's career as a flirt.

Blanford: Oct. y^e 13^th. 1730.

As we mutually complain'd of the silence of Each other, so I conclude we mutually have Forgiven it: But had I continued it, my Dear, Till I had something more entertaining to talk of Than an execrable journey to Cornwall, perhaps You might not have had much reason to complain of me. I have not had a minute's pleasure from my own thoughts since I left Swallowfeild, till now I give them up entirely to you, and Paint you to myself in the hands of some agreeable Partner, as happy as the new way of wooing can make you. I can not help suggesting To you here a little grave advice, which is, not to lett your glorious Thirst of Conquest transport You so far, as to lose your health in acquiring Hearts: I know I am a bold man to dissuade One from dansing a great deal that danses very gracefully; but once more I repeat, beware of shining too much; content yourself to be healthy first, even tho you suspend your triumphs a week or ten days. I beg I may not be misconstrued To insinuate anything here in favour of my own sex, or to serve the sinister ends of an envious Sister or two; no; I scorn such mean artifices. In God's Name, when the waters have had their Effect, give no Quarter, faites main basse upon all you meet, À coup d'eventelle, À coup d'Oeil: spare neither age nor condition: but like an Unskilfull Generall don't begin to take the Feild till your military stores are provided and your magazines well furnish'd. Thus Have I acquitted myself not only as an able but honest Counsellour, and ventured to represent to you your true Interest, tho' never so distastefull. Adieu, my Dear Nanny, till you renew our Conversation by a speedy letter. My sincere respects to the Col. and family.

Boconnock Near Bodmin.

Next comes the letter in which he curses Boconnoc, but only because of its remoteness. He lives, it may be presumed, at the family house from economy. But he is not at ease about Ann's health, and longs to be at Bath to be with her.

Boconnock. Nov^r y^e 15^th 1730.

I read all my Dear Nanny's letters with so much pleasure, that I grow more and more out of temper with y^e remoteness of this cursed hiding place, where The distance of some hundred Miles denies me the Repetition of it so often as I eagerly desire. But as much as I am pleas'd with the prettiness of your style and manner of writing, I cant help feeling a sensible uneasiness to hear no news of your amendment; cou'd my Dear Girl add that to them, they wou'd give me a satisfaction that wou'd bear some proportion to The degree of your Esteem, you convince me I possess. We are all sollicitous to hear Doctor Baves opinion of your case, which I beg you will not fail to send me in your next letter. You will before this reaches you, have rec^d a letter from my Brother, which I hope will give you perfect satisfaction with regard to your further demands. As I shall not go to London Before my Brother, it will not be absolutely in my Power to see you in my way: I am not however without hopes of prevailing upon him to go from Blanford to Bath, which is not above thirty Miles. Beleive me I shall have it at heart to make you this visit, having two such powerful motives to it, as my Own Pleasure and yours. All proofs of your affection To me are highly agreeable, and I am willing to measure the value you may set upon mine to you, By the same favourable standard. Be assured therefore I shall lett slip no occasion of giving what I shall in my turn receive with infinite pleasure: Pray assure Colonel Lanoe and his family of my good wishes; and let us know what benefit they receive from the waters. I have time for no more. Adieu My Dear Girl.[54]

He was now apparently with his regiment at Northampton, though he was not gazetted till February.

Northton. Jan. 7, 1731.

I am just in my Dear Nanny's Condition, when she tells me she sat down determin'd to write tho' she had Nothing to say: but I know not how it comes to pass, One has a pleasure in saying and hearing very nothings, where one loves: while I have my paper before me I Fancy myself in company with you, and while you read my letters, you hear me chattering to you, tis at least an interruption to working or reading, that serves to diversify Things a little, to be forced to run your eyes over a side or Two of paper; tho' it says nothing at all. I remember, when I saw you last, you had a thought of reading and Translating Voiture's letters: I beg you will take him up as soon as you have got through this of mine, To recompense you for the dullest of Letters, what will you Have me do? I come from two hours muzzy conversation To a house full of swearing Butchers and Drunken Butter women, and in short all the blessings of a market day: In such a situation what can the wit of man suggest to him? Oh for the restless Tongue of Dear little Jug! She never knows the painful state of Silence In the midst of uproar: for my Part I think I cou'd write a better letter in a storm at sea, or in my own way, at a Bombardment, than in my present situation. I won't have this called a Conversation: it shall pass for a mute interview, adieu my Dearest Nanny: preserve your health is y^e only word of consequence I can say to-night.

Compliments to my Sis. Pitt, and all my Friends that come in your way.[55]

Now, for the only time in his life perhaps, we find him engaged reluctantly in drinking bouts, the necessary discipline of a military mess in those days. He refers to the amiability of Charles Feilding in a later letter.

Northton. Feb^ry y^e 9. 1731.

I have been a monstrous time out of my Dearest Nanny's Company; the date of your Letter before me, Me fait de sanglantes reproches: I say nothing in my own behalf, but Frankly confess, in aggravation of my silence, that I have neglected you for a course of drunken conversation, which I have some days been in. The service wou'd be the most inactive life in y^e world if Charles Feilding was out of it; As long as he is with us, we seldom remain long without pretty smart Action: I am just releiv'd by one night's rest, from an attaque that lasted sixteen hours, but as a Heroe should never boast, I have done y^e state some service and they know't—no more of that.

What shall I talk of to my dear Girl? I have told her I love Her, in every shape I cou'd think of: we'l converse in French and tell one another y^e same things under the Dress of Novelty. Mon aimable Fille, rien ne m'est si doux que de recevoir de votre part les marques d'une ardente amitiÉ, si ce n'est de vous en donner moi-meme. I did not think I cou'd have wrote a sentence so easily, mais les paroles obeissent toujours aux sentiments du coeur. Let me tell you once more, in plain English, your letter was infinitely pretty; you may leave off Voiture whenever you please. I hope little Jug is still talking at Boconnock; how Fares it with my Statira, my angry Dear? I can think of nothing so likely to bring her into Temper, as telling Her, her Skew will soon revisit y^e groves of Boconnock, where they may pass y^e Long Day, and tend a few sheep together. I beg she'l accept of y^e following stanza I met with by chance in some french poesy, and put a Tune to it, which She may warble in honour of her gentle loveing shepherd:

Dans ces Lieux solitaires
Daphnis est de retour:
Deesse de Cythere
Celebre ce grand jour:
Rapellez sur ces rives
Les amours envolÉs,
Les graces fugitives
et les Ris exilÉs.

my Love and services to all Freinds: My Brother gives me y^e pleasure of hearing my Sist^r Pitt is very well: pray make my apologies for not writing to her.

Adio Anima mia bella,
Dolce speranza mia.

W^m Pitt.

He has now come to London apparently to kiss hands for his commission. How little George II. can have realised what his relations were to be with the raw young cornet.

London: March y^e 5: 1731.

I thank my Dearest Nanny for her Letter Though it abused me, I think without Reasonable Grounds: tis true I dont write so often as I wish to see you, yet I won't allow I have let our conversation suffer any considerable Interruption. I Have had no opportunity yet of cultivating any farther acquaintance with M^r Molinox than by receiving his name and leaving Mine: I shall need no other inducement to his Freindship than the presumption of his civility to you, which your letter gives me reason to think: I shall ever esteem Any Man deserving of my regard who loves In any degree what so thoroughly merits and possesses my Heart as my Dear Girl. I have the pleasure of telling you my Commission is sign'd and I have Kiss'd hands for it, so that my Country Quarters won't be Cornwall this Summer. You are like to have Company soon with you, Hollins having ordered my Sister Pitt the Bath immediately: what becomes of the two poor vestals I dont yet know. the Town produces nothing new, as the Place you are in I suppose, produces absolutely nothing at all: kill some of your time by writing often to one who will always contribute to make you pass it more pleasurably, when in his Power. Adieu, recover y^r health, and preserve Chearfulness enough to give your Understanding a fair light.[56]

Y^rs most sensibly

W. Pitt.

The next letter was written in the midst of what would now be called a bear-fight, carried on apparently in the room of the demure Lyttelton.

London. March y^e 13: 1731.

I am now lock'd into George's room; the girls Thundering at the door as if Heaven and Earth would come together: I am certainly the warmest Brother, or the coldest Gallant In the Universe, to suffer the gentle Impertinencies the sportly Sollicitations of two girls not quite despicable without emotion, and bestow my Time and spirits upon a Sister: But in effect the thing is not so strange or unreasonable, for every Man may have Girls worthy his attention, but few, sisters so conversible as my Dear Nanny. Tis impossible to say much, amidst this rocking of the doors Chairs and tables: I fancy myself in a storm Of the utmost danger and horror; and were I really in one, I would not cease to think of my Dear Girl, till I lost my fears and Trepidations in the object of my tenderest care and sincerest zeal. let the winds roar, and the big Torrent burst! I won't leave my Nanny for any Lady of you all, but with the warmest assurance of unalterable affection, Adieu.[57]

He is now once more in country quarters, grievously hipped. The allusion to the barmaid 'who young at the bar is just learning to score' reads like a line from some forgotten song. In his despair he threatens to get drunk.

Northampton April y^e 9^th. 1731.

After neglecting my Dear Girl so many Posts In the joys of London, I should be deservedly Punished by the Loss of your correspondence now I very much stand in need of it: I am come from an agreeable set of acquaintance in Town to a Place, where the wings of Gallantry must Be terribly clip'd, and can hope to soar No higher than to Dolly, who young at the Bar is just Learning to score—what must I do? my head is not settled enough to study; nor my heart light enough to find amusement In doing nothing. I have in short no resource But flying to the conversation of my distant Freinds and supplying the Loss of the jolis entretiens I have left behind by telling my greifs and hearing myself pity'd. I shall every Post go near to waft a sigh from Quarters to the Bath, which you shall rally me very prettyly upon, suppose me in Love, laugh at my cruel fate a little, then bid me hope for a Fair wind and better weather. I entreat you Be very trifling and badine, send me witty letters or I must chear my heart at the expense Of my head and get drunk with bad Port To kill time. My sister is by this time with You and I hope the Girls: my Love to her and bid her send away her husband and drink away. my spirits flag, et je n'en puis plus, adieu.

One would guess, but one can only guess, that the following letter referred to some project of marrying William, which Ann dreaded as causing a separation from her.

Northampton. May y^e 21: 1731.

What shall I say to my Dearest Nanny for sinking into a tenderness below y^e dignity of her spirit and Genius? I sat down with a resolution to scold you off for a little Loving Fool, but Find myself upon examination your very own Brother and as fond of receiving such testimonies of the Excess of y^r affection, as you are of Bestowing them: t'wou'd be more becoming y^e Firmness of a man to reprove you a little upon this occasion, and advise you to fortify your Mind against any such Separation as you so kindly apprehend, but as your fears are, I believe at present Groundless, I chuse rather To talk to you like an affectionate Freind, than a stern Philosopher and return every Fear you Feel for me with a most ardent wish for your Happiness: Beleive me t'will wound my Quiet to be forced to do anything to disturb yours, But shou'd such an event as you are alarm'd at, arrive, your own reason will soon convince your tender Fears, there is but one Party for me to take: All the Dictates of Prudence, all the Considerations of Interest must determine me to it: But I am Insensibly drawn in to prove I ought to do, what There is no appearance I shall have in my Power to do, therefore my Dear Girl, suspend your Inquietudes, as I will my Arguments, and think I Long to see you in y^e full enjoyment of y^r Health and Spirits, which I hope to be able to do early in August. Adieu my Dearest Nanny, Love me and preserve your own happiness.

I never rec^d a Line from my Sister Pitt.

But will write to her soon. I hope she is well.[58]

This next letter is taken up with poking fun at Ayscough. The 'poor nuns' would be Pitt's sisters, whom he calls elsewhere the 'poor vestals.'[59]

North'ton June y^e 17: 1731.

My Dear Nanny's letter from Bath gave me so many Pleasures that I don't know which to thank her for first: the Prettiness of it tells me she has more sense than her sex, the affection of it declares she is more capable of Freindship Than her sex: and to compleat my joy, It assures me she no longer wants her health: which may Heaven continue to my Dear Girl! If anything can make me devout, t'is my Zeal for your happiness: However don't let the Parson[60] know this Prayer escaped me for fear she (sic) shou'd be malicious enough to Tell me of it in company some time or other at Quarters. I am glad he is with you: he will prove as good an enlivener of the spirits and invigourate the conversation amongst you, as much as Bath waters do The Blood. Be sure not to suffer him to be Indolent and withdraw his Wit from y^e Service of y^e Company: I know y^e Dog sometimes grows tired of being laugh't at: But no matter: insist upon his being a Man of humour every Day but Sunday. I expect you will all Three Lose your reputations in y^e country for him: and indeed there's no Intimacy with one of His Cloath without too much room for Suspicion: But as you don't expect to make your fortune there, The thing is not so deplorable. You will be mutually Happy in meeting the Poor Nuns again: I very much fear I shall not partake of that pleasure so soon as August: Beleive me I long for nothing more than to see you all well and happy: I break off y^e Conversation with great reluctance To go to Supper: Adieu Dearest Nanny.

Ann was now to be a maid of honour and venture on the new world of a court. So she asks advice of her sage young brother, and he gives his admonitions in French, probably from fear of the Post Office.

Undated.

Vous voulez que je vous dise, mon aimable, ce que je pense de la vie que vous allez mener À la cour; votre Interest, qui me touche de prÈs, m'y fait faire mille Reflexions: en voici mon IdÉe. Le cour me paroit une mer peu aisÉe À naviger, mais qui ne manque pas d'ouvrir aux mariniers bien entendÛs le commerce le plus avantageux; j'entens l'art de connoitre le monde et de s'en faire connoitre agreablement: Un Esprit habile sans artifice, et un coeur gai sans legeretÉ vous rendent ce voiage pleins d'agrements et de plaisirs, pendant que la vertu qui ne se dement jamais, est l'Etoile fixe qui vous empeche de vous y egarer.

En effet n'est-il pas À souhaiter pour une Personne qu'on aime, et dont on connoit bien les forces, de la voir exposÉe À un tel point, qu'elle ne puisse s'en tirer qu'avec le secours du bon sens et de la Prudence? Ce sont les difficultÉs qui donnent au merite tout son jour, et souvent elles en font naitre: Vous en avez, mon aimable, et il ne s'agit que de le mettre en oeuvre: mais voici ce qui vous embarasse: La Modestie, qui en est une Considerable, cache mille autres vertus en se montrant toujours elle-meme; Elle ne laisse pas en cela de faire un peu le Tyran: elle nous fait souvenir de ces meres qui par un excez de Pruderie derobent leurs Filles aux yeux du monde, toutes aimables qu'elles soient, mais que cette Modestie songe À prendre quelque fois le Parti de la retraite, et qu'elle scache qu'on ne la regrette gueres, quand on voit quelque belle vertu briller À sa place.

À mon avis il n'y a rien de si outrÉe que l'idÉe que de certaines gens se sont fait de la cour des Princes: Ils ne s'y figurent que l'Envie et ses noirceurs, la Perfidie, et les suites funestes de l'amour dereglÉ: ils en enlaidissent tellement la ressemblance qu'on ne la reconnoit plus: pour vous, ma chÈre, Ie ne vous conseille ni de vous troubler la cervelle d'affreuses Chimeres, ni de vous endormir tout À fait a l'ombre de la securitÉ. Pour ce qui est de l'amour, il seroit ridicule d'entreprendre de vous en Tracer le Portrait, Il ne se fera comprendre que par Luimeme: en un mot, qu'il soit un Dieu bienfaissant ou qu'il ne soit qu'un Demon malin, donnez vous garde de l'offenser, car, effectivement, c'est un Personnage À represailles: enfin en quelque caractere que vous le voyez, Il vous le faudra respecter: dans l'un vous l'aimerez comme fidele chretienne; dans l'autre, reverez le afin qu'il ne vous fasse point de mal. adieu ma tres chere.

William has now set out on his foreign tour, of which we caught some glimpses in letters to his mother. We have already had his letter to his mother from Paris.

Paris May y^e 3^rd: N.S. 1733.

I don't know whether my Dearest Nanny is not at this moment angry with me for not writing sooner; But cou'd you see the hurry this Place throws a man into upon his arrival, you wou'd rather wonder I write at all. I have done nothing since I came to Paris, but run up and down and see; so that beleive me it is a sort of Novelty to set down and think: Tis with pleasure I return to you from The variety of fine sights which have engaged me; my eyes have been long enough entertain'd, to give my Heart leisure to indulge itself in a short conversation with my Dear Girl. It may sound oddly to say I love you best at a great distance, but surely absence best shows us the Value of a Thing, by making us feel how much we want it: I find already I shall have many vacant hours that wou'd be agreably fill'd up with the company of something one esteems; but I must comfort myself À la francoise, le bannis la Sagesse et la Raison; c'est de notre vie le Poison. I shall set out for Besancon in franche comtÉ In three or four days, where I shall stay till autumn, write often and direct to me chez Mons^r Alexandre Banquier dans la Rue St. Appoline PrÈs de la Porte St. Denis À Paris who will Take care to send them to me. I hope you like your way of Life better every Day; I don't know whether you may not be said to be travelling too; France is hardly newer to me than Court was to you; may you find the Country mend upon you the farther you advance in it: bon voyage ma chere, and may you find at your journey's end as good an inn as matrimony can afford you. I am

Your most aff^t Brother

W. Pitt.

My Love to Kitty and Harriot. I cou'd not write to all and you are the only one I was sure to find.

I write this Post to Skew; if he is not in Town, enquire at his Lodgings for y^e letter and send it. I hope my Brother rece^d my Letter.[61]

The next letter leaves him at BesanÇon, the ancient capital of Franche-ComtÉ, wrested from the Spaniards in 1678, and now become a French fortress, famous for its silver watches. Here Pitt loses his heart.

Besancon. June the 5: 1733. N.S.

I receiv'd my Dear Nanny's letter yesterday: it has no Date, but I imagine by some of the Contents it has been a tedious time upon the road. The direction I left was a very proper one and particular enough, Alexander being generally known at Paris, so that the street of his abode is unnecessary: however To be very sure of meeting with no disappointment In a pleasure I desire to indulge myself in as often as you'l let me, direct to me at Alexander's dans la rue St. Appoline prÈs de la Porte St. Denis À Paris, who will carefully transmit all letters to me, wherever I am. The pleasure you give me in the account of Kitty's recovery, is disagreably accompanied with that of Poor Harriot's Relapse into an ill State of Health; which I too much fear will never be removed till her mind is made a little easy: I never think of her but with great uneasiness, my tenderness for her begins to turn to sorrow and affliction; I consider her in a great degree lost, and buried almost in an unsuccessfull Ingagement: You have all my warmest wishes for your happiness and prosperity. I persuade myself you are in the high road to them, make the best of your way I beg of you; and contrive to finish your Travels by the time of my return. I can say but little of Besancon yet: The Place is externally pretty enough how it will prove upon a more intimate knowledge of it, I can't say. My Lord Walgrave was so good as to procure me letters For the Commandant and a Lady of this Place who passes for the finest Woman here. I have had the honour to dine with her at her campagne, where I was very handsomely regaled: what ressource Her acquaintance will be, I shall be better able to judge after another visit or two.

Skew hinted something to me concerning Kitty, which he said was not quite chimerical. If it be any suite of my Mother's project for her I doubt the Success. I have not Heard a word from my Brother, tho' I have wrote to him three times. If he han't received them all let him know it.

I find Sir James Gray here, who is a very pretty sort of Man and once more my schoolfellow; between my letters and the acquaintance he has made in the Town, we shall be of some Use to one another. Adieu.

Your most aff^t Freind and Brother

W. Pitt.

I wish you joy of Lord William's Match.

He is next found at Marseilles, where he discovers that he is still sore from his love affair at BesanÇon.

Marseilles, sep: y^e 1: 1733.

j'ai honte À regarder la datte de votre derniere lettre, À laquelle je vai faire reponse: vous me dites ma Chere, que vous etes fort aise que vos lettres me fassent plaisir, d'autant plus que vous croiez en avoir obligation plutot À ma prevention pour vous, qu'À votre merite. Qu'y a-til de plus obligeant Pour moi ou de plus injuste pour vous meme?

Il est vrai que je vous aime À un point qui passe bien souvent dans le monde pour aveuglement: mais je prÉtens vous aimer en connoisseur, je veux que le gout et la raison fassent ici ce que l'entetement fait d'ordinaire ailleurs. ne guerirez vous jamais de cette modestie outrÉe? de grace ne faites plus Tort À vous meme par une humilitÉ qui n'est pas de ce bas lieu, et cessez de louer mon amitiÉ aux depens de mon gout.

Vous voiez par la datte de ceci que je suis À Marseilles, j'y suis depuis deux jours et conte d'en partir dans deux ou trois jours pour Monpelier, oÙ nous ferons un sejour À peu pres comme celui que nous ferons ici: je crois passer l'hiver a Luneville, et de[62] a Lyon par Geneve et le long du Rhin À Strasbourg d'oÙ je me rendrai en Lorraine. je viens de quitter Besancon avec infiniment de regrets: voulez vous que je me confesse À vous? j'y avois un plus fort attachement que je ne croiois, avant que de me Trouver sur le Point de partir: tant il est vrai que l'on ne sent jamais si bien le prix d'une chose Que lorsque il la faut perdre. Nous y avions de fort aimables connoissances, et je trouve presentement À plus de soixante Lieues de loin, que j'y aurois passer l'hyver volontiers, je n'en ai pas tout À travers du coeur, mais toutefois j'en ai. adieu ma chere, faites moi d'abord reponse, et imputez mon silence passÉ À toute autre cause que À un refroidissement pour vous. je suis avec tout la tendresse du monde

votre affectionnÉ Serviteur

W. Pitt.[63]

And now he has arrived at Luneville, the city of the moon, once dedicated to the worship of Diana, but at this time devoted to the manufacture of glass and pottery. In four years it was to be enlivened by the gay court of Stanislas; but it was now a provincial town, occupied provisionally by the French in defiance of its absentee Duke, Francis, afterwards Emperor of Germany. Pitt is not yet cured of his passion. It is painful to him to revive it by giving a description of the lady, and he seems to feel her want of noble birth as if he had contemplated marriage.

Luneville ce 12: d'octob. N.S. 1733.

Votre lettre me rÉjouit fort en m'apprenant que votre vie est heureuse: quand vous ne me manderiez que cela une fois la semaine, votre commerce me donneroit toute la satisfaction du monde: mais d'ailleurs il y'a, mon aimable, un tour agreable dans tout ce que vous me dites, qui me rend votre conversation charmante. La tendresse de ses amis, en quelque expression que ce soit, nous touche; mais quand elle se presente À nous d'une maniere aisÉe et delicate, l'esprit participe À la satisfaction que la coeur en recoit.

Vous me demandez le Portrait de la Belle: faites vous bien attention À quoi vous m'allez engager? je commence À respirer et vous voulez me replonger dans les douleurs que m'a causÉes sa perte, en m'obligeant de renouveller dans mon esprit les traits qui s'en etoient emparÉs. L'absence est un grand Medecin: je me suis si bien trouvÉ de ses remedes que je ne desespere pas d'en pouvoir revenir: laissez lui faire encore un peu et je vous ferai le Portrait, que vous me demandez, assez À l'aise. Cependant trouvez bon que je vous en fasse seulement un crayon (À la hate?) en vous disant que, quoique son coeur fÛt certainement neuf, son esprit ne l'etoit point (j'en parle comme de feu ma Flamme) que sa Taille etoit grande et des plus parfaites, son air simple avec quelque chose de noble; Pour ses Traits je n'y touche pas: suffit que vous sachiez que ce fut de ces beautÉs d'un grand effet, et que sa Physionomie prononcÂt quelque chose des qualitÉs d'une ame admirable ne vous attendez pas pour le present Que je vous en donne un detail si exact que vous en puissiez la reconnoittre si elle se trouvoit sur votre chemin: je n'ose m'y laisser aller davantage: nous en parlerons un jour plus amplement: mais avant de quitter son chapitre il faut que je vous dise tout: Elle n'a point de titre ni de grand nom qui impose; et c'est lÀ le diable. C'est simplement Madamoiselle de —— fille cadette de Mons^r de —— ecuyer À Besancon: Religieuse, Vous avez bien dit que j'en parlerai volontiers: de quoi vous avisez vous de mettre un homme sur le chapitre de ses amours? Vous saviez que quand on y est, on ne scait jamais oÙ finir, et que vous vous exposez À essuier tout ce qui vient au bout de sa plume, voila trop parler de mes affaires: parlons un peu des votres: faisons des demandes par rapport À certain peuple connu sous le titre d'amants. Parler franchement et donnez m'en des nouvelles, vous ne scauriez Être si content que vous l'Êtes so vous n'aviez range quelque coeur sous vos lois: adieu: aimons nous toujours et songeons a nous render heureux.

W. Pitt.

No one can be more sensible than I am of the esteem of Charles Feilding, nor more disposed to do justice to the amiableness of his character.

Six weeks afterwards all trace of his love affair has disappeared; it is not the mere cessation of pain, it is oblivion.

Luneville. Nov. y^e 22: 1733.

Les vÉritÉs obligeantes que vous me dites, ne me sont pas seulement cheres par le fond de tendresse qu'elles me font vous connoitre pour moi, elles le sont au dernier point par la maniere agreable dont vous les tournez: j'aime autant que votre coeur s'explique avec moi en bon Anglois qu'en bon francois, d'autant plus que ce qu'on dit en sa langue maternelle paroit encore plus Naturel, et c'est la ce qui fait le principal merite des lettres d'amitiÉ, je suis charmÉ, mon aimable Bonne, de l'air content dont vous m'ecrivez, j'ai un plaisir aussi sensible À me figurer que vous Êtes heureuse, que vous etes gaie, que j'en pourrois repentir moimÊme de tout ce que la joie et la gaietÉ me pourrait offrir: je vous suis present que si l'etois Dans le cabinet À Cote de votre Toilette. Je n'ai plus rien À vous dire de Mademoiselle.

C'etoit de ces flammes passageres, un eclair qui a passÉ si vite qu'il n'en reste pas le moindre vestige. j'ai oubliÉ jusque au portrait que je vous en ai fait: n'allez pas m'accuser de legeretÉ, voila comme il faut Être en voiage: je me fais un fond de constance pour mon retour. Souvenez vous de garder votre parole en me faisant la confidence de vos premieres amours: que le terme ne vous choque pas, je l'entends avec les circonstances qu'il faut. Je ne doute pas que vous ne m'en fassiez bientot, au moins si vous avez autant de franchise que je me l'imagine. adieu, ma chere, je vous—(torn)—de terribles bagatelles: mais je ne'en scai rien—(torn)

Votre tres affectionnÉ

W. Pitt.

If Miss Molly Lyttelton is in Town, I wish you may see one another often, and make a Friendship.[64]

The two following letters contain obscure allusions, which, so far as we can now interpret them, appear to indicate that Thomas Pitt at any rate was at this time a ministerialist and supporter of Sir Robert Walpole.

Newbury Octb^r y^e 24: 1734.

Dear Nanny,—You may conceive I was a good deal surprised at M^r Harrison's modest proposal: I thought it indeed so monstrous, that y^e best way of treating it was not to vouchsafe it any answer, especially as it did not come immediately from Him: I cannot conceive how poor Harriot cou'd think of employing Herself in such a message, or at least that she wou'd not understand my neglect in answering it, to be (what it is) a thorough contempt of the Noble Colonel's ridiculous offer. My first astonishment is a little abated by hearing he was encouraged to it by my Brother at Paris, I mean my astonishment as to him; For the latter, I have done wondering at any the most Inscrutable of his proposed designs: it must be confess'd, this last (if true) is not inferiour to any of the brightest passages of his conduct: removeing me to bring in a Person declared in Opposition, and who it is proposed shou'd pay me, instead of reimbursing him his expences at Oakhampton. I can talk no more of him; I'll endeavour to put him out of my mind till January.

I am extremely pleased to see the time of my deliverance from my Inn approach, a month more will bring me to you, when I shall be as happy as the endless disapointments and difficulties I have to encounter, will allow me: all I have of happiness is confined to you and my friend George; you may easily judge of my Impatience to be with you; I suppose he's still at Stowe. I am pleased with y^e honour done me to (sic) Lady Suffolk, the more as I am sure it gave you pleasure. Adieu Dear Nanny.

Most affec^y y^rs

W. Pitt.[65]

Newbury. Nov: y^e 7. 1734.

Dear Nanny,—I have been persecuted with a succession of little impertinent complaints; I have been deliver'd some time of my broken tooth, by the most dextrous operator, I beleive, in the World, but am at present in my Room with a sore throat, which is very troublesome to me. I wou'd not have You be very uneasy at Harrison's proposal; it appears to me, as it did at first, of no consequence, and deserves being spoken of only for the Impertinence of it. I am persuaded it is no more than an absurd, sudden thought of y^e Coll'^s; 'tis hardly possible my Brother shou'd have given his consent to it as a foundation for Harrison to proceed upon with me. My Brother's Interest no doubt do's not persuade him to such a bargain between Harrison and me: if he intends to consult that, in the disposition of this seat in Parliament, he must certainly rather oblige me to accept of satisfaction for the loss of it by something he may obtain for me, and chuse a man more agreeable to Sir Robt. than Harrison, who will put him two thousand pounds in Pocket: I am very much deceived if I hear any thing more of it. You misunderstood me in thinking I had given no sort of answer to the proposal. I was, I confess, little sollicitous about giving a speedy one or a very particular one: I said to Harriot in general that I was extremely surprised at the offer: that an answer was almost needless for the Coll., if he had thought of it since, must be able to guess what answer it deserved. that I was sorry she had employ'd herself at all in so strange a Proposal, in short something to that effect. I apprehend no difficulties from this affair; if I have any to encounter they'l come from another Quarter. I wrote to a certain Gentleman[66] above a month ago, without answer, so judge of his kind disposition towards me. my Lord Pembroke is very good in leaving it in my Power to come to Town, if I found it necessary. I have at present no thoughts of making use of his Indulgence. I want to see you more than you can imagine. Adieu:

Y^rs most affec^ly

W. Pitt.

Lady Suffolk, Ann's principal friend at Court, has now retired from an ungrateful servitude. The loss must have been great to Ann, who required more than most an experienced and sagacious friend at her elbow.

Newbury Nov: y^e 17: 1734.

Dear Nanny,—I was persuaded my Lady Suffolk's removal from court wou'd affect you in the Manner you tell me it dos: Your Friend M^rs Herbert, where I dined the day before yesterday, was speaking of the thing with concern and was sure it wou'd touch you, as much as any Body: your Greifs are so much mine that it wou'd be needless to tell you I am sorry for your Loss; I foresee a very disagreeable consequence to you from this change, which is, that your Friendship with Her may be charg'd upon you as a crime, and what was before a support may now be a prejudice to you. Harriot's complaint is far from giving me any uneasiness, I think nothing but such a necessity wou'd have made Them do what they indisputably ought to do. my concern for Her is, that her situation is so bad as to render this circumstance, (distresfull as it is) necessary to put her into a better. Poor Girl, what unnatural cruelty and Insolence she has to suffer from A Person[67] that shou'd be her support and comfort in this distress: I have heard him say so many hard Things upon this affair, that I think I do him no injustice to say he will be more inexorable than the Knight.[68] I suppose Lyttelton is return'd from Stowe and has found a letter from me Laying for him at the Admiralty. If he's not come back I am afraid he's ill this Pinching weather. I continue well, as I was when I wrote to you last. Adieu Dear Nanny,

Y^rs most affec^ly

Wm. Pitt.[69]

The letter that follows is important, as it marks an epoch in Pitt's life: for he was now at Stowe, where he was to make a long stay, and enrol himself in Cobham's band of connections. He had just entered Parliament[70] and now commences a politician. But, happily for us, he has not yet assumed his political dialect.

Stowe. July y^e 2: 1735:

Dear Nanny,—I am mighty glad to hear you escaped the headach after so fatiguing a journey, but I desire that may not prevent your applying to a Physician: I am extremely pleas'd with the account you give me of the Person[71] you saw, it is a great step to be able to seem easy: I wish his mind may ever be as easy, as I have the pleasure of hearing his affairs are at present, the other Part of your letter astonishes me: I think he'l not succeed, tho' I assure you he has my good wishes, for I am persuaded nothing less will ever extricate him. The turn indeed is very sudden, but since he has taken it, he'l disgrace himself less by obtaining, than losing. My L^d Cobham wou'd have been very glad to see you and wish'd I had brought you, I am sorry you lost so good an opportunity of seeing Stowe. Adieu

most aff^ly y^rs

Wm. Pitt.

I have had other business to write to my Brother upon, which has hinder'd my speaking of the Orange trees. I'l make Ayscough do it.

I hope you found Lady Suffolk well.

The next letter is burthened with mysterious and anonymous allusions, as to which conjecture is futile.

Stowe July y^e 20: 1735.

Dear Nanny,—I am mighty glad you are so well satisfy'd with the match you give me an account of: I was not surpris'd to hear it, for I fancy'd I saw it long ago. I have all sort of reasons to wish Her happy, but to mention no other, She loves you in the manner I am apt to think one shou'd love you. the Person[72] you think pretty easy, is far from it: he endeavours to acquiesce under Pain, to bring his mind, if possible, to such a state of composure as to go through the duties of Life like an honest and Reasonable Man. our Friends[73] Repulse is the most scandalous and ignominious of all things. I want to hear a little of his noble designs for next year: Despair must produce something Extraordinary in so great a mind. I am seriously ashamed of him, and if he was to ask my advice what he should do, I think I cou'd only beg him to do nothing: that Man's whole life is a sort of consolation to me in my poor little circumstances. He gives me occasion to reflect too often, that I wou'd not act his Part one month for twice his estate, but I leave him to talk to you of yourself: I don't hear what Broxom says of your headach's: if you have not consulted him you have used me very ill: Pray send for him and let me know if you are better. Adieu.

most affectionately Y^rs

Wm. Pitt.

Pope and Martha Blount were now at Stowe, so was Lady Suffolk; and William was polishing himself in the best company.

Stow Sept. y^e 2: 1735.

Don't say a word more of my never writing, but confess immediately that you admire my way of writing more than any Body's, that is my way of sending you Postcripts Every Day: I have nothing to say of Letters, but M^r Pope[74] says somewhere, 'Heaven first taught Postscripts for the wretches aid,' etc: you must know I han't a word to say to you; for I write only to introduce the Postscript, as M^r Bays wou'd make a Poem to bring in a fine thought, that was none of his own; I therefore finish to leave more room for my Lady Suffolk. adieu.

[In another hand, evidently Lady Suffolk's] how often my Dear Child have I wish'd you here? I know you wou'd like it, and I know two who thinks (sic) even Stowe wou'd be still more agreeable they talk of you I believe both Love you; but one can pun, and talk nonsense w^th M^rs Blount most Elegantly remember Saturday and never forget me, that is, do not be ungratefull.

We see in the next letter that Pitt was not merely supping with the wits, but playing at cricket, with Pope perhaps as umpire.

Stow Sept^r y^e 14: 1735.

I am very well pleas'd with the conversation you Had lately, and that you met with nothing in it that at all corresponds with the Subject of my former letter: I shall now be at ease, and give myself no more trouble in thinking and conjecturing about it. I am glad my Lady Suffolk got so well to Town; if she's not the worse for her journey, I fancy you are not much so for her return. if she did not happen to be the most amiable Estimable Person one has seen, I shou'd still love her For the admirable Talent she has of Distinguishing and Describing merit, in which she do's not yeild to the Noble L^d of our acquaintance. if she has done me justice, She has Told you I was very stupid and play'd very well at Cricket. I obey'd her orders to my L^d and Lady Cobham; my L^ds reflection was, He wish'd he cou'd take such a journey and do after it just what she did. when you see Lyttelton, tell him M^r Pope has been writing a letter to him ever since he has been here, but head-ach and Laziness has delay'd it, so that I believe He may be time enough at London to bring the letter to him himself, as he talks of setting out in a few days. Ayscough has been here, and desires Lyttelton will mention him to the Speaker for preaching before the House the next 30th of January sermon. I'l leave off for fear I shou'd think of half a dozen messages more.

I am most affec^ly Y^rs

W. Pitt.

direct to me at Stow I am more here than at Touster [?Towcester]. You must say 'member of Parl^t' They make me pay always else.

The next two letters deal with some dark transaction relating to wine, probably smuggled, from Guernsey.

Stow Sept. y^e 16: 1735.

I am very sorry I can't answer all your Questions this Post, but to begin with that I can answer the Frame Maker's Name is Bellamy, he lives in Rupert Street: as to the Guernsey wine, it is a commission of so secret a Nature, and must be treated with such art and circumspection, (according to the instructions I am honour'd with) That I must desire further time to get the lights necessary to the full discovery of so dark an affair. I have been able to penetrate no farther than that my L^d Cobham and his Butler are the only Persons at the bottom of the secret, The one I can't ask he being abroad; the other I must not, being ty'd up by my orders: there remains therefore nothing To be done, but to wait the return of the Butler, or larger Power to treat with my L^d in Person. but to talk no longer like a Minister, but an humble Servant of my lady Suffolk's, I desire my compliments to Her, and I'l be sure to send an answer about the wine next Post. I please myself with thinking you are free from Head-ach, both as they are very bad things; and because they are y^e effect with you of other uneasiness: be well and happy, is the only advice you want; and the only means by which I can be so:

I am most affec^ly y^rs

W. Pitt.

Stowe. Sept. y^e 19: 1735.

If you happen to write to me once in a week or fortnight I am never to hear the last of it; but pray admire the exact diligence of my correspondence: I don't only answer your letter the first Post, but I continue answering It two or three Posts successively: I am now only at the second, and you shall see you are not above half answer'd yet: but to tell you all I can, the Man M^r Hardy, who sells my L^d Cobham the Wine in Question, is now in Guernsey; the Buttler will write to his correspondent to know when he is like to return, which he supposes must be soon—all which my Lady Suffolk shall be informed of: I expect a clear distinct answer from you to each letter of the volumes I have lately writ to you.

Adieu.

The following letter alludes in all probability to his brother, and also to that Richard Grenville who was afterwards so notorious as Lord Temple. It seems strange when one recalls Temple in maturity to read of him as Dick, with a careless countenance and jolly laugh. But everybody has been young.

Stowe. Sept. y^e 28: 1735.

I don't understand this way of answering two letters in form, avec un Trait de Plume; I expected you shou'd have told me you had nothing to tell me in more words, or at least at two different times: this sort of Correspondence, where one must not talk, seems rather a sort of visit to shew yourself: I hope you won't be in such a hurry next time; that I shall see you a little longer, or I shall call it only leaving your name, after all this, I am not really angry at the shortness of your last letter; you gave a reason that satisfied me entirely. I hope our friend is well; I had the Pleasure of hearing he seem'd in very good Spirits, when Dick Greenville (sic) saw him; I hope really was so. I suppose You have seen Dick's careless countenance at Kensington, and that you begin to be acquainted with his Laugh. I am called to breakfast, so goodby

Y^rs most affectionately

W. Pitt.

October finds William still at Stowe, and not likely to leave, but he sends this anxious and tender note to Ann.

Stowe. October y^e 5: 1735.

My Dear,—I long to be with you to know what the particular circumstance is that gives you uneasiness: or is it only the Thing in general? whatever it be, take all the comfort you can in knowing you act humanely and honourably. it won't be in my Power to see you till December, and the latter End of it. I am very much at Stowe, and pass my time as agreeably as I can do at a distance from you at a time you say you want to talk to me: I hope by your next letter to hear you have talk'd to yourself upon the Subject of your uneasiness and don't want my advice: Adieu,

I am with all affection y^rs

W. Pitt.[75]

The next note deals again with the affair which is causing Ann uneasiness, but without giving us any clue to it. One cannot however refrain from the surmise that Ann's temper and tongue had now begun to get her into trouble.

Stowe. Octob^r y^e 12: 1735.

My dear Child,—I can't by letter enter into particulars relating to The affair you mention, nor were I with you, cou'd I give you any other than a general advice, which is, as well as you can to make yourself and others easy: I know this is saying almost nothing, and that is the very thing I think you have only to do: I beg you will be at Quiet as to what you have hitherto done, believe me it is not only irreproachable, but must do you great honour with whoever know your conduct. I will say one word more, which is this, that you shou'd take care not to be misunderstood, at least in any great degree. This is all I can say to you, who have the warmest concern for your happiness and am with more affection than I can tell you,

Y^rs

W. Pitt.

There is now an unexplained interval of two years. Some letters have perhaps been lost or destroyed, one has apparently miscarried; or, still more probably, the brother and sister have been together. But the next letter is still dated from Stowe, where William was evidently established on the most familiar footing.

Stow. Nov^r y^e 6: 1737.

You are even with me for all the want of readiness in writing, ever since I began to correspond: I wou'd tell you how many weeks it is, since I wrote to you my last unanswer'd letter, if my memory was strong enough to carry so remote a period of Chronology in my head: I have sometimes told you I have been ashamed of not writing: I take this occasion to retract all Declarations of that sort, and tell you I never was, nor ever will be ashamed of want of regularity in corresponding, after this last silence of yours: I am aware that you must throw the blame upon y^e Post, and say you never received the letter in question, and indeed the Doctor has given me an intimation, y^t the thing was to take y^t turn, without which you wou'd not have been troubled even with these reproaches. the Letter had nothing in it, and yet I had rather you had receiv'd it, if you are in earnest that you did not. I intend to be in Town the beginning of December: I shall see Mrs. Nedham at Bampton before I come:

Y^rs

W. Pitt.

I desire you will write immediately to let me know you have no return of y^e disorder you had just before you left Hampton court.

In the next he refers to Lord Cornbury, a friend, a Tory, and something of a Jacobite. He was a great admirer of Pitt, and had indeed written an ode to him.

Stow. Nov^r y^e 12: 1737.

I do not think myself obliged to thank you for your letter, it was a defence to an accusation, you was under a necessity of pleading and you did it with the confidence of an old offender, and even went so far as to recriminate upon y^r accuser: but let the act of oblivion cover all. however that I may thank you for something, I thank you for haveing hardly any remains of y^r cold. Pray keep keeping yourself well till December, in one week of which month I hope to see you. Adieu.

Y^rs Most affec^ly

W. Pitt.

I wish you the Dutchess of Queensbury and Lady Cardigan with all my heart. How do's L^d Cornbury?

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