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revoir sa Fille pour se rendre malheureuse ? Je vous assure, Mylord, qu'elle pourra vivre, et disposer de soi-même chez moi comme elle pourrait le faire en Angleterre chez vous, mais jusqu'à ce qu'elle ne se trouve un établissement convenable, je n'auray jamais de tranquillité, ni de consolation à moins je n'aye cette Demoiselle auprès de moi.

“ Encore une fois, Mylord, j'implore en ma faveur votre vertu et la haute réputation dont vous jouissez, consoler une pauvre Mère qui n'a d'autre espérance d'etre consolée qu'autant qu'il vous plaira de vous souvenir de ses larmes et de ses prières. Je suis, avec la plus grande considération, Mylord,

Votre très-humble servante,


Maria Fagniani did not return to her mother : she can scarcely have had any filial yearnings for a lady who had let her go from her for the greater part of her life.

In 1792 she married Lord Yarmouth (who succeeded to the Marquisate of Hertford on the death of his father in 1822). The alliance, it may be assumed, was not very happy. Enough has been said in the previous chapter about the husband to suggest this. Among his many amours was his affaire with Fanny, one of the sisters of the notorious Harriette Wilson. However, he and his wife lived together for a number of years. In 1800 there was born to them a child, Richard Seymour Conway, who, when his father became Marquis of Hertford, took the courtesy title of Earl of Yarmouth, and in 1842 succeeded as fourth Marquis. He it was who founded the great collections, which he bequeathed to Sir Richard Wallace, who was supposed to be the natural son of Maria Fagniani.

As for the Marchioness, she had a liaison with Marshal Androche, which is said to have endured from 1802 until 1807. If these dates are correct, Lord Yarmouth must have turned a blind eye to the connection, for in 1803, according to the Jerningham Letters, he and his wife were, anyhow, from time to time, together : “ Lord and Lady Yarmouth sont encore ici à Paris, quoique ' old quiz' soit mourant à Londres.

Old quiz,” it may be assumed, is “Old Q," the Duke of Queensberry, who, however, survived until 1810. Again in August, Lord Elgin, “ qui passoit ici en revenant de son ambassade, se trouve arrêté comme les autres, ainsi que Lord Yarmouth, qui est revenu d'Angleterre depuis trois jours, pour venir chercher sa cara sposa.As a matter of fact, Lord Yarmouth was detained at Paris, having landed in France just after the rupture of the Treaty of Amiens. There was born the second son of the marriage, Lord Henry Seymour, who, on his mother's death in 1856, inherited her great fortune. He only survived her three years, and was buried in her vault at Père Lachaise.




Lady Elizabeth Berkeley marries Lord Craven-Her devotion to letters

Her affaire with the Comte de Guines—Dr. Johnson-She visits Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill-Her verses and plays—Lady Craven's other intrigues-She goes to Paris—Meets the Margrave of Anspach-Their appreciation of each other-The Margravine Scandal-Lady Craven corresponds with the Margrave-Her travels -She visits Anspach-Malle. Clairon-Lady Craven becomes the social dictator at Anspach-She travels with the Margrave-Death of the Margravine—The Margrave and Lady Craven come to London together—Lady Craven not received—They go to Lisbon-Death of Lord Craven—Marriage-Return to England-Brandenburgh House -Benham Valence, Newbury-The Margrave and Margravine entertain lavishly—The Queen declines to receive the MargravineThe Hon. Mrs. Hobart-Gambling-Almack's—The Margravine and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu as letter-writers—Later years—Death.

LADY ELIZABETH BERKELEY, the youngest daughter of Augustus, fourth Earl of Berkeley, was a person who bulked largely in the public eye during the greater part of her life. She was beautiful and romantic, and captured the affections of the Hon. William Craven, whom she married at the age of sixteen. Two years later her husband succeeded to the barony of Craven.

Lord Craven was devoted, but the lady soon found him dull and uninspired. She wrote verses; he would not read them. She sought appreciation elsewhere, as other minor poets starved by lack of admiration at home have done. This she found, six years after her marriage, in the Comte (afterwards Duc) de Guines, who was at the French Ambassador's to the Court of St. James's. There was a very pretty scandal, which came to the ears of Lord Craven, who, however, forgave his wife-and so, except for references to the affaire in the gutter Press of the day, no more was heard of it.

Lady Craven naturally affected literary society. Dr. Johnson liked her, and wrote her down as “beautiful, gay, and fascinating.” She bandied verses with Horace Walpole—and one set is about as good, or as bad, as the other. When, in 1775, she visited him at Strawberry Hill he struck off on his press the following lines :

Genius, howe'er sublime, pathetic, free,
Trusts to the press for immortality.
To types would Craven her sweet lays prefer,
The press would owe immortal fame to her,
While she, too careless of so fair a face,
Would breathe eternal youth on every grace,
Ages unborn computing, with surprise,
From her own wit the brightness of her eyes.

She, not to be behind-hand, replied to the compliment:

Thus spoke the bard—while Craven, whom he sung,

In sad confusion bow'd her blushing head ;
Her downcast eyes bespoke the poet wrong,

And fear'd a satire in each word he said.

Conscious that oft she felt the Muse's pow'r,

But conscious too, she felt it oft in vain ;
Her heart to study ne'er had spar'd an hour,

That heart e'er bleeding at another's pain.

Untaught and unconfin'd by learned rules,

Say, would you bid her trust her simple lays
To the rude eye of sense, or scorn of fools,

To envy, poison of her youthful days.

Already has the face you deem so fair,

Unconscious, sown in many a female breast,
The bitter seed of envy's cank'ring care,

That bane of friendship--foe to woman's rest.

Then spare, in pity, to some future day,

That praise, which all my sex would fain receive,
And let my life obscurely glide away,

Nor, for one woman, many others grieve.

So shall my careless hours, from envy free,

Be yet employed in silence with each Muse,
But yield to you that immortality,

Which I with grateful caution must refuse.

Lady Craven wrote more and more verses, composed plays (and acted in them at her own house), and dabbled in the production of what may be styled miscellaneous literature. Her translations of Pont de Vile's comedy, La Somnambule, was printed by Walpole, who wrote a long account of the first performance of her Miniature Picture at Drury Lane, in which “ Perdita ”

Perdita” Robinson took the part and Mrs. Abingdon delivered the epilogue. “ It was amazing to see so young a woman entirely possess herself, but there is such an integrity and frankness in her consciousness of her own beauty and talents, that she speaks of them with a naiveté as if she had no property in them, but only wore them as gifts of the Gods,” Walpole said of the author. “The audience, though very civil, missed a fair opportunity of being gallant, for in one of those - logues, I forget which, the noble authoress was mentioned, and they did not applaud as they ought to have done exceedingly when she condescended to avow her pretty child, and was there looking so pretty. I could not help thinking to myself how many deaths Lady Harcourt would have suffered rather than encountered such an exhibition ; yet Lady Craven's tranquillity had nothing displeasing -it was only the ease that conscious pre-eminence bestows on sovereigns, whether their empire consists in power or beauty. It was the ascendant of Millamont

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