Religious, moral, generous, and humane
He was; but, self-sufficient, rude, and vain.
Ill-bred, and overbearing in dispute,
A scholar, and a Christian, and a brute.
Would you know all his wisdom and his folly,
His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy,
Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit,
Will tell you how he wrote, and talked, and coughed, and spit!”
Mrs. Garrick was among the ladies who met in Mrs. Montagu’s drawing-room, and she remained the fast friend of the latter till death parted them. About a quarter of a century had elapsed since, as Eva Violetti, Mrs. Garrick had made her first appearance on the stage as a dancer. In what guise she made her début was, doubtless, laughingly alluded to by the Bluestockings. The Earl of Strafford, who died childless, in 1791, has left a record of the fact in an unpublished letter (March, 1746) in the Cathcart collection. “She surprised her audience at her first appearance on the stage; for at her beginning to caper, she showed a neat pair of black velvet breeches, with roll’d stockings; but finding they were unusual in England, she changed them the next time for a pair of white drawers.” This was a joke for the more intimate circle in Hill Street. It is probable that it was at the more exclusive gatherings at Mrs. Montagu’s that the satirists, who had no title to enter, flung their shafts. “Beattie used to dwell with enthusiasm and delight,” says Sir William Forbes, “on those more private parties into which he had had the happiness of being admitted at Mrs. Montagu’s, consisting of Lord Lyttelton, Mrs. Carter, and one or two other most intimate friends, who spent their evenings in an unreserved interchange of thoughts; sometimes on critical and literary subjects; sometimes on those of the most serious and interesting nature.”
Mrs. Montagu’s assemblies were held within-doors. Other ladies varied the character of their entertainments. Lady Clermont (for example) was not more remarkable for her conversational parties than for her al fresco gatherings. In May, 1773, when living in St. James’s Place, she issued invitations to three hundred dear friends, “to take tea and walk in the Park.” It is said that the Duchess of Bedford, who then resided on the site now occupied by the north side of Bloomsbury Square, sent out cards to “take tea and walk in the fields.” It was expected that syllabubs would soon be milked in Berkeley Square, around the statue of his Majesty. Walpole speaks of being invited to Lady Clermont’s conversation pieces. These conversation pieces led to such easy manners, that etiquette was sometimes disregarded when it was most expected. Lady Clermont, for instance, being at a card-party at Gunnersbury, with many royal personages, and many witty ones, including Walpole, she remarked aloud that she was sure the Duke of Portland was dying for a pinch of snuff! and she pushed her own box toward him, across the Princess Amelia. Her fluttered Royal Highness, remembering that my lady had been much favoured by the Queen of France, said: “Pray, madam, where did you learn that breeding? Did the Queen of France teach it to you?”