Yet there is worse to follow, and I know not how to tell such folly, but must do so. She is the wife of my son, whom indeed I knew capable of any wickedness short of robbing his mother. He picked the hussy up in the Fleet and wed her, and then, being in debt, the thought struck the promising pair that my jewels might meet their needs. He took advantage of the loss of my ring to have it copied, and the rest followed easy with a fool like me.
"But I beseech you, Madam," says poor Carew, shaking in every limb, "that you would have the goodness to review your jewels, since the only way I can reason upon her continuing with you and pretending to accept my addresses was to take time while Mrs Pratt was under suspicion to make off with more and keep you easy about them. The pretended love-affair with Mrs Pratt was plainly to be a false scent."
I sent for my cases, and find my chain of diamonds, my gold etui set with diamonds, my Turkish clasp with emeralds, and other things disappeared with my Venus. I enclose the list and description, for I learn Miss Sally Salisbury is now in Paris, and it is probable that her niece and nephew (my son) have joined her or committed the jewels to her good offices. I am ashamed to give your Ladyship such trouble about this trifle, yet beg your obliging enquiries in the Rue des Moineaux or where else your Lord may suggest. But by all means keep it from Horace Walpole. I want not his bitter tongue to lick my sores. 'Tis of course certain we cannot use the law, considering who is involved--a point Madam no doubt laid her account with when she carried through the plot.
Lord, when I think of my sentiment wasted on the arrant hussy! My green churchyards and Lady Bountifuls and all the praise of simplicity and parade of folly that took me because of a pretty face and arts from the gutter. Well, 'tis the miserable truth that this young fool (who sure must get it from his mother) did wed this slut at the Fleet two years since, and hath damned himself for life. He is now as weary of her as is to be expected, and besought me to deliver him from the consequence of his folly. Beside that fact the affair of the diamonds seems shrunk, for nothing can be done, nor does he deserve it. He whines like a whipt dog in his letters.
I would my father had lived to see the soundness of Mr Wortley's reasoning, when he refused to entail his estates upon a future child of whose vices and disposition he could know nothing. 'Twould certainly be the young gentleman's utter ruin had he money to handle in reversion. I will not trouble you with the number of falsehoods he has stuft into his letters.
I have trained myself to fortitude, and go about with as many knives stuck in my heart as our Lady of the Seven Dolours that I saw in Vienna, but make much less display of them. The best news I could have at this moment would be the young villain's death, for the misery he will yet bring upon himself and others is too certain. For Madam, she will doubtless be heard of yet in a manner that the decency of my sex obliges me to soften. I doubt they will both end on the gallows, though indeed her face will probably save her that or any penalty.
Well, I have done with such fragments of a heart as I had, and wish it may never trouble me more. I am sick of the cant of sentiment and duties and suchlike, which is the mask men use to cover what will not bear considering. Let me write of it no more. The open wickedness of the world we live in is preferable to hypocrisy and cringing. I will rather laugh with others than be a laughing-stock. I sicken at this complication of folly and falsity. I go to the Bath shortly, and look for change and pleasure there, though Mr Wortley speaks of passing through on his way to Bristol, I know not for what. Lord Hervey is resolved to come there, though I fear it will not please his lady, who seems resolved to keep so general a blessing to herself, which is more than she or any can hope. She takes it, however, with easy good sense, and wisely, for there's nothing on earth, I protest, worth a tear.
The rage for cards runs higher than ever, and let me conclude my romance and this long paper with a pretty parable of them that is making the round of the town. Will your Ladyship guess the author? 'T is called "The Goddesses of Chance."
"There was long since in the Moon four Goddesses. One was the Queen of Riches, the second the Queen of Love, the third the Queen of Power, and of the fourth you'll hear anon. 'Tis to be supposed the fourth received the most homage; for a thing known loses its value, as when a man despises his own wife and thinks Lord M.'s a descended Venus, when, was the case reversed, his own would be his object.
"On a certain day these ladies, being, after all, women, disputed between themselves on a point of precedence.