Chapter III (1)

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, Jany 3, 1730._

Dear Nanny,--As you have degraded my sheets From ye 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 ye 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 ye end of the
same week, and propose seeing you about a week after our departure.
I'l say no more, least I should forget ye 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. ye 29th, 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--Fath (_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 ye 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. ye 13th. 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, a coup
d'eventelle, a 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. Novr ye 15th 1730._

I read all my Dear Nanny's letters with so much pleasure, that I
grow more and more out of temper with ye 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
recd 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 ye 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. Febry ye 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 ye 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 ye 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 ye 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 amitie, 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 ye groves of
Boconnock, where they may pass ye Long Day, and tend a few sheep
together. I beg she'l accept of ye 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 envoles,
Les graces fugitives
et les Ris exiles.

my Love and services to all Freinds: My Brother gives me ye
pleasure of hearing my Sistr Pitt is very well: pray make my
apologies for not writing to her.

Adio Anima mia bella,
Dolce speranza mia.

WM 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 ye 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 Mr 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 yr health, and preserve Chearfulness enough to give your
Understanding a fair light.[56]

Yrs 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 ye 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 ye 9th. 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 ye 21: 1731._

What shall I say to my Dearest Nanny for sinking into a tenderness
below ye 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 yr affection, as you
are of Bestowing them: t'wou'd be more becoming ye 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 ye full enjoyment of yr
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 recd 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 ye 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 ye Service of ye Company: I know ye 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 ye 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 ye 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 a la cour; votre Interest, qui me touche de
pres, m'y fait faire mille Reflexions: en voici mon Idee. Le cour me
paroit une mer peu aisee a naviger, mais qui ne manque pas d'ouvrir
aux mariniers bien entendus 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 legerete 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 a souhaiter pour une Personne qu'on aime, et
dont on connoit bien les forces, de la voir exposee a un tel point,
qu'elle ne puisse s'en tirer qu'avec le secours du bon sens et de la
Prudence? Ce sont les difficultes 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 a 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 a sa place.

a mon avis il n'y a rien de si outree que l'idee 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 deregle: ils en enlaidissent tellement la ressemblance qu'on
ne la reconnoit plus: pour vous, ma chere, Ie ne vous conseille ni
de vous troubler la cervelle d'affreuses Chimeres, ni de vous
endormir tout a fait a l'ombre de la securite. 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 a
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 ye 3rd: 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 a la
francoise, le bannis la Sagesse et la Raison; c'est de notre vie le
Poison. I shall set out for Besancon in franche comte In three or
four days, where I shall stay till autumn, write often and direct to
me chez Monsr Alexandre Banquier dans la Rue St. Appoline Pres de
la Porte St. Denis a 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 afft 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 ye letter and send it. I hope my Brother reced my
Letter.[61]

The next letter leaves him at Besancon, the ancient capital of Franche-Comte, 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 pres de la Porte St. Denis a 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 afft 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 Besancon.

_Marseilles, sep: ye 1: 1733._

j'ai honte a regarder la datte de votre derniere lettre, a 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 a ma prevention pour vous, qu'a
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 a un point qui passe bien souvent dans
le monde pour aveuglement: mais je pretens 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 outree? de grace ne faites plus Tort a vous meme par
une humilite qui n'est pas de ce bas lieu, et cessez de louer mon
amitie aux depens de mon gout.

Vous voiez par la datte de ceci que je suis a Marseilles, j'y suis
depuis deux jours et conte d'en partir dans deux ou trois jours pour
Monpelier, ou nous ferons un sejour a 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 a Strasbourg d'ou je me rendrai en
Lorraine. je viens de quitter Besancon avec infiniment de regrets:
voulez vous que je me confesse a 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 a plus de soixante
Lieues de loin, que j'y aurois passer l'hyver volontiers, je n'en ai
pas tout a travers du coeur, mais toutefois j'en ai. adieu ma chere,
faites moi d'abord reponse, et imputez mon silence passe a toute
autre cause que a un refroidissement pour vous. je suis avec tout la
tendresse du monde

votre affectionne 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 rejouit 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 a nous d'une maniere aisee et
delicate, l'esprit participe a la satisfaction que la coeur en
recoit.

Vous me demandez le Portrait de la Belle: faites vous bien attention
a quoi vous m'allez engager? je commence a respirer et vous voulez me
replonger dans les douleurs que m'a causees sa perte, en m'obligeant
de renouveller dans mon esprit les traits qui s'en etoient empares.
L'absence est un grand Medecin: je me suis si bien trouve 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 a l'aise. Cependant trouvez bon que je vous en fasse
seulement un crayon (a la hate?) en vous disant que, quoique son
coeur fut 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
beautes d'un grand effet, et que sa Physionomie prononcat quelque
chose des qualites 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 la le
diable. C'est simplement Madamoiselle de ---- fille cadette de Monsr
de ---- ecuyer a 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 ou finir, et que vous vous exposez a 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 a certain peuple
connu sous le titre d'amants. Parler franchement et donnez m'en des
nouvelles, vous ne scauriez etre si content que vous l'etes 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. ye 22: 1733._

Les verites 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'amitie, je suis charme, mon
aimable Bonne, de l'air content dont vous m'ecrivez, j'ai un plaisir
aussi sensible a me figurer que vous etes heureuse, que vous etes
gaie, que j'en pourrois repentir moimeme de tout ce que la joie et
la gaiete me pourrait offrir: je vous suis present que si l'etois
Dans le cabinet a Cote de votre Toilette. Je n'ai plus rien a vous
dire de Mademoiselle.

C'etoit de ces flammes passageres, un eclair qui a passe si vite
qu'il n'en reste pas le moindre vestige. j'ai oublie jusque au
portrait que je vous en ai fait: n'allez pas m'accuser de legerete,
voila comme il faut etre 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 affectionne
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 Octbr ye 24: 1734._

Dear Nanny,--You may conceive I was a good deal surprised at Mr
Harrison's modest proposal: I thought it indeed so monstrous, that
ye 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 ye
honour done me to (sic) Lady Suffolk, the more as I am sure it gave
you pleasure. Adieu Dear Nanny.

Most affecy yrs
W. PITT.[65]

_Newbury. Nov: ye 7. 1734._