not. Lady Mary, who may be
said to have belonged to the wits from her infancy, for in her eighth
year she was made the toast of the Kit Kat Club, was not only a beauty,
but a woman of some learning and of the keenest intelligence. At twenty
she translated the _Encheiridion_ of Epictetus. She was a great reader
and a good critic, unless, which often happened, political prejudices
warped her judgment. She had considerable facility in rhyming, and both
with tongue and pen cultivated many enmities, the deadliest of her foes
being the poet who was at one time her most ardent admirer. The story of
Lady Mary's career, with its vicissitudes and singularities, may be read
in Lord Wharncliffe's edition of her _Life and Letters_. She is a
prominent figure in the literature of the period, and made several
passing contributions to it, but apart from a few facile and far from
decent verses her letters are the sole legacy she has left behind her
for the literary student. Some of them, and especially those addressed
to her sister the Countess of Mar, are often coarse; those to her
daughter the Countess of Bute exhibit good sense, and all abound in
lively sallies, interesting anecdotes, and the personal allusions which
give a charm to correspondence. The section containing the letters
written during her husband's embassy to Constantinople (1716-1718) is
perhaps the best known.

Among the strangest of Lady Mary's letters are those addressed to her
future husband, whom she requests to settle an annuity upon her in
order to propitiate her friends. In one of them she describes her
father's purpose to marry her as he thought fit without regarding her
inclinations, and observes that having declined to marry 'where it is
impossible to love,' she is bidden to consult her relatives: 'I told my
intention to all my nearest relations. I was surprised at their blaming
it to the greatest degree. I was told they were sorry I would ruin
myself; but if I was so unreasonable they could not blame my F. [father]
whatever he inflicted on me. I objected I did not love him. They made
answer they found no necessity of loving; if I lived well with him that
was all was required of me; and that if I considered this town I should
find very few women in love with their husbands and yet a many happy. It
was in vain to dispute with such prudent people.'

This incident is characteristic of the period, but Lady Mary's letters
to Wortley Montagu are more characteristi