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Updated: May 14, 2025
. . . On Saturday I went with Sir William and Lady Molesworth to their box in the new Covent Garden opera, which has been opened for the first time this week. There I saw Grisi and Alboni and Tamburini in the "Semiramide." It was a new world of delight to me. Grisi, so statuesque and so graceful, delights the eye, the ear, and the soul.
Old Lady Molesworth, Sir Louis's remarkable mother, who when she was ninety-five was as vigorous as most women of sixty, looked on any landowner as a parvenu who had not been a territorial magnate before the days of Henry VIII. When I think of these people and their surroundings I am reminded of an opinion I once expressed to an artist well known as a luminary of some new school of painting.
Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop approaching, lingered at the gate. "Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our church Sunday." She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her custom with a piece of news.
Such a proposal was not to be refused; and the Review was founded, at first under the title of the London Review, and afterwards under that of the London and Westminster, Molesworth having bought the Westminster from its proprietor, General Thompson, and merged the two into one. In the years between 1834 and 1840 the conduct of this Review occupied the greater part of my spare time.
Molesworth rubbed his eyes with a start. Had the stream been a Naiad she could not have given him the go-by more coquettishly. He rubbed his eyes, and then with a short gasp of wonder almost of terror involuntarily looked around for Sir John. Here before him was a shore, with a church beside it, and at the far end a whitewashed cottage surely the very shore, church, cottage, of Sir John's dream!
The year, indeed, had reached that exact point when for a week or so the young leaves are as fragrant as flowers, and the rush of the train swept a thousand delicious scents in at the open windows. Mr. Molesworth had donned a white waistcoat in honour of the weather, and wore a bud of a Capucine rose in his buttonhole. Sir John had adorned himself with an enormous glowing Senateur Vaisse.
A 'Benthamite, therefore, whether he was a member of Parliament like Grote or Molesworth, or an official like Chadwick, or an organising politician like Francis Place, could always check his own feelings about 'rights of property, 'mischievous agitators, 'spirit of the Constitution, 'insults to the flag, and so on, by examining statistical facts as to the numerical proportion, the income, the hours of work, and the death rate from disease, of the various classes and races who inhabited the British Empire.
Molesworth joined them and began talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective. "It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was fun taking his picture," said Jack.
The long retardation of the life of the Duke of Marlborough shows, with strong conviction, how little confidence can be placed on posthumous renown. When he died, it was soon determined that his story should be delivered to posterity; and the papers supposed to contain the necessary information were delivered to Lord Molesworth, who had been his favourite in Flanders.
In 1713 he was removed from the Irish Privy Council on a charge of a treasonable utterance, which Steele vindicated in "The Englishman" and "The Crisis." The accession of George I., however, brought Molesworth into his honours again, and he was created Baron Molesworth of Philipstown, and Viscount Molesworth of Swords, in 1719.
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