"Lady Lansdowne has been very kind indeed, and has a good deal
won me over (as you know, kindness _will_ do now and then).
After many exertions to get Bessy to go and dine there, I have
at last succeeded this week, in consequence of our being on
a visit to Bowles's, and her having the shelter of the poet's
old lady to protect her through the enterprise. She did not,
however, at all like it, and I shall not often put her to the
torture of it. In addition to her democratic pride--which I
cannot blame her for--which makes her prefer the company
of her equals to that of her superiors, she finds herself a
perfect stranger in the midst of people who are all intimate;
and this is a sort of dignified desolation which poor Bessy
is not at all ambitious of. Vanity gets over all these
difficulties; but pride is not so practicable."

Vanity indeed did, though Tom had a pride of his own too. But he was
soothed and not offended by pomp, whereas she was bored as well as
irritated. It is obvious that her wits were valid enough. She could be
happy with Rogers or the Bowleses, who could allow for simplicity, and
delight in it--a talent denied to the good Lansdownes. As for Bowles,
Tom is shrewd enough to remark upon "the mixture of talent and
simplicity in him."

"His parsonage-house at Brenthill is beautifully situated;
but he has a good deal frittered away its beauty in grottos,
hermitages and Shenstonian inscriptions. When company is
coming he cries, 'Here, John, run with the crucifix and missal
to the hermitage, and set the fountain going.' His sheep-bells
are tuned in thirds and fifths."