This pursuit of Jacobitism was varied by the study of law—­a study “sometimes relieved with a temporary application to music and poetry”—­and when the disconsolate Arthur had lost his father, and thereby gained 800 pounds a year, he drowned his sorrows by an almost exclusive devotion to “society and pleasantry.”  We are told[A] that on the ratification of the Peace of Ryswick he went to Paris, where he was exceedingly well received in consequence of the numerous introductory letters which had been furnished him from various quarters.  He there contracted an intimacy with Boileau,—­

        “Whose rash envy would allow
  No strain that shamed his country’s creaking lyre,
  That whetstone of the teeth, monotony in wire.”

[Footnote A:  “Memoirs of the Celebrated Persons comprising the Kit-Cat Club.”]

“The French poet invited Maynwaring to his country seat, where he behaved to him in a very hospitable manner, and frequently conversed with him respecting the merits of our English poets, of whom, however, he affected to know but little, and for whom he pretended to care still less.  Monsieur de la Fontaine was also at times one of their company, and always spoke in very respectful terms of the poetry of the sister nation.  Boileau’s pretending to be ignorant of Dryden ‘argued himself unknown’; but, perhaps, another reason may be assigned why the French writers found it convenient to know as little as possible of their English contemporary, who in many of his admirable prefaces and dedications has taken some trouble to explain the frivolity of the French poets, their tiresome petit maitre-ship, and all the finessing and trick with which they endeavour to make amends to their readers for positive deficiency of genius.”

After playing the dilettante in France, Maynwaring returned home, and in time became a staunch Whig, a Government official, and, later on, a Member of Parliament.  The cause of the Pretender knew him no more, and in future this brilliant gentleman would be one of the greatest friends of that stupid Hanoverian family which waited drowsily, across the sea, for the death of Anne.

But what counted all the glamour of public life compared to the possession of Nance Oldfield and an honoured seat at the festive board of the Kit-Cat Club?  Love and conviviality, youth and wit, carried the day, and through the influence of these seductive companions handsome Arthur failed to achieve greatness as a statesman.  But when it came to waging political warfare against sour Swift, or to assisting Dick Steele with the “Tatler,” or—­better still—­toasting some fair one at the Club,[A] this bon viveur was in his finest mood.

[Footnote A:  The (Kit-Cat) club originated in the hospitality of Jacob Tonson, the bookseller, who, once a week, was host at the house in Shire Lane to a gathering of writers.  In an occasional poem on the Kit-Cat club, attributed to Sir Richard Blackmore, Jacob is read backwards into Bocaj, and we are told: