The young rascal now showed hypocritical signs of penitence—­he was always an adept in that line—­and protested he would go abroad and live quietly, till his losses should be retrieved.  There is little doubt that, under this laudable design, he concealed one of attaching himself closer to the Chevalier party, and even espousing the faith of that unfortunate prince, or pretender, whichever he may have been.  He set off for Vienna, leaving his wife behind to die, in April, 1726.  He had long since quarrelled with her, and treated her with cruel neglect, and at her death he was not likely to be much afflicted.  It is said, that, after that event, a ducal family offered him a daughter and large fortune in marriage, and that the Duke of Wharton declined the offer, because the latter was to be tied up, and he could not conveniently tie up the former.  However this may be, he remained a widower for a short time:  we may be sure, not long.

The hypocrisy of going abroad to retrench was not long undiscovered.  The fascinating scapegrace seems to have delighted in playing on the credulity of others; and Walpole relates that, on the eve of the day on which he delivered his famous speech for Atterbury, he sought an interview with the minister, Sir Robert Walpole, expressed great contrition at having espoused the bishop’s cause hitherto, and a determination to speak against him the following day.  The minister was taken in, and at the duke’s request, supplied him with all the main arguments, pro and con.  The deceiver, having got these well into his brain—­one of the most retentive—­repaired to his London haunts, passed the night in drinking, and the next day produced all the arguments he had digested, in the bishop’s favour.

At Vienna he was well received, and carried out his private mission successfully, but was too restless to stay in one place, and soon set off for Madrid.  Tired now of politics, he took a turn at love.  He was a poet after a fashion, for the pieces he has left are not very good:  he was a fine gentleman, always spending more money than he had, and is said to have been handsome.  His portraits do not give us this impression:  the features are not very regular; and though not coarse, are certainly not refined.  The mouth, somewhat sensual, is still much firmer than his character would lead us to expect; the nose sharp at the point, but cogitative at the nostrils; the eyes long but not large; while the raised brow has all that openness which he displayed in the indecency of his vices, but not in any honesty in his political career.  In a word, the face is not attractive.  Yet he is described as having had a brilliant complexion, a lively, varying expression, and a charm of person and manner that was quite irresistible.  Whether on this account, or for his talents and wit, which were really shining, his new Juliet fell as deeply in love with him as he with her.