ELIZABETH MONTAGU
THE QUEEN OF THE BLUE-STOCKINGS
HER CORRESPONDENCE FROM
1720 TO 1761

Transcribers’ Note

The cover image was created by the transcriber, and is placed in the public domain. It is based on the original cover.

A combination of volumes one and two of “Elizabeth Montagu” is also published at Project Gutenberg. The inter-volume references (e.g. in the index) are working links in that version.

Please also see the [note at the end of this volume].

C. F. Zincke. Pinx. Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

Mrs. Montagu
née Elizabeth Robinson
from a miniature in the possession of Miss Montagu

ELIZABETH MONTAGU
THE QUEEN OF THE
BLUE-STOCKINGS

HER CORRESPONDENCE FROM
1720 TO 1761

BY HER GREAT-GREAT-NIECE
EMILY J. CLIMENSON
AUTHORESS OF “HISTORY OF SHIPLAKE,”
“HISTORICAL GUIDE TO HENLEY-ON-THAMES,”
“PASSAGES FROM THE DIARIES OF MRS. P. LYBBE POWYS,” ETC., ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

IN TWO VOLUMES—VOL. I

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1906

PRINTED BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED
LONDON AND BECCLES

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO
MY COUSINS
MAGDALEN WELLESLEY
AND
ELIZABETH MONTAGU
BY
THE AUTHORESS

PREFACE.

From my early youth I heartily desired to know more of the life of my great-great-aunt, Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu. Every scrap of information I could pick up respecting her I accumulated; therefore when my cousins, Mrs. Wellesley and her sister, Miss Montagu, in October, 1899, gave me the whole of her manuscripts contained in 68 cases, holding from 100 to 150 letters in each, my joy was unbounded!

In 1810 my grandfather, the 4th Baron Rokeby (her nephew and adopted son), published two volumes of her letters; these were followed by two more volumes in 1813. To enable him to perform this pleasing task he asked all her principal friends to return her letters to him, beginning with the Dowager Marchioness of Bath,[1] daughter of the Duchess of Portland, who gave him back the earliest letters to her mother, many carefully inserted in a curious grey paper book by the duchess, who placed the date of reception on each, and evidently valued them exceedingly. The Rev. Montagu Pennington returned her letters to his aunt, Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, the learned translator of Epictetus; Mrs. Freind those to her husband; and many other people did the same. From General Pulteney, at Lord Bath’s death, she had asked for and received her correspondence with Lord Bath, which she carefully preserved. At the death of Lord Lyttelton, the executors, at her request, returned her her letters; those to Gilbert West and other correspondents were returned in the same manner. Meanwhile she kept all letters of her special friends, as well as notabilities, so that one may deem the collection quite unique, though doubtless many letters have disappeared, notably those of Sir Joshua Reynolds, many of whose letters were destroyed by an ignorant caretaker of Mrs. Montagu’s house, Denton Hall, near Newcastle-on-Tyne. There are none of Horace Walpole’s, from whom she must have received some; and those from several other celebrities she knew well are missing.

[1] Née Elizabeth Cavendish, born 1735, died 1825, ætat 91.

Owing to the enormous quantity of letters undated, the sorting has been terribly difficult, and I spent one entire winter in making up bundles and labelling each year. My grandfather made a variety of mistakes as to the dates of the letters. I hope I have atoned for some of his deficiencies, though a few mistakes are probably inevitable. He nearly blinded himself by working at night, and my grandmother[2] had constantly to copy the letters in a large round hand to enable him to make them out. After my grandmother’s death he discontinued arranging them, though they might have been continued till 1800, the year of Mrs. Montagu’s death.

[2] Née Elizabeth Charlton.

In the present volumes only her early life is presented, interwoven with portions of her most intimate friends’ letters to herself. Were the whole of this vast correspondence printed, a large bookcase could be filled with the volumes. In order to consult the varied tastes of the general reader, I have endeavoured to pick out the most interesting portions of her letters, such as relate to customs, fashions in dress, price of food, habits, but I have often groaned in spirit at having to leave out much that was noble in sentiment, or long comments upon contemporary books and events. If life should be spared me, I hope to be able to continue my narrative, for, like the ring produced by a stone thrown on the water, her circle of friends and acquaintances increased yearly, and not only comprised her English friends and every person of distinction in Great Britain, but also the most distinguished foreigners of all nations, notably the French. It has been asserted that Gilbert West was the first person to influence Mrs. Montagu on religious points. That his amiable Christianity may have strengthened her religious opinions I do not deny, but I hope it will be seen from this book that from her earliest days, when at the height of her joie de vivre, the religious sentiment was existent—a religion that prompted her ever to the kindest actions to all classes, that had nothing bitter or narrow in it, no dogmatism. Adored by men of all opinions, and liking their society, she was the purest of the pure, as is amply proved by the letters of Lord Lyttelton, Dr. Monsey, and others, but she was no prude with all this. Her worthy husband adored her, and no wife could have been more devoted and obedient than she was. His was a noble character, and doubtless influenced her much for good. As a wife, a friend, a camarade in all things, grave or gay, she was unequalled; as a housewife she was notable, beloved by her servants, by the poor of her parish, and by her miners and their wives and children. She planned feasts and dances and instituted schools for them, and fed and clothed the destitute.

With Mr. Raikes[3] she was one of the first people to institute Sunday-schools. She was as interested in Betty’s rheumatism as she was in the conversation of a duke or a duchess; a discussion with bishops and Gilbert West on religion, or with Emerson on mathematics, or Elizabeth Carter on Epictetus, all came alike to her gifted nature. She danced with the gay, she wept with the mourner; her sympathies never lay idle, even to the very end of life; and in a century which has been deemed by many to be coarse, uneducated, and irreligious, her sweet wholesome nature shone like a star, and attracted all minor lights. Where in the twentieth century should we find a coterie of men and women of the highest rank and influence in the world, either from intellect or position, so content and devoted to each other, so free from the petty jealousies and sarcasms of the present fashionable society, so anxious for each other’s welfare, socially and morally; so free from cant or prudery, so devoted to each other’s interest?

[3] Robert Raikes, born 1735, died 1811. The first Sunday-school instituted by him in 1781.

A great and terrible break in this book was caused by the death of my beloved husband in May, 1904, after a long, lingering illness. I doubt if I should have taken courage to resume my pen if it had not been for my friend Mr. A. M. Broadley, whose interest in my literary work and affectionate solicitude for myself has been a kindly spur to goad me on to action, so as to complete the present volumes. To him I tender my thanks for past and present encouragement, as well as many other kindnesses.

EMILY J. CLIMENSON.

CONTENTS TO VOL. I.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOL. I.

ELIZABETH MONTAGU

THE QUEEN OF THE BLUE-STOCKINGS

CHAPTER I.
GIRLHOOD UP TO 1738, AND BEGINNING OF THE CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE DUCHESS OF PORTLAND.

THE ROBINSON FAMILY

Before entering on the life of Elizabeth Robinson, afterwards Mrs. Edward Montagu, the famous bas bleu, the focus, as she may be called, of all the cleverest and most intellectual society of the last half of the eighteenth century, a few words must be said of the family she sprang from. The Robinsons are said to have been originally Robertsons, the name being corrupted into Robinson. They are in many Peerages[4] said to descend from the Robertsons of Struan, or Strowan, in Perthshire, who descended from Duncan de Atholia, Earl of Athole, hence descendants of Duncan, King of Scotland. My grandfather, the 4th Baron Rokeby, in an unfinished pedigree, believed this, but there have been Robinsons bearing the same[5] coat-of-arms in Yorkshire as early as the time of copyhold record in Edward III.’s reign. However, they may have been related. Our narrative starts from William, said to be younger son of the 7th Baron Robertson of Strowan, who, being deprived of his portion of inheritance as younger son by the Earl of Athole, fled into England, and settled at Kendal in Westmorland, in the time of Henry VIII. He had three children, Ralph, Henry, and Ursula. Ralph married Agnes Philip, by whom he had William, who succeeded to his father’s estates at Kendal and Brignal, and who on June 7, 1610, bought the estate of Rokeby in Yorkshire from Sir Thomas Rokeby, whose family had been possessed of it before the Conquest. Rokeby continued to belong to the Robinson family for 160 years, when “Long Sir Thomas Robinson” sold it in 1769 to John B. Saurey Morritt, the friend of Sir Walter Scott. The Robinsons finally assumed two lines ([vide Pedigree]), William, the eldest, remaining master of Rokeby, and his posthumous brother, Leonard, becoming the direct ancestor of our heroine. Leonard Robinson was a merchant in London; he became Chamberlain of the City of London, and was knighted on October 26, 1692. He married, first, Lucy Layton, of West Layton, etc., by whom he had no issue. For his second wife he married Deborah, daughter of Sir James Collet, Knight and Sheriff of London, by whom he had six daughters, all of whom married and had issue, and one son, Thomas, who married a widow, Elizabeth Light. She was daughter of William Clarke, Esq., of Merivale Abbey, Warwickshire, and heiress of her brother, William Clarke. By her first husband, Anthony Light, she had one daughter, Lydia. By her second marriage with Thomas Robinson she had three sons. Matthew, the eldest, alone concerns us as father of Mrs. Montagu. The following table will show the connection between the Robinson and Sterne families: the Rev. Laurence Sterne marrying their cousin, Elizabeth Lumley:—

PEDIGREE OF THE ROBINSONS AND STERNES

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[4] Vide Debrett and Lodge’s Peerages; Collin’s Baronetage, 1741, vol. iv.; Burke, “The New Peerage,” by W. Owen, 1785; and Longmate’s Peerage.

[5] Coat vert, a chevron between three bucks trippant. Mrs. Laurence Sterne and her sister, Mrs. Botham, as will be seen in the letters, call Matthew Robinson and his wife “Uncle” and “Aunt,” they being really their step-uncle and aunt. Thomas Robinson died at the early age of thirty-three, in the year 1700.

1694

THE MORRIS FAMILY

We now enter on the history of Matthew Robinson, the eldest surviving son of Thomas, and his wife Elizabeth. He was born in 1694, therefore was only six years old when his father died. At an early age he was entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, and became a fellow-commoner. He was a person of great intellectual parts, a conversationalist and wit, the life of the coffee-houses, which then served, as clubs do nowadays, as a rendezvous for men of fashion. His talent for painting was remarkable. His great nephew states, “He acquired so great a proficiency as to excel most of the professional artists of his day in landscape.” At the early age of eighteen, in 1712, he married Elizabeth Drake, daughter of Councillor Robert Drake, of Cambridge, descended from the Drakes of Ashe in Devonshire. Elizabeth’s mother’s name was Sarah Morris. The Morris family had been seated in Kent at East Horton since the reign of Elizabeth. Thomas Morris, father of Sarah, built the mansion of Mount Morris, sometimes called Monk’s Horton, near Hythe. He had one son, Thomas, who was drowned under London Bridge on his return from Holland in 1697, ætat 23. His sister Sarah had two children by Councillor Drake, Morris and Elizabeth. Their maternal grandfather lived to 1717, when he devised his estates to his grandson, Morris Drake, with the proviso of his assuming the extra name of Morris, and failing of his issue with remainder to Elizabeth, his sister, then Mrs. Matthew Robinson. Her mother, Mrs. Drake, having become a widow, had remarried the celebrated Dr. Conyers Middleton, but had no children by him. The following table will elucidate this:—

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[6] Monk’s Horton, or Up Horton, alienated by Heyman Rooke in the time of Queen Anne to Thomas Morris, who entailed it to his daughter’s male issue.

1712

ELIZABETH ROBINSON

To return to the Robinsons, they settled at their property of West Layton Hall, derived from Lucy Layton, first wife of Sir Leonard Robinson, and Edgeley in Wensleydale for the summer, and spent the winter in York; most country families at that period repairing to London or their nearest county town for convenience and society during the winter. To this young couple were born twelve children, of whom seven sons and two daughters lived to grow up—

1. Matthew, born April 6, 1713; afterwards 2nd Baron Rokeby. Educated at Trinity Hall, Cambridge; became a Fellow. Died November 30, 1800, ætat 87.

2. Thomas, born 1714, died in 1746–7. Barrister-at-law.

3. Morris, born 1715, died 1777; of the Six Clerks’ Office.

4. Elizabeth, born at York, October 2, 1720, died August 25, 1800.

5. Robert, Captain, E.I.C.S. Died in China, 1756.

6. Sarah, born September 21, 1723, died 1795.

7. William, born 1726, died 1803.

8. John, of Trinity Hall, Cambridge.

9. Charles, born 1733, died 1807.

DR. CONYERS MIDDLETON

Elizabeth, the subject of this book, was about seven years old when, by the death of her uncle, Morris Drake Morris, her mother inherited, as his heir, the important property of East Horton, and Mount Morris in Kent. The family then left Yorkshire for residence at Mount Morris. But before and after their inheritance of the Kentish property much time was spent with the Conyers Middletons both at Coveney, Cambridgeshire, a property Mrs. Conyers Middleton had inherited from her first husband, Councillor Drake; the advowson of the living being hers, she bestowed it on her second husband, Dr. Conyers Middleton,[7] whom she had married in 1710; also at Cambridge, where was their usual residence, and where several of the little Robinsons were born in their grandmother’s house, as we learn from a letter of Dr. Middleton’s. Elizabeth Robinson was naturally much with her grandmother, with whom and Conyers Middleton she was a great favourite. Her nephew and adopted son, in his volumes of her letters[8] that he published in 1810, states—

“Her uncommon sensibility and acuteness of understanding, as well as extraordinary beauty as a child, rendered her an object of great notice in the University, and Dr. Middleton was in the habit of requiring from her an account of the learned conversations at which, in his society, she was frequently present; not admitting of the excuse of her tender age as a disqualification, but insisting that although at the present time she could but imperfectly understand their meaning, she would in future derive great benefit from the habit of attention inculcated by this practice.”

[7] Conyers Middleton, D.D., born 1683, died 1750. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, etc., etc. Wrote the “Life of Cicero,” etc., etc.

[8] “The Letters of Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu,” by her nephew, Matthew Montagu, afterwards 4th Baron Rokeby.

Her father was proud of her vivacious wit, and encouraged her gifts of repartee which she possessed in as large a measure as himself.

“In her youth her beauty was most admired in the peculiar animation and expression of her blue eyes, with high arched eyebrows, and in the contrast of her brilliant complexion with her dark brown hair. She was of the middle stature, and stooped a little, which gave an air of modesty to her countenance, in which the features were otherwise so strongly marked as to express an elevation of sentiment befitting the most exalted condition.”

1727–28

Her elder brothers, members of Cambridge University, were all extremely literary, and became, early, distinguished scholars. We are told—

“Their emulation produced a corresponding zeal in their sisters, and a diligence of application unusual in females of that time. Their domestic circle was accustomed to struggle for the mastery in wit, or in superiority in argument, and their mother, whose frame of mind partook rather of the gentle sedateness of good sense than of the eccentricities of genius, was denominated by them ‘the Speaker,’ from the frequent mediation by which she moderated their eagerness for victory.”

MOUNT MORRIS —
LADY MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY

In Harris’s “History of Kent,” published in 1719, on p. 156, is a picture of Mount Morris, the home of the Robinsons, a large square house with a cupola surmounted by a ball and a weathercock, surrounded by a number of walled gardens laid out in the formal Dutch manner, an inner Topiary garden, leading to a steep flight of steps to the front door. Whilst staying in Cambridgeshire, Elizabeth had several times visited at Wimpole with her father and mother. Wimpole was the seat of Edward,[9] second Earl of Oxford and Mortimer, who had married Henrietta Cavendish, only daughter and heiress of John Holles, 1st Duke of Newcastle-on-Tyne. She was a great heiress, and brought her husband £500,000; she is said to have been a good but a very dull woman, very proud, and a rigid worshipper of etiquette. In the “National Biography” she is said to have “disliked most of the wits who surrounded her husband, and hated Pope!”[10] The Earl spent enormous sums in collecting books, manuscripts, pictures, medals, and articles of virtu, spending £400,000 of his wife’s fortune. To him we are indebted for the Harleian manuscripts, bought from his widow in 1753 for £10,000 by the nation, now in the British Museum. With the Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley,[11] only child of the Earl and Countess of Oxford, Elizabeth became on the most intimate terms, and her first extant letter is addressed to her when she was only eleven years old, and the Lady Margaret eighteen. So greatly did Lady Margaret value Elizabeth’s letters, that for a series of years she preserved them between the leaves of an old grey book which I possess. The first letter is endorsed, “Received, February 24, 1731–2, at Wimpole.” It commences—

“Madam,

“Your ladyship’s commands always give me a great deal of pleasure, but more especially when you ordered me to do myself this honour, without which I durst not have taken that liberty, for it would have been as great impertinence in me to have attempted it as it is condescension in your ladyship to order it.”

This alludes evidently to Lady Margaret having desired her to write to her. It ends—

“My duty to my Lord and Lady Oxford, and service to Lord Dupplin,[12] and my best respects to Miss Walton,[13] hope in a little while it may be duty. I am in great hopes that when your ladyship sees any impertinent people in London it will put you in mind of, Madam,

“Your ladyship’s most obliged, humble servant,

“Eliz. Robinson.”

[9] Lord Oxford sold Wimpole in 1740 to Lord Hardwick to pay off his debts.

[10] Pope was his bosom friend, Swift and Prior also; the latter died at Wimpole.

[11] Prior celebrated the Lady Margaret in the lines commencing “My noble, lovely, little Peggy.”

[12] Afterwards 8th Earl of Kinnoul.

[13] Lady Margaret’s governess, about to be married.

MOUNT MORRIS.

1731–32

The formal terms in this letter were then considered essential, even when addressing those of lower birth, all the more so to a person of Lady Margaret’s rank. Viscount Dupplin, whose name frequently occurs in the letters, was a cousin of Lady Margaret’s on her father’s side, his mother being a daughter of Robert Harley, 1st Earl of Oxford. The two young friends now kept up a lively correspondence, but as many of the letters have been published by my grandfather in 1810, I shall for this early period of her life give only a résumé of them, picking out such facts as point to the manners of the time, or that strike one as of interest. From Mount Morris in August, 1732, she writes—

“Since I came here I have been to Canterbury Races, at which there was not much diversion, as only one horse ran for the King’s Plate.... We had an assembly for three nights; the rooms are so small and low that they were exceedingly hot.”

From this date one perceives that young ladies were allowed to appear in public early, as Elizabeth was then not quite twelve years old!

1733

TUNBRIDGE WELLS

In October, 1733, she paid, in company of her parents, her first visit to Tunbridge Wells, ever afterwards such a favourite resort of hers. She says—

“It is so pleasant a place I don’t wonder the physicians prescribe it as a cure for the spleen; a great part of the company, especially of the gentlemen, are vapoured. When the wind is not in the east they are very good company, but they are as afraid of an easterly wind as if it would bring caterpillars upon our land as it did on the land of Egypt.... I am very sorry I could not get you any verses at Tunbridge, of which, at the latter part of the season, when the garrets grow cheap, that the poets come down, there is commonly great plenty.”

Further on she says, “I thank your ladyship for the verses, and I wish I had any to send you in return for them, but my poet is turned lawyer, and has forsook the Muses for ‘Coke upon Littleton.’” This alludes to her brother Tom, who was then studying law. The collecting of verses on every sort of circumstance seems to have been as fashionable then as photograph, autograph, or stamp-collecting, etc., are now.

“MRS.” PLACE

In the next letter of November, 1733, she alludes to Dr. Conyers Middleton, who, as stated before, had married Mrs. Drake, Elizabeth’s grandmother, and who was now a widower—

“I suppose you have heard Dr. Middleton has brought his Cousin Place[14] to keep his house. He very gravely sent us word that his cousin had come to spend the winter with him, and it was not impossible they might agree for a longer time; so I fancy he has brought her with him to see if she likes to play at quadrille, and sup on sack posset with the grave doctors, whose company to one of her gay temper must be delightful. I suspected his designs when he made so many complaints in London, that it was so very difficult to find a maid who understood making jellies and sack posset, which he and a certain doctor used to have for their suppers. He lost one lady because she was deaf to him; but I believe that fortune, to make amends to him, has blinded this. For though I don’t doubt he always takes care to show her the side of his face which Mr. Doll says is younger by ten years than the other, yet that is rather too old to be a match for twenty-five, which I believe is the age of Mrs.[15] Place.”

[14] Mary, daughter of the Rev. Conyers Place, of Dorchester. She died April 26, 1745.

[15] It was the custom at this time to give spinster ladies the complimentary title of “Mrs.”

The next letter she says—

“I have not heard from Dr. Middleton a great while. I suppose his thoughts are taken up with business and his pretty cousin in the West. I don’t know whether she has made a complete conquest of his heart.”

In May, 1733—

“Dr. Middleton now owns his marriage. I wish he finds the felicity of it answers his resigning a £100 a year. I am glad, for the sake of any other family, he has not got another rich widow; if he had, it would have been her turn to resign.”

This alludes to the fact that on the learned doctor’s remarriage he had to resign his fellowship.

MR. ROBINSON

Mr. Robinson, Elizabeth’s father, was not fond of the country, where his wife’s fine estate and his nine children condemned him to reside the greater part of the year; and when we consider how young a man he was, then only thirty-one, and his great love of witty society, one cannot be surprised at his having attacks of the “hyp” or “vapours,” as the terms for ennui were then. Elizabeth writes to Lady Margaret from Mount Morris—

“Though I am tired of the country, to my great satisfaction I am not so much so as my Pappa; he is a little vapoured, and last night, after two hours’ silence, he broke out with a great exclamation against the country, and concluded in saying that living in the country was sleeping with one’s eyes open. If he sleeps all day, I am sure he dreams much of London. What makes this place more dull is, my brothers are none of them here; two of them went away about a fortnight ago, and ever since my Pappa has ordered me to put a double quantity of saffron[16] in his tea.”

[16] Saffron, said to be good for heaviness of spirits.

1734

February 11, 1734, she writes—

“Dr. Middleton sends us word my Pappa’s acquaintance wonder he has not the spleen, but they would cease their surprise if they knew he was so much troubled with it that his physicians cannot prescribe him any cordial strong enough to keep up his spirits. We think London would do it effectually, and I believe he will have recourse to it.”

THE DUCHESS OF PORTLAND

On July 11, 1734, Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley married William, 2nd Duke of Portland.[17] There are no letters of Elizabeth’s in my possession on the occasion of her friend’s marriage; they recommence October 20 in the same year. Henceforward all the duchess’s letters were franked by the duke, and many of Elizabeth’s, often unfortunately undated. At this period ladies prevailed on such of their friends as were either Peers or members of Parliament, to sign sheets of letter-paper with their names at the back, often of folio size, which they used free of cost as they wanted them, wrapping their letters in these outer sheets and sealing them. As a single letter from London to Edinburgh cost 1s. 1½d., if double 2s. 3d., and if treble 3s. 4½d., the smallest inclosure being treated as an additional sheet, to send letters unfranked was a costly luxury. The practice of forging people’s names led to such intolerable abuse of franking that an Act was passed in 1764 making it compulsory for the whole address to be written by the person franking the letter.

[17] William, 2nd Duke of Portland, born 1708, died 1762. Hearne, in his Diary, says, “Is reported the handsomest man in England.”

In October, the same year, Elizabeth replies to a letter from the duchess chiding her for not writing—

“Oct. 3, 1734.—I am surprised that my answer to your Grace’s letter has never reached your hands. I sent it immediately to Canterbury by the servant of a gentleman who dined here, and I suppose he forgot to put it in the post. I am reconciled to the carelessness of the fellow, since it has procured to me so particular a mark of your concern. If my letter were sensible, what would be the mortification, that instead of having the honour to kiss your Grace’s hands, it must lie confined in the footman’s pocket with greasy gloves, rotten apples, a pack of dirty cards, and the only companion of its sort, a tender epistle from his sweetheart, ‘tru tell deth.’ Perhaps by its situation subject to be kicked by his master every morning, till at last, by ill-usage and rude company, worn too thin for any other use, it may make its exit in lighting a tobacco-pipe. I believe the fellow who lost my letter knew very well how ready I should be to supply it with another.

“I am, Madam,

“Your Grace’s most obedient servant,

“Elizabeth Robinson.”

“FIDGET”

The duchess’s favourite name for Elizabeth was “Fidget,” a name adopted by all the Bullstrode[18] circle. This was due to her vivacity of mind and body. She was never really a strong person, but her nervous energy enabled her frail body to perform feats that a more lethargic person could not have accomplished. “Why should a table that stands still require so many legs when I can fidget on two?” she would exclaim. The duchess returns an answer on October 25, portions of which I copy—

“Dear Fidget,

“I assure you I am very angry at the fellow’s not taking care of your letter, for they always give me infinite pleasure, and I esteem it as a great loss. I am very sensible of the friendship you have for me, and hope you never shall find any reason to the contrary. You have painted extremely well the fate of your letter was not according to its deserts.... Pray do you hear anything of Dr. Middleton and his fine wife?[19] I had a letter not long ago wherein it was said she made the doctor very sensible she had a tongue, and a very sharp one too, with the addition of a clear and distinct voice. If you have any poetry, send it to me; you know it will be acceptable to her who is

“Dear Fidget’s

“Very humble servant and admirer,

“M. Cavendish Portland.”

[18] The duchess always spelt Bullstrode with the double l, from the story of the place, and I choose to do the same.

[19] On Dr. Middleton’s second wife.

DRAWING LESSONS

In Elizabeth’s next letter, November 3, 1734, she regrets that her father, having recovered his spirits, had given up going to Bath as projected, and says—

“One common objection to the country, one sees no faces but those of one’s own family, but my Pappa thinks he has found a remedy for that by teaching me to draw; but then he husbands these faces in so cruel a manner that he brings me sometimes a nose, sometimes an eye at a time: but on the King’s birthday, as it was a festival, he brought me out a whole face with its mouth wide open. Your Grace desired me to send you some verses; I have not heard so much as a Rhyme lately, and I believe the Muses have all got agues in this country, but I have enclosed you the following Summons which we sent an old bachelor, who is very much our humble servant, and would die but not dance for us; but being once in great necessity for partners, we thought him better than an elbow chair, and compelled him to come to this Summons, which pleased me extremely, as I believe it was the first time he ever found the power of the fair sex.... I am so far from Cambridge, and have no friend charitable enough to send me any scandal, I have heard nothing of either of the doctors, but as to my dear grandmother,[20] I have before heard she was as famous as a free speaker as he is for a free-thinker.[21]

[20] This is Elizabeth’s fun, as her own grandmother was dead, and the doctor was her step-grandfather.

[21] Dr. Middleton held free-thinking views on the Old Testament.

A SUMMONS

“‘Summons.

“‘Kent, to J. B., Esqre.[22]

“‘Whereas complaint has been made to us Commissioners of Her Majesties’ Balls, Hopps, Assemblies, &c., for the county aforesaid, that several able and expert men, brought up and instructed in the art or mistery of Dancing, have and daily do refuse, though often thereunto requested, to be retained and exercised in the aforesaid Art or Mistery, to the occasion of great scarcity of good dancers in these parts, and contrary to the Laws of Gallantry and good manners, in that case made and provided: And whereas we are likewise credibly informed that you J. B., Esqre., though educated in the said Art by that celebrated Master, Lally, Senior, are one of the most notorious offenders in this point, these are therefore in the name of the Fair Sex, to require you, the said J. B., Esqre., personally to be and appear before us, at our meeting this day at the sign of the “Golden Ball,” in the parish of Horton, in the county aforesaid, between the hours of twelve and one in the forenoon to answer to such matter as shall be objected against you, concerning the aforesaid refusal and contempt of our jurisdiction and authority, and to bring with you your dancing shoes, laced waistcoat and white gloves. And hereby fail not under peril of our frowns, and being henceforth deemed and accounted an Old Bachelor. Given under our hands and seals this eighth day of October, 1734, to which we all set our hands.’”

[22] James Brockman, of Beachborough. The summons is still kept at Beachborough.

THE “GOLDEN BALL”

The “Golden Ball” was the ball of the weathercock on the lantern cupola of the house at Mount Morris. In the next letter, November 20, she says—

“Out of my filial piety I would persuade my Pappa to set out for London. I have been preaching to him all this day, that when Saul had the spleen, David’s musick did him a great deal of good, and that I am satisfied Farinelli[23] would do him as much service. He goes frequently shooting or coursing, and fancies that will prevent its return, and to answer me with the Scripture, says, Nimrod the mighty hunter never had the Hyp. Dr. Middleton designed to bring his Dearee to London, but if she is so gay it may be as prudent to keep her at Cambridge ... if it should enter her head that the doctor is no greater than another, what a mortification it would be to my good Grand-pappa; if he knows himself and her, I think he would agree with Arnolfe in L’Ecole des Femmes[24]—

“‘Que c’est assez pour elle, a vous en bien parler,

De savoir prier Dieu, l’aimer, coudre, et filer.’”

[23] Carlo Brocchi, whose professional name was Farinelli, vocalist and pupil of Porpora.

[24] A play of Molière’s.

Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

Miss Sarah Morris

Mr. Robinson, who drew and painted in a style worthy of a professional artist, was anxious Elizabeth should become a proficient in the same art, but she writes to the duchess—

“If you design to make any proficiency in that art, I would advise you not to draw old men’s heads. It was the rueful head countenance of Socrates or Seneca that first put me out of conceit of it; had my Pappa given me the blooming faces of Adonis or Narcissus, I might have been a more apt scholar; and when I told him I found those great beards difficult to draw, he gave me St. John’s head in a charger, so to avoid the speculation of dismal faces, which by my art I dismalized ten times more than they were before, I threw away my pencil.”

1735

TUNBRIDGE WELLS

In October, 1735, the duchess’s first child was born, Elizabeth, eventually wife of the 1st Marquis of Bath. Elizabeth writes to congratulate her, and states she heard Dr. Mead (then the great ladies’ doctor) pronounced it the finest child he ever saw. Elizabeth had just returned from her first visit to Tunbridge Wells for her health, suffering much from headaches and weak eyes. At this period the Dowager Duchess of Portland died. The letters up to this date were addressed to “To Her Grace, The junior Duchess of Portland.”

LORD STANHOPE

Elizabeth writes a description of her five weeks at Tunbridge Wells. After comments on an unhappy marriage recently made, she says—

“You know some of our Grub Street wits compared marriage to a country dance, which scheme I extremely approved, but when I read it, I thought it should have been set to the tune of ‘Love for ever;’ but they say it never did go to that tune, nor ever would. I danced twice a week all the time I was at Tunbridge, and once extraordinary, for Lord Euston[25] came down to see Lord Augustus Fitzroy,[26] and made a ball. Lord Euston danced with the Duchess of Norfolk,[27] but her Grace went home early, and then Lord Euston danced with Lady Delves. We all left off about one o’clock. The day after I left the Wells, I went to the Races (Canterbury), which began on Monday, and ended on Thursday.... Monday there was an Assembly, Tuesday a Play, Wednesday an Assembly again, and Thursday another play, and as soon as that was over, we had a ball where we had ten couple. I did not go to bed after our private ball till six o’clock, and rose again before nine.

“The person who was taken most notice of at Tunbridge as particular is a young gentleman your Grace may be perhaps acquainted with, I mean Lord Stanhope.[28] He is always making mathematical scratches in his pocket-book, so that one half the people took him for a conjurer, and the other half for a fool.”

[25] George, Earl of Euston, son of the 2nd Duke of Grafton.

[26] A brother of Lord Euston.

[27] Wife of Edward, 9th Duke of Norfolk.

[28] Philip, 2nd Earl Stanhope, born 1714.

In a letter of October 2 is the first mention of Mrs. Pendarves,[29] afterwards Mrs. Delany. It runs—

“Your pleasures are always my satisfactions; I assure you I partake at Mount Morris all the happiness you tell me you receive at Bullstrode. I am sure Mrs. Pendarves cannot give you any pleasure in her conversation that she is not repayed in enjoying yours. I am glad you have got so agreeable a companion with you; it is a happiness you have not always enjoyed, though deserved.”

[29] Née Mary Granville, widow of Mr. W. Pendarves, born 1700, died 1788. Daughter of John Granville.

LADY THANET

Mention is made of the duchess’s desire to obtain beautiful shells, and Elizabeth desired her sailor brother Robert, who had just returned from Italy, and was going in his ship to the East Indies, to bring home what he can in shells and feathers of all sorts—parrots, peacocks, etc.—for work the duchess was doing. This feather work became a rage of both the duchess and Elizabeth, and was the precursor of the celebrated feather hangings, immortalized by Cowper’s verses in Elizabeth’s later years. A humorous description of Lady Thanet,[30] then the great lady of West Kent, an amusing character, and great-aunt of the Duchess of Portland, is given in the same letter—

“Lord Thanet[31] said when he came to Kent this summer that Lord Cowper[32] had brought his Countess[33] to affront all East Kent, and he had brought his Countess to affront all West Kent. She was a little discomposed one day at dinner and threw a pheasant and a couple of partridges off the table in shoving them up to my Lord to cut up.”

[30] Mary, 4th daughter and coheiress of 2nd Marquis of Halifax.

[31] 7th Earl of Thanet.

[32] William, 2nd Earl Cowper.

[33] Henrietta, daughter of Earl Grantham.

1737

Early in 1737, the second daughter of the duchess’s was born—Henrietta, afterwards Countess of Stamford and Warrington. Elizabeth writes to congratulate her on the event. She and her family were very ill of fever that summer, thirteen persons down with it in the house. The smallpox raged at Canterbury, and Mrs. Robinson would not allow her daughters to attend the races. In a letter of September mention is made of Dr. Conyers Middleton’s disappointment at not obtaining the Mastership of the Charter House, which he most desired. Another peep at Lady Thanet—

“Lady Thanet came into this part of the country ten days ago; her French woman rode astride through the wilds of Kent, and the country people having heard her Ladyship was something odd, took Mademoiselle for Lady Thanet.”

The first letter extant between Elizabeth and Miss Anstey, sister of Christopher Anstey, the author of the “New Bath Guide,”[34] may be placed here, though undated, except “Mount Morris, near Hythe, July 15.” This extract shows her vivacious nature—

[34] The “New Bath Guide” was not written till 1766. The Ansteys lived at Brinckley near Cambridge.

“Yesterday I was overturned coming from a neighbour’s. We got no hurt at all, but were forced to borrow a coach to bring us the rest of the way, our own being quite disabled by the fall.... I always think one visits in the country at the hazard of one’s bones, but fear is never so powerful with me, as to make me stay at home, and the next thing to being retired, is to be morose: contemplation is not made for a woman on the right side of thirty, it suits prodigiously well with the gout or the rheumatism: rest and an elbow chair are the comfort of age, but the pleasures of youth are of a more lively sort. I have in winter gone eight miles to dance to the music of a blind fiddler, and returned at two in the morning, mightily pleased that I had been so well entertained. I am so fond of dancing that I cannot help fancying I was at some time bit by a tarantula,[35] and never got well cured of it. I shall this year lose my annual dancings at Canterbury Races, for my Papa has made a resolution (I assure you without my advice) not to go to them.”

[35] It was believed that a tarantula’s bite was only to be cured by dancing.

MERSHAM HATCH —
THE PLAY

In the next letter to the duchess, October 15, 1737—

“Lady Thanet made a ball at Hothfield a few days ago to which she did our family the honour to invite them, and as we were obeying her commands and got into the coach with our ball airs and our dancing shoes, at five miles of our journey we met with a brook so swelled by the rain it looked like a river, and the water, we were told, was up to the coach seat, and as I had never heard of any balls in the Elysian Fields, and don’t so much as know whether the ghosts of departed beaux wear pumps, I thought it better to reserve ourselves for the Riddotto[36] than hazard drowning for this ball, and so we turned back and went to Sir Wyndham Knatchbull’s,[37] who were hindered by the same water; for my part I could think of nothing but the ball, when any one asked me how I did I cry’d tit for tat, and when they bid me sit down, I answered ‘Jack of the green.’ A few days after the ball, Lady Thanet bespoke a play at a town eight miles from us, and summoned us to it; two of my brothers, and my sister,[38] and your humble servant went, and after the play the gentlemen invited all the women to a supper at a tavern, where we staid till two o’clock in the morning, and then all set out for their respective homes. Here I suppose you will think my diversion ended, but I must tell your Grace it did not; for before I had gone two miles, I had the pleasure of being overturned, at which I squalled for joy; and to complete my felicity I was obliged to stand half an hour in the most refreshing rain, and the coolest north breeze I ever felt; for the coach’s braces breaking were the occasion of our overturn, and there was no moving till they were mended. You may suppose we did not lose so favourable an opportunity of catching cold; we all came croaking down to breakfast the next morning, and said we had caught no cold, as one always says when one has been scheming, but I think I have scarce recovered my treble notes yet. We had seven coaches at the play; there was Lord Winchilsea,[39] Lady Charlotte Finch,[40] Lady Betty Fielding,[40] Capt. Fielding,[41] his lady, and the Miss Palmers.[42] Mr. Fielding and Miss Molly Palmer caught such colds they sent for a physician the next day; Lady Knatchbull and Miss Knatchbull have kept their beds ever since: poor Lady Thanet was overturned as she went home, and caught a terrible hoarseness, which was the better for the poor coachman, who by that means escaped a sharp and shrill reproof; and indeed it is enough for any poor man to lye under the terror of her frowns, with a look she can wound, with a frown she can kill; I think I never saw so formidable a countenance. I think Lord Thanet’s education of his son[43] is something particular; he encourages him in swearing and singing nasty ballads with the servants: he is a very fine boy, but prodigiously rude; he came down to breakfast the other day when there was company, and his maid came with him, who, instead of carrying a Dutch toy, or a little whirligig for his Lordship to play with, was lugging a billet for his plaything. There was a fine supper at the ball, 33 dishes all very neat. My elder brother got out of the coach and put on a pair of boots, and rode on to the ball when we turned back.”

[36] An entertainment of music first and afterwards dancing.

[37] 5th Baronet. His place called Mersham Hatch.

[38] Sarah Robinson, three years younger than Elizabeth.

[39] Daniel, 7th Earl Winchilsea.

[40] Sisters of Lord Winchilsea.

[41] Father of Henry Fielding, the novelist.

[42] Daughters of Sir Thomas Palmer of Wingham, Kent. Miss Molly afterwards 2nd Lady Winchilsea.

[43] Sackville Tufton, 8th Earl of Thanet, born 1733.

LADY WALLINGFORD

November 21, the duchess writes to condole with Elizabeth on the loss of the ball, and mentions having been staying with the Duke at Lady Peterborough’s[44]—

“Bevis Mount[45] is the most delightful place I ever saw, the house bad and tumbling down, but there is a summer-house in the garden, such a one! From thence there is a prospect of the sea, the Isle of Wight, New Forest, the town of Southampton, the garden laid out with an elegant taste, and in short everything that is agreeable, but particularly the Mistress.... Lord and Lady Wallingford are with us now; they are extremely agreeable. I fancy you must have seen her in public places. She is extremely pretty, and in the French dress.”

[44] Née Anastasia Robinson, wife of the 3rd Lord Peterborough.

[45] Bevis Mount, in Southampton.

Lady Wallingford was the daughter of John Law, the famous financier, by his wife Katherine Knollys, third daughter of Charles Knollys, titular 3rd Earl of Banbury. Mary Katherine Law married in 1732 her first cousin, called Viscount Wallingford.

THE SUIT OF CLOATHES

At this period, though undated, may be placed Elizabeth’s request to her father for a handsome suit of clothes. In a letter to her mother she thanks her “for your goodness in giving me leave to stay, and making it convenient to answer the Duchess’s and my wishes to stay during her confinement. When we came to town the Duchess reckoned the end of April.” From Bullstrode, therefore, she accompanied the duchess and her family to Whitehall, where in a portion of the old palace was the Portlands’ town residence. Elizabeth was now in her eighteenth year. In a letter to her father, too lengthy to insert entirely, worded in the respectful way children addressed their parents then, with “Sir” and “Madam,” and concluding with “your most dutiful daughter,” she says—

“You know this year I am to be introduced by the Duchess to the best company in the town, and when she lies in, am both to receive in form with her all her visits as Lady Bell[46] used to do on that occasion, all the people of quality of both sexes that are in London, and I must be in full dress, and shall go about with her all the winter, therefore a suit of cloathes will be necessary for me, the value of which I submit entirely to you. I shall never so much want a handsome suit as upon this occasion of first appearing with my Lady Duchess; but as the first consideration is to please you, I would by no means urge this beyond your pleasure, by duty or inclination, I shall always be content with what you order, and hope you will not be displeased with my requests.”

[46] Lady Isabella Bentinck, sister of the duke.

To this appeal her father sent her £20, and she returns thanks thus:—

“Whitehall, Thursday.

“Sir,

“Wit is seldom accompanied with money, but your letter came to me with so much of both, that I can neither send you thanks, nor an answer worthy of your present epistle. You are very good to gratify my bosom friend, vanity, which, though it does not abandon me in a plain gown, takes greater delight in seeing me in a handsome one, and it has promised me that I shall appear to advantage in my new suit of cloathes, both to myself and other people.... The Duchess, with her advice, will help me to make the best use of your generosity. I have been to the Mercer’s, but have not yet pitched upon a silk.... Mr. Pope has wrote an epitaph upon himself, which is not by far the best monument of his wit; it is a trifling thing, and seems wrote for amusement. I would send it you if I could, but I have not got a copy of it; as soon as I have I will convey it to Mount Morris, where I imagine you may want amusements, and our roads are not smooth enough for Pegasus.”

ROBERT ROBINSON

This epitaph is probably the one commencing “Under this marble, or under this sill, or under this turf, or e’en what they will.” At the end of the letter she says of her sailor brother—

“Now Robert is secure of his commission, his life is something hazardous, but he holds danger in contempt, the golden fruit of gain is always guarded by some dragon which courage or vigilance must conquer.”

He had just been made captain of the Bedford, a ship in the merchant service. Evidently Mrs. Robinson wrote a letter of advice as to the important choice of “cloathes.” The answer runs—

“Madam,

“I have obeyed your commands as to my cloathes, and have bought a very handsome Du Cape within the twenty pounds; a little accident which had happened to the silk in the Lomb made it a great deal cheaper, and, I believe, will not be at all the worse when made up; the colour in some places is a little damaged, but that will cut for the tail, and the rest is perfectly good. It will last longer clean than a flowered silk, and I have already had two since I have been in Mantuas:[47] I saw some of 25s. a yard that I did not think so pretty. Pray, Madam, let my thanks be repeated to my Pappa, to whose goodness I owe this suit of cloathes.... Pray send me by Tom the figured Dimity that was left of my upper coat, for it is too narrow and too short for my present hoop, which is of the first magnitude.”

[47] The expression then used for the period when young ladies were what we call “out.”

ANNE DONNELLAN

At the end of this letter Anne Donnellan is mentioned for the first time. She was a friend of Dean Swift’s, together with her sister, Mrs. Clayton, and her brother, the Rev. Christopher Donnellan. Anne Donnellan’s pet name in the Duchess of Portland’s circle was “Don,” as Mrs. Pendarves (afterwards Mrs. Delany) was “Pen,” Miss Dashwood “Dash,”[48] and Lady Wallingford “Wall.”

[48] The “Delia” of the poet Hammond.

CHAPTER II.
LIFE IN BATH, LONDON, AND AT BULLSTRODE, 1738–1740 BEGINNING OF CORRESPONDENCE WITH MRS. DONNELLAN.

1738

On April 16, 1738, the Duchess of Portland’s son, William Henry, afterwards 3rd Duke, was born, after which Elizabeth returned home with her father. On June 30 the duchess wrote to apologize for a long silence—

“I should have answered dear Fidget’s letter before I left London, but you are sensible what a hurry one lives in there, and particularly after being confined some months from public diversions, how much one is engaged in them, Operas, Park, Assemblies, Vaux Hall—which I believe you never had the occasion of seeing. You must get your Papa to stay next year: it is really insufferable going out of town at the most pleasant time of the year. I am positive the easterly winds have much greater effect upon the spirits in the country, than it is possible they should have in London. I dare say the chief part of the year your Papa is in town he don’t know which way the wind is, except when he goes into a Coffee House and meets with some poor disbanded Officer who is quarrelling with the times and consequently with the weather, because he is not a General in time of peace; or a valetudinarian, that if a fly settled on his nose, would curse the Easterly wind, and fancy it had sent it there; these are the only people that ever thought of East wind in London.”

At the end of the letter the duchess says, “My amusements are all of the Rural kind—Working, Spinning, Knotting, Drawing, Reading, Writing, Walking, and picking Herbs to put into an Herbal.”

SIR ROBERT AUSTIN

This little peep of her life is most characteristic, though fond of the pleasures of high society diversions, and the varieties of London, she took an interest in all sorts of country and domestic pursuits, and excelled in them. She turned in wood and ivory; she was familiar with every kind of needlework; she made shell frames, adorned grottoes, designed feather work, collected endless objects in the animal and vegetable kingdom; was a hearty lover of animals and birds of all kinds. Her letters are lively and affectionate, but not clever and witty as her friend Elizabeth Robinson’s. She complains of her stupidity in letter-writing. Elizabeth had the witty head, and the duchess the cunning hand, but both possessed that valuable possession, warm hearts. To the duchess’s last letter Elizabeth replies—

“I arrived at Mount Morris rather more fond of society than solitude. I thought it no very agreeable change of scene from Handel[49] and Cafferelli.[50]... Sir Francis Dashwood’s sister is going to be married to Sir Robert Austin, a baronet of our county; if the size of his estate bore any proportion to the bulk of his carcase, he would be one of the greatest matches in England ... a lady may make her lover languish till he is the size she most likes ... as it is the fashion for men to die for love, the only thing a woman can do is to bring a man into a consumption; what triumph then must attend the lady who reduces Sir Robert Austin ... to asses’ milk. Omphale made Hercules spin, but greater glory awaits the lady who makes Sir Robert Austin lean.... I told my Pappa how much he laid under your Grace’s displeasure for hurrying out of town: but what is a fine lady’s anger, or the loss of London, to five and forty? They are more afraid of an easterly wind than a frown when at that age.”

[49] George Frederick Handel, born 1685, died 1759.

[50] Gaetano Majoriano Caffarelli, celebrated Italian singer, pupil of Porpora, died 1783.

VARIOUS RECIPES —
THE GOAT

On December 17 Elizabeth writes to the duchess in answer to a string of queries the latter had sent her—

“I must take the liberty to advise what is to be done, and to avoid confusion will take them in the order of the letter. Item, for the wet-nurse[51] after the chickenpox, that she may become new milch again, a handful of Camomile flowers, a handful of Pennyroyal, boiled in white wine, and sweetened with treacle, to be taken at going to rest. For my Lord Titchfield who grows prodigiously, Daisy roots and milk. For the small foot and taper ancle of my Lady Duchess, bruised and strained by a fall, a large shoe and oil Opodeldock. For the horse whose Christian name I have forgotten, Friar’s Balsam, and for the death of a dormouse take four of the fairest Moral and Theological Virtues, with patience and fortitude, quantum sufficit, and they will prevent immoderate grieving.... I heard a very ridiculous story a few days ago: Mr. Page, brother to Sir Gregory, going to visit Mr. Edward Walpole,[52] a tame goat which was in the street followed him unperceived when he got out of the coach into the house. Mr. Walpole’s servant, thinking the goat came out of Mr. Page’s coach, carried it into the room to Mr. Walpole, who thought it a little odd Mr. Page should bring such a visitor, as Mr. Page no less admired at his choice of so savoury a companion; but civility, a great disguiser of sentiments, prevented their declaring their opinions, and the goat, no respecter of persons or furniture, began to rub himself against the frame of a chair which was carved and gilt, and the chair, which was fit for a Christian, but unable to bear the shock of a beast, fell almost to pieces. Mr. Walpole thought Mr. Page very indulgent to his dear crony the goat, and wondering he took no notice of the damage, said he fancied tame goats did a great deal of harm, to which the other said he believed so too: after much free and easy behaviour of the goat, to the great detriment of the furniture, they came to an explanation, and Mr. Goat was turned downstairs with very little ceremony or good manners.... Dr. Middleton has got two nieces whom he is to keep entirely, for his brother left them quite destitute. They are very fine children, and my Grannam is very fond of them. The doctor is soon to bring forth his ‘Cicero,’ everybody says the production will do him credit. Lady Thanet has set an assembly on foot about eight miles from hence, where we all meet at the full moon and dance till 12 o’clock, and then take an agreeable journey home. Our assembly in full glory has ten coaches at it; and Lady Thanet, to make up a number, is pleased in her humility to call in all the parsons, apprentices, tradesmen, apothecaries, and farmers, milliners, mantua-makers, haberdashers of small wares, and chambermaids. It is the oddest mixture you can imagine—here sails a reverent parson, there skips an airy apprentice, here jumps a farmer, and then every one has an eye to their trade; the milliner pulls you by the hand till she tears your glove; the mantua-maker treads upon your petticoat till she unrips the seams; the shoemaker makes you foot it till you wear out your shoes; the mercer dirties your gown; the apothecary opens the window behind you to make you sick. Most of our neighbours will be in town by the next moon, so we shall have no more balls this winter. In town the ladies talk of their stars, but here, ‘If weak women go astray, the moon is more in fault than they.’ Will o’ Whisp never led the bewildered traveller over hedge or ditch as a moon does us country folk; a squeaking fiddle is an occasion, and a moonlight night an opportunity, to go ten miles in bad roads at any time. I must tell your Grace that my Papa forgets twenty years and nine children, and dances as nimbly as any of the Quorum, but is now and then mortified by hearing the ladies cry, ‘Old Mr. Robinson hay sides, and turn your daughter:’ other ladies who have a mind to appear young say, ‘Well, there is my poor Grandpapa; he could no more dance so.’ Then comes an old bachelor of fifty and shakes him by the hand, and cries, ‘Why you dance like us young fellows:’ another more injudicious than the rest, says by way of compliment, ‘Who would think you had six fine children taller than yourself? I protest if I did not know you I should take you to be young.’ Then says the most antiquated Virgin in the company, ‘Mr. Robinson wears mighty well; my mother says he looks as well as ever she remembers him; he used often to come to the house when I was a girl.’ You may suppose he has not the ‘hyp’ at these balls; but indeed it is a distemper so well bred as never to come but when people are at home and at leisure.”

[51] Wet-nurse of the Marquis of Titchfield.

[52] Son of Sir Robert and brother of Horace Walpole.

1739

WILLIAM AND GRACE FREIND

In April, 1739, Elizabeth’s cousin, Grace Robinson, sister of “Long” Sir Thomas Robinson,[53] married the Rev. William Freind,[54] son of the Rev. Dr. Robert Freind, Head Master of Westminster School. Soon after the marriage, Elizabeth, who appears to have known Mr. Freind intimately before he married her cousin, writes from “Leicester Street, near Leicester Fields,” to Mr. and Mrs. Freind, “How rare meet now, such pairs in love and honour joyn’d,” and addresses them as “my inestimable cousins.” She states that her family return to Kent shortly, whilst she is going to the Duchess of Portland in White Hall. Elizabeth writes to the duchess on July 1, 1739, having just returned home from her visit—

“I have thought of nothing but the company I was in on Tuesday since I left town, though a worshipful Justice with a new leathern belt, scarlet waistcoat and plush breeches, has been endeavouring this whole afternoon to put you out of my head. I have been forced to hear the most elegant encomiums upon the country, and the most barbarous censures upon the town. First his Worship talked of Larks and Nightingales, then enlarged upon the sweetness of bean blossom, roses and honeysuckles, said the town stunk of cabbages and limekilns, so that I found as to pleasures he was lead by the nose.”

[53] Sir Thomas Robinson, eldest son of William Robinson, of Rokeby; made a baronet in 1730. Called “Long” Sir Thomas to distinguish him from Sir Thomas Robinson, afterwards 1st Baron Grantham.

[54] Succeeded his father as Rector of Whitney, Oxon, and afterwards Dean of Canterbury.

COUNTRY BEAUX

Further on she says, the Canterbury Races were to be on July 18, and begs her Grace, if she knows any dancing shoes which lye idle, to bid them trip to Canterbury, as there will be many forsaken damsels—

“Our collection of men is very antique, they stand in my list thus: a man of sense, a little rusty, a beau a good deal the worse for wearing, a coxcomb extremely shattered, a pretty gentleman, very insipid, a baronet very solemn, a squire very fat, a fop much affected, a barrister learned in ‘Coke upon Lyttelton’ but knows nothing of ‘long ways for many as will,’ an heir-apparent, very awkward; which of these will cast a favourable eye upon me I don’t know.”

THOMAS ROBINSON —
A BONE-SETTER

She was destined not to go after all, for she writes—

“Mount Morris, July 18, 1739.

“Madam,

“The great art of life is to turn our misfortunes to our advantage, and to make even disappointments instrumental to our pleasures. To follow which rule I have taken the day which I should have gone to the Races to write to your Grace. About ten days ago my Papa took an hypochondriacal resolution not to go to the Races, for the Vapours and Love are two things that seek solitude, but for me, who have neither in my constitution, a crowd is not disagreeable, and I always find myself prompted by a natural benevolence and love of Society to go where two or three are gathered together.... The theory of dancing is extreamly odd, tho’ the practice is agreeable; who could by force of reasoning find out the satisfaction of casting off right hand and left, and the Hayes; we often laugh at a kitten turning round in pursuit of its tail, when the creature is really turning single. I shall have an account of the Races from my brother Robinson, who is there; as for the Barrister,[55] he came down to the Sessions, and when he had sold all his Law, packed up his saleable eloquence and carried it back to Lincoln’s Inn, there to be left till called for. Would you think a person so near akin to me as a brother could run away from a ball? I hear some Canterbury girls who could aspire no higher than a younger brother, are very angry, and say they shall never put their cause into his hands, as he seems so little willing to defend it.... Next year we must certainly go to the Races for the good of the county, and dance out of the spirit of Patriotism. The Election year always brings company to Canterbury upon this occasion, and as for me I will dance to either a Whig or a Tory tune, as it may be, for in any wise I will dance. I am not like the dancing Monkies who will only cut their capers for King George, I will dance for any man or Monarch in Christendom, nay were it even a Mahometan or idolatrous King; I should not make much scruple about it. I had the misfortune to be overturned the other day coming from Sir Wyndham Knatchbull’s,[56] the occasion of it was one of our wheels coming off. I assure you I but just avoided the indecency of being topsy turvey, my head was so much lower than its usual situation, as put my ideas much out of place, and I think my head has been in a perfect litter ever since.... I shall begin to think from my frequent overturns a bone-setter a necessary part of equipage for country visiting. I am sure those who visit much, love their neighbours better than themselves; perhaps you will be as apt to suspect me as anybody of that extream of charity, but I am so tender of myself there are few I would hazard even a gristle or a sinew, but civility is a debt that must be paid. I hope in all accidents I shall preserve a finger and thumb, to write myself

“Your Grace’s most obedient and obliged

“Humble servant,

“E. Robinson.

“My humble service to the Duke.”

[55] Her brother Thomas.

[56] At Mersham Hatch.

Hamilton, Pinx. Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

Mr. & Mrs. Matthew Robinson

DUKE OF PORTLAND

The duchess was now expecting her confinement, and Lady Wallingford, who was staying with her, corresponded with Elizabeth in French. Owing to the residence of her father in France as Superintendent of Finances, she was more French than English. Her letters are well written and expressed, though the spelling is peculiar. At a later date she writes to Elizabeth in broken English, and she scolds her for making her correspond in English instead of French. Horace Walpole, in a letter to the Earl of Buchan, states that Lady Wallingford was the image of her father, and that her mother, Lady Katherine Law, lived during her husband’s power in France in great state. On July 26, 1739, another daughter, Lady Margaret, was born to the duchess. Dr. Sandys was, as usual, the accoucheur, but it makes one horrified in these days to think Dr. Sandys bled the duchess for a feverish cold on the Monday and Thursday after her child was born. Truly under this San Grado treatment it was then the “survival of the fittest”! The duke now wrote a bulletin of his wife to Elizabeth—

“Whitehall, August 9, 1739.

“Madam,

“Tho’ J have not been overturned you’ll imagine by the scrawl you receive yt both my thumb and forefinger have been dislocated; J own j can’t agree with you in yt for j flatter myself j have the use of them, but if you please j’ll agree with you that they never were in joint, for which reason j am not so sensible of ye loss of jointed fingers, as you might be had yours been broke by the overturn of your coach, which accident j hope may never happen to you. The Dss. is as well as can be expected tho’ a little weak, and is extremely obliged to you for your letter, and also begged j would hint yt tho’ she can’t wright letters she can read them, j need not explain my meaning to you. She desires her kind service to Fidgett; and should be glad if you would make her compliments acceptable to your Mama, etc.

“j am with the uttmost respect, Madam,

“Your most obedient, humble servant,

“Portland.”

The duke’s writing is very characteristic, but certainly rather disjointed looking, and his I’s always written as long j’s.

Elizabeth had just had another coach adventure. The coachman who drove her father and mother and her brother Matthew home after dining at a neighbour’s, was drunk, which they did not perceive till he lashed the four horses into a furious gallop. In vain Mr. Robinson called to him, and swore at him; Matthew and Mrs. Robinson intreated; he persisted in lashing the horses till he fell off the box, and two wheels ran over him, but as Elizabeth states, “being preserved in beer, took very little harm; both footmen were drunk, so took very little care about us.”

In a letter to the duchess (August 15) we find Elizabeth and her sister Sarah banished from home to Canterbury on account of a woman and three children who lived in a farmhouse near the gate of Mount Morris having the smallpox. That fell disease ever inspired Elizabeth with great dread. Later in life at three different times she was inoculated,[57] each time unsuccessfully, for this disease, then a universal scourge. I should like the foolish fathers and mothers of the present day who petition for non-vaccination to read the accounts given in letters I possess of the unbridled ravages then made by smallpox, and to consider that a usually temporary inconvenience to the child’s health is a very trifling infliction compared with a loathsome disease, which many people fled from nursing, and which even if it did not kill the sufferers, probably disfigured them for life. The sisters first stayed with Mrs. Scott,[58] and then with Mrs. Tennison, “wife to a prebend in this church; there is very little company here, except Deans, Prebends and Minor Canons, etc., etc.; nothing but messages and visits from Prebends, Deacons, and the Church militant upon earth.” Later on, speaking of her brother Matthew’s refusal to leave home on account of the smallpox, she says, “I have seven brothers, and would not part with one for a kingdom; and if I had but one, I should be distracted about him; sure nobody has so many or so good brothers.”

[57] Lady Mary Wortley Montagu introduced inoculation into England in 1721.

[58] Of Scott’s Hall.

INFLUENZA —
THE SMALLPOX

Meanwhile the duchess had a return of fever, and was for some days in great danger. On August 28 Lady Wallingford writes to say she was out of danger. Influenza was rife then, and Lady Wallingford states that she had not a single lackey fit to attend her from her house to Whitehall, but had walked there by herself, though still suffering from its effects. It was not then called influenza, but from the description must have been that disease. Eight out of the nine in the farm at Mount Morris caught the smallpox, and the duke, writing to Elizabeth on September 15, a bulletin about his wife, adds—

“Both she and j[59] join in entreating you not to venture yourself, and that pretty face of yours, to come within the walls of your paternal mansion, and were j in your situation, nothing but absolute commands should make me venture myself.”

[59] The “j” for “I,” characteristic of the duke’s writing.

After her visit to Canterbury, Elizabeth spent a month at Mersham Hatch with the Knatchbulls. She now became seriously indisposed; her health was always frail, and she appears to have suffered much from headaches at this period. In a letter to the duchess she complains—

“I have swallowed the weight of an Apothecary in medicine, and what I am the better for it, except more patient, and less credulous, I know not. I have learnt to bear my infirmities and not to trust to the skill of Physicians for curing them. I endeavour to drink deeply of Philosophy, and to be wise when I cannot be merry, easy when I cannot be glad, content with what cannot be mended, and patient where there be no redress. The mighty can do no more, and the wise seldom do as much.”

On October 10 she announces that she and her mother, who had been extremely unwell too, had been advised to drink the Bath waters, and were to be accompanied there by her father. She hopes to see the duchess on her way to Bath, but bids her tell her porter to admit her, as she has grown so thin—

“he will think it is my ghost and shut the door. I shall stay but a few days in town and then proceed with my Father and Mother, to the waters of life and recovery. My Pappa’s chimney ‘hyp’ will never venture to attack him in a public place; it is the sweet companion of solitude and the off-spring of meditation, the disease of an idle imagination, not the child of hurry and diversion. I am afraid that with the gaiety of the place, and the spirits the waters give, I shall be perfect Sal-Volatile, and open my mouth and evaporate.... I was a month at Hatch, where the good humour of the family makes everything agreeable; we had great variety in the house—children in cradles, and old women in elbow chairs. I think the family may be looked upon as the three tenses, the present, past and future.”

COTTAGE LIFE

On a fresh scare being caused by the illness of her maid, which the old women of the parish pronounced to be smallpox, Mrs. Robinson sent Elizabeth and Sarah to the cottage of the carpenter hard by without delay, though so late that Elizabeth writes—

“I arrived at my new lodging but the moment before it was time to go to bed, where I slept pretty well, notwithstanding the goodman and his wife snored, the little child cryed, the maid screamed, one little boy had whooping cough, another roared with chilblains. The furniture of our chamber is extraordinary, the ornamental parts as follows:—on the mantelpiece four stone tea-cups, four wineglasses, two broken, two leaden cherubims, a piece of looking-glass, with a ‘beggerly account of empty bottles,’ as Shakespeare calls it, a print of King Charles the Martyr, the woeful ballad of the children in the wood, a pious copy of verses entitled ‘the believer’s gold chain, or good councell for all men,’ with a resplendent brass warming pan, in which my sister is dressing her head to the disadvantage of her complexion, and not much to the rectitude of her head-dress.”

The alarm proved to be false as to the nature of the maid’s illness, and they returned the next day to the paternal mansion.

EDMUND CURLL

On November 12 Elizabeth writes from Bath to her sister a long and indignant letter upon some poems brought out in the name of Prior. She says—

“I got at last this morning the poems just published under Prior’s[60] name, brought them home under my arm, locked my door, sat me down by my fireside, and opened the book with great expectation, but to my disappointment found it to be the most wretched trumpery that you can conceive, the production of the meanest of Curl’s[61] band of scribblers.”

[60] Matthew Prior, born 1664, died 1721.

[61] Edmund Curll, born 1675, died 1747; publisher, etc., ridiculed by Pope in the “Dunciad.”

She continues to inveigh against this forgery in eloquent terms, and towards the end of the letter remarks “that mankind can’t support above two dead languages at a time, so as to have any tolerable knowledge or use of them, therefore in all probability Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, Prior, and Pope are but short-lived, in comparison of those Methuselahs the Classicks.”

BATH —
GRACE FREIND

The first letter to the duchess from Bath is dated—

“December 15, Friday, Bath.

“Madam,

“After four days’ journey in very bad roads, I arrived here a good deal tired: if Scarron[62] had not been very facetious, my countenance had not received the impression of a smile since I left Whitehall till my arrival at Bath. I read most of the way, but was sometimes taken off ‘Le petit Ragotin’s’ disasters to fear those that might happen to la petite Fidget.[63]... morning after I arrived, I went to the Ladies’ Coffee House, where I heard of nothing but the rheumatism in the shoulder, the sciatica in the hip, and the gout in the toe. After these complaints I began to fancy myself in the Hospitals or Infirmaries; I never saw such an assembly of disorders. I dare say Gay[64] wrote his fable of the ‘Court of Death’ from this place. After drinking the waters I go to breakfast, and about 12 I drink another glass of water, and then dress for dinner; visits employ the afternoon, and we saunter away the evening in great stupidity. I think no place can be less agreeable. ‘How d’ye do?’ is all one hears in the morning, and ‘What’s trumps?’ in the afternoon. Lady Berkshire[65] did us the honour of a visit on Wednesday, and inquired much about your health. Lord Berkshire[66] is literally speaking laid by the leg, which the gout has usurped, for it has ever been a distemper of very great quality, and runs in the blood of the Howards. Mr. Howard and Mr. Tom Howard,[67] Lord Berkshire’s youngest son, are here, as are Mrs. Greville and her daughter; Lady Hereford,[68] Lady F. Shirley,[69] Lady Anne Furnese,[70] Lady Anne Finch,[71] Lady Widdrington, Miss Windsors, Miss Gage, and I should first have said the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk,[72] and Mrs. Howard, wife of Brigadier-General Howard; as for the men, except Lord Noel Somerset, they are altogether abominable; however, such as they are, I must dress for the ball, and I will add a supplement to-morrow.

“P.S.—Madam, you know the Spectator says a woman never speaks her mind but in the postscript! Last night produced nothing but some bad dancing, except Mr. Southwell,[73] who was overwhelmed with congratulatory compliments; in one day he was chose Member, made Father to a little daughter, and got a £500 prize in the lottery; he seemed in good spirits, and bowed popularly low to all his acquaintance.... I believe there is a great circulation of company, for the bells are always ringing for somebody to come, or tolling for somebody gone. There are many people I have known and seen before, but very few whom I care to see again. One person whom I like extremely, loves her husband so much better than me, that I cannot persuade her to come out. I believe your Grace has often heard me speak of Mrs. Freind,[74] who is not at all like Sir Tommy her brother. What makes me like her still better is her contempt of Matadors.[75] I do not think she ever dreamt of Spadille in her life, tho’ most people here prefer its company to their best friends.”

[62] Paul Scarron, born 1610, died 1660; French satirist. Husband of Mademoiselle D’Aubigné, afterwards Madame de Maintenon; wrote “Le Roman Comique,” etc.

[63] Her pet-name.

[64] John Gay, born 1685, died 1732; poet, etc.

[65] Catherine, daughter of J. Grahame, of Levens, Westmorland.

[66] 4th Earl of Berkshire.

[67] Afterwards 6th Earl of Berkshire, and 14th Earl of Suffolk.

[68] Wife of 6th Viscount.

[69] Daughter of 1st Earl Ferrers.

[70] Daughter of 1st Earl Ferrers, by second marriage.

[71] Daughter of 1st Earl Aylesford.

[72] Widow of 15th Duke, née Sherburne.

[73] Son of Sir Thomas Southwell.

[74] Her cousin, née Grace Robinson.

[75] Terms used in ombre and quadrille.

1740

In her next letter of January 4, 1740, she says—

“I should be glad to send you some news, but all the news of the place would be like the bills of Mortality, palsy four, gout six, fever one, and so on. We hear of nothing but ‘Mr. such-a-one is not abroad to-day.’ ‘Oh no,’ says another poor gentleman, ‘he dyed to-day.’ Then another cries, ‘My party was made for Quadrille[76] to-night, but one of the gentlemen has had a second stroke of the palsy and cannot come; there is no depending on people, nobody minds engagements.’

“I beg the favour of your Grace to tell Mrs. Pendarves that I often enquire after her from her friend Mrs. Donnellan. I hear there is hope of Mrs. Pendarves coming here in March, but I know you will be against the journey, so I dare not say how glad I should be to see her. I assure we have none like her here.”

[76] Quadrille, a card-game for four people, played with 40 cards, 8’s, 9’s, and 10’s discarded.

LORD NOEL SOMERSET —
DOWAGER DUCHESS OF NORFOLK

Miss Anne Donnellan, who according to the then prevailing custom in regard to unmarried women beyond extreme youth was called Mrs., was the daughter of Nehemiah Donnellan, Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer of Ireland, and Martha, née Miss Usher. Her father was dead, and her mother had, in 1712, remarried the Hon. Philip Percival, brother to the 1st Lord Egmont. The Donnellans were great friends of Dean Swift, and Anne and her brother, the Rev. Christopher Donnellan, were correspondents of his, as can be seen in the printed letters in “Swift’s Life.” The next letter to the duchess says—

“Lord Berkshire was wheeled into the rooms on Thursday night, where he saluted me with much snuff and civility, in consequence of which I sneezed and curtseyed abundantly; as a further demonstration of his loving-kindness, he made me play at commerce with him. You may easily guess at the charms of a place where the height of my happiness is a pair royal at commerce, and a peer of fourscore. Last night I took to the more youthful diversion of dancing, and am nothing but a fan (which my partner tore), the worse for it; our beaux here may make a rent in a woman’s fan, but they never will make holes in her heart, for my part Lord Noel Somerset[77] has made me a convert from toupets and pumps, to tye wigs and a gouty shoe. Ever since my Lord Duke reprimanded me for admiring Lord Crawford’s[78] nimble legs, I have resolved to prefer the merit of the head to the agility of the heels; and I have made so great a progress in my resolution as to like the good sense which limps, better than the lively folly which dances. But to my misfortune he likes the Queen of Spades so much more than me, that he never looks off his cards, though, were I the Queen of Diamonds, he would stand a fair chance for me. Lord Aylesford comes to the rooms every night like ‘Beau Clincher’ in a blanket: he wears a nasty red rugg great coat. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk bathes, and being very tall she had like to have drowned a few women in the Cross Bath, for she ordered it to be filled till it reached to her chin, and so all those who were below her stature, as well as rank, were forced to come out or drown; and finding, according to the Proverb, in vain to strive against the stream, they left the bath rather than swallow so large a draught of water. I am sorry for the cruel separation of your Grace and Miss Dashwood, I believe no one parts with their friends with greater reluctance than you do.”

[77] Afterwards 4th Duke of Beaufort.

[78] John, 17th Earl of Crawford, and 7th Earl of Lindsay.

On January 25 Elizabeth says, “An unfortunate joint in my hip has been so troublesome, I could not have believed the rheumatism would attack so dancing a leg;” and then commenting on Lord Noel Somerset’s recent engagement to Miss Berkeley[79]—

[79] Elizabeth Berkeley, daughter of John Symes Berkeley, of Stoke Gifford.

“I think Lord Noel’s wife must be happy, and Miss Berkeley is a very deserving woman, and good-natured. Everybody is content except those who would have liked the gentleman for themselves.... A man of merit, and a younger brother is a purchase only for a large fortune; as for those who have more merit than wealth, they must turn the penny by disposing of their useless virtues for riches, the exchange may sometimes be difficult, Virtues not being sterling, nor merit the coin of the nation.... Gold is the chief ingredient in the composition of worldly happiness. Living in a cottage on love is certainly the worst diet and the worst habitation one can find out. As for modern marriages they are great infringers of the baptismal vow; for ’tis commonly the pomps and vanities of this wicked world on one side and the simple lust of the flesh on the other side. For my part when I marry I do not intend to enlist entirely under the banner of Cupid or Plutus, but take prudent consideration and decent inclination for my advisers; I like a coach and six extremely, but a strong apprehension of repentance would not suffer me to accept it from many who possess it....

“I beg your Grace to make my compliments to Mrs. Pendarves, and return my sincere thanks for saying so much in my favour as could introduce me to so an agreeable an acquaintance as Mrs. Donnellan. I assure you what she says gives pleasure, and what she sings delight.”[80]

[80] Her exquisite singing is mentioned in Mrs. Delany’s Memoirs.

FROST FAIR

In January, 1740, the weather was so severe, a frost fair was held on the Thames for weeks together; booths, tents, and shows of all kinds were the order of the day. In a letter to the duchess this is alluded to thus:—

“What will the world come to now the Duchesses drink gin, and frequent Fairs? I am afraid your gentlemen did not pledge you, or they might have resisted the frost and the fatigue by the strength of that comfortable liquor. I want much to know if your Grace got a ride in the Flying Coach, which is part of the diversion of a Fair.... I am much obliged to your Grace for forming schemes for me. If any castles come to my share they must be airy ones, for I have no material to build them on Terra Firma. I am not a good chimerical architect, and besides I would rather dwell this summer in a small room in a certain mansion near Gerrard’s Cross,[81] than in the most spacious building I could get. I shall not be troublesome to you in town, for our stay here will be so long that our family will hardly go down till May. The time will come that we shall meet at Philippi.”

[81] Meaning Bullstrode, which is close to Gerrard’s Cross.

MRS. DONNELLAN

A letter from Mrs. Donnellan, with whom Elizabeth had struck up a lively friendship, and entered into a correspondence, is dated from London, April, 1740, portions of which I copy—

“Since my last I passed a most agreeable day with your friend and mine; the Duke and Duchess of Portland proposed a jaunt into the city to see city shows, and were so obliging as to ask me with Mrs. Pendarves to be of the party. We were four men, four women: our fourth woman was Lady Wallingford, whom I never saw before; but she seems good-natured and civil; our four men, the Duke, Lord Dupplin, Mr. Achard,[82] and Dr. Shaw,[83] all new to me. We set out at ten in two hackney coaches, and stopped at everything that had a name between us and the Tower, going and coming, and dined at a city Tavern. I am extremely glad your time is fixed for coming to us, and that we shall have you a month. You will find the rage for whist[84] a little abated, I hope, if the weather and Vaux Hall is in its lustre. You are right in quarrelling with the men for letting cards take their places in the ladies’ hearts, for I dare say they would rather hear the gentlemen say fine things, than win a Slam, and it is a want of gallantry in the men that runs the women into cards; for something we must have to stir our passions, or life seems dull. Your account of Bath folks diverted me much.... My present delight is the fine lady who admires and hates to excess; she doats on the dear little boy that dances, she detests Handel’s Oratorios; indeed she don’t say she admires Mademoiselle de Chateauneuf’s kicking the tambourine, till she shows herself naked to the waist. She owns it is indecent, but she goes constantly to see her. I don’t know whether you have heard of the kicking entertainment? I have not seen it, but I have heard it very lively described; she kicks twice for the King, and once for the audience, to the great edification of the spectators. I suppose you have heard of the false dice at the last masquerade. I fancy it must have been a pretty sight, a dozen Dominoes, at five in the morning examined before Justice de Val: I think they should have been all Devils with Horns and Hoofs. I saw the Duke and Duchess of Portland yesterday morning at Zincke’s,[85] where she and Mrs. Pendarves are sitting for their pictures.... Adieu; make my compliments to all your family, and believe me, dear Madam,

“Your affectionate friend, and humble servant,

“Anne Donnellan.”

[82] Mr. Achard had been tutor to the duke, and was afterwards his secretary.

[83] Dr. Shaw, born 1692, died 1751; Regius Professor of Greek, Oxford. Great traveller, botanist, etc.

[84] Elizabeth hated games of cards.

[85] Christian Frederick Zincke, born 1684, died 1767; eminent miniature painter.

THE PLUNGE BATH

Elizabeth suffering much still from headaches, Dr. Sandys was consulted, and he recommended the plunge bath. This was at Marylebone, at the then popular gardens. This was considered a hazardous exploit, and she first wrote to ask her parents’ consent. Writing to Sarah, she says—

“If you was to see me souse into the cold bath, you would think I had not sense or feeling.... The Duchess went with me the first time, and was frightened out of her wits, but I behaved much to my honour. Mrs. Verney went to learn to go in of me. Mrs. Pendarves went with me to-day, and was as pale as a ghost with the fear of my being drowned, which you know is impossible. I go in every day and have found benefit already; but there are two things I dislike, viz. the pain of going overhead, and the expense of the bath. The Duke and Duchess are very good in lending me the coach every morning to Marrybone, which is two miles from here, but the bath was better than any at Charing Cross: the Duchess says if there is any bath, as she thinks there is in their neighbourhood at Bullstrode, she will send me to it, a tub not being near so good.”

The whole parish of Marylebone belonged to the Duchess of Portland. There were nine springs of water there: vide “Old and New London,” vol. iv.

FAIRINGS

April, 1740, occurs a letter to her sister Sarah, written whilst staying with the duchess in London. Elizabeth says—

“Lord Oxford went to Bath in the post chaise for a week, he brought us all fairings. Mine were a fan, and a snuff box of Egyptian pebbles set in Pinchbeck.[86] The Duchess a fan, and an enamel tag for her lace.”

[86] Christopher Pinchbeck invented this sham gold. He died in 1732.

The next letter to her mother says—

“I was at Mr. Zincke’s yesterday in the morning, where I am to sit for my picture. On Thursday we went out of town to Sir John Stanley’s[87] at North End. There we met Mrs. Pendarves. I was much pleased with my visit. Sir John at 80 years old has as much politeness, good nature and cheerfulness as I ever met; his behaviour has neither the formality of age, nor the pertness of youth.”

[87] Sir John Stanley married Anne Granville, aunt to Mrs. Pendarves, who had been Maid-of-Honour to Queen Mary II.

“LONG” SIR THOMAS ROBINSON

In March Lord Oxford gave a ball at Marylebone—

“The Ball was very agreeable. I will give you the list of company as they danced;—the Duchess and Lord Foley,[88] the Duke and Mrs. Pendarves, Lord Dupplin and ‘Dash,’[89] Lord George[90] and ‘Fidget,’ Lord Howard and Miss Cesar, Mr. Granville[91] and Miss Tatton, Mr. Howard and another Miss Cesar. The partners were chosen by their fans, but a little supercherie in the case of one of our dancers appointed failed, so our worthy cousin Sir Tommy[92] was sent for, and he came, but when he had drawn Miss Cesar’s fan he would not dance with her, but Mr. Hay,[93] who as the more canonical diversion, chose cards, danced with the poor forsaken damsel. The Knight bore the roast with great fortitude, and to make amends promised his neglected Fair a ball at his house. I believe in his economy he saves a dinner when invited to supper, for he eat a forequarter of lamb, a chicken, with a plentiful portion of ham, potted beef and jellies innumerable, and made a prodigious breakfast of bread and butter and coffee, a little after two in the morning.... I sat for my picture[94] this morning to Zincke; I believe it will be very like. I am in Anne Boleyn’s dress. I desire you to send me up my worked facing and robing, my point, some lute-string, and the cambrick for my ruffles. I had the pleasure of hearing to-day that our dear Robert had succeeded in getting a ship. I am sorry he will go out with the first fleet. I tremble, too, for fear he should have any engagement with the Spaniards. Mrs. D’Ewes desires to recommend herself to you being of the party of loving sisters.”

[88] Thomas, 2nd Baron Foley.

[89] Miss Dashwood, “Delia.”

[90] Lord George Bentinck, the duke’s brother.

[91] Brother of Mrs. Pendarves.

[92] “Long” Sir Thomas Robinson, of Rokeby.

[93] The Rev. Robert Hay, son of the 7th Earl of Kinnoul; afterwards Archbishop of York.

[94] [See portrait] in this book.

Mrs. D’Ewes, née Anne Granville, was the beloved sister of Mrs. Pendarves, recently married to Mr. John D’Ewes.... In the next letter to her mother she describes what she calls a “new head,” given to her by the duchess. “Last Tuesday I put on my New head; it is extremely handsome, very broad, and the lace has more thin work in it than has been made till this year.” To this head was added ruffles and a tucker by the same donor. Quin was acting then in London. She writes to Sarah—

“I have been to the play As you Like it. Quin outdid his usual outdoings. I never heard anything spoke with such command of voice and action as the ‘seven stages of man,’ from the rough bass of the good Justice, ‘whose round belly with good capon lined,’ till he sunk to the childish treble; it was really prodigious, the alteration of the voice, he spoke the slippered pantaloon just like my Uncle Clark.[95] I saw the facetious Monsieur and Mademoiselle Fausan dance, but Quin had so possessed himself of my thoughts that I was not over-delighted with them, tho’ I think they dance very well for a character dance. Wednesday I went into the cold bath, and from thence the Duke and Duchess, Mr. Achard, Lord George Bentinck, Lady Throckmorton, Mrs. Collingwood, and Sir Robert Throckmorton[96] went to Mary-le-Bone gardens to breakfast; after that they all went with me to Zincke’s to sit for my picture, and we spent the evening at Vaux Hall. On Thursday we went, two coaches and six, to Kew, Richmond, and Petersham, Lord Harrington’s,[97] where I could turn Pastorella with great pleasure, such prospects, from the most charming place I ever saw, I was ready to call out, ‘O care Selve beate.’ I would tell you more of my meditations, but the bell for supper interrupts me.”

[95] Her great-uncle on her mother’s side.

[96] 4th Baronet and his second wife.

[97] 1st Earl of Harrington.

LORD WALLING­FORD’S DEATH

Lady Wallingford was attacked by smallpox at this time, but had it very favourably. In a letter to Mrs. Robinson, Elizabeth says—

“She never had three hundred all over her, and was at the heighth, I believe, in seven days. Her Lord dyed very suddenly of a quinsy before she had been downstairs, so she had not even the melancholy consolation of a last farewell; she laid up two pairs of stairs, and he below, so they told her he was removed, and died at Kensington. He has left everything to her.... Lord Wallingford certainly caught his death with attending her, a sad aggravation of the affliction; he died with the greatest courage imaginable. Sandys, who with several Physicians and Surgeons was called in, begged him to settle his affairs, upon which he made his will (that he had by him, being very deficient in points of Law), and took leave of his friends. There was no hopes from the first, for this convulsive Quinsy is always mortal.”

In another she says he died of “cramp in the throat,” which sounds more likely. It has been stated that Lord Wallingford died in France, but his death occurred at Whitehall.

The duke and family, including Elizabeth, left Whitehall in June for Bullstrode.[98] In a letter of June 24 to Mr. Freind and his wife, she says—

“The rural beauties of the place would persuade me I was in the plains of Arcadia, but the magnificence of the building under whose gilded roof I dwell, has a pomp far beyond pastoral. We go to chapel twice a week, and have sermons on Sunday, for his Grace of Portland values the title of Christian above that of Duke, and the chaplain may preach against every vice in fashion without fear of offending either his Patron or Patroness.”

[98] Bullstrode was originally in the Shobbington family before the Conquest. Judge Jefferies bought it, and built the house here mentioned in 1686. His son-in-law sold it to the Earl of Portland. In 1807 it was sold to the Duke of Somerset.

THE MENAGERIE

In another letter—

“We breakfast at 9, dine at 2, drink tea at 8, and sup at 10. In the morning we work or read. In the afternoon the same, walk from 6 till tea-time, and then write till supper. I think since we came down our despatches in numbers, tho’ not in importance, have equalled those at the Secretary’s Office.... The Duchess and I have been walking in the woods to-night, and feeding the pheasants in the menagerie. The late Duke had Macaws, Parrots, and all sorts of foreign birds flying in one of the woods; he built a house and kept people to wait upon them; there are now some birds in the house, and one Macaw, but most were destroyed in the Duke’s minority.”

FRANKS —
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU

On July 22 occurs this interesting letter to her mother—

“Madam,

“Much visiting has of late hindered my writing to you. My Lady Duchess does not care to spare me to write except when she is so employed too, and the time set apart for that is in the evening, and when we make visits at any distance, it is late before we return, and letters go from here between 10 and 11. When we first came down, we supped at 9, but we found so early an hour encroached too much upon our hours of writing, so now we sup at 10, at which time the Duke comes into the Duchess’s dressing-room,[99] where we write together, and franks our packets. On Saturday, we were at Windsor to visit the Miss Granvilles, daughters of the famous Lord Lansdowne;[100] they unhappily inherit neither the wit of their Father, nor the beauty of their Mother.[101]... The Duchess is very civil to them, and Miss Granville was her acquaintance in infancy, and it is very right in her to take notice of them now. Lord Weymouth[102] supports them, but how long he will be willing or able to do so, no one knows. On Sunday, I was at Mrs. Hare’s, widow to the late Bishop Hare,[103] and was much entertained there by Sir John Shadwell and his family, who are just come from abroad. Lady Shadwell[104] saw Lady Mary Wortley at Venice, where she now resides, and asked her what made her leave England; she told them the reason was, people were grown so stupid she could not endure their company, all England was infected with dullness; by-the-bye, what she means by insupportable dullness is her husband,[105] for it seems she never intends to come back while he lives. A husband may be but a dull creature to one of Lady Mary’s sprightly genius, but methinks even her vivacity might accommodate itself to living in the Kingdom with him; she is a woman of great family merit, she has banished her children,[106] abandoned her husband. I suppose as she cannot reach Constantinople, she will limit her ambition to an intrigue with the Pope or the Doge of Venice.... The Duke of Leeds’[107] wedding was very grand. The Duke of Newcastle’s[108] entertainment upon the occasion was 15 dishes in a course, four courses. The Duchess of Newcastle, sister to Lady Mary Godolphin, and Mr. Hay are gone down with the Duke and Duchess of Leeds. The Duchess had a diamond necklace from her Mother worth £10,000, she was very fine in cloaths and jewels. The old Duchess of Marlborough[109] is now mightily fond of her. Her Grace is at law with the Duke of Marlbro’; she talked two hours like the widow Blackacre in Westminster Hall, amongst things of value she was to surrender to the Duke[110] there was the late Duke’s fine sword, and George, ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘as for the George, he will sell it, but for the sword he won’t know what to do with that, so I believe he will lay it by, or may be if he can he will pawn it, he can make no other use of it, I am sure.’... Pray have you heard from the dear little boys?[111] I have always forgot their direction. I think it is Scorton, near Richmond?

“I am, Madam,

“Your most dutiful daughter,

“E. Robinson.”

[99] In the eighteenth century dressing-rooms represented the modern boudoir.

[100] George Granville, Lord Lansdowne, born 1667, died 1735; great statesman and writer. Uncle to Mrs. Delany.

[101] Lady Mary Villiers, daughter of the Earl of Jersey, widow of J. Thynne.

[102] Their half-brother.

[103] Francis Hare, D.D., born 1665, died 1740; Bishop of St. Asaph and Chichester.

[104] Daughter of Evelyn, Duke of Kingston, born 1690, died 1762.

[105] Edward Wortley Montagu, grandson of 1st Earl Sandwich. His mother, Anne Wortley, a great heiress; he took her name.

[106] Her two children, the eccentric Edward Wortley Montagu, junior, and Mary, Countess of Bute.

[107] Thomas, 4th Duke of Leeds.

[108] 1st Duke of Newcastle-under-Lyme, Thomas Pelham Holles. The bride, Lady Harriett Godolphin, grand-daughter of the Duke of Marlborough.

[109] The celebrated duchess.

[110] Charles Spencer, 2nd Duke of Marlborough.

[111] Her three little brothers.

THE REV. WILLIAM FREIND

Mr. Freind, having written a letter to Elizabeth expressing a fear that her head might be turned by the great company, and the splendid place she was residing in, she replies—

“I am neither condemning greatness, nor envying it, but gratefully and cheerfully enjoying what I am. I thank Providence for the blessings it has given me, without either despising or wishing for the gifts it has bestowed on others. I enjoy the present time without regretting the past, or wishing for that to come, but still as conducive to happiness, prefer to-day to yesterday or to-morrow. I keep content for the present, and hope for the future, and love this life without fearing another.”

This letter was sent to Witney, Oxon, the seat of the blanket manufacture. The Rev. William Freind had become Rector there, since the resignation of his father, the Rev. Dr. Robert Freind, in the previous year. His mother was a Miss Jane de l’Angle, daughter of the Rev. Samuel de l’Angle, once pastor of the reformed church at Charenton, near Paris, who, on the persecution of Louis XIV., fled to England and was made a Prebendary of Westminster. The Rev. William Freind built the good stone rectory still existent at Witney. A medallion portrait of him is over a door in the Hall. Mrs. Donnellan had been recommended to drink the waters at Spa in the Ardennes, and, accompanied by her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Cottington, set out, poor Mr. Cottington dying soon after their arrival. Mrs. Donnellan wrote to Elizabeth on July 11 a long letter, out of which I copy the account of the water cure as then practised—

“We are all out by six in the morning in our chaises, and go three miles to the Geronsterre waters. We come home by nine, and take a cup of chocolate, dine between 12 and 1, go to the Assembly at 4, where there are all countries, and all languages, half a dozen card tables, and no crowd; from the Assembly we take a walk in the Capucins garden; all are in before 8 to supper, and to bed at 10.”

PRINCESS MARY OF HESSE

Princess Mary[112] of England had been married in May to the Prince of Hesse.[113] The prince did not come to England, so her brother, the Duke of Cumberland, acted proxy. The following account is of gifts given to the princess’s suite who accompanied her to Hesse:—

“The Duchess of Dorset[114] has had fine presents upon going over with the Princess of Hesse. The Prince presented her with a gold teapot, tea-kettle, and lamp, and Lady Caroline Sackville[115] with a set of Dresden china and a diamond solitaire. The Duchess had likewise a set of Dresden teacups, and a service of Dresden China, and the King gave her a gold snuffbox with a thousand pounds Bank bill in it.”

[112] Princess Mary, daughter of George II.

[113] Frederick, Landgrave of Hesse Cassel.

[114] Wife of 1st Duke of Dorset, née Elizabeth Colyear.

[115] Daughter of the Duchess of Dorset, afterwards Countess of Dorchester.

In a letter to Sarah Robinson of August 11, mention is made of—

“a mask at Cliefden, on Princess Augusta’s[116] birthday; ‘The Story of Alfred,’ wrote by Thomson[117] and Mallet,[118] Mr. Grenville commends it and says it will be published. I own I cannot give much credit to it, for I rather imagine he commends it as a patriot than a judge. I never knew anything of Thomson’s that seemed to be wrote, or could be read, without great labour of the brain.... Lord and Lady Oxford are to come here next Monday, (Bullstrode), and stay a month. Lord Dupplin has made a copy of verses upon my going into the bath, which we would impute to Sandys[119] to his great amazement. He says he does not know who wrote them, but thinks he is very sure he did not.”

[116] Daughter of George II., born 1737.

[117] James Thomson, born 1700, died 1748; poet, wrote “The Seasons,” etc.

[118] David Mallet, Scottish poet, patronized by Pope; died 1765.

[119] A well-known lady’s doctor.

MONKEY ISLAND

August 25, Elizabeth writes to her father—

“The Duke and Duchess were so obliging as to carry me to see Windsor Castle last week. It is so delightful a place and so fine a palace, I am surprised his Majesty does not spend his summer there, I should think it as well as going to Hanover. The same day we were at Windsor, we went to see a little island[120] circled by the Thames, which the Duke of Marlborough[121] purchased and has beautified at the expense of £8000. There is too great an embarras of buildings upon it, the finest of which I think something resembling the Temple of Janus. He has a better title to build one to war than to fame, for he has got a commission, but renown I believe is what he will never gain. He sent out a few days ago for four-score workmen to improve a place he never proposes to live at, after the old Duchess dies. His Grandfather now saved a people, now saved a groat, but such a warrior and economist as this gentleman he will never save either.

“Lady Andover[122] told me in a letter I received from her last post, that Mrs. Botham was grown very grave, and a great workwoman and an excellent housewife; if that is the case, Mr. Botham preaches to those of his household as well as those of his parish.”

[120] Monkey Island.

[121] Charles, 3rd Duke.

[122] Second daughter of Heneage, Earl of Aylesford, wife of William, Lord Andover.

LYDIA BOTHAM —
COUNTESS OF OXFORD

This is the first allusion to Lydia Botham, cousin of Elizabeth Robinson; she, and her more illustrious sister Elizabeth, or Eliza Lumley, afterwards wife of the Rev. Laurence Sterne, of “Shandean” memory, were the children of the Rev. Robert Lumley, of the Lumley Castle family, Rector of Bedale, Yorks, from 1721 to 1732; and of Lydia, daughter of Anthony Light,[123] and widow in 1709 of her first husband, Thomas Kirke, of Cockridge, near Leeds (a famous Virtuoso), she married afterwards the Rev. Robert Lumley;[124] for the table elucidating this pedigree the reader must turn to the end of the introductory portion of this work. The Lumleys are said to have been brought up in style, but little means had remained to them. Both parents were dead; Lydia had recently married the Rev. John Botham, Rector of Yoxall, Staffordshire. Elizabeth Lumley, her sister, was residing alone in “Little Alice Lane,” under the shadow of York Cathedral. In a folio-sheet letter to her sister Sarah, Elizabeth explains that owing to the Countess of Oxford being at Bullstrode, she had more time to herself, as the countess and she had spent alternate mornings with the duchess. The countess was kind to Elizabeth, but she was a rare admirer of etiquette. When she was with the duchess, she actually wished to see all her letters, which was naturally annoying to a married woman; she also expected them to be couched in the most formal manner, as addressed to a ducal person! Hence, when Elizabeth was away from the duchess, and Lady Oxford was with her, the letters were often written under cover to the duchess’s two lady dressers, so as to indulge in fewer formalities; also, as can be read in Mrs. Delany’s Memoirs in letters from the duchess, nicknames were often set up between the circle of friends, known only to themselves in case of their being opened. This passage in the letter will point to the formality of the circle when including Lady Oxford—

“While our present Guests are here we are so overcharged with ceremony, we cannot move about, and as I am not (thanks to the humility of my station), of the Countess’ cabinet council, I have the morning to myself. To employ them to my edification, I have laid in a great store of Italian, which I cannot read with the Duchess as she has forgotten it so much. I have laid aside the Arcadia[125] till Mrs. Pendarves comes, who is fond of it, and the Duchess and I have agreed that she shall read it to us.... I beg you will send me the receipt for York Curds, and also for Pancakes, called ‘A quire of paper.’”

[123] Of Durham; his grandmother, wife of Gilbert Kirke, was one of the coheiresses of Francis Layton of Rawdon.

[124] As stated in former pages, her mother, Mrs. Light, remarried for second husband, Thomas Robinson, father by her of Matthew Robinson.

[125] “The Arcadia,” written by Sir Philip Sidney.

On August 21, in a letter to Mrs. Donnellan at Spa, occurs the passage—

“Our friend Penny is under great anxiety for the change her sister is going to make. I do not wonder at her fears; I believe both experience, and observation, have taught her the state she is going into is in the general, less happy than that she has left. ‘Pip’ has a good prospect, for they say the gentleman[126] has good sense, good nature, and great sobriety; these are very good things, and indeed what a stock of virtues and qualifications ought to be laid in to last out the journey of life, where so much too lies through the rugged ways of adversity, all will hardly serve to lengthen love and patience to the end.”

[126] John D’Ewes, of Wellesbourne, Co. Warwick.

The lady to be married was Anne Granville, whose nickname was “Pip”; she was about to be married to Mr. John D’Ewes. “Pen” was Mrs. Pendarves’ nickname, afterwards Mrs. Delany, and those who have read her memoirs will remember how unhappy was her first experience of married life. Much mention is made in this letter of an apron Elizabeth is working for the duchess; she begs for patterns of flowers from her father’s pencil, and Mr. Hateley, an artist friend. Embroidered aprons were then the rage, but only for demi-toilette; the beautiful Duchess of Queensberry,[127] going to Court in an apron about this time, was forbidden to attend. The aprons were of all colours as well as white, and the duchess, fearing a light ground would soon soil, bade Elizabeth work hers on a black ground. Sarah Robinson at the same time was working her sister one.

[127] Catherine Hyde, Duchess of Queensberry. Prior’s “Kitty, beautiful and young;” wife of 3rd Duke.

EARL OF OXFORD

The following passage is indicative of the times:—

“Lord Oxford drinks hard at the chaplain sometimes, but whether a churchman’s conscience lyes deep, or a bumper to Church and King agrees with an orthodox stomach, I don’t know, but he seems less confounded with a bottle of claret than he is with his text, and shows the bottom of it too, which he cannot do with the other.”

Mr. Freind having written a letter in which he rallies Elizabeth about not choosing one of her many admirers, she replies—

“I have lately studied my own foibles, and I have found out I should make a very silly wife, and an extremely foolish Mother, and so have as far resolved as is consistent with deference to reason and advice, never to trouble any man, or spoil any children. I already love too many people in this world to enjoy a perfect tranquility, and I don’t care to have any more strings to pull my heart; it is very tender, and a small matter hurts it. I have been lately a little out of spirits about my incomparable Duchess; she has been a good deal out of order, but by bleeding and care, she is much better, I wish I could say well.”

ADMIRAL VERNON

Mention of Admiral Vernon[128] is made in a letter of September 12 to Mr. Freind after the victory of Portobello, which had been taken by him in 1739; he had bombarded Carthagena—

“I hope the glorious Vernon will do some great exploit by himself. All the ladies in Suffolk give place to Mrs. Vernon, even those of the highest rank. I wish the Admiral may be made a peer when he returns, Baron Something and Viscount Portobello will sound very well.”

[128] Admiral Vernon, born 1684, died 1757.

CHARLEMAGNE

Mrs. Donnellan returned from Spa early in September, in company of Mrs. Anne Pitt, a sister of Mr. William Pitt, afterwards Lord Chatham. Portions of her letter I copy—

“We had a very pleasant journey together, and find ’tis possible to travel comfortably without that lordly person—Man! I have mentioned being at Aix-la-Chapelle, which is a bad day’s journey from Spa. I went with Mrs. Hoare, and we chose to go at the time Charlemagne makes his procession round the town, which is an annual ceremony, and the most solemn and ridiculous I have seen. He built the town, and made it an imperial city, and this procession is in memory of him. He is represented by a pasteboard figure, 12 feet high (for they will have him a giant), he has on his head a very fine curled and powdered full-bottomed periwig, an Imperial crown on that; downwards, he has a yellow damask night-gown, which hides those who carry him. He walks round the city attended by all the Orders in their different habits (which is a pretty sight),—the magistracy, and the Host carried under a canopy. They stopped before the Town House where we were, and said Mass at an altar raised on purpose, then they adored the Host, and Charlemagne stooped and goggled his eyes, which are pulled by wires, and so the ceremony ended. We landed at Deal on Sunday night, in a storm of thunder, lightning and wind, wet to the skin. I have bought some Spa necklaces. I have a blue one for you, and a green one for the Duchess.

“My folks are quite taken up with fitting their[129] house in Bond Street, which they design getting into at Michaelmas. I have a cheerful dressing room in it, which I dedicate to a few friends, none other shall come into it, and it luckily only holds a few seats; I will reserve one for you.”

[129] Her mother, then the Hon. Mrs. Philip Perceval, and her second husband.

THE REV. DR. YOUNG

On September 23, in a letter of Elizabeth to her sister, we first hear of Dr. Young, the author of “Night Thoughts.” At this time this celebrated poem was not written, but various other poems, satires, and tragedies had made him famous. Edward Young, LL.D., was born in 1684, educated at Winchester, New College, and Corpus Christi, Oxford; in 1730 was Rector of Welwyn, Herts; in 1731 he married Lady Betty Lee, widow of Colonel Lee, and daughter of the Earl of Lichfield. The Duke of Wharton was his literary patron.

“Dr. Young is coming soon. We wish for his coming, for I hear he is agreeable, and, indeed, his private character is excellent. He sends his compliments to me when he writes to the Duchess, and says he is perfectly acquainted with me, and all that is the vision of a Poet, for I never saw him in my life, but he is so kind as to commend me and all my works in all places.”

In the next letter (October 8) she says—

“My dear Sally,

“The sons of Apollo haunt this place much; the tuneful Green[130] is gone, but the poetical Dr. Young is with us. I am much entertained with him, he is a very sensible man, has a lively imagination, and strikes out very pretty things in his conversation, tho’ he has satyrized the worst of our sex, he honours the best of them extremely, and seems delighted with those who act and think reasonably. I think he has written a Satire against that composition of oddity, affectation, and folly which is called ‘a pretty sort of a woman,’—if anyone has a mind to put on that character they need only pervert their sense, distort their faces, disjoint their limbs, mince their phrases, and lisp their words, and the thing is done, grimaces, trite sentences, affected civility, forced gaiety, and an imitation of good nature completes the character.... That sentences, systems and definitions should give way to Cribbage, but two Duchesses command my presence! The Duchess of Kent[131] came here yesterday; she is a very sensible polite woman, and she wants one to play Cribbage, so my dear, dear sister, Adieu!

“E. R.”

[130] Dr. Green, a celebrated musician.

[131] The second wife of Henry (Grey), 1st Duke of Kent, née Sophia Bentinck, great-aunt of the Duke of Portland of these pages.

THE DUCHESS OF KENT

In a letter to Mrs. Robinson—

“The Duchess of Kent is very agreeable, has good sense and politeness, and those who know her well say many valuable qualities. I look upon my Duchess as the Arch-Duchess, before whom all lesser stars hide their diminished heads; as for Dr. Young, he is a very sensible man, and an entertaining companion, and starts new subjects of conversation, and there is nothing so much wanted in the country as the art of making the same people chase new topics without change of persons. The Duchess and Dr. Young design to leave us to-morrow.... Dr. Sandys has given Deb quicksilver, which has been of great service to her, and it appears that she had worms.”

“Deb” was Elizabeth’s lady’s maid. The Pharmacopeia was then of such an extraordinary kind, that from time to time I shall mention the remedies used for various complaints; why more people were not killed by some of the nostrums is marvellous.

Elizabeth writes to Sarah on November 1, telling her she is reading the “Decameron” of Boccaccio. The duchess was also renewing her Italian knowledge. They were reading aloud Dr. Samuel Clarke’s sermons, and she says—

“Hay[132] is an auditor, as he cannot read himself; Mr. Achard is a translator of pronunciation so that one would take his English to be French when he reads aloud, then as for the Duke, he hunts thrice a week, and has business, so that our invalid is glad of a female lecturer.”

[132] The Hon. John Hay, son of 7th Earl of Kinnoul, a relation of the duchess, then a great invalid.

Mr. Achard, a Frenchman mentioned previously, had been the duke’s tutor, and was now his secretary.

From the letters, he appears to have been very tall; he was frequently called “Brother Bonaventura,” and as his humour was variable, at times “Monsieur du Poivre,” at others “Monsieur du Miel!”

DR. GREY

The next letter to her father thanks him for a design he had made for an apron for the duchess, with which she was delighted, and—

“if the work could be as elegant as the drawing, would be the most finished apron for the most finished Duchess. Lord Oxford and George Vertue[133] arrived here last night after a ramble which the best geographer could hardly describe; they have been haunting church-yards, and reading the history of mankind upon the gravestones. Dr. Grey[134] is employed in a work which to make its appearance in public you would not easily guess at. I believe ’tis no perplexity upon Mysteries, no refutation of the doctrine of Transubstantiation, no explanation of the Catechism, but a thing for which his serious qualifications do not seem very fit. He is writing upon Hudibras!”

[133] George Vertue, eminent engraver, archæologist, and author; born 1684, died 1756.

[134] Rev. Dr. Zachary Grey, author, died 1766.

CHAPTER III.
IN LONDON, KENT, AND AT BULLSTRODE, 1741–42. BEGINNING OF CORRESPONDENCE WITH MRS. DELANY.

The last letter of the year 1740 is written to Mr. Freind on December 29—

“Next Sunday I quit the peaceful groves and hospitable roof of Bullstrode for the noisy turbulent city; my books and serious reflections are to be laid aside for the looking-glass and curling irons, and from that time I am no more a Pastorella, but propose to be as idle, as vain, and as impertinent, as any one; if you will come to town Mrs. Freind and you will find me, however, as like myself as to be your sincere friend.”

1741

THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY

February 5, Elizabeth writes to her sister—

“Dear Madam Sally,

“I went to Lady North’s[135] last night, to see all the fine cloaths that were made for the Birthday. Lady Scarborough[136] was richly dressed, the Duchess of Bedford[137] was pretty fine, Mrs. Spencer had a white velvet which is the ugliest thing in the world, but the Duchess of Queensberry[138] was such as should be shown at Courts and feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship; her cloaths were embroidered upon white satin; Vine leaves, Convolvulus and Rosebuds shaded after Nature; but she in herself was so far beyond the masterpiece of art, that one could hardly look at her cloaths; allowing for her age I never saw so beautiful a creature. Miss Pitt[139] had a fine trimming and looked very pretty, but as for the Roses, they do not bloom in January, for she is as pale as a ghost. Lady Mary Tufton[140] had a pretty suit of embroidery. The men were not at all fine. Mr. Lyttelton’s[141] cloaths were ugly, according to Polonius’ instructions, ‘Rich not gaudy, fine but not exprest in fancy.’ I did not see any new fashions, as to the wearing stays, I think they are as usual. I do not know what will become of your fine shape, for there is a fashionable make that is very strange. I believe they look in London as they did in Rome after the Rape of the Sabines.

“I am, my dearest, your most affectionate

“E. Robinson.”

[135] Second wife of 7th Baron North, afterwards 1st Earl of Guilford.

[136] Wife of 3rd Earl Scarborough.

[137] Second wife of the 4th Duke.

[138] Wife of 3rd Duke, “Kitty ever fair.”

[139] A sister of Lord Chatham, either Mary or Anne.

[140] Daughter of 7th Earl of Thanet.

[141] George, 1st Lord Lyttelton, afterwards her intimate friend.

February 25, Sarah writes—

“I should be obliged to you if you would in your next letter send me word what sized hoops moderate people who are neither over lavish nor covetous of whalebone, wear; because I intend to write to my Hoop maker to have one ready for me against I come to town, and I don’t care to leave the size of it to her discretion. I hope our hoops will not increase much more, for we are already almost as unreasonable as Queen Dido,[142] and don’t encircle much less with our whalebone, than she did with her bull’s hide.”

[142] Queen Dido of Tyre bought of the Africans as much land as a bull’s hide would cover, and by cutting it into strips encircled a large portion.

William Freind D. D.
Dean of Canterbury.

according to Act of Parliament. T Worlidge del. et Sc.

HAIRDRESSING

A light is thrown on hairdressing of the period in the following letter to Sarah:—

“Dear Sister,

“I have been walking in the Park this morning, and returned only time enough to dress, so while Deb is tiffing and tiffing till my hair is so pure and so crisp, I am writing a line to you to the great vexation of Mrs. Mincing, who is afraid I should be the worst dressed for it. I don’t wonder an ‘Abigail’ that is kept only as a Minister of the toilette should look upon dressing as the great concern of life, but that other people should make such a point of it I marvel greatly. Some women by endeavouring to be as handsome as they can are not so charming as they might be. I never thought a head agreeably dressed that had not a hair awry; such punctuality may become a tyre woman, but cannot a belle, but however, it becomes everybody to be dressed for dinner, which will not be the case if I do not conclude. I am to go to the ‘Penseroso and Allegro’ to-night. The music of the ‘Penseroso’ some say is best, ‘but Mirth with thee I choose to live.’ Adieu.”

One can, indeed, pity the unfortunate Abigail with “Fidget” writing whilst she had her hair dressed! Once after a visit to Bullstrode, the duchess says she had found a glass-stand left behind by Elizabeth, should she send it? And the reply was that the stand was used for her to rest her chin on whilst her maid dressed her hair. The ridiculously high coiffure of the day must have taken a long time to erect.

“THE PEAS”

No letter can I find till April 10, when the Rev. William Freind writes from Bath, where he and his wife were staying, to inquire what had become of his cousins. Sarah Robinson’s[143] pet-name was “Pea,” as she was pronounced to resemble Elizabeth as much as one pea does another.

“Bath, April 10, 1741.

“It being now near two months since I have received any intelligence of either of my correspondents, I must needs enclose a letter to Pea, Senior, to enquire after her whether she be still with the Duke to whom I direct the cover, or with the rest of the Peas in her own Podd in Kent.

“I expected the beginning of March to hear you had quitted her grace to join hearts and hands once more with dearly beloved Pea. But Lady Berkshire whom I saw some days ago, tells me the Duchess is in a very bad state of health, which I suppose will make you both very unwilling to part with each other. I have rather fancied therefore some disappointment has happened, and that your friend’s illness may have taken up your time and thoughts too much to let us hear what is become of you, for if both sisters had been together in town, surely both would not have grudged us the pleasure of hearing you were well and happy.... Even I, surrounded with a set of noisy politicians on one side, and backgammon players on t’other, can still make shift to write a line to my dear friend, and ask only how she does, and where she is, and to assure her that I and my Pea are

“Her and Her Peas,

“Most truly affectionate

friends and humble servants,

“W. and G. F.”[144]

[143] Sarah was born on September 21, 1723, so was three years younger than Elizabeth.

[144] William and Grace his wife.

HAYTON FARM

The reason of the unaccustomed silence was this—Sarah was suddenly attacked by smallpox, a disease peculiarly dreaded by Elizabeth. Mrs. Robinson quickly despatched her to Hayton Farm, a family property leased to a yeoman farmer of the name of Smith.

April 8 occurs a letter to the duchess—

“I cannot lose the opportunity which just offers me to send a letter to the post, though I troubled your Grace but yesterday. My sister continues as well as it is possible to be, and has found out her disorder with which she is perfectly content, and sends me very merry messages upon it: they are of the seven day sort, so will turn on Sunday, and on Monday when it is over, I shall possess my soul in quietness. I am afraid this hurry of spirits and fatigue, will not prove of service to my Mamma; and if the dire Hyp does haunt a solitary chimney corner, sure it will visit my Pappa now it is sure to find him at home and alone. For my part, I am in the case of poor David, my friends and kinsfolk stand afar off; and when I am to return home I don’t know. That the distemper may not continue, my Pappa has sent away half a dozen servants who have not had it, and says he hopes to have me back again very soon; but indeed I hope to prevail upon him to try how the air of Mount Morris agrees with his servants, before I return. I live here very easy, and I have got books and all the necessaries and comforts, though not the pomps and pleasures of life. The family are civil and sensible people. As for the Master of the house, he is indeed, to a tittle, Spenser’s meagre personage called Care: his chief accomplishment as to behaviour is silence. I never see him but at dinner and supper, and then he eats his pudding and holds his tongue. I believe his learning amounts to knowing that four pennies make a groat, and the sooner that groat is a sixpence he thinks the better. To give your grace a notion of the sort of persons who compose the Drama:—They are above Farmers considerably, have been possessed in the family, for aught I know, since the Conqueror of above £400 a year, they have a good old house, neatly furnished, but there is nothing of modern structure to be seen in it.

“I am now sitting in an old crimson velvet elbow chair, I should imagine to be elder brother to that which is shown in Westminster Abbey as Edward the Confessor’s. There are long tables in the room that have more feet than the caterpillar you immured at Bullstrode. Why so many legs are needful to stand still, I cannot imagine, when I can fidget on two. There is a good chest of drawers in the figure of a Cathedral, and a looking glass which Rosamond or Jane Shore may have dressed their heads in. Not to forget the clock, who has indeed been a time server; it has struck the blessed minutes of the Reformation, Restoration, Abdication, Revolution, and Accession, and by its relation to time seems to have some to Eternity. It is like its old Master, only good to point the hour to industry; ... it calls his servant to yoke the oxen, get ready the plough, wakes the dairy maid to milk and churn, the daughters hear in it the paternal voice chiding the waste of hours, and rise obedient to its early call; even me it governs, sends me to bed at ten, and makes me rise, oh barbarous! at eight.... The mother of the family, a venerable matron of grave deportment, who was well educated, and moves in the form of antique ceremonies, but is really a sensible woman! The daughters are good housewifes, and I like some qualities in them, which I understand better than their economy. I only wish they could sleep in their beds in the morning, and wake in a chair in the evening!” ...

LIFE AT A FARM —
A COUNTRY SQUIRE

The next letter to Mrs. Donnellan, whom Elizabeth rebukes for her silence, is dated April 10. In this she says—

“Before this time you must have been informed by the Duchess or Mrs. Pendarves of my distress, and also my flight from the maternal mansion to the house in the neighbourhood. I am at present very happy as my sister is out of all danger, and I rejoice in thinking she will have one enemy of life and health the less. So much for the state of my mind; the situation of my person is not so gay and cheerful. My best friends among the living are a Colony of rooks who have settled themselves in a grove by my window. They wake me early in the morning.... I have not yet discovered the form of their government, but I imagine it is democratical.... If I continue here long I shall grow a good naturalist. I have applied myself to nursing chickens, and have been forming the manners of a young calf, but I find it a very dull scholar. I intend to gather some cowslips for Mrs. Perceval[145] as soon as they appear; pray let me know if they should be prepared in any particular manner....

“There are some squires here who would make excellent Polyphemus’s; one of them drank tea here yesterday, and complimented me with all the force of rural gallantry, but for some fault in the flattery or the flatterer, I liked neither him nor myself any better for all the fine things he said. After he was gone I did but relieve my spleen with some laughter on the subject, when I was told by the matron of the family, he would be a good match for a woman with twenty thousand pounds, and indeed could one lend out one’s liking upon land security, I think one might very well settle it upon him. To laugh at a poor man is barbarous. He is a great friend of the family I am with, and I fear will come often; and in spite of his respectable manors and fee simple, and ancient mansion, both great and good, I shall not be able to give a serious attention to his discourse.

“I wish you could see my habitation, a right reverend and venerable one it is; the staircase that leads to my chamber is hung with the funeral escutcheons of my grandfathers, grandmothers, Aunts and Uncles, that I seem to be entering the burying vault of the family to sleep with my Fathers. It is a comfort, no doubt, to think one’s ancestors have had Christian burial, but of what use are these tawdry escutcheons? Sure no passion of the mind, no situation of the human creature is without vanity, if the mourner can adorn with pomp, and the breathless carcase be dressed in it.

“... address to me at Mr. Smith’s, Hayton, near Hythe.”

[145] Mrs. Donnellan’s mother.

HANDEL

On April 9 the Duchess of Portland lay in of a daughter, Frances, who died in 1743. Mrs. Donnellan writes on April 11 to give a good report of the duchess’s health, and in this letter she says—

“I long to hear from you, I want to know who you have to entertain, and keep up the spirits your sister’s safety must give you. I hope Mr. Robinson,[146] your brother, is in banishment with you, for you will want such a companion to sweeten a long absence from all your other friends. I heartily wish you were in any place where I could come to you.... The only show we have had since you left us was for Handel, his last night, all the fashionable people were there.”

[146] Matthew, her eldest brother.

DR. CONYERS MIDDLETON

Mrs. Donnellan again writes on April 15—

“I like your situation extremely, but I should wish you one rational companion, for I do not think you were made for calves or poultry, or greater brutes in the shape of country squires. What is come of Pan? He used to find out a pretty female in her retirement, but as he has been sometimes a little dangerous, I think I had rather recommend you to the conversation of the wood nymphs. I have often wished to be acquainted with them, I fancy they are very innocent, and free from vanity and affectation, a little ignorant, and indeed in the fashions and amusements of London, as dress, cards, old china, Japan, shells, etc., but they may have notions of friendship and honour, and such antiquated things.

“I have read no further than Cicero’s[147] consulship. By what I have read of Atticus in other authors particularly the Abbé St. Real,[148] who has given his character, and translated Cicero’s letters to him, I had not so high an opinion of him as I find Doctor Middleton has given you. I met yesterday, at Pen’s, the Bishop of Oxford,[149] Mrs. Secker and Miss Talbot,[150] and they seemed to think Dr. Middleton was not so much the historian as the Panegyrist of Cicero, indeed one observation I have already made myself, I think him too like a modern Lawyer who pleads all causes good or bad that gets him interest which was money to them; but when I have read the whole I will read St. Real again, and then I will tell you more of my mind. I long till you read Horace, and think he would be particularly proper in your present retirement, he seems to know how to amuse himself in such a scene better than any one I ever met with, at the same time that he was the delight of the politest court[151] that ever was. I really think you have much of the genius of distinguishing right from wrong, and not being led away by the false glosses of the world, and want to know whether you find that conformity.

“I told you in my last I wished to spend some time with you in your banishment. I am so sincere in it, that if you were in a place where they are not above being paid for my lodging and board, I would come to you for one fortnight before you go home....

“My Mother desires her compliments to you, and many thanks for remembering the cowslips. The manner of saving them is this only, pulling them out of the Pod, and letting them dry in a north window, and when they are dry, to put them up in a paper bag.

“I have been this morning to St. Paul’s to hear Handel’s Te Deum.”

[147] Dr. Conyers Middleton’s “Life of Cicero.”

[148] C. V. de St. Real, able French author; died 1692.

[149] Thomas Secker, born 1693, died 1768; made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1758.

[150] Lived with the Seckers; daughter of Edward, second son of Dr. W. Talbot, D.D., of Durham.

[151] The court of the Emperor Augustus.

PENURIOUS LIVING

The cowslips Mrs. Perceval asked for were doubtless intended for making that delicious but now seldom met with cowslip wine. Few people are aware that a claret glass of cowslip wine before going to bed is an innocent and generally successful soporific.

To Mrs. Donnellan.

“Hayton, April 20, 1741.

“Dear Madam,

“I had the pleasure of your letter yesterday, it made me very happy. If my friends at a distance did not keep my affections awake, I should be lulled into a state of insensibility, divided as I am from all I love.... What’s Cicero to me or I to Cicero? as Hamlet would say; and for myself, though this same little, insignificant self be very dear unto me, yet I have not used to make it my sole object of love and delight....

“I want just such a companion as you would be, and how happy would your kind compliance with that wish make me, if the good old folk here would accommodate you; but they are so fearful of strangers, I know it impossible to persuade them to it. They are not very fine people; they have a little estate, and help it out with a little farming: are very busy and careful, and the old man’s cautionness has dwindled into penuriousness, so that he eats in fear of waste and riot, sleeps with the dread of thieves, denies himself everything for fear of wanting anything, riches give him no plenty, increase no joy, prosperity no ease: he has the curse of covetousness to want the property of his neighbours, while he dare not touch his own: the Harpy Avarice drives him from his own meat, the sum of his wisdom and his gains will be by living poor, to die rich....

“The reason for which you wish I would read Horace does me great honour.... Upon your recommendation I had read it before, but depending on my brother’s having it, I did not bring it with me, and I find he has not got it. I will desire my brothers[152] to bring it down with them the next vacation.... As for some of our squires they read nothing but parish law, and books of Husbandry, or perhaps for their particular entertainment, ‘Quarle’s Emblems,’ ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress,’ ‘Æsop’s Fables,’ and to furnish them with a little ready wit, ‘Joe Miller’s Jests.’”[153]

[152] Matthew and Morris were at Cambridge.

[153] Joe Miller, born 1684, died 1738; comedian. His “Book of Jests” was published in 1739.

THE REV. LAURENCE STERNE

Matthew Robinson had gone to Bath to drink the waters, and on April 19 he writes to Elizabeth from “Colibee’s” in Hall Street, Bath—

“Dear Sister,

“The order of our Posts at Bath is very strange, the post comes in three times a week, twice of which you may answer your letters the same day you receive them, but the third not till three days afterwards. Last Thursday brought me two letters together from you, in which you informed me that my sister was past the heighth.... I hope next post will tell me that Sally is out of all danger.

“Harry Goddard is here, and informs me that our cousin Betty Lumley is married to a Parson[154] who once delighted in debauchery, who is possessed of about £100 a year in preferment, and has a good prospect of more. What hopes our relation may have of settling the affections of a light and fickle man I know not, but I imagine she will set about it not by means of the beauty but of the arm of flesh. In other respects I see no fault in the match; no woman ought to venture upon the state of Old Maiden without a consciousness of an inexhaustible fund of good nature.”

The letter is signed “M. R. M.,” for Matthew Robinson Morris; as by his uncle Morris Drake Morris’ will, Matthew was to succeed to his mother’s[155] estate of Mount Morris, Kent, sometimes called Monk’s Horton, etc., left her by her brother, he assumed the name of Morris for some years, but returned to his family patronymic, Robinson, before becoming 2nd Baron Rokeby in 1794.

[154] The Rev. Laurence Sterne, married to Elizabeth Lumley, March 30, 1741, in York Cathedral, by license, by the then Dean.

[155] Mrs. M. Robinson, his mother, inherited Coveney, Cambs, from her father, and the Kentish property as heiress of her mother, Sarah, daughter and heiress of Thomas Morris.

MRS. STERNE

On the subject of the Sterne marriage, in a note to Sarah from Elizabeth we see further—

“Dear Madam Sally,

“I am glad to hear you are well, and that your eyes are brilliant, but pray don’t use them too soon, for you will have reason to repent it. I never saw a more comical letter than my sweet cousin’s,[156] with her heart and head full of matrimony, pray do matrimonial thoughts come upon your recovery? for she seems to think it a symptom.”

Then after many cautions to her sister as to her health, and thankfulness at her being out of danger, she adds—

“Matt mentions Mrs. Sterne’s match, of which he had an account from Harry Goddard, who is at Bath. Mr. Sterne has a hundred a year living, with a good prospect of better preferment. He was a great rake, but being japanned and married, has varnished his character. I do not comprehend what my cousin means by their little desires, if she had said little stomachs, it had been some help to their economy, but when people have not enough for the necessaries of life, what avails it that they can do without the superfluities and pomps of it? Does she mean that she won’t keep a coach and six, and four footmen? What a wonderful occupation she made of courtship that it left her no leisure nor inclination to think of any thing else. I wish they may live well together.”

[156] Elizabeth Lumley had been very ill just before her engagement to Laurence Sterne: vide his life by Traill.

“TRISTRAM”

At this time Sterne was Vicar of Sutton-on-the-Forest,[157] some eight miles from York, and his uncle, Jacob Sterne, gave him a prebendal stall in York Cathedral about the same time. For two years he had courted Elizabeth Lumley. She was much in love with him, but from smallness of means on either side, deemed marriage imprudent. She, however, had a desperate illness, and informed Sterne she had made him her heir. His gratitude for this, and affection, recalled her to life and matrimony. For details of this I must refer the reader to the various lives written of “Tristram,” as his nickname was to be later in the Robinson family.

[157] His great-grandfather, Richard Sterne, had been Archbishop of York, and a friend of Laud’s.

From Hayton Elizabeth writes to Mr. Freind at Bath, to scold him for not writing to her and her sister. In this she says—

“My sister is well again, and once more I possess my soul with tranquillity. I believe you will guess I suffered great and terrible anxiety when I was forced to leave her to a dreadful distemper, whose terrors received great additions from my particular fears of it, and tenderness to her. The want of sleep, at first, a little damaged my constitution, I had a slight fever with disorder for a week, which I believe was chiefly occasioned by it. I did not mention it to my brother, for fear it should make him uneasy, but I am now perfectly well, and from the reflection of my sister’s good fortune, happy too, though great is the change you will see, from London and lolling on the velvet sofa of a duchess, to humbly sitting on a 3-legged cricket[158] in the country.”

[158] A three-legged stool.

CURE FOR LOVE

At the end of the letter of an admirer of her’s she says—

“Our friend B——[159] increases in chin and misery, he came to breakfast with my Papa one morning, and complained of the Hyp, for which my good parent advised him to take assafœtida, the prescription was admirable, he might as well have sent him to the Tinker’s to have mended the hole in his heart. Oh! cruel fate that made no cure for love, thought my friend, and sighed bitterly: really I could not help laughing at the precious balm my Pappa was for applying to the wound. It would have ruined a happy lover with me.”

[159] Mr. Brockman, of Beachborough.

Letter from the Duke of Portland.

“Whitehall, April 25, 1741.

“Madam,

Since ye frivolous letters j trouble you with are ranked as favours you receive, j’am sure no excuse can be made for any neglect towards you, and it would, nay it does, make me wish ye post went out every day, yt j might have it in my power to confer my favours, such as they are, upon you: j’am not sure if vanity, as well as ye desire j have of doing all yt lays in my power to oblige you, does not have a share in this wish about ye post, for really j have reason to be proud yt a Lady of so many perfections as Miss Robinson, (j can’t name them singly for j should never have done), can sett any value upon my poor insignificant letters, tho’ your approving them might puff up any body’s vanity, yett j have humility enough to think that j owe all the favours you are pleased to show me, to ye subject j write about; it is a subject yt you will be no more tired to hear off than j to write off: then j am sure your next question will be, Pray my lord to ye subject: well then in complyance to your commands j am to inform you yt ye Duchess continues as well as can be, and ye Babe too. My wife desires me to tell you yt your letter revived her exceedingly, yt she had waited with great impatience for it, and yt she hopes to hear often from you. She, as well as myself, rejoice at your sister’s recovery, and desire our compliments to her. You may say everything yt is kind to yourself from my wife, and tho’ j am sure you have a very good genius in turning things as you like, you will hardly outdo her sentiments concerning you. Your being got rid of your feaver gave us great joy, for we began to be uneasy about Fidgett; nobody can see her without admiration, and when one hears her open her lips one is struck dumb; if one was to go on with everything when one receives a letter from you, one’s fingers would become numbed, and unable to answer, was it not for the desire of receiving more letters, makes one’s fingers to write to engage you to answer. In reading your letter j can’t help acquainting you yt there would be great strifes to be a Chaunticleer to be ye real possessor of such a Dame Partlett as you, whether of ye favourite little Bantam kind, or of the ruffled friesland kind; j should think the first more adapted to you for its gentility and rarity and cleanliness, all qualifications, which, tho’ j am no chanticleer j can sing off in your behalf. Nay j will do it. It is time for me to finish my letter to you tho’ j do not conclude my letter with such a pompous ‘humble servant’ as you do, j hope you are thoroughly persuaded that j am not less,

“Madam,

“Your most obedient, humble servant,

“Portland.”

Thomas Hudson. Pinx. Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

William, second Duke of Portland

The letter concludes with a long postscript; the duke had put the letter into his pocket to give the porter himself, not wishing, he says, to trust “Mr. Puff” with it, and forgot it for some days. Despite of all letters being sealed, they were constantly tampered with, adroit incisions under the seals could be made, and refastened without spoiling the impression above, and many letters were lost entirely.

MATTHEW ROBINSON —
A BROTHER’S ADMIRATION

On April 27 occurs a most brotherly letter from Matthew from Bath. It is too long to place here in full, but so beautiful are his words to his sister, showing his love and admiration for her, that I give a few extracts. He had just received a letter of her’s which pleased him, and says—

“I should be ashamed after so long a friendship with you to be ignorant of any of your talents, yet I do assure you there are some of them that after so long an accquaintance with them, I have not yet done admiring. It is never without great delight that I see in one whom I esteem so much, that tho’ in company one would swear your parts and spirits were contrived purposely for laughter, and the chearful round of mirth, yet study and thought, contemplation of the ways of men, or works of Nature, and consequently enjoyment of yourself, and ease and happiness, the end of all good, never desert your leisure and retirement. You never had greater reason for this turn of mind, or better trial of your temper on that account than lately, when driven from your friends, and almost alone, in a manner you never were before, and probably may never be again: you were fairly left to the food and entertainment of your own thoughts; and though it would be impertinent now to mention my general opinion of your letters, I don’t remember that I ever saw your thoughts stamped upon a piece of paper with greater force of discernment than in the letter I received from you to-day.... Bating the tribe of your lovers, you cannot have a more hearty friend to your person, or more assured admirer of your merit and accomplishments.”

Surely few brothers have ever paid a more graceful tribute of praise to a sister! Matthew was born in 1713, and was consequently seven years older than Elizabeth.

THE SMALLPOX

On May 9, in a letter to Mr. Freind, we learn the two sisters had met again—

“I had the joy of seeing my dear Pea yesterday; I cannot express the happiness of such a meeting, but it is saying enough to own it more than recompensed the pangs of parting. It is truly, as well as poetically said, ‘The heart can ne’er a transport know, that never felt a pain.’ My desire to be cheered again by that beloved voice made me desirous of a meeting much sooner than I should be otherwise, in my shameful fear of the distemper, have desired. We talked about an hour in the open air, at about two yards’ distance: she kept her hat so close I could not see her face, but as soon as it has nothing left of the distemper, but the redness, I am to see her. I am now within sight of our house at a farm just at the bottom of the gates. I have a very good room, warm and comfortable. It is so low that it flatters my pride by indulging me with an approach to the ceiling. My Mamma had sent furniture for the room from Mount Morris, as soon as my sister was growing better, that I might come so near as to be accustomed to the family, and so return to it at leisure without any apprehensions.”

Reproaching Mr. Freind for silence in this letter, he writes, May 19, in return to plead his parochial duties, and amusingly says in defence—

“I am forced in the country, every week to make a sermon, at home or abroad, however engaged, made it must be, and swallowed the next Sunday, though I believe it lies but a crude morsel on the Blanketters’[160] Stomachs, which, if they can digest, ’tis often more than I myself can do.... An express arrived last night from Admiral Vernon; Carthagena was not actually taken, but the captain who brings the news imagines it might be taken in about 12 hours after he left it. All the Spanish ships and galleons that were in the Harbour were burnt, most of the fortifications battered down, enough to discover there was great confusion in the town. Not a ship of ours was hurt when he departed. But there is always a black flag attends in the train of Victory; the general joy overcomes indeed all private concern; but those who have friends or relations in the midst of a fire, cannot rejoice till they hear who has escaped it. Those we lost on the 1st of April are Lord Aubrey Beauclerc,[161] who had both legs shot off, and died presently, Col. Douglas of the Marines had his head shot off, Lieutenant Sandford of Wentworth’s Regiment was shot in his tent before the town, Col. Watson of the Artillery was killed by a shot in the thigh, Capt. Moor was killed, Lieutenant Turvin had just taken the Colours from his dead ensign, and was killed with them in his hand (‘There’s honour for you,’ says Sir J. Falstaffe), 197 private men are killed and wounded. I was glad to find my brother not mentioned in the list.”

[160] It will be remembered Mr. Freind was Rector of Witney, the centre of blanket-making.

[161] Son of 1st Duke of St. Albans, and grandson of Charles II.

ST. LAZARE —
A SOUTH SEA LAWSUIT

Alas! in this he was premature, his brother-in-law, Henry Robinson, died of the wounds he received at the attack on St. Lazare, near Carthagena. May 12, Mrs. Donnellan writes from London—

“We are squabbling about Elections, and proving right wrong, and wrong right, just as we think it will make for some little private interest, without the least regard to truth, justice, or any notion of the good of the country. The Westminster Election was finished in a most partial manner on Friday, in favour of the Court candidates, and Lord Sundon[162] was like to be torn to pieces by the mob in revenge: this has been the subject of much talk, and last night I happened to say to a clergyman (who I thought by his gown was obliged to join with me), that I thought the dishonesty that prevailed in Elections was terrible, and corrupted the private honesty in all ranks of people, when my Parson to my surprise took up the argument that bribery in a King and his Ministers was not dishonest, but politic, and that we could not subsist without it, and ran on to prove that we must conform to the times, and if my neighbour bribes, I must do so too, to be on a foot with him or we must be undone. I own this doctrine shocks me....

“Your friend[163] told me yesterday they are a little disturbed about a law suit which is to concern the 28th. I suppose you have heard of it. ’Tis an old South Sea affair of the Father’s,[164] and very considerable. I am really concerned about it, and shall long to see them out of such a terrible situation.”

[162] William Clayton, Baron Sundon.

[163] Duchess of Portland.

[164] William Henry, 1st Duke of Portland.

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

from a miniature in the possession of Mrs. Climenson

Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

At this period Elizabeth developed a most painful weakness of the eyes, which recurred at intervals during the rest of her life. She attributed it to reading so much at night during her absence from home while her sister was ill. The duchess writes to implore her not to work, or read, and she answers, “I follow your grace’s advice, I do not work at all, and I read by my sister’s eyes.” She had commenced dining at Mount Morris, but they would not let her go upstairs for fear of infection, so she still slept at the farm. Mr. Freind had in his last letter said, “Let us know all about you; when you set sail, i.e. when you are to be manned, and who is to be your Captain, for these things surely must be settled now.” To which she answers—

“I am not going to set sail yet; the ocean of fortune is rough, the bark of fortune light, the prosperous gale uncertain, but the Pilot must be smooth, steady and content, patient in storms, moderate and careful in sunshine, and easy in the turns of the wind, and changes of the times. Guess if these things be easily found? and without such a guide can I avoid the gulph of misfortune, the barking of envy, the deceits of the syrens, and the hypocrisy of Proteus? So I wait on the shore, scarce looking towards this land of promise, so few I find with whom I would risk the voyage. I would have wrote you a longer letter, if I had a frank, but careful of your sixpence, though regardless of your leisure, that consideration hinders me. I am at Mount Morris again.”

“LIFE OF CICERO”

The duchess having commenced reading Dr. Conyers Middleton’s “Life of Cicero,” Elizabeth recommends a pamphlet called “Observations on Cicero,” written by Mr. Lyttelton,[165] but without his name being prefixed to it. She states, “Dr. Middleton compliments it in his preface slightly; it is as much a criticism as the Doctor’s is a panegyric of Tully’s action: it is a very little book, but I think wrote with great spirit and elegance.”

[165] George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton.

The following letter is from the Duchess of Portland early in June, but undated:—

“Monday morning.

“My dearest Fidget,

“You will be much surprised to receive so melancholy a letter from me after that strange medley you had last post, but yesterday morning I was told the Doctor had no hopes of my Papa; he hurt his leg some time ago, and Sergeant Dickens has had it in hand, and declared to Dr. Mead[166] he would go on no longer without another surgeon was called in, upon which Skipton was sent for, and what will be the result of their consultations to-day I dread to know; he has besides a jaundice and dropsy. He was out Friday night, and pretty well of Saturday night, and grew so much worse yesterday morning that he is not able to move. The Doctor was surprised to find such an alteration in a few hours. Oh! my dear Fidget, ’tis not possible to flatter oneself, God only knows what is best for us, therefore I am sensible I ought to be contented with what He is pleased to inflict upon us, but I cannot help my natural weakness. I can’t see to add any more, my heart and eyes are too full.”

[166] Famous physician, writer on medicine, and antiquarian.

DEATH OF THE EARL OF OXFORD

Here Mrs. Donnellan adds, “I have but one sad moment to tell my dear Fidget that my Lord Oxford[167] died to-day.”

[167] He died in Dover Street, June 16, 1741.

The next letter from the duchess is dated June 25—

“My dearest Fidget,

“I owe you a thousand thanks for your kind letters, and if words were the only acknowledgement I could make, I should ever be bankrupt, but my affection is warm, and my fidelity will last as long as my life....

“He was sensible almost to the last, nor did not show the least regret at leaving this troublesome world, except when he took leave of me, and that was too moving a scene for me even to tell now.” ...

At the end she begs Elizabeth not to write to her, as her eyes were so bad, but to get Sarah to do so instead, and in all her trouble remembers to send two bottles of arquebusade to Matthew Robinson’s chambers which he wanted, the price being 4s. 6d. a bottle.

Edward, 2nd Earl of Oxford, was the son of Robert, 1st Earl, by his first marriage with Elizabeth Foley, sister of Thomas, 1st Lord Foley; he continued to collect the Harleian MSS.,[168] begun by his father, now in the British Museum, also innumerable books, pictures, medals, etc.; and took great interest in all archæological studies, as did his countess.

[168] Lady Oxford sold the Harleian collection of manuscripts in 1753 to the British Museum.

Elizabeth wrote to condole heartily with the duchess on her sad loss, but imploring her, for the sake of the duke and her dear little children, to endeavour to bear up under this sad blow, for father and daughter were tenderly attached to each other.

A ONE-HORSE CHAISE

The universal panacea of bleeding—for one can only judge by the manner in which doctors applied to it for every case—had been endured by Elizabeth for the sake of her eyes, and she says “my eyes are worse for the bleeding.” She had a narrow escape at this time: her brother Matthew driving her for her health along the seashore on a high bank raised to keep off the incursion of the sea, the horse bolted, but fortunately their servant outrider was able to stop it without its bolting down either side of the bank. It is characteristic of the times that she calls a one-horse chaise, “of all things the most ridiculous!”

Mrs. Donnellan had been ill, and was ordered to Tunbridge Wells, to drink the waters. There was hope of Dr. Young being there. “I believe you will find his thoughts little confined to the place; he will entertain you with conversation much above what one generally finds there, where they talk of little but water, bread, butter, and scandal.”

On July 5 the duchess writes to say they had carried their cause in the law suit. She also expresses her joy at hearing Matthew Robinson intended to be inoculated that autumn. Elizabeth said if her eyes and general health were better, she would be inoculated too. She had just been given, “by a wise son of Æsculapius, a diabolical bolus that half killed me. I fainted away about three hours after I swallowed the notable composition, and was above an hour in such agony that if I had not waited for your letter I had certainly gone to the Elysian fields.”

A letter of Mrs. Botham’s from Elford, of which place, as well as of Yoxall, Staffordshire, her husband was Vicar, mentions a legacy left to her and her sister, Mrs. Laurence Sterne—

“My husband is in the North; his journey thither happened very opportunely, for an ancient woman whose very name I am a stranger to, has lately dyed intestate, and my Sister and self are heirs at law of her real estate, which consists of some houses at Leeds, the yearly value of them about £60. It would be well for us if we could make out a title to her personal estate, which is upwards of £5000, but that I have no hopes of.”

A WINDSOR HATTER

The duke and duchess were now at Bullstrode, and anxious for Elizabeth to come to them. The duchess gives an amusing account of a hatter’s funeral—

“A hatter of Windsor left £100 to a man on condition he would bury him according to his desire under a mulberry tree in his own garden, 10 feet deep. The assistants to drink 12 bottles of wine over his grave, and French Horns playing during the whole ceremony, and this was accordingly performed yesterday, to the great offence of Mr. Grosmith,[169] who says he was not a Christian....

“To dissect leaves[170] put ’em into water, and change the water every day, but you must take care the leaf is not blighted.”

[169] The clergyman.

[170] To skeletonize leaves.

Mrs. Donnellan writes on September 1 to say she has returned from Tunbridge Wells after a six weeks’ visit; staying with her married sister, Mrs. Clayton, and her husband, Robert Clayton, Bishop of Killala, and afterwards of Clogher. The bishop very nobly gave his wife’s paternal fortune to her sister, Anne Donnellan. Dr. Young was at Tunbridge, and Mrs. Donnellan states—

“I conversed much with Doctor Young, but I had not enough to satisfy me. We ran through many subjects, and I think his conversation much to my taste. He enters into human nature, and both his thoughts and expressions are new.”

THE SCOTTS OF SCOTT’S HALL

She also mentions that Lady Thanet, accompanied by Mrs. Scott, was at Tunbridge. Mrs. Scott,[171] of Scott’s Hall, Kent, was a friend of the Robinsons. She had a large family, seven sons and seven daughters; one was lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Orange, and married a Monsieur Saumaize, a member of the suite. Her sister Caroline, or “Cally Scott” (her pet-name), was the bosom friend of Sarah Robinson, and eventually married a Mr. Best. Another, Cecilia, who died unmarried, was a friend to the Robinson family for life. To Mrs. Donnellan Elizabeth writes on September 13, and in a long letter she says—

[171] The Scotts of Scott’s Hall were one of the most ancient Kentish families, originally Balliols of Scotland.

“The time for my brother’s inoculation draws near, and though I have a very good opinion of that method of having the smallpox, yet I cannot enjoy a perfect tranquillity of mind till it is over. I would fain persuade him to have it done while I am in the country, but he will not grant my request; for my Pappa, I believe, will not let me go to Bullstrode at all, if I don’t go before that is over; and my brother therefore waits for my departure, that I may not be banished for six weeks or two months, which he imagines would be melancholy for me these long evenings, as I should have no friend with me, and am not able to divert myself with books now my eyes are bad.”

The duchess was waiting for Lady Oxford’s departure from Bullstrode. Lady Oxford is often alluded to as “the Speaker” by the duchess, the same name, as has been mentioned, was bestowed on Mrs. Robinson by her children. Elizabeth’s health being so indifferent, her parents wished her to consult Dr. Mead, and early in October she proceeded to London with her brother Tom, where she stayed a few days with Mrs. Donnellan in Bond Street, and on October 13 joined her beloved friends at Bullstrode, the duchess sending her coach to London to fetch her.

Matthew was to be inoculated as soon as the coach returned to Mount Morris from taking Elizabeth to town, as, till the smallpox appeared, he was to take the air daily in it; but the inoculation did not take, and Elizabeth’s tender fears for her brother were allayed.

MARRIAGE OF LORD SANDWICH

The next letter of interest is on October 20, to her mother—

“I return you many thanks for your directions for the apron, which I will carefully follow; as to the silver thread I do not approve the use of it, as all great artists work for immortality, and my sister will find a little time will tarnish her work if there is a mixture of silver in it.... I honour Lord Sandwich[172] for his wise and generous contempt of money in a point in which there are other things superior to it; he bears an excellent character, there is much prudence in knowing how to separate one’s particular happiness from that which is reckoned so in the world’s opinion: if Lord Sandwich takes greater pleasure in the conversation of a fine woman than in viewing a collection of medals and pictures, he is right to prefer Miss Dolly Fane with £5000 to Miss Spinckes with £50,000.... He has a good estate sufficient for the becoming state of a nobleman.... Miss Fane is a happy woman to have a lover so great, so generous, and so good. Love has a good right over the marriages of men, but not of women; for men raise their wives to their ranks, women stoop to their husbands, if they choose below themselves. I think all our neighbours are in a marrying humour. I wish some of them had married two and twenty years ago, we should have had now a gallant young neighbourhood.”

[172] John, 4th Earl Sandwich, whose nickname later was “Jemmy Twitcher,” just engaged to Dorothy, daughter of Charles, 1st Viscount Fane.

Dr. Mead had prescribed for Elizabeth for her eyes and for a swelled lip, which annoyed her much. What should we think of a blister applied to the back to reduce a swelled lip in these days? Yet it was ordered! Writing to Sarah, she says—

“I am better than I was, but my mouth not being yet perfectly reduced, I have got a fresh blister upon my back, well may it bend with such a weight of calamities.... I have sent for my bathing Cloaths, and on Sunday night shall take a souze. I think it a pleasant remedy. I am to sit a quarter of an hour in the bath, and then go to bed and lye warm; it is to be repeated three times a week.”

DUCAL BATHS!

The next letter to her mother throws a curious light on the personal cleanliness of the day, and the want of baths in a ducal house—

“November 6, 1741.

“Madam,

“I should write to you much oftener, if I was able, but really I am so taken up with the pursuit of health I have little time for other employments. My lip is not entirely reduced, though I have been blistered twice, once blooded, and have five times taken physick, have lived upon chicken and white meats, and drank nothing but water; however, I am now vastly better than I was, and have hardly any pimples in my face, and no complaint in my eyes or nose, only this abominable lip is still rather bigger than it used to be. I intend to keep the blister going till it is well, for Mr. Clarke has put me in a way of doing it, so that I do not suffer much. I have suffered great disappointment about the warm bath, which I am advised to try, for the bathing tubs are so out of order we have not yet been able to make them hold water, but I hope next week they will serve the purpose.” ...

At the end of the letter is this: “Mary brings me word my bathing tub[173] is ready for use; so to-morrow I shall go in. Pray look for my bathing dress, till then I must go in in chemise and jupon!” Evidently from this it was not considered proper to go into a bath, even in a bedroom, au naturel!

[173] Before tin baths came into use, I remember my father bathing in a wooden tub, which resembled a wheelbarrow without legs or wheels, but with two handles at each end. It took two maids to empty it.

THE NEW LADY’S-MAID —
A MICROSCOPE

Another light on domestic service of the day is given in the next letter to Sarah. For some reason Elizabeth had a new lady’s-maid, and it appears from this and other letters that a superior class of persons officiated in that capacity. Many a clergyman’s daughter was glad to be lady’s-maid or housekeeper in those days—

“I like my maid extreamly; she is very humble, sensible, quick and diligent, and though her Father and Mother are above the common rate, she has never presumed to hint she was a person of fashion, which the French generally brag of. Mrs. Hog[174] (ye ladies’ French woman), tells me Mr. Dufour was a scarlet Dyer, worth once five or six thousand pounds, and Mrs. Dufour had about £1600 for her fortune, but by the knavery of a partner in their trade, they were reduced. I think Mary works pretty quick, and washes well, and is very handy, and she talks much better French than Dulac.

“I am reading Dr. Swift’s and Mr. Pope’s letters. I like them much, and find great marks of friendship, goodness and affection between these people whom the world is apt to think too wise to be honest, and too witty to be affectionate, but vice is the child of folly, rather than of wisdom; and for insensibility of heart, like that of the head, it belongeth unto fools. Lord Bolingbroke’s letters shine much in the collection. We are reading Dr. Middleton’s new edition[175] of his letter from Rome, but have not yet come to the postscript to Warburton;[176] the answer to the Roman Catholic is full, and I doubt not the Protestant will be as happily silenced. Truth will maintain its ground against all opposition.

“We expect Mr.[177] and Mrs. West, and then we shall have the house full. We are in hopes of Dr. Young; he is now at Welling sowing spiritual things in his parish, I hope to the increase of grace.

“The sun will not shine for our microscope,[178] which is a great vexation to the curious. Last night by the candle I saw a fringe upon a leaf, that would have done excellently well for your apron, and I dare say you are so excellently skilled in the imitation of Nature that you could work just like it if you had the materials.”

[174] French maid to the duchess’s little girls.

[175] “Letters on the Use and Study of History.”

[176] William Warburton, D.D., Bishop of Gloucester, friend of Pope; able controversial writer; born 1698, died 1779.

[177] Gilbert T. West, LL.D., born 1706, died 1756; poet and writer; translated “Pindar.”

[178] Mr. Achard’s microscope.

In the next letter to Sarah she says—

“The Muses, fair ladies and Mr. Lyttelton,[179] a fine gentleman, will entertain you in my absence d’esprit: the verses were wrote at Lord Westmorland’s. I think the verses are pretty; either I am very partial to the writer, or Mr. Lyttelton has always something of an elegance and agreeableness in all his verses, let the subject be ever so trifling.... Does the world want odd people, or do we want strange cousins that the Sternes must increase and multiply? No folly ever becomes extinct, fools do so establish posterity!”

[179] George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton.

As the Sternes’ eldest child, the first Lydia, was not born till 1745, there must have been a disappointment; but though undated, this letter is of 1741, as allusion is made to Matthew Robinson’s inoculation, which had just taken place.

“CIBBER’S LIFE”

“We are reading ‘Cibber’s Life.’[180] Was there ever so exquisite a coxcomb!”

[180] Cibber’s “Apology for his Life,” published this year; he did not die till 1757, but published his “Apology” in 1740.

November 11, a letter contains—

“Last night being the birthday of the noble Admiral Vernon, we drank his health at noon, and celebrated the same with a ball at night. The ‘Gun Fleet’ was danced in honour of him, and all celebrated with extream joy, and a splendid distribution of Crowns to the fiddler, who was not the son of Orpheus, but however he made such a difference between tit-for-tat and a minouet, that one might understand which he meant. Mademoiselle Dufour[181] had the honour of standing up instead of a flower-pot or an elbow-chair; she danced like the daughter of Herodias.”

[181] Her French attendant; [see ante].

To Mrs. Donnellan, who had been ill, but was recovering, this description of Dr. Young[182] is addressed—

“We have lost our divines, whose company we regret; there is great pleasure in conversing with people of such a turn as Dr. Young and Dr. Clarke;[183] for the first there is nothing of speculation, either in the Terra Firma of Reason, or the Visionary province of fancy, into which he does not lead the imagination. In his conversation he examines everything, determines hardly anything, but leaves one’s judgment at liberty. The other goes far into a subject, and seldom leaves the conclusion of an argument unfinished; he seems to me to have a very accurate judgment, and a very attentive observation of everything that comes within his view, and thus with the assistance of a happy memory, he has laid up a great stock of knowledge and experience.”

[182] Dr. Young lost his wife this year, 1741.

[183] Dr. W. Clarke, died 1771; divine and writer.

MECHANICAL CHAIR

Mrs. Donnellan mentions on November 15 a mechanical chair she is to have for exercise—

“An artist is to bring me home a machine[184] for galloping and trotting this day; if I could get him to make me one that could move me from one place to another, with how much pleasure could I mount my chariot to make you a visit.... London is as full now as it used to be in January. Plays are much frequented, both to see Barbarini dance, and a new actress from Ireland, her name is Woffington,[185] ... she excels in men’s parts, and is to act ‘Sir Harry Wildair’ next Monday, by the King’s commands, and all the world goes. We poor Irish run the gauntlet about her; we hear in many companys, ‘She has a great deal of Irish assurance.’ I desired it should be called Stage assurance.

“Handel[186] next week has a new opera, which those who have heard the rehearsal say is very pretty. Tell Pen the ‘Lion Song’ is in it....

“I hear the Duke of Portland is to have a Blue Garter, which I am extremely glad of, as I think ’tis fit and proper.”

[184] Called a “Merlin Chair,” from the inventor, for mechanical exercise.

[185] Margaret Woffington, born 1718, died 1760; celebrated actress and friend of Garrick.

[186] Does she mean “The Messiah,” which he produced this year, but which at first was not appreciated?

To this letter Elizabeth replies—

“The date of your letter from London is the strongest temptation to me to wish myself there, that you could lay before me: as for Plays and the Beau monde, I hardly wear vanity enough in the country, to wishing myself once more in—

“‘The dull farce, the empty show

Of Powder, pocket glass and Beau.’

“I know your town is the Kingdom of Cards, and the Reign of Mattadores I am disaffected to; here I enjoy all the pleasures of friendship, and the satisfaction of tranquillity....

“I hope you will find great benefit by your machine; if you will appoint a time for your imagination to take a flight, I will mount the Marquis of Lichfield’s Hobby Horse, and give you a meeting. Imagination gives Pegasus wings, and he often flies into the undiscovered country of fancy.”

MRS. WOFFINGTON

Mrs. Donnellan writes again on December 1 to say she and her sister, Mrs. Clayton, had been to two plays in one week—

“One of our plays was to see Mrs. Woffington perform the part of ‘Sir Harry Wild-air,’[187] and indeed I never saw anything done with more life and spirit; but at the same time she looked too young, too handsome, and her voice seemed more proper for Opera than the play; so that we see when things are out of nature, though they may have many beauties, in the whole they will not please, and a beard and a deep voice are as proper to make a man agreeable, as a soft voice and smooth face to a woman.”

[187] From the play of The Constant Couple.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH

The next letter of interest is of December 12, to Mrs. Robinson, from Elizabeth—

“Madam,

“It is long since I have had the pleasure of writing to you, for though I have much inclination to do so, I have little leisure. I am now coming on you with a great deal of news from the city of our Great King. The Parliament is all in a flame, the Court have had but a majority of seven. There is a great struggle between Giles, Earle, and Dr. Lee, which shall be for the Committees. The city is in great alarm that they are going to lose six hundred thousand pounds out of Leghorn, which it is expected will be taken, and the Port lost to our merchants.

“Now as to private affairs, it is reported the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough[188] is dead, that she departed last night, and no one weeps for her to-day. Extravagance will lavish away those treasures her avarice accumulated.... I am not sure the report is true, though private letters and public papers do affirm that the spirit of pride, avarice, and ambition have stolen from her as quietly as the common breath of the nostrils....”

[188] Sarah Jennings, born 1660, died 1744.

The duchess did not die then, as will be seen by the next letter to the same person. This was the illness when the doctor told her, unless she was blistered, she would die, when she cried, “I won’t be blistered, and I won’t die!” And she did not, for she lived till 1744!

“December 19, 1741.

“Madam,

“I believe the wars abroad, and tumults at home, will make the publick papers worth reading. Dr. Lee has carried his Election by four, the Court is concerned at it. The King[189] suspended even his dinner (an action of as great importance as any done in the reigns of some Monarchs) till this affair between Dr. Lee and Earle was determined. The Westminster Election will now be carried against the Court. It is thought Lord Percival will undoubtedly be chosen at the new Election. The friends of Sir R——[190] lament that now he will not be able to carry any of the petitions, but where the right is on his side, and which, too, is looked upon by them as an unfortunate thing for the Kingdom in general.

“The Duchess of Marlborough is not dead yet, but in great danger; she has St. Anthony’s fire to a terrible degree, and will have no advice but such as her apothecary gives her. To Mr. Spencer[191] she has bequeathed in her will £30,000 a year, in addition to what he has already. The Duchess of Manchester[192] she has struck out. How the rest of her enormous fortune is disposed of people do not know.

“We lost two of our Divines to-day, Dr. Young and the Dean of Exeter, men of very different genius, but both agreeable companions.”

[189] George II.

[190] Sir Robert Walpole, Prime Minister, born 1676, died 1745.

[191] Her grandson.

[192] Her eldest granddaughter.

CZARINA ELIZABETH

The next is to Sarah, December 22, and in it is—

“I don’t know whether you have heard of the Revolutions in Russia, that the Princess Eliza[193] is made Czarina; the Czar, his Mother, Munich and Lacy imprisoned, and all by the power of France, and the machinations of General Keith.[194] This is bad news for poor England. The members of Parliament of the country party are gone to their firesides to roast chestnuts, while the Court get the uppermost again. The Prince’s affair is to come before the House very soon: it is a shame that he[195] has no settlement.”

[193] Elizabeth Petrowna, born 1709, died 1761; daughter of Peter the Great.

[194] Field-Marshal Keith, born 1696, died 1758.

[195] Frederick, Prince of Wales, born 1707, died 1751.

THE REV. JOHN BOTHAM

Two letters of December 26 and December 31 to Sarah wind up the year. In the first she mentions that the move from Bullstrode to London was to take place on January 3, and she was to return to Mount Morris on the 5th. In passing through London she should visit Mrs. Cotes,[196] who was a bosom friend of hers and Sarah. A little paragraph occurs about Mrs. Botham, Mrs. Sterne’s sister—

“Mrs. Botham is at Elford with Lady Andover, which I am glad of, for poor Lydia has a taste for conversation above the hum-drum mediocrity of her husband’s understanding. He has a very good pulpit drone, and gives the whole parish an excellent nap every Sunday with his sermonical lullaby.”

[196] Wife of Dr. Cotes, of Wimbledon, sister of Henry, Viscount Irvine, born 1691, died 1761.

“December 31, 1741.

“My dear Sister,

“This day did not begin with the auspicious appearance of a letter from you; I am glad it is not the first day of the New Year, for I might have been superstitious upon it. I hope you kept your letter back a day on purpose to welcome in the coming year. I wish it may be our lot ever to find the next bring us what the last wanted. But alas! time steals the most precious pleasures from us. Our life is like a show that has passed by, leaves but a track that makes remembrance and reflection rugged, a mark is worn for ever where the gay train of pleasures pass’d swiftly by, and observation is much longer displeased than ever it was delighted. I am loth to part with an old year as with an old acquaintance, not that I have to it the gratitude one has to a Benefactor, or the affection one bears to a friend. I am, I fear, neither better nor richer than it found me, but we lived easy together, and not knowing whether I shall have the acquaintance of many years, I could be willing to stop this. I have one obligation to it that I rate highly, that it has ensured you from the danger of smallpox. This year too has allowed us many happy months together. I hope all that are behind for me design the same, else they will come unwelcome, and depart unregretted.... This day sennight I shall be with you and the good family at Horton, telling a ‘Winter’s tale’ by the fireside! Oh that we were all to meet then, that once graced that fireside, even the goodly nine,[197] and thanking my Father and Mother for all the life they imparted to us, and have since supported! I hope the flock is safe and our meeting reserved for some of the golden days of fate.”

Thomas Robinson, the second brother, had this year brought out his celebrated legal book, entitled “Common Law of Kent, or the Customs of Gavel Kind, with an appendix concerning Borough English,” to this day a well-referred-to book. In 1822 a third edition was published, and another in 1858, revised by J. D. Norwood. Thomas was of Lincoln’s Inn, was admitted April 14, 1730. The “National Biography” states he was never called to the Bar, which must be a mistake, as there is frequent mention of his pleading cases at Canterbury and elsewhere in the manuscripts.

[197] The nine Robinsons, brothers and sisters.

1742

NEW YEAR’S DAY

This year opens with a letter to Mrs. Donnellan, a portion of which I copy—

“Bullstrode, January 1, 1742.

“Dear Mrs. Donnellan,

“Though there is no day of the year in which one does not wish all happiness to one’s friends, this is the particular day in which the heart goes forth in particular vows and wishes for the welfare of those it loves. It is the birth of a new year, whose entrance we would salute, and hope auspicious; nor is this particular mark of time of little use: it teaches us to number our days, which a wise man thought an incitement to the well spending them; and, indeed, did we consider how much the pleasure and profit of our lives depends upon an economy of our time, we should not waste it as we do, in idle repentance, or reflection on the past, or a vain unuseful regard for the future. In youth we defer being prudent till we are old, and look forward to a promise of wisdom as the portion of latter years: when we are old we seek not to improve, and scarce employ ourselves; looking backward to our youth as to the day of our diligence, and take a pride in laziness, saying we rest as after the accomplishment of our undertakings; but we ought to ask for our daily merit, as for our daily bread. The mind, no more than the body, can be sustained by the food taken yesterday, or promised for to-morrow. Every day ought to be considered as a period apart, some virtue should be exercised, some knowledge improved, and the value of happiness well understood, some pleasure comprehended in it; some duty to ourselves or others must be infringed if any of these things are neglected....

“I beg of you to reserve Monday morning for me, and I will spend it all with you; on Tuesday I set out for Mount Morris, and on Sunday night Pen[198] desires you to be at her house. I hope to return to you in the beginning of March for between two and three months. Our happy society is just breaking up, but I will think of it with gratitude, and not with regret, and thank Fate for the joyful hours she lent me....

“This year does not promise me much pleasure as the last has afforded me here, but the fairest gifts of fate come often unexpected.”

[198] Mrs. Pendarves.

LORD GEORGE BENTINCK

This sentence was, had she known it, prophetic, for this very year was to furnish her with an excellent and loving husband, a position of importance, and a plentiful fortune. In a letter to Sarah at this period mention is made by Elizabeth of Lord George Bentinck (the duke’s uncle) having been ill, and the means taken for his recovery!—

“Lord George is much better than he was, and Drs. Mead and Sandys have not determined whether it is gout. I hope it is not; he has been blooded forty ounces within this week, and they say looks as florid as ever!”

NORTHFLEET FAIR

Elizabeth now left the duchess, joining her sister, who was in town with her friend, Mrs. Cotes, and writes to her beloved duchess from Sittingbourne, their halting-place en route home. In this letter she says—

“When I arrived at Northfleet, where we dined, every Phillis and Corydon were at a fair in the town, and to enter into the humours of the place, I walked through it. In one booth were nymphs and swains buying garters, with amorous posies, some only with the humble request, ‘When these you see, remember me’; others with a poetical and more familiar ‘Be true to me, as I’m to thee.’ Under another booth, for the pleasure of bold British youths, was Admiral Vernon in gingerbread; indeed he appeared in many shapes there, and the curate of the parish carried him home in a brass tobacco stopper. I was a little concerned to see him lying in passive gingerbread, upon a stall with Spanish nuts; but the politicians of our age are wonderful in reconciling the interest of nations. I assure you there was a great deal of company; many hearts did I see exchanged for fairings of cherry-coloured ribbon; and one Cymon more polished than the rest, presented his damsel with a fan, with the intent, I presume, not to give ‘coolness to the matchless Dame.’”

Of politics and the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, we now gain a glimpse in a letter of Mrs. Donnellan’s of January 14 to Elizabeth—

“It is certainly believed that the King has sent an offer of a reconciliation, and that tempter gold, to the Prince[199] by the Bishop of Oxford,[200] whose answer was that while Sir Robert, who he apprehended had raised his Majesty’s resentment against him, was at Court, he could not appear there, but that if he was removed, he would fly without any other conditions but to have the happiness of throwing himself at his Majesty’s feet.”

[199] Frederick, Prince of Wales, then on very bad terms with his father.

[200] Thomas Secker, born 1693, died 1768; afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.

SIR ROBERT WALPOLE

The duchess, writing on January 23, says, “Sir Robert carried the question by three votes.”

In the same letter she says, “I am just come from Court, where I saw your incomparable cousin kiss hands for the government of Barbadoes; now he certainly goes, I will pay my civilities to him in hopes of getting some shells!” This was Sir Thomas Robinson,[201] who, having almost ruined himself with his improvements at Rokeby, and his enormous and frequent entertainments, applied for the governorship on economic reasons, and continued governor till 1747.

[201] “Long” Sir Thomas Robinson, as he was called to distinguish him from another baronet of the same name. See note at end of book on him.

On February 4 the duchess writes in bad spirits to “Fidget”; the duke was ill with the gout, and her little girl, Lady Fanny, had had a convulsion fit, for which “she was blistered and blooded within 12 hours:” drastic treatment for an unfortunate infant not a year old! In this letter we read—

“The King sent Sir Robert word that he had no more orders for him, and that he must resign, but that he made him Earl of Orford. Others report that upon his losing the election of Bainton, Rolt, and Sir Edmund Thomas, he went to the King and told him the current ran so strongly against him he could no longer be of service to him, but that he would come into the House of Lords. Lord Wilmington[202] is to act as first Lord of the Treasury till affairs are settled. It is said the Duke of Richmond[203] has given up, that Sir William Young and Winnington are to be turned out, Harry Pelham to be the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and there is a patent drawing for Miss Walpole[204] to take the place of Lord Orford’s daughter.”

[202] Earl of Wilmington, died 1743.

[203] Charles, 2nd Duke.

[204] Miss Skerrit, illegitimate daughter of Sir Robert.

Emery Walker Ph. Sc.

Sir Thomas Robinson (1st. Baron Rokeby)

LORD ORFORD

On February 9 Mrs. Pendarves writes the following:—

“Clarges Street, February 9, 1742.

“My dear Miss Robinson will think me very dilatory in obeying her commands, but the uneasy situation I have been in, surrounded by sick friends[205] and servants, must make an excuse for me.

“Burnet,[206] I hope is safe on your table, and has by this time given you some entertainment.

“As for the fringe it should have been sent to you sooner, could I have found it, but it was buried under such a variety of rubbish it was like digging in a mine to find it. Don’t let these delays discourage you from making use of me again, for no one can take more pleasure in being your humble servant than I do. This is asserting a bold truth, and would draw on me numbers of challenges, if I published it. I should not be afraid of accepting the combat where my cause was so good. Our letters crost on the road. Your observation on retirement is very just, and all your thoughts show the good use you make of Retirement; but I wish for my own sake to draw you out of it. I am not so unreasonable as to expect to hear often from you. I can’t justly make that demand, but if you were in town I should endeavour to have a great deal of your company; let me know when I may hope to see you. At present I can give you no very inviting reason for coming; as to the entertainments of the place, all parties are out of humour; everybody conjectures something; nobody knows anything, but that Sir R(obert) W(alpole) kissed hands yesterday as Lord Orford, and his daughter as Lady Mary, that he resigned yesterday, and goes to Houghton in a few days. His faithful services to his King are well rewarded. I have been interrupted by two favourites of yours, Lord Cornbury and Mrs. Donnellan, and to recommend them still stronger to your favour, they have prevented your having a dull long letter. I send the fringe enclosed; if I wait till my spirit is more alert you may want your apron, and think I have quite neglected your orders. I will run any hazard rather than give you just cause to complain of me, and am with great sincerity,

“My dear Fidget,

“Yours most faithfully,

“M. P.

“P.S.—My sister desires her best compliments, mine attends yours, and all your family.”

[205] Mrs. D’Ewes, her sister, and Sir John Stanley, her uncle, had been ill.

[206] Bishop Burnet’s “History of the Reformation.”

THE DUCHESS OF NORFOLK’S MASQUERADE

On February 11 the duchess writes—

“Great changes have been wrought to-day, Mr. Sandys has kissed hands as Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord Carteret,[207] is to be Secretary of State,[208] Lord Harrington, President of the Council, Mr. Pulteney[209] and Lord Winchelsea[210] are to go to Court to-morrow; and all affairs are to be transacted by the advice of Pulteney and Pelham. Lord Cobham[211] has hindered the Prince coming to Court, but it is to be hoped he will be persuaded to the contrary. The Duchess of Norfolk is to have a masquerade next Wednesday, so that I am in the greatest of hurrys to get ready. I am to be ‘Night.’”

[207] Afterwards Earl Granville, born 1690, died 1763.

[208] William, 1st Earl, born 1690, died 1756.

[209] Afterwards Earl of Bath, born 1684, died July 8, 1764.

[210] Daniel, 8th Earl, born 1689, died 1769.

[211] Sir Richard Temple, made Baron Cobham, born 1669, died 1749.

On the same day Mrs. Donnellan writes that—

“The Duchess of Norfolk’s[212] masquerade employs the gay world as much at present as the Court places does the ambitious. The Duchess, Lady Andover, and Pen have their tickets, poor Dash[213] fears she will not have one. The Duchess is to represent ‘Night,’ and you know she has stars to adorn it, and make it bright as day. Lady Andover and Pen are to be dressed after Holler’s Prints. I have desired they make this house their place of meeting, and shall desire the same of all my acquaintance, which will give me all I care for of a masquerade.”

[212] Wife of 9th Duke, née Mary Blount.

[213] “Delia” Dashwood.

Another peep at the masquerade is gained by a letter from “Cally” Scott to the two Robinson sisters—

“The Princess of Wales[214] was the finest figure that ever was seen; she had a vast number of jewels, and was in Queen Elizabeth’s dress: the Duchess of Portland’s was very odd and pretty, her upper part was night, and the lower moonshine.”

[214] Augusta of Saxe Gotha, wife of Frederick, Prince of Wales.

SIR HANS SLOANE

The duchess writes early in February—

“My dearest Fidget,

“Though I shall have the pleasure of seeing you soon, yet I can’t help conversing with you as often as it is in my power. I am but just come from Sir Hans Sloane’s,[215] where I have beheld many odder things than himself, though none so inconsistent: however, I will not rail, for he has given me some of his trumpery to add to my collection, and till I get better they shall remain there....

“The Duchess of Marlborough’s Memoirs[216] are come out. I long to read ’em, and hear she has given my grandfather a character, entirely worthy of herself, to show posterity how very different they were in all circumstances of life. If she makes her character to answer his, she has given him a great foil which his virtue did not require. Swift’s ‘Four last years of Queen Anne’[217] are coming out. I don’t hear they are yet printed.”

[215] Eminent physician and naturalist, born 1660, died 1753; then living at Bushington House, Chelsea.

[216] Her “Account of her Conduct.” Mr. N. Hooke helped her to write it this year.

[217] Was not printed till 1758.

HOUSE OF LORDS

Elizabeth now went to London, and in February writes this interesting letter to her father in Kent—

“Sir,

“I thought it would be agreeable to you to have an account of the mighty and important proceedings of both houses yesterday, so I have sent you the question, which was debated in both Houses with a good deal of warmth. It was brought into the House of Lords by Lord Carteret,[218] who spoke two hours in opening. Lord Carlisle and Lord Westmorland spoke with great warmth, and Lord Carlisle[219] was very bitter. Lord Halifax[220] seconded Lord Carteret. Lord Talbot said in answer to the Duke of Marlborough’s motion (that it might be voted that an attempt to inflict any kind of punishment, etc., etc.) that he would not say that all persons were interested that spoke in favour of Sir Robert, that they appeared to be so, and upon being called to order, he said with heat that he was used to speak truth, and he did believe (by the most sacred oath) that they were so, and that he was ready to give any man satisfaction that would require it. All moderate men voted with the majority in both Houses. Lord Cornbury and Mr. Harley spoke in favour of Sir R.: the latter said that though Sir R. had pursued a relation[221] of his without evidence, and caused his imprisonment, and thereby the shortening of his life, he could not, as he had differed from him in all his measures, copy him in that, and so withdrew with his brother and many others who had great disobligations to the Member. Mr. Skipper would not vote against the great man, for it seems there was no proof nor evidence of the accusations. I think the majority was 290 against 190 in the House of Commons. Many of the Country interest did not vote at all; they did not break up till three. The House of Lords at one o’clock in the morning. Mr. Sandys[222] opened very well, and Mr. ‘Ste’-Fox[223] spoke on the other side extremely well. I may by the next post, be able to give you a further account of the matter, but this is all I have yet heard, for the Members of Parliament are half asleep to-day.

“I am, Sir,

“Your most dutiful, etc.”

[218] John, 2nd Baron Carteret, afterwards Earl Granville.

[219] 7th Earl of Carlisle.

[220] 5th Earl of Halifax.

[221] Alluding to the impeachment and imprisonment of Robert Harley, 1st Earl of Oxford.

[222] Afterwards 1st Lord Sandys of Ombersley.

[223] Father of 1st Baron Holland.

THE HOUSE’S ADDRESS

On the other side of this folio letter, in another handwriting, is the Question—

“The House was moved that an humble Address be presented to his Majesty, most humbly to advise and beseech his Majesty that he will be most graciously pleased to Remove the Right Honble. Sir Robert Walpole, Kt. of the most noble order of the Garter, first Commissioner of his Majesty’s Treasury, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and one of his Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, from his Majesty’s Presence and Councils for ever,

“And a question being stated thereupon after long Debate,

“The Question was put, whether such an address shall be presented to his Majesty.

“It was resolved in the Negative. Contents 47, Proxies 12: 59. Not Contents 89, Proxies 19: 108.

“Then it was likewise moved that an attempt to inflict any kind of Punishment on any Person without allowing him an opportunity to make his defence, or without proof of any crime or misdemeanor committed by him, is contrary to natural Justice, the fundamental Laws of this Realm, and by ancient established usage of Parliament, and is a high infringement of the Liberties of the Subject. After further debate, The Previous Question being put, whether that Question shall now be put?

“It was resolved in the Affirmative.

“Then the Main Question was put, and it was resolved in ye Affirmative. Contents 81, Not Contents 54.”

THE OPERA —
GARRICK

Elizabeth, in a letter to the Rev. William Freind, gives us an insight into the Opera of that period—

“I was at the Opera on Saturday night, where was all the world. I was very well diverted between the Opera and the Audience, or I ought rather to say the Spectators, for they came to see and not to hear. I heard the Elephant was the finest thing in the Opera, but that was contradicted, and the burning of the Temple was preferred to it. To accommodate everything to the absurdity of the Town, the dancing is rendered more ridiculous and grotesque than ever. I was thinking if the Court of Augustus could have seen the polite part of our nation, admiring a wooden Elephant, with two lamps stuck for eyes, and poor Scipio and Asdrubal could have risen to have seen themselves covered with silver spangles, and quavering an Italian Air, what an honest indignation and scorn would they have conceived at us....

“My Sister Pea is abroad; I am confined again by a little feverishness. I thought as it was a London fever it might be polite, so I carried it to the Ridotto, Court, and Opera, but it grew so perverse and stubborn, so I put it into a White Hood and double handkerchief, and kept it by the fire these three days, and it is better; indeed I hope it is worn out. On Saturday I intend to go to Goodman’s Fields to see Garrick[224] act Richard III.: that I may get one cold from a regard to sense, I have sacrificed enough to folly in catching colds at the Great Puppet Shows in town.

* * * * *

“I must tell you advice is to me this morning, that Anson[225] had taken three Ships laden with silver, and is going to Chagre, and from thence to Panama; Vernon and Wentworth are to go with him, and Trelawney is to accompany them to reconcile their resolutions.”

[224] David Garrick, born 1716, died 1779. Made his first appearance on the stage in 1741.

[225] Admiral Lord Anson, born 1697, died 1762. Eminent naval commander.

At this period Morris Robinson lost his beloved college friend, a Mr. Carter, a most promising youth, from smallpox. Morris attended him until his death, and was almost inconsolable for his loss.

CHAPTER IV.
ENGAGEMENT AND EARLY MARRIED LIFE.

I have made but few allusions to Elizabeth’s love triumphs, but as the time approaches when she was to make her final choice, I must now allude to them. There was a certain “Mr. B.,” from what I can gather a Mr. Brockman, of Beechborough, a fine place near Mount Morris, who had been desperately in love with her for some time; he is frequently alluded to in the family letters. In one to Sarah at this period Elizabeth says—

“Poor Mr. B. really takes his misfortunes so to heart that he is literally dying, indeed I hear he is very ill, which I am sorry for, but I have no balsam of heartsease for him, if he should die I will have him buried in Westminster Abbey next the woman that died of a prick of a finger, for it is quite as extraordinary, and he shall have his figure languishing in wax, with ‘Miss Robinson, fecit,’ wrote over his head; upon my word I compassionate his pains, and pity him, but as I am as compassionate, I am as cold too as Charity. He pours out his soul in lamentations to his friends, and ‘all but the nymph that should redress his wrong, attend his passion and approve his song,’ for the Rhyme will have it so. I am glad he has such a stock of flesh to waste upon. Waller says that—

“‘Sleep from careful Lovers flies

To bathe himself in Sacharissa’s eyes.’”

LOVERS

A certain captain, name unknown, also inveigled the Rev. William Freind to a coffee-house to talk two hours by the clock of Miss Elizabeth Robinson’s perfections. About this Elizabeth writes to Mr. Freind—

“I am very sorry if the poor man is really what you think, unhappy; if his case is uneasy I am sure it is desperate; complaint I hope, is more the language, than misery the condition, of lovers. To speak ingenuously you men use us oddly enough, you adore the pride, flatter the vanity, gratify the ill-nature, and obey the tyranny that insults you; then slight the love, despise the affection, and enslave the obedience that would make you happy: when frowning mistresses all are awful goddesses, when submissive wives, despicable mortals. There are two excellent lines which have made me ever deaf to the voice of the charmer, charm’d he ever so sweetly—

“‘The humblest Lover when he lowest lies,

Submits to conquer, and but kneels to rise.’

“Flattery has ever been the ladder to power, and I have detested its inverted effects of worshipping one into slavery, while it has pretended to adore one to Deification. If ever I commit my happiness to the hands of any person, it must be one whose indulgence I can trust, for flattery I cannot believe. I am sure I have faults, and am convinced a husband will find them, but wish he may forgive them; but vanity is apt to seek the admirer, rather than the friend, not considering that the passion of love may, but the effect of esteem can never, degenerate to dislike. I do not mean to exclude Love, but I mean to guard against the fondness that arises from personal advantages.... I have known many men see all the cardinal virtues in a good complexion, and every ornament of a character in a pair of fine eyes, and they have married these perfections, which might perhaps shine and bloom a twelvemonth, and then alas! it appeared these fine characters were only written in white and red.

“A long and intimate acquaintance is the best presage of future agreement. I have strengthened this argument to myself by the example of you and Mrs. Freind. I hope in my long and tedious dissertation I have said nothing disrespectful of Love. As for your particular inducement to it I cannot tell whether it was beauty or good qualities, they being united in her in a degree of perfection not to be excelled.”

After wishing the rejected lover “Riches and alliance to help his laudable ambition,” she concludes with, “I wish the same advantages for myself, with one of established fortune and character, so established, that one piece of generosity should not hurt his fortune, nor one act of indiscretion prejudice his character.”

SIR GEORGE LYTTELTON

Who this particular individual was is not now known, but that Elizabeth was the cynosure of all eyes from her wit, beauty, and vivacity is shown by her brothers’ letters of this period, which constantly allude to her troop of admirers. Mr. Lyttelton, now Sir George Lyttelton, the only single man whom she had ever mentioned with uniform admiration, married this year, on June 15, Lucy, daughter of Hugh Fortescue, Esq., of Filleigh, Devonshire, a marriage of the purest affection on both sides.

In a letter at the end of 1741 she states that her father’s steward in Yorkshire had been guilty of peccadilloes, and that she was to accompany her parents to Yorkshire in early spring, where her father promised her attendance at the York races, in lieu of the Canterbury ones, which then appeared to her a poor substitute. Whilst in Yorkshire she either met for the first time, or more probably renewed her acquaintance with, Mr. Edward Montagu, her future husband, of whom some account must now be given.

MR. EDWARD MONTAGU

Edward Montagu was the son of Charles Montagu, fifth son of the great Earl of Sandwich,[226] Lord High Admiral of the Fleet to Charles II., and who had acted as his proxy at his marriage with Catherine of Braganza. Charles Montagu married twice. By his first wife, Elizabeth Foster, he had one son, James; he married for second wife Sarah Rogers, daughter of John Rogers and his wife, née Margaret Cock. The Rogers owned large estates at Newcastle-on-Tyne[227] and in its neighbourhood. Charles Montagu, by his second marriage, had three sons, Edward, Crewe, and John, and a daughter, Jemima, who was married at the time I am writing of to Mr. Sydney Medows, afterwards Sir Sydney Medows. Mr. Edward Montagu was born in 1691, hence he was twenty-nine years older than Elizabeth. At the time he courted Elizabeth, another admirer, a young nobleman, whose name I know not, is stated to have been in love with her, but constant to her former protestation of choosing a “formed character” that she could look up to, she chose the older man. It is odd not a sentence is met with about him before, except that one of her brothers chaffs her about “converting a Mr. M—— to dancing,” which may have referred to him. He was a profound mathematician, the friend of Emerson and other learned men of that day. His character was amiable, equable, just, and of the highest integrity, as is shown by his letters, and his political conduct as a Member of Parliament in what was a corrupt age. Mrs. Carter[228] mentions him “as a man of sense, a scholar, and a mathematician” in her letters. He owned a good estate at Allerthorpe, Yorkshire, and another near Rokeby (the fine estate belonging to Elizabeth’s cousin, “Long” Sir Thomas Robinson), also a house in Dover Street, London.

[226] For other particulars as to the Montagu family the reader is referred to the pedigree.

[227] In 1689 Mr. Rogers bought the estate of East Denton, Northumberland, with its collieries, for £10,900.

[228] Elizabeth Carter, born 1716, died 1806. The learned Greek scholar.

MRS. DONNELLAN’S ADVICE —
SWIFT’S YAHOOS

Evidently the letter here inserted in Mrs. Anne Donnellan’s handwriting, but unsigned, was an answer to an appeal of Elizabeth’s for advice as to this courtship. Though long, I consider it so perfectly suitable in its advice to any persons contemplating matrimony, I give it in extenso—

“I can’t enough express to you, my dear Friend, how much your confidence in me obliges me, as it shows me the place I hold in your heart. The latter part of your letter, which is what I write to now, is a difficulty I know how to pity, as I have experienced it, and yet I do not find I am at all the more capable of advising how to avoid it; there is a medium between encouragement and ill humour that is certainly right to avoid being thought to desire to raise a passion that one does not design to gratifie, or to be too apt to think one has raised a passion that must be discouraged, for as I think nothing is more unjust than to wish to make another unhappy, merely to gratifie a vanity of being known to be admired, so nothing is more ridiculous than to be too apt to fancy one has raised such a passion, and I should always choose to be the last that perceived it, rather than the first. I have seen so many appearances of liking that has proved neither uneasy to one side or t’other, that I am not apt to fear great hurt from them, and I fancy the longer you live the more you will be of my mind; indeed when a man gives way to a passion on a prospect of success, and finds a disappointment to it, has often, I believe, given a melancholy turn to his whole life: but for what I call occasional likings they can run from one to another with great ease and dexterity. Now what I think the most difficult in these affairs is to satisfie others in our conduct, for there is as you observe, in the heart of male and female a principle of vanity and self-love that makes us unwillingly give way to a preference in any thing, and we are very apt to comfort ourselves with thinking, and sometimes saying, that the preference given is not from greater perfections, but from greater encouragement, ‘some people set themselves out, and pay a court I cannot,’ when we are all doing our best to gain this descried admiration, and vexed, even to make us unjust when we fail. In short, and when I view human nature in some lights, I can almost forgive Swift’s Yahoos. But to the point. I should think the behaviour on these occasions should be as easy as we can, and we should be pretty sure there is a passion growing in the heart before we make an alteration that can be perceived by the person concerned, and as for the by-slanderers, I should endeavour to convince them I did not desire such a conquest, but at the same time, I would not let them think they could easily persuade me I had made it. I would converse as usual in public, but I would avoid private conversations, lest others should think I sought them, but these are things I am sure you can think of better than I can, and must be practised as circumstances suit. The person said nothing here but what was extremely proper, we talked of you all, and you and another were commended with great elegance, and for the third they said they did not know them enough to give an opinion.

“Now my dear Friend a word about the desire that is natural in most females to make lovers, if you meet with a person who you think would be proper to make you happy in the married state, and they show a desire to please you, and a solidity in their liking, give it the proper encouragement that the decency of our sex will allow of, for it is the settlement in the world we should aim at, and the only way we females have of making ourselves of use to Society and raising ourselves in this world; but for lovers merely for being courted and admired they are of no real use, and often prove a great detriment both by their own malice of disappointment and their jealousy of others, and for a friendship of any tenderness between disengaged persons of different sexes I am afraid there is no such thing, so do not be caught by that deceitful bait. Esteem and regard may be without passion, but tenderness and confidence, and what we call friendship among ourselves, will, with opportunity, turn to desire in the different sexes. We desire to possess a friend to know their heart, to be in their thoughts, this must turn to passion between the sexes, I think ’tis impossible to be otherwise, and I could express it more philosophically but you will do it for me. Now pardon me this impertinent letter, there are not those in the world to whom I would write so freely, for I do not know those who I think have sense and goodness of heart, to bear advice: the only merit of mine is its sincerity and affection, and having seen more years has given me many opportunities of seeing the world of love, with all its mischiefs. Adieu, burn this, and love me as I do you most sincerely.

“P.S.—I will say no more of Books till we meet, though I must wonder at the want of discernment in those who can read an Author who is all fiction, and take it for certain truth.”

MRS. MONTAGU’S MARRIAGE

Anyhow, Mr. Montagu and Elizabeth entered into an engagement, and in the Gentleman’s Magazine for August, 1742, is the following announcement:—“August 5th. Edward Montagu, Esqr., Member for Huntingdon, to the eldest daughter of Matthew Robinson, of Horton in Kent, Esqr.”

The Rev. William Freind tied the nuptial knot.

The day after her marriage Mrs. Montagu writes to the Duchess of Portland—

“Friday, August 6, 1742.

“Dear Madam,

“I return your Grace a thousand thanks for your letter; the good wishes of a friend are of themselves a happiness, and believe me I have always thought myself the nearer being happy because I knew you wished me so. If your affection to me will last as long as my love and gratitude towards you, I think it will stay with me till the latest moment I shall have in this world; no alteration of circumstances or length of time can wear out my grateful remembrance of your favours to me; you have a station in my heart, from whence you cannot be driven while any one virtue lives in it: truth, constancy, gratitude, and every honest affection guard you there!

“Mr. Montagu desires me to make his compliments to my Lord Duke and your Grace, with many thanks for the favour his Grace designs him of a visit which he is not willing to put off so long as our return from Yorkshire, but will be glad of the honour of seeing the Duke on Monday, at seven o’clock in Dover Street; and I hope at that most happy hour to have the pleasure of seeing you. We shall spend that evening in Town. If you will be at home to-morrow at two o’clock, I will pass an hour with you; but pray send me word to Jermyn Street at eleven, whether I can come to you without meeting any person at Whitehall but the Duke; to every one else pray deny your dressing room. Mr. Freind will tell your Grace I behaved magnanimously, and not one cowardly tear, I assure you, did I shed at the solemn Altar, my mind was in no mirthful mood indeed. I have a great hope of happiness; the world, as you say, speaks well of Mr. Montagu, and I have many obligations to him, which must gain my particular esteem; but such a change of life must furnish me with a thousand anxious thoughts.

“Adieu, my dear Lady Duchess: whatever I am, I must still be with gratitude, affection, and fidelity,

“Yours,

“Eliza Montagu.”

LADY ANDOVER

Amongst the numerous congratulations received on her marriage may be mentioned letters from Lady Andover, staying at Levens with the Berkshires, and Mrs. Pendarves, who writes from Calwich. The following paragraph shows the general esteem of Mr. Montagu’s character—

“I think you cannot be disappointed in the choice you have made; you know the essentials of happiness, and have made your choice accordingly, and Mr. Montagu must be much envied now, as he has always been esteemed: nobody’s character answers more to your merit. You must give me leave to trouble you with my compliments to him, and to add that I wish to be acquainted with him. I cannot help having a very favourable opinion of the person whom you have preferred to all others.”

“DELIA”

“Delia” (Miss Dashwood) writes—

“My heart in plain sincerity wishes you joy and lasting happiness, and sure you have the best security for both, as all allow Mr. Montagu has an uncommon good understanding, and as large a share of good nature, both which are conspicuous in yourself, that they must undoubtedly when joined produce a lasting harmony.”

HONEYMOON TOUR

Mr. Montagu appears to have been only known by popular report to the Bullstrode circle, till his marriage, but his immense circle of relations and friends opened a fresh vista of delightful and extended social engagements for his wife. This first letter of Elizabeth’s to her mother after marriage is interesting—

“Dover Street, August 10.

“Hond. Madam,

“I had the pleasure of meeting your letter here last night at my arrival. The Duke and Duchess of Portland spent the evening and supped with us. This morning I have been looking over the house, and seeing many things much better than I deserve, in which I am to have a share: but what gives me infinitely more pleasure than these favours of fortune, is observing the willingness and gladness with which Mr. Montagu bestows them upon me. I find the house very good and convenient, and I hope I shall spend many happy days in it. Happy I am sure they will be to me, if I can make them so to the person who has thus obliged me. I must write but a very short letter, for Mrs. Medows[229] who favours us with her company to dinner is waiting for me in the next room.

“My sister is just returned from some business she has been doing for me, she would desire her duty if she was here, but there are two pair of stairs between us. I hope you got well home from Canterbury. We propose going away on Thursday. This day we shall spend in Town, to-morrow we return to our Box in Kentish Town, and then away to Yorkshire, where if you have any commands, pray let me have the pleasure of executing them. Madam Sally and I will write our travels as we go. Mr. Montagu desires his best respects to you, my Father and my brothers. My duty and love attends them as proper. I will in all good say as far and as much for my sister as myself, so accept the same compliment from her, and believe me, dear Madam, with a grateful sense of all your and my Father’s goodness and care,

“Your dutiful, affectionate and

obliged Daughter,

“Eliza Montagu.

“P.S.—I design to write to my Father next post. The Duke of Argyll[230] is said to be relenting upon the subject of places of which several are spoken of for him, and that he goes to Flanders. Some report that his eldest daughter[231] is to be Duchess of Greenwich at his death.”

[229] Mr. Montagu’s sister.

[230] 2nd Duke of Argyll and Duke of Greenwich. Military commander, statesman, and orator; born 1680, died 1743.

[231] Caroline, made Baroness Greenwich.

It will be seen by this letter that Sarah Robinson was acting chaperone, which the odd etiquette of those days exacted, it being then not thought bon ton for a newly married couple to be alone on their honeymoon!

MR. ROBINSON

The following letter from Mr. Robinson to his new son-in-law shows the happiness of the newly married couple:—

“Dear Sir,

“Don’t be apprehensive upon seeing this, that added to the impertinence you have already received from my hands, you are to have that of a troublesome correspondent; I can assure you it is the way I am the least troublesome to my friends; the truth of the matter is that I know I should never forgive myself if I should be wanting to you in any respect, even though it should amount to no more than a point of ceremony. As I think that no letters that come from your wife ought to be a secret to you, I cannot help telling you I saw one from her last week to her Mother, and another to her brother Tom, so full of the happiness of her present condition, and the prospect of her future, that I begin to be suspicious that they are designed as a reproof to me for the deplorable state under which she passed twenty-three years. I shall not forgive her till I know she uses all her endeavours to give to you an equal share, which I think you have at least a right to. We hope you enjoy the benefit of this fine weather upon the road, and will arrive safe and well at Allerthorpe before this to the satisfaction of my good friend Mr. Carter.[232] Our compliments attend your family and his.

“I am your most obedient Servant,

“Matt. Robinson.

“Horton, August ye 15, 1742.”

This was addressed—

“To Edward Montagu, Esqr.,

“at Allerthorpe Hall,[233]

“near Burrough Bridge,

“Yorkshire.

“Member of Parliament.”

[232] Mr. Carter was steward and agent to Mr. Montagu; a most worthy man.

[233] Allerthorpe, being close to Burneston, the Robinsons were well acquainted with the neighbourhood.

DR. CONYERS MIDDLETON

The following letter of Dr. Conyers Middleton to Elizabeth on her marriage is of interest:—

“Hildersham,[234] near Linton, August 17, 1742.

“Madam,

“I should have paid my compliments earlier on the joyful occasion of your marriage if I had known whither to address them; for your brother’s letter which informed me, happened to lie several days at Cambridge, before it came to my hands. My congratulation, however, though late, wants nothing of the warmth with which the earliest was accompanied; for I must beg leave to assure you that I take a real part in the present joy of your family, and feel a kind of paternal[235] pleasure, from the good fortune of one whose amiable qualities I have been a witness of from her tenderest years, and to whom I have ever been wishing and ominating everything that is good. I have always expected from your singular merit and accomplishments that they would recommend you in proper time to an advantageous and honourable match; and was assured from your prudence that it would never suffer you to accept any which was not worthy of you; so that it gives me not only the greatest pleasure on your account, but a sort of pride also on my own, to see my expectations so fully answered, and my predictions of you so literally fulfilled. As all conjugal happiness is founded on mutual affection, cherished by good sense, so you have the fairest prospect of it now open before you, by your marriage with a gentleman, not only of figure and fortune, but of great knowledge and understanding, who values you, not so much for the charms of your person, as the beauties of your mind, which will always give you the surest hold of him, as they will every day be gathering strength, whilst the others are daily losing it. But I should make a sad compliment to a blooming bride if I meant to exclude her person from contributing any part to her nuptial happiness; that is far from my meaning; and yours Madam, I am sure, could not fail of having its full share in acquiring your husband’s affection. What I would inculcate therefore, is only this: that though beauty has the greatest force to conciliate affection, yet it cannot preserve it without the help of the mind; and whatever the perfection of the one may be, the accomplishments of the other will always be the more amiable; and in the married state especially, will be found after all, the most solid and lasting basis of domestic comfort. But I am using the privilege of my years, and instead of compliments, giving lessons to one who does not want them. I shall only add, therefore, my repeated wishes for all the joy that matrimony can give you and Mr. Montagu, to whose worthy character I am no stranger, though I have not the honour to be known to him in person, and am with sincere respect,

“Madam,

“Your faithful friend,

and obedient servant,

“Conyers Middleton.

“P.S.—My wife charges me with her compliments and best wishes of all happiness and prosperity in your new state of life.”

[234] Hildersham, near Cambridge, built by Dr. Middleton. The poet Gray was a constant visitor there.

[235] It will be remembered Dr. Middleton’s first wife was Mrs. Drake, née Morris, Elizabeth’s maternal grandmother.

ALLERTHORPE

Here I make some extracts from Mrs. Montagu’s second letter to her beloved Duchess of Portland, dated August 21, 1742, from Allerthorpe, Mr. Montagu’s Yorkshire seat—

“On Tuesday I arrived at this place, not tired with my journey, but satisfied therewith. As far as Nottingham you will travel very soon, and then as far as Doncaster, therefore it will be but impertinent to give you an account of the road or anything concerning it. I will only tell your Grace I saw Nottingham Castle,[236] where there is beauty and magnificence worthy the wisdom and the riches of your ancestors. As we came nearer to this place, the country grew more wild, but not less beautiful; we came through some rivers that charmed me beyond all things.... We have at present very fine weather, the sun gilds every object, and I assure you it is the only fine thing we have here, for the house is old and not handsome: it is very convenient, and the situation extremely pleasant. We found the finest peaches, nectarines and apricots, that I have ever eat: your Grace will think I mean turnips, carrots and parsnips; but really and truly they are apricots, peaches and nectarines. To-morrow, I believe will be one of the happiest days I ever spent, I am to go to fetch my brothers from school. How delightful will be such a meeting after so many years’ separation.”

[236] Belonged to the Dukes of Newcastle, the duchess’s ancestors. Destroyed by mob in Reform riots, 1835.

LITTLE BROTHERS

These were her three youngest brothers, William, John, and Charles, who had been five years at school at Scorton, without coming home. Mr. Montagu, eager to gratify his bride’s love of her family, had allowed her to have them to stay, and ever afterwards he was their constant friend and benefactor. Further on in the letter she states that it took them “six days with very easy stages” to reach Allerthorpe from London! In the next letter she states that her little brothers being “sensible, good-natured, and sober, the most affectionate towards each other of any children of their age I ever saw: they have very good characters at school, both as to their learning and behaviour; but the quintessence of perfection is my brother Jack.”

At the end of this letter she mentions her old friend, Miss Cally Scott, of Scott’s Hall, was going to be married to Mr. Best, a man of fortune.

THE REV. MATTHEW ROBINSON

On August 25 she writes to her cousin, Mrs. Freind—

“Dear Cousin, I am ashamed I have not before answered your kind letter and returned thanks for those good wishes of whose accomplishments I hope there is the fairest prospect: I think we increase in esteem without decaying in complaisance, and I hope we shall always remember Mr. Freind and the fifth of August with thankfulness. I am infinitely obliged to Mr. Freind for not letting the knot be tied by the hands of an ordinary bungler; he was very good in coming to London on purpose, but he did not give his last benediction, but stole away before my sister or any of us were come downstairs.

“We arrived at this place after a journey of six days through fine countries, where the riches of Harvest promised luxury to the Landlord, plenty to the farmer and food to the labourer. Here we are situated in a fine country, and Mr. Montagu has the pleasure of calling many hundred pounds a year about his house his own, without any person’s property interfering with it: I think it is the prettiest estate, and in the best order I ever saw; large and beautiful meadows for riding or walking in, with a pretty river[237] winding about them, upon which we shall sometimes go out in boats.

“In this parish Dr. Robinson,[238] our general Uncle, has founded a school and an Alms House where the young are taught industry, the old, content: I propose to visit the Alms House very soon. I saw the old women with the Bucks upon their sleeves at Church, and it gave me pleasure. Heraldry[239] does not always descend with such honour, as when Charity leads her by the hand. Our uncle did this good while he was alive; it was not that Soul thrift that would save itself with another’s money.

“I hope you will forgive my not having written to you before, but a new family, and a new place must take up one’s time. Our house here is tolerably convenient, and that is all that can be said for it. We have a better which I hope you will often see in Berkshire.[240] Pray when you and Mr. Freind have a leisure hour, dispose of it in writing to me. Mr. Montagu has an estate near Rokeby, from whence I intend to visit Sir Thomas Robinson’s[241] fine park of which I hear great praising.

“I am, dear Madam,

“Your most affectionate cousin,

and obedient, humble servant,

“Elizabeth Montagu.”

[237] The Swale.

[238] The Rev. Matthew Robinson founded these charities at Burneston, York, where he was Vicar for forty years.

[239] The Hospitallers wear a purple gown with a gold buck on the shoulder, the Robinson crest.

[240] Sandleford Priory, Berks.

[241] Mrs. Freind’s brother. See note on Rokeby at the end of this book.

FIRST LETTER TO MR. MONTAGU

Mr. Montagu having left Elizabeth for a few days for business at Newcastle, she writes to him—

“How very fortunate are those few who in the Person they love, meet with the principles of Honour and Virtue to guide them through the World, but this, my fortune, so happy and so rare, shall not breed in me that insolence of opinion that I deserve it, but I will still look up to Heaven and you with gratitude and continual acknowledgments.”

This sufficiently indicates the happiness and mutual confidence reigning between the newly wedded pair.

On October 2 Dr. Conyers Middleton wrote Mrs. Montagu a long letter, mainly a dissertation on marriage and its duties. He alludes to his pleasure at her having her three youngest brothers with her, calling them “enfans trouvés by a sister unknown to them,” and he adds—

“I shall always think myself particularly interested in their success, for they were all born under my roof, which may, one day perhaps, derive an accession of fame from that circumstance. If I should live to see any of them in the University, it would be a pleasure to me to do everything in my power that might be of use to their improvement.”

This shows that Mrs. Robinson had been accustomed to stay with her mother, the first Mrs. Middleton, for her latter frequent confinements, though Elizabeth and some of the elder sons were born at York. Dr. Middleton begs Mr. and Mrs. Montagu to pay him a visit at Cambridge on their return to London, and states, “This university had the honour of Mr. Montagu’s education, and claims some share in yours.”

PÈRE LE COURAYER —
WORKSOP

Being detained by business in the north, Mrs. Montagu wrote to Mrs. Donnellan to send her a winter mantle and muff, and as prices of those times may interest my readers, I will mention the blue velvet mantle cost £5, the ermine muff one guinea. In Mrs. Donnellan’s letter the Père Courayer sends his compliments and good wishes to Mrs. Montagu. As he figures much in later letters, I give a short sketch of his biography. Peter Francis le Courayer was born in 1681, and was a Normandy ecclesiastic; although a Roman Catholic, he had the courage to defend the ordinances of the English Church, for which the Pope censured him severely. He left France for England, and went to Oxford, where he lodged with Mrs. Chenevix, the famous toy-woman. He was made LL.D., and translated Father Paul’s “History of the Council of Trent,” also Sleidan’s “History of the Reformation.” He was well known to Horace Walpole. He died in 1776. His pet-name was “the little Père.” In a letter of the duchess’s of October 9 from Welbeck, where she was visiting her mother, Lady Oxford, she says—

“Mamma was so obliging last week as to carry us to Worksop Manor,[242] the Duke of Norfolk’s.[243] The Designs are noble and grand, they have made great plantations. The gardener told me he had planted last year 300,000 Forest trees, besides sowing three score bushels of seeds. The approach to the house is fine. I don’t like the house though it was built by Bess of Harwicke, whose wisdom I have in great reverence: the best apartment is up two pair of stairs, the additional offices lately built are exceedingly good, the Dairy much prettier than that we saw at Richmond. The servant told us the Duchess gave the chief direction for the building, had planted those woods, had drawn the plan for that piece of water of 120 acres. The Duke’s time is chiefly occupied with drawing plans for Bee hives! With difficulty I kept my countenance....

[242] Worksop was burnt down in 1761. The duke here mentioned built 500 rooms to it.

[243] Edward Howard, 16th Duke of Norfolk.

FRENCH ECONOMY

“We were on Monday at Kiveton, which is by much the finest house I ever saw, and the best furnished. The Park and views from it are very beautiful.”

From Allerthorpe the Montagus visited Mr. Buckley[244] at Bishop’s Dale, near which place Mr. Robinson in former days had lived in the shooting season. Elizabeth had not been there for fifteen years. She describes to the Duchess of Portland the country—

[244] Mr. Buckley had been a second father to the three little Robinson boys, who spent their holidays with him.

“I had been three days upon an expedition to a wild part of the country called the Dales, where Nature’s works are not delicate, pretty and mignonne, but grand, sublime and magnificent. Vast mountains, rocks and cascades, and rapid rivers make the country beautiful and surprising. We went to a farm abounding in wonders, a high hill with some hanging wood before it, behind it a large and rapid river with the prospect of a huge cascade, an old Castle and a Church. Some houses in view take from it the honour of absolute solitude: a range of rocks appears like the ruins of an old town on the other side of the river. In a cottage built in this charming place, lives an old woman, who has attained to an hundred and four years, and for this long lease of life, has not exchanged the best comfort. She enjoys good health, tolerable strength, has her hearing perfect, and her sight very well: is cheerful and has not lost her reason, but answers with sense and spirit, her hair is of a fine black: she was knitting when we went to her, and has promised to knit me a pair of stockings in a month.

“My Father had a house in this part of the world for the summer sports of shooting and fishing, so that the old woman and I had been well acquainted 15 years ago, and she told me laughing she imagined I did not expect to see her alive at this time....

“Tell Père Courayer[245] my head is as much troubled with chimeras and giddiness as ever. I fear he is too fond of variety in life to be a friend to Matrimony. The merriest man I have seen in Yorkshire is a Frenchman, who came here for religion, and has had the needful of life added unto him; he has a little estate, and lives with the mountain nymphs, Liberty and Health, in the Dales; he amuses himself with singing to his grandchildren, mending his clothes, and making soup: his grandson eats soup with him, and his next darling, le petit chat, helps him off with the Bouillie. He can not only make a fine dish of the cabbage, but of the snails and caterpillars, and what we call the unprofitable vermin that live upon it! There was not a creature in Noah’s Ark that would not be received into his larder, for a Frenchman is seldom so proud of stomach as to term anything unclean....

“Mr. Montagu desires his compliments to your grace, and my Lord Duke; we talk of you and drink your health as often as you can expect from sober people. Had I married a Tory fox-hunter he might have toasted you in a longer draught; but for temperate Whigs we do you reason.

“I am, my dear Lady Duchess’s

most grateful, and most affectionate,

“E. Montagu.”

[245] He had expressed a fear that matrimony would spoil her philosophy.

WHIG PRINCIPLES

Mr. Montagu was a Whig, but, as his wife states, a moderate one. His political conduct as Member for Huntingdon was irreproachably upright in a most venal age. What respect his wife already had for his judgment is shown in a letter from her to him in London, whither he had gone for the meeting of Parliament on October 16, enclosing her reply to Dr. Conyers Middleton’s letter, desiring him, if he did not approve of it, to burn it, and she would write another. The following passage speaks volumes for Mrs. Montagu’s humility (though she was so universally praised):—

“The letter directed to Dr. Middleton, if you approve, I would beg the favour of you to frank, and send to the post, but I should be glad if you would first take the trouble to read it, for it is with some uneasiness I correspond with the very wise. I think an understanding of a middle size has a great deal of trouble in conversation between reaching to those above it, and stooping to those below it.”

She signs—

“My Dearest, your very affectionate

and faithful wife.”

His letters to her begin generally “My Dearest Angel,” or “My Dearest Life.” His writing is most characteristic, a clear, firm hand, easily read, much information compressed into a few words, and filled with most affectionate expressions.

Elizabeth was now in an interesting condition, and as Dr. Sandys forbade her travelling for a time, she and Sarah remained at Allerthorpe. The joy of Mr. Montagu was extreme at the idea of an heir, which was shared by his sister, Mrs. Medows, and all his relations. Elizabeth, though pleased at the prospect, was very souffrante, and bored by an inactive life, yet submitted to it with a good grace.

At this period her brother Robert was made captain of an East India vessel travelling to China, to his family’s satisfaction.

DR. MEAD

The Duchess of Portland writes from London and says—

“I was extremely well entertained the other day with seeing Dr. Mead’s[246] curiosities. They are much finer than Sir Hans Sloane’s. In particular he has a mummy much finer preserved. It is the custom to gild their faces, so that all the features are painted over the gold.... Of all the things, except the pictures, which are exquisitely fine, none pleases me more than a mask in bronze, which is exceeding fine workmanship, and has upon it the symbols of all the gods. The crown of vine for Bacchus, a circle of iron for Pluto, the ears of Pan, and the beard of waves for Neptune.”

[246] Dr. Richard Mead, born 1673, died 1754. Celebrated physician and antiquarian.

We gain a peep at French fashions of the day in this paragraph, in a letter of Mrs. Donnellan’s—

“Mrs. Rook, an acquaintance of mine, is just come from Paris, and is come without a hoop, and tells me, except in their high dress, nobody wears one. Their sacks are made proportionably narrow and short, opened before with a petticoat and trimmed, and with a stiff quilted petticoat under: the only reasonable thing I have heard from France a great while, and the only fashion I should wish to follow.”

THE MUFF —
THE HANOVER TROOPS

It would be impossible to include in this work all the letters between Mr. Montagu and his wife, but the following shall be given in its entirety to show his style:—

“November, 1742.

“My Dearest Life,

“Yesterday as soon as it came to hand, j[247] sent yours to my sister. I have not seen her but am sure she thinks herself much obliged, as all must do who have the happiness of a correspondence with you, whose letters not only please by their wit and vivacity, but are full of sincerity and friendship, of virtue and goodness, which you set in so true and amiable a light, that if those that read them grow not wiser and better, it is none of your fault.

“I rejoice at the good account you give of your health, that you suffer less and less every day. I wish j could prevent your suffering at all. The prudent care you take obliges me in the highest degree, and j hope with the assistance of your happy and chearful disposition of mind, preserve you from any misfortune. Though j most eagerly long to see you, j would have you run no hazard, and will content myself till we break up, when j hope neither bad roads nor bad weather shall hinder me coming to you: till then j desire you to spend your time as agreeably as you can, and am glad Mrs. Yorke and Mrs. Clayton are to make you a visit.

“I waited on Mrs. Donnellan this morning, yesterday was not convenient for her, and could not do it before. I paid her the bill which j send enclos’d and a guinea more for your muffe, so that out of ye six guineas j shall owe you five shillings. She expressed herself much obliged, and desired her compliments to you, and both to you and Miss Salley.

“Your Father went out of Town last Friday. The evening before j spent with him, Dr. Audley and your three brothers,[248] who were all well. I suppose you will soon have your instructions about your children[249] at Scorton. You do well in letting them take leave of those they are so much obliged to, and when they come from Burton, if they spend the rest of their time with you, there will be no harm in it, nor will it hinder them in their learning, as they are designed for another school.

“My good friend at Theakstone[250] sent me his brother’s letter, and j received another this afternoon from the Admiralty Office, which j will send you in a post or two, that you may communicate it to his relations. I shall do all j can to serve him, and after j have made inquiry about the manner of doing it, will write to his Father.

“On Thursday last a motion was made for a secret Committee, and the next day for the place Bill, both which succeeded as was expected, the first was flung out by a majority of 66, the latter by a majority of 25! The Debates were very warm, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer[251] was terribly roasted, but all to no purpose, for after what has happened, he and such as he, who have acted so perfidious a part, will be sure to go all lengths. On Monday we expect to have the consideration of the 16,000 Hanover troops[252] come before us, and to be carried through, a worse thing than any that was ever attempted in the time of Sir R(obert) W(alpole).

“I hope this will find dear Miss Salley recovered, pray present her with my best compliments, and believe me to be,

“With the most tender regard,

“My Dearest’s most obliged and

affectionate Husband,

“Edw. Montagu.”

[247] Mr. Montagu, like the Duke of Portland, for years used “j” for “I,” presumably an old custom.

[248] Matthew, Thomas, and Morris.

[249] Her three youngest brothers, John, William, and Charles.

[250] Young Mr. Edward Carter, son of Mr. Montagu’s head agent. He was petitioning for his brother, Mr. William Carter, to have a company of Marines, he being in that service through Mr. Montagu’s influence.

[251] Mr. Sandys.

[252] These men to receive British pay.

ORATORIOS

Mrs. Montagu writes to the Duchess of Portland—

“I am now in the highest content: my little brothers are to go to Westminster, as soon as the holidays are over, and what adds still to my pleasure in this, is that Jacky’s going is owing to Mr. Montagu’s intercession for him with my Father, who did not design his going to Westminster till next year: our youngest,[253] I believe, is to go out with our new Captain....

“I am pretty well, but I do not like to sit still like Puss in the corner all the winter to watch what may prove a mouse, though I am no mountain. I cannot boast of the numbers that adorn our fireside, my sister and I are the principal figures; besides there is a round table, a square screen, some books and a work basket, with a smelling bottle, when morality grows musty, or a maxim smells too strong, as sometimes they will in ancient books.

“I had a letter to-day from Mr. Montagu, in which he flatters me with the hopes of seeing him at Christmas.”

[253] Charles to accompany his brother Robert.

In a letter of Mrs. Pendarves of December 9 from Clarges Street, where she was living, she tells Mrs. Montagu, “Handel is to have six oratorios in Lent. The operas are dull, the plays for one part well acted, ten are wretched, but Garrick is excellent.”

HER HUSBAND’S CHARACTER

About this time Elizabeth writes a long letter to the Rev. William Freind, her cousin, portions of which I give. She says—

“The last and best good office you did me, I believe, will claim my thanks to the longest day of my life.... I know it will please you to hear that I have, every day since you made me a wife, had more reason to thank you for the alteration. I have the honour and happiness to be made the guest of a heart furnished with the best and greatest virtues, honesty, integrity and universal benevolence, with the most engaging affection to every one who particularly belongs to him. No desire of power, but to do good, no use of it but to make happy. I cannot be so unjustly diffident as to doubt of the duration of my happiness, when I see the author of it dispensing content to all his dependants, and should he ever cease to use me with more care and generosity and affection than I deserve, I should be the first person he has ever treated in this manner. Since I married I have never heard him say an ill-natured word to any one, or have I received one matrimonial frown. His generous affection in loving all my friends, and desiring every opportunity for my conversing with them, is very obliging to me. We have often pleased ourselves with the hopes of seeing you frequently in Dover Street this winter; but alas, I am a prisoner at Allerthorpe, and the worst of prisoners confined by infirmities and ill health.

“Mr. Montagu went to Parliament ten days ago to my mortification, but with my approbation. I desired him to go, and half wished him to stay! I knew his righteous star would rule his destiny, so I helped him on with honour’s boots, and let him go without murmuring. He left me my sister, and where she is there will happiness be also.... We have not been troubled with any visitor since Mr. M. went away, and could you see how ignorant, how awkward, how absurd, and how uncouth the generality of people are in this country, you would look upon this as a piece of good fortune....