1758 commences with a letter on March 2, from Mrs. Montagu to her husband, who had left London for Sandleford. In it she says—
“I shall enclose an Advertizer in which you will find a curious article from Warsaw. It astonished all Europe to find the King of Prussia had got copies of the plans of the Imperial Court and Dresden, the means by which he obtained them are now discover’d. To this contrivance his Prussian Majesty and his Country owe their present being, but one cannot envy the state of a King if it is necessary to take such means for preservation as would startle a vulgar man of Honour. To get false keys to cabinets is but a poor low trick, and it is very strange to see a hero guilty of burglary, but as Mr. Pope observes, ‘the story of the great is generally a tale that blends their glory with their shame.’ Mr. Stanhope call’d on me as I was writing, and I am to dine with my brother Morris, so must abridge my letter. I can’t hear what pass’d in the House of Lords yesterday in Delany’s trial.... I was at the Oratorio last night, where I heard the Dublin man-of-war was sent to Mr. Boscawen to supply the loss of the Invincible. I am to be at Lady Hillsborough’s assembly to-night.”
The Delany trial had lasted for nearly ten years. It was on account of Dr. Delany, in inadvertence, having burnt a paper of importance belonging to his first wife. Sometimes it appeared to be at an end, but it was as often renewed. At last, on March 5, Lord Mansfield,[180] after an hour and a half’s speech, decided in favour of Delany. The cost of the suit exceeded the disputed sum, but the relief to the good dean and his wife on its decision balanced everything.
[180] “Silver-tongued Murray.”
On March 9 Mrs. Montagu writes—
“I met Mrs. Delany to-day at Mrs. Donnellan’s, and she is very happy, the Irish decree is reversed, tho’ even as matters stand, they will have little left when the £7000 is paid. Lady Frances Williams is still in grief for her husband,[181] who in his madness has writt (sic) letters to half the crowned heads in Europe. I am going to the play to-night, to-morrow I shall give up the Oratorio to stay with Lady Frances Williams as comforter.
“That bright luminary of the Church, Dr. Clayton, Bishop of Clogher, is dead.... The Bishop has left his wife his whole fortune, which is very considerable. It is thought we shall not send troops to the King of Prussia, but whether he will accept of our money[182] we shall not know till the return of the Express. The King of Pegu has wrote a letter to the King on a gold plate, and the stops are made with rubies; I should be glad of his correspondence tho’ his letters had no wit in them.”
[181] Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, poet and writer, had been attacked with madness.
[182] Another letter says the King of Prussia will not accept money.
Emin, anxious for re-employment, now addressed Mr. Pitt. The letter was addressed to Mr. Pitt, Secretary of State.
“Sir,
“Though I never had the honour to be known to you, yet I have the boldness to write. I have been over a great variety of the world, and have seen much people, but I wanted to see men; for the Design of my Travel was knowledge, and I thought knowledge of real men was better than books, therefore I have turned my Eyes upon all ways and at last had the great happyness of seeing and hearing you in that potent House of Commons, and there I discovered like the light breaking upon me, what my Friends had often told me, of your great love to your Country and your wise Eloquence that conquers more than the Sword of a Hero. I own I grew a little envious; for I thought no man loved his country better than I have mine, but I confess it that I am nothing, tho’ I have been sailor, porter, slave, and suffered everything in every shape, to make my country what you have made yours. This is my small merit and the only recommendation I can make to you. Sir, I will observe that a cloudy day in winter is light enough to see what is about us and to serve common business, but permitt me to say no man is happy nor in good spirit untill the sun shines out. Then there is joy upon all men’s faces. Thus it is, great Sir, with me in this country, I along with the rest in this happy land, find Benefit of the Light you give us all by your great wisdom of governing, but I am not happy, and my Life is dead untill I see the Vezirazam of England.
“If you do me this high Honour, you will see a poor soldier whose only Fortune is a character with all people which I have been amongst. I was a Porter for learning not for livlihood, and I was honest in that low way. This is known when by the goodness of great Souls I was raised from that. I was not idle nor ingreatefull; I have been high and low and I was not bad. When I served the last campaign in Germany, all the officers, both English and the German, will say more of me than I dare think of myself. I have, Sir, in my studies for my country, found the way to advance it, and do some service to your noble Nation at the same time. My humble plan for this good design I will do myself the Honour to show to you and be instructed by your great Wisdom and to give me new rights in this great matter. My scheme has two Qualities which make some laugh at me, others seem to like me for it. Whatever it is, it is little without your assistance. If you approve of it, I laugh at those that laugh at me, at any rate I am resolved and nothing shall stop me but Death, which is common to everybody, and an honest Heart need not fear any. I am, with the greatest Respect and Veneration,
“In the Month of March, 1758,
“To the R. H. William Pitt, etc., etc.”
In her next letter to her husband Mrs. Montagu says—
“Emin dines with Lady Medows to-day, if joy can give appetite, he will make a good meal, for by the solicitation of Lady Yarmouth,[183] Mr. Pitt has received him, and promised to see what can be done for him, as great minds are akin. Mr. Pitt was much pleased with him. Emin repeated to me his discourse to Mr. Pitt, and it was full of Asiatick fire and figure—if it did not touch the man, it must the Orator. Mr. Pitt made him great compliments. I hope they will be realized, and they surely will if Lady Yarmouth continues her desire to serve him.”
[183] Amelia S. de Walmoden, created 1740, Baroness Yarmouth, mistress of George II.
Emin was sent to join the English army under the Duke of Marlborough in their attempted invasion of France at St. Malo, and wrote on June 11 to say that “Captain Howe had burnt 73 ships and from 10 to 16 guns, besides small vessels.” After this expedition, Emin joined the army with the King of Prussia.
Writing to Dr. Stillingfleet on June 13, after alluding to the attack on St. Malo, Mrs. Montagu says—
“So much for war and war’s alarms; as to our civil occurences, they have been so boisterously carried I need not change the tone of my narrative; the Judges, the Lord Keeper, the Chief Justice, and the late Lord Chancellor gave their opinions against the Habeas Corpus bill.[184] Lord Temple, much in wrath, insulted the Judges in some of his questions; Lord Lyttelton warmly and sharply reproved him upon which words rose high, the House of Lords interfered. The last day of this bill, Lord Mansfield and Lord Hardwicke[185] spoke so full to the matter, even Tory Lords, and these most violent in their wishes for it, declared they were convinced the new bill was dangerous to liberty in many respects, in many absurd; so that had there been a division there would not have been four votes for it, but Mr. Pitt’s Party discreetly avoided a division. This affair has not set the legislative wisdom of the House of Commons in a very high light, but the great Mr. Beckford,[186] whom no argument can convince, no defeat make ashamed, nor mistake make diffident, did on the motion for a vote of credit stand up in the House of Commons and say he would not oppose that measure, as he had an opinion of the two Commoners in the administration, but in the Peers that composed it, he had no confidence, and ran in foul abuse of them and then ended with a severe censure of the House of Lords in general. Lord Royston[187] answered him that this was unparliamentary where personal, and indecent in regard to the House of Peers in general, to which Mr. Pitt answered with great heat that he was sorry to hear such language from a gentleman who was to be a Peer; he set forth the great importance and dignity of Mr. Beckford personally, and above all the dignity and importance of an alderman, concluding it was a title he should be more proud of than that of a Peer. This speech has enraged the Lords, offended the Commons, and the City ungratefully say was too gross. Those who wish well to this country, and consequently to a union of parties at this juncture, are sorry for these heats; it is well if they do not unsolder the Union.... I began Islington Waters to-day.... You make a false judgment of your own letters. I will allow you to say it gives you some trouble to write them, but pray do not assert that I have not great pleasure in reading them; it becomes not a descendant of the great Bishop Stillingfleet[188] to tell a fib.”
[184] This was occasioned by a gentleman having been impressed for service in the Navy and illegally detained prisoner. The motion was to administer the Act more decisively.
[185] Philip Yorke, 1st Earl of Hardwicke, born 1690, died 1764.
[186] Alderman Beckford, a remarkable city man and father of the great millionaire and author.
[187] Son of the Earl of Hardwicke, eventually 2nd Earl.
[188] Edward Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, author of “Eirenicon,” born 1635, died 1699.
BENJAMIN STILLINGFLEET.
Mention has been made of Mr. John Rogers, first cousin on his mother’s side to Mr. Montagu, also of Mr. Montagu becoming his trustee in 1746, when he was pronounced a lunatic. At first it seems that he suffered from epileptic fits, which increased to lunacy, but of a mild order. On June 23 Mr. Edward Steuart wrote to say Mr. Rogers was seriously ill, and his death expected hourly; he was being attended by Dr. Askew, then a famous north-country doctor, and several surgeons, for a mortification in his leg.[189] On the 24th he expired, in his seventy-fourth year, at his house in Pilgrim Street, Newcastle-on-Tyne. Mr. Montagu was his principal heir. Mrs. Montagu, in a letter respecting the estate of East Denton, etc., wrote in later days, “Mr. M. has half the estate by descent, a share by testamentary disposition, and a part by purchase.” Mr. Rogers’ lunacy seems to have been made worse by the death of his wife, Anne Delaval, daughter of Sir John Delaval, whom he married in 1713, and who died in 1722–23. His will was made in 1711, and a codicil added 1715, in which he left his property, after the death of his mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Rogers, to his wife, and failing issue by her, to the Montagus and Creaghs, all first cousins. Mary Creagh had married Dominick Archdeacon, and her sister Margaret, Anthony Isaacson; Mr. Montagu’s two brothers, Crewe and John, being dead, the only other heir was Jemima, Mrs. Medows, afterwards Lady Medows. The estates were very large; besides Denton, with its coal-mines, houses in Newcastle, and in Bramston, Lamesley, Harburn, Parkhead, and Jarrow, in the county of Durham; lands at Hindley, Sugley, Throckley, Newbiggin, Scotswood, etc., etc.; collieries and saltpans in Cullercoats, Monkseaton, Whitley, and Hartley, etc., etc. Mrs. Montagu was at Ealing with the Bothams when the express came. She writes to her husband, “It gives me pleasure to think I shall see you with unblemished integrity and unsoiled with unjust gain, enjoying that affluence many purchase with the loss of honesty and honour.”
[189] Mr. Rogers’ leg swelling, the doctors feared dropsy, and made him drink two bottles of Hock daily.
Her brother Morris fetched her from Ealing in order to accompany her husband to the north. Mr. Rogers was embalmed and buried on July 5 at St. Nicholas’ church in Newcastle. The Montagus did not start for the North till Tuesday, August 1. A letter from Dr. Monsey of June 26, while staying with the Garricks at Hampton, congratulates Mrs. Montagu on her inheritance, but scolds her for leaving her friends to go North. This contains the first mention of his acquaintance with the Garricks, who were great friends of Dr. Monsey’s, and he says, “Mr. Garrick[190] was very near in a apoplectic fit when he found you were gone.... Mrs. Garrick[191] also abus’d herself for not pressing you to return to the Temple[192] and enjoy another half-hour.”
[190] David Garrick, born 1716, died 1779; famous actor.
[191] Eva Marie Veilchen, or Viegel, known as “la Violette,” once an opera danseuse.
[192] The temple at Hampton, on the lawn by the river, still existent; once held Roubilliac’s bust of Shakespeare.
The next letter is the first I possess to Elizabeth Carter, whose learned translation of Epictetus was first printed in April of 1758. Miss Carter, or Mrs. Carter (as courtesy termed her), was the daughter of a clergyman, the Rev. Nicholas Carter, D.D., Perpetual Curate of Deal, Kent, where he resided; he had been twice married, and Elizabeth was his child by his first marriage. To his children by both marriages Mr. Carter gave an excellent education, and at an early age Elizabeth studied Latin, Greek, and eventually Hebrew. She was a proficient in French, and taught herself Italian, Spanish, and German; later in life Portuguese and Arabic were added. Her application to study produced severe headaches, principally brought on by drinking green tea and taking snuff to keep herself awake. It appears that Mrs. Montagu had met her in 1757, but Mrs. Carter had rather avoided such a brilliant acquaintance, being herself of a most humble and unambitious character, despite her learning. From the following portions of Mrs. Montagu’s letter we learn that Miss Carter had been paying her a visit:—
“Hill Street, July 6, 1758.
“What must my dear Miss Carter think of the signs of brutal insensibility which I have given in not answering her obliging letter? As my heart has had no share in the omission, I have no apologies to make for it; no day has passed since you left us in which I have not thought of you with esteem and affection; I look upon my introduction to your acquaintance as one of the luckiest incidents of my life, if I can contrive to improve it into friendship; this is, and has been the state of my mind and I am proud of it: as to my conduct in the commencement of our correspondence, I am ashamed of it. I was ill when I received your polite and agreeable letter. I have ever since been drinking Islington waters, from which I receive some benefit, but with this inconvenience, that I am unable to write till late at night, and even then not without headache. The death of a relation of Mr. Montagu’s in the North, which happened about a fortnight ago, with a large accession of fortune, has brought me the usual accompaniment of riches, a great deal of business, a great deal of hurry, and a great many ceremonious engagements. The ordering funeral ceremonies, putting a large family in mourning, preparing for a journey of 280 miles, and receiving and paying visits on this event, has made me the most busy miserable creature in the world. As the gentleman from whom Mr. Montagu inherits had been mad above 40 years and almost bed-ridden the last ten, I had always designed to be rather pleased and happy when he resigned his unhappy being and his good estate. I thought in fortune’s as in folly’s cup, still laughed the bubble joy; but though this is a bumper, there is not a drop of joy in it, nor so much as the froth of a little merriment. As soon as I rise in the morning, my housekeeper with a face full of care, comes to know what must be packed up for Newcastle; to her succeeds the Butler, who wants to know what wine, etc., is to be sent down; to them succeed men of business and money transactions; then the post brings twenty letters, which must be considered and some answered. In about a week we shall set out for the North, where I am to pass about three months in the delectable conversation of Stewards and managers of coal mines, and this by courtesy is called good fortune, and I am congratulated upon it by every one I meet; while in truth, like a poor Harlequin in the play, I am acting a silly part dans l’embarras des richesses. I would not have troubled you with this detail, but as part of my defence for not having written to you. I can perfectly understand why you were afraid of me last year, and I will tell you, for you won’t tell me; perhaps you have not told yourself. You had heard I set up as a wit, and people of real merit and sense hate to converse with witlings, as rich merchant-ships dread to engage privateers, they may receive damage and can get nothing but dry blows. I am happy you have found out I am not to be feared; I am afraid I must improve myself much before you will find I am to be loved. If you will give affection for affection tout simple I shall get it from you....”
Mention is made of Emin’s joining the King of Prussia, so he was known to Mrs. Carter, probably through Lord Lyttelton.
“I have the pleasure of hearing infinite commendations of Epictetus every day; from such as are worthy I taste a particular pleasure; from the multitude I take it in the gross, as it makes the sum of universal fame. Some praises I heard a few days ago at the Bishop of London’s I put in the first class.”
A most amusing letter from Lord Lyttelton to Dr. Monsey of July 24 now occurs, in which he returns a letter of Mrs. Montagu’s to the doctor, and summons him to a duel of words in her praise on Hagley turf. He teases Dr. Monsey with the idea of her going north, and advises him “to quit Lord Godolphin to follow love, follow him over the Cheviot Hills and down to the coal-pits at Newcastle.” After a great deal of chaff it ends, “Your most affectionate, humble Servant,—Lyttelton.”
This frightened Monsey, so on July 30 he writes from St. James’s and gives her strings of advice as to her health.
“I know the generality of Physicians will be cautious of blooding you, as being what is called nervous; I know nothing of nerves in the usual sense of the word, if indeed it has any precise meaning at all, it is used by the wise to quiet fools, and by fools to cover ignorance.” Then he adds in high fever she may be blooded, “5, 6 or 7 ounces, and if you flag a blister! will set matters to right. I say nothing of vomits, you can’t bear ’em, but you will gentle purging, your lemon mixture and contrayserva with a little saffron, be cautious of hot medicines, but do not wholly throw them away, as to spasms and cramps they are such Proteuses, one does not know how to catch or hold them, Valerian and Castor are in such reputation for vanquishing those Hussars.... Assafœtida you can’t bear, I wish you cou’d ... if feverish 3 spoonfuls of a decoction of the bark by boyling one ounce and half in a quart of water to a pint, and if your stomach flags put in from 5 to 10 drops of Elixir of Vitriol, so arm’d a common cold will not have courage to attack you.”
Finally he consigns her to a Dr. Ramsay’s care, should she require a physician!
On August 1 Mrs. Boscawen wrote from Hatchlands a long letter describing a visit to London. Her letters are sprightly, but too much larded with French words and phrases; the end is interesting—
“Enfin we left this dear odious London at 4 in the afternoon, chemin faisant I thought within myself, what if I should meet an express from America, and sure enough upon Cobham Common I met a post-chaise containing an officer, on him I star’d attentively, he star’d again; then he cry’d ‘Stop,’ I echoed ‘Stop,’ enfin I heard him ask ‘is Admiral Boscawen’s[193] lady in that coach?’ I make quick reply in the affirmative, and soon he produced himself at my coach window, and told me he was express sent by the Governor of Nova Scotia with news of our troops having taken the Forts of Beau Sejour and Chignecto, that he attended Admiral Boscawen for his orders twenty-three days ago, and left him in perfect health; he added that Admiral Boscawen had saved North America, where all our Colonies were in the utmost danger, as well as consternation till he came. Papers having been found which showed the French had a design to destroy Halifax, where the people imagin’d the French wou’d let in the Indians to massacre them.... He added, ‘Mr. Boscawen had taken, or as the phrase there is detain’d, six French merchant ships, and had blocaded Louisbourg.’”
She adds that her letters from her husband were with Mr. Cunninghame (the Officer), addressed to Mr. Cleveland, so she let them go, and sent on her black servant “Tom” next day to fetch them, and was going to Portsmouth to meet the Admiral, who thought he should soon be back.
[193] Admiral Boscawen, Major-General Amherst, and Brigadier-General Wolfe were combined in this campaign.
To return to the Montagus, they set out on August 1 for the North, and the first letter is from her to Lord Lyttelton on August 6, from Darlington—
“I am now about 25 miles short of Newcastle, having travelled above 250 miles since last Tuesday, and am better to-night than I was when I left London, so I will no longer endure that Dr. Monsey shall call me flimsy animal, puny insect, and such opprobrious names. I have had a surfeit of being in a post-chaise, that I have not made many excursions to see the fine places that lay in the road. In my way to Nottingham I went to see Sir Robert Clifton’s,[194] which appears to me for beauty of prospect equal to any place I ever saw. You are led to it from the turnpike road by a fine terrace on the side of the Trent. From a pavillion in the garden you see the town and Castle of Nottingham standing in the most smiling valley imaginable, in which the Trent serpentizes in a most beautiful manner.... I return your Lordship many thanks for having lent me so agreeable a companion as Antonio de Solis.”[195]
[194] Clifton Hall.
[195] “The History of the Conquest of Mexico,” by Antonio de Solis, a Spaniard; born 1610, died 1686.
To this Lord Lyttelton writes from Hagley on August 17, to say how glad he is she bore the journey so well, and the book entertained her. He had been drinking the waters at Sunning Hill, Berks, and found benefit. In the end of a long letter he writes, “Miss West and Captain[196] Hood will be as happy next Monday as mutual love can make them.” Miss West was Gilbert West’s sister, and her future husband, Captain Hood, became afterwards first Viscount Bridport. Mary West lived till 1786, but had no children. Lord Lyttelton alludes to her not being very young and “having no time to lose.”
[196] He became the celebrated Admiral Hood.
In another letter of August 22, written from Lindridge Vicarage, Worcestershire, where the Vicar, Mr. Meadowcourt, was a great friend of his Lordship’s, he writes—
“Tom and I came this afternoon to this sweet abode on our way to Hampton Court.... I told you in my last that Miss West was to be married to Captain Hood. Yesterday I had the pleasure to give her away to him at Hagley Church, after which we made a party to Mr. Shenstone’s[197] Arcadian Farm in very fine weather. The pastoral scene seemed to suit the occasion, and the bride owned to me that the cascades and rills never murmured so sweetly before.... The Dean[198] came to Hagley just time enough to give Hood and her the Nuptial Benediction.”
[197] William Shenstone, poet, born 1714, died 1763. His place, the “Leasowes,” adjoined Hagley.
[198] Charles Lyttelton, Dean of Exeter.
Further on, alluding to Mr. Montagu’s going north to take possession of the Rogers’ estate, he says—
“I suppose this will find you, like Guyon in Mammon’s Cave, got down the bottom of your mines,[199] and beholding your treasures with all the indifference that the Knight of temperance showed when the Demon of Riches revealed to him his hidden wealth. I paint to myself the wonder and admiration of the subterraneous inhabitants when you first came among them. Since the time that Proserpina was carried by her husband to his Stygian Empire, the infernal regions have not seen such a charming goddess. But is it sure they will let you return again to daylight? Upon my word I am afraid you are in some danger, as the Habeas Corpus Bill was thrown out; for all the women of the upper world will make interest with the Judges to let you stay there. Yet I verily think Baron Smith will release you in spite of them all, and even if he should fail, you have still a resource, Emin shall come back and deliver you from the Shades as Hercules did Alcestis.”
[199] Denton was, and is, full of coal-mines, copper, etc.
The best description of the Montagus’ arrival in the north is contained in a letter to Dr. Stillingfleet at “Robert Price’s, Esqre., Herefordshire,” sent open to Dr. Monsey, who forwards it with a few words of his own. It is dated, “Carville, ye 22nd day of August.” Carville Hall had been hired by them; it was situated at the end of the Roman Wall, called Wallsend. Portions of the letter I give—
“I desired Dr. Monsey to acquaint you with the death of Mr. Rogers. Many letters were to be written in order to procure him most pompous funeral obsequies, according to the fashion of Northumberland, as he was allied to the people of the first rank in the county, and they were all to be at the funeral.... The 7th of August at noon we got to Durham, and there began hurrys and ceremonies that have continued to this day, and I know not when I shall see a quiet hour. At Durham we were met by a great number of Mr. Rogers’ relations, and the Receivers and Agents of his estate, who attended in great form till we got to Newcastle, where we were to stay two or three days, with a relation of Mr. Montagu’s till our house was aired. We had not been an hour at Newcastle before we had the compliments of the principal persons of the Corporation and in the town. The next morning visits began.... We had fifteen people to dine here on Sunday, a family yesterday, people about business to-day, and three families to dine here to-morrow; in the morning I am up to the elbows in dusty parchments and accounts, after dinner as busy as an hostess of an Inn attending her guests, at night as sick as an invalid in Hospital, and these are the woes of wealth, and I am not une malade imaginaire.... Mr. Rogers’ family Mansion[200] having been uninhabited many years, was not fit for our reception, his house[201] in Newcastle was not agreeably situated for the summer, so we hired a house on the banks of the Tyne for the occasion. It is a very pretty house, extreamly well furnished and most agreeably situated, ships and other vessels from Newcastle are sailing by every hour. The river here is broad and of a good colour, and we have a fine reach of it: we have a very good turnpike road to the sea-side, where I should pass a great deal of my time if it was not all engross’d by company, but we are in the midst of the largest neighbourhood I ever saw, and some of these gentlemen by means of coal mines have immense fortunes.”
In a letter to her sister, Mrs. Scott, Newcastle is described.
“The town of Newcastle is horrible, like the ways of thrift it is narrow, dark and dirty, some of the streets so steep one is forced to put a dragchain on the wheels: the night I came I thought I was going to the center. The streets are some of them so narrow, that if the tallow chandler ostentatiously hangs forth his candles, you have a chance to sweep them into your lap as you drive by, and I do not know how it has happened that I have not yet caught a coach full of red herrings, for we scrape the Citty wall on which they hang in great abundance. There are some wide streets and good houses. Sir Walter Blackett’s seems a noble habitation.”
Mention is made of the Claverings, Bowes, and Lord Ravensworth calling.
In a letter of August 25 to Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Montagu tells her, that en route to Newcastle, she had visited “Althorpe, the seat of Mr. Spencer, worthy of regard only on account of a very fine collection of pictures. The park is planted in a dull uniformity, the ground flatt (sic), little prospect, has not the advantage of a river or lake.” After repeating the details of her journey, she adds that Denton Hall
“had not been inhabited for 30 years, the poor gentleman having long been a lunatick, so I imagined the rats and ghosts[202] were in such full possession, it would require time to eject them, and I am now placed as I could wish, being within 4 miles of Tinmouth.... We have a very good land as well as water prospect. We see from our windows the place where once lived the Venerable Bede,[203] some little ruins show still, I believe, where the Monastery stood: the place is called Jarrow, the estate belong’d to Sir Thomas Clavering and the late Mr. Rogers. I shall visit it more from respect to the old Historian than curiosity to see a new possession.”
[202] Did she know? It is supposed to be haunted to this day.
[203] The monk Beda, or Bede, born 672, died 735.
On August 27 Mrs. S. Montagu wrote to young Tom Lyttelton a long letter describing the country round Newcastle.
“After dinner I ferried over the river Wear to Sunderland, a good sea-port town. They are making a new pier there, which is done at the expense of the coal-owners, who have mines near the Wear. I got a very pleasant walk on the sea-shore; several ships were sailing out of the harbour fraught only with the comforts and conveniences of life, they carry out coal and salt and bring home money. I question whether those who carry out death and bring home glory are concerned in so good merchandize, though they account their occupation more honourable. On Thursday I went to see Lumley Castle; it is a noble habitation, but so modernized by sash windows and other fashionable ornaments, I admired it only as a good house. There are many family pictures in the Hall, a succession of 16 Lumleys, all martially accoutred, the Lumley arms on their shields, their figure and attitudes make them look like scaramouches. They hang so high I could not read the inscriptions, but I imagine it is intended one should suppose each picture was taken from life; but from the dress and character, I am sure they have been done by one hand from the genealogical tree. There are many old pictures in the house, and many fair testimonies of the ancient nobility of the family, but I cannot pass them sixteen[204] generations. There are large plantations of firs at Lumley Castle, a large park behind the Castle, to the front a good prospect, and the river Wear at a due distance.”
[204] She was wrong; the Lumleys descend from Liulph, a Norman nobleman of merit in 1060.
Mrs. Montagu was connected with the Lumleys, her cousin, Mrs. Laurence Sterne, being the daughter of the Rev. Robert Lumley, of Lumley Castle. At the end of the letter she complains of the tediousness of the post—three weeks before she had any letters from her friends!
This accounts for the news of the taking of Louisburg on July 27, under Admiral Boscawen, General Amherst, and Wolfe, not having reached her when she wrote, as Lord Lyttelton wrote to congratulate her on August 22, “upon the glorious success of Admiral Boscawen. I wrote last post to his lady, whom I love for a thousand good qualities in herself and because she loves you. Had her husband commanded in the Mediterranean, and Amherst or Wolfe at Fort St. Philips, we had not lost Minorca.”
In another letter of August 31, Lord Lyttelton having had a pleasant tour to Lady Coningsby’s,[205] where he met Sir Sidney Smith, and to Lord Oxford’s,[206] Brampton Brian,[207]—
“I carried Tom with me through the whole tour, and a more delightful fellow traveller I never can have, unless his Mother was raised from the dead or Heaven would give me another Lucy! Wherever we went he won all hearts, and you may believe mine beat with joy at the sight of his conquests, my only fear is that hereafter he may please the ladies too well. You must instruct him, Madonna, as Minerva did Telemachus to avoid the dangers of the Calypsos he may meet with in his travels, and let him learn by admiring you that no charms are truly amiable, but those that are under the government of wisdom and virtue.”
[205] Hampton Court, Herefordshire, built by Henry IV.
[206] Edward Harley, 24th Earl of Oxford.
[207] In Herefordshire.
Tom was fifteen at this time, having been born January 30, 1743–4. His father’s fears as to his attractions for the fair sex were prophetic.
Tom writes to Mrs. Montagu on September 9, giving her an account of his travels. Here is a description of Hampton Court, Herefordshire, the seat of Lady Coningsby—
“The house stands at the end of a line of regular planted trees, and looks more like a Monastery than a nobleman’s house. The garden is very large, and would have been pretty enough if Nature had been left in it unmolested. In the middle of it is a piece of water of about an acre, cut into two square lines, in which, to the astonishment of the beholder, you see Neptune upon his throne, and twenty Tritons waiting behind him. The carver has express’d great fierceness in his countenance, and well may the god who shakes the earth with his Trident, be angry at being confined in a Pool, which would scarce hold two hundred fish. From the garden one might see a noble lawn bounded with an amphitheatre of wood, was it not for the high Yew Hedges clipt into a thousand ridiculous shapes which hinder the eye from passing them, the park, too, is very large, but so overrun with Bushes that some of the Lawns resemble bogs.... From my Lady Coningsby’s we went to my Lord Oxford’s, a place where nature has done a great deal, which by a little money judiciously laid out may be made the prettiest ferme ornée in England. My Lord’s House is a very good one, built in a remarkable good taste for the times of Queen Anne.”
Lord Lyttelton, as usual, adds a few words at the end of the letter, and congratulates Mrs. Montagu on the King of Prussia’s “most glorious success, but I am in pain till I hear what has become of Emin.”
Dr. Monsey writes from Claremont on September 6—