At last the longed-for day arrived for Mrs. Montagu and her sister to set out southwards. Mr. Carter, the faithful old steward, insisted on travelling with them instead of his son Edward, and the description of his excitement and anxiety shown by his expressions are very characteristic. Arrived at Doncaster on January 8, Mrs. Montagu writes to her husband and mother, stating that she could not do so before, as this was the first south post she had met.
The letter to her mother is dated—
“Dear Madam,
“I arrived here this evening, without having suffer’d any inconvenience or fatigue in my whole progress. We were met on Thursday in Leeming Lane[267] by a Messenger from Capt. Twycross to tell us the waters were out at Burroughbridge, and that we could not pass them, so I apply’d to my guide, Mr. Carter, and a wise man is certainly never out of his element. He told me I might go to Kirby Hill and there get a warm lodging, though not an elegant one; which he thought would be as well as turning back. For my part I assured him I had rather have my bed stuffed with flocks than my pillow with care and disappointment, and agreed to go on to the place he mentioned, and then send a messenger to see if the waters were fallen. The Dove returned with an olive branch, and we went on to the Waterside[268] there to prevent fear (for danger there was none), we got into a boat and navigated through Mr. Williamson’s gardens, his melancholy yews just shew’d their formal heads above the water. Himself a melancholy shade too, was almost in as bad a way, for the water was quite to his door, so he could get no amusement from the rest of the world, but what he saw from the windows. We were safely landed at the door of the Inn. The coach came through the water without getting any wet inside of it, and we all rejoiced that we had been more afraid than hurt. Mr. Carter, in his care, often bid me be of good courage; as there was not occasion for any, I could not be disgraced for want of it: from our first setting out I have not been less entertain’d than guarded by him, he has really acted the part of Sir Roger de Coverley all the way; his benevolent heart breaks into such honest and affectionate expressions, you would think he was talking to his family wherever he is; at the ‘Oak-tree’ he was, I saw, shaking hands with every creature. I stopp’d to speak to a servant of Mrs. Yorke’s who met us with her compliments, and could hear Mr. Carter praising the strong beer, thanking the Landlord, wishing many good things to a boy who was stuffing a luncheon of bread and butter, thanking Heaven for good weather, and commending the road, all in a breath. At Lord Castlecomer’s Inn he would stop for the horses to eat, he said a sort of grace to it, praying it might strengthen them to the end of their journey, then he extolled the Inn, the Landlord and his wife, not forgetting a ‘lile lass’ that stood at the gate: all the way we went in the boat he commended the boatmen more than an envious person would have done Christopher Columbus, for exploring leas and lands unknown; at Borough Bridge he made the funeral Elogy of Mr. Mann, but not to wrong the living for the sake of the dead, he said the handsomest things to mine Hostess, the civilest things to her daughters, the most honourable things of her son, and the most affable things to the chambermaid, that ever I heard in my life. At Aberforth he was not less kind to every creature, nor less indulgent to every thing, and he is the same still, and I doubt not but will be Sir Roger de Coverley to the end of the journey. I am really pleased by reflection, and though I don’t see everything in his point of view, I am delighted at his happiness, like the bee he gathers honey from every flower, nay, weed, which to common taste have no perfection. I wish I could think as well of all mankind as he does; but he deserves to think better of it. Benevolence is built so much on faith, that those who think very ill of people in general, will never do them much good, for service often arises from trust, and we cannot trust those whom we dare not believe.”
The end of this letter is lost. Mr. Montagu being unable, from the Chancery cause coming on, to meet his wife, despatched a servant named Griffith, but he, falling ill at an early stage of the road, deputed another person to meet her. A most dutiful and affectionate letter occurs here to Mr. Montagu, but too long for inclusion. Mr. Carter having seen them safe to Leicester, left them there, where Sarah Robinson had an attack of illness which delayed them a day. When well enough, they proceeded by way of Harborough, Newport Pagnell, Dunstable, etc., to Dover Street, London.
Mrs. Freind and Mrs. Botham (Mrs. Sterne’s sister, Lydia), both expecting their confinements, entreated Mrs. Montagu to stand godmother to their future babes, to which she consented. Mr. Botham was then Rector of Yoxall, Staffordshire, and Chaplain to Lord Aylesford,[269] whose daughter Mary, Lady Andover,[270] was Mrs. Botham’s most intimate friend and patroness. She was also a friend of Mrs. Montagu’s, to whom she constantly wrote tidings of Lydia Botham’s frequent illnesses and pecuniary troubles.
[269] Heneage, 2nd Earl of Aylesford.
[270] Wife to William, Viscount Andover, son of 11th Earl of Suffolk.
The Chancery suit Mr. Montagu had been engaged in was occasioned by his claiming the guardianship of his unfortunate first cousin, Mr. John Rogers, who, owning large estates at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and East and West Denton near there, besides much other property, had now been a lunatic[271] for some years. It will be seen in the pedigree that Mr. Montagu’s mother was a Sarah Rogers. This table will elucidate the relationship—
{Skip transcribed table} {See image for table}
| John Rogers, of E. and W. Denton. |
= ｜ ｜ |
Margaret Cock, dau. of Henry Cock, Merchant, Newcastle-on-Tyne. |
|||||
| ｜ | |||||||
| ｜ | ｜ | ||||||
| John Rogers, of Denton Hall and Newcastle-on-Tyne, etc., Sheriff of Northumberland, 1693–94; d. 1709. |
= ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ |
Eliz. Ellison, m. 1684, at Lanchester; d. April 16, 1733. | Sarah Rogers | = ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ |
Hon. Charles Montagu, High Sheriff of Durham,1686–1709; d. 1721. | ||
| ｜ | ｜ | ||||||
| ｜ | ｜ | ｜ | |||||
| John Rogers, Sheriff of Northumberland, 1715–16; b. 1685, d. June 24, 1758. | = | Anne Delaval, dau. of Sir John Delaval; d. Jan. 3, 1723. | ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ ｜ |
Edward Montagu, b. 1692, d. May 20, 1775. = Eliz. Robinson, b. 1720, d. 1800. |
|||
| ｜ | |||||||
| ｜ | ｜ | ｜ | |||||
| Crewe, b. 1694. |
John, died s.p. |
Jemima | = | Mr. Medows, afterwards Sir Sydney Medows. | |||
[271] Evidently he was a lunatic forty years, and bed-ridden ten.
The Rev. M. W. Peters, R.A. Pinx. Emery Walker Ph. Sc.
Morris Robinson
Old Mr. Rogers had bought East Denton land and collieries for £10,900 from the Erringtons in 1689, who had long had the property. In December, 1705, Mr. Rogers bought of Sir James Clavering his share of the West Denton property. The history of Denton Hall will be given further on. Young John Rogers appears to have had fits as early as 1718. He married in 1713, Anne Delaval, who died in 1723 at Seaton Delaval, and he seems to have become deranged soon after her death. As long as his mother lived he was well cared for, but she died in 1733, and the last nine years he had been gradually getting worse, and a set of designing people surrounded him. I have a letter of his written to his parents, apparently on going to Oxford in 1705, which is so curious that I insert it here. It is addressed—
“Dear Father,
“I hope since that I am fallen into the hands of a gentleman, who is not only a stranger to you, but to all my relations, that you will do me the favour to write to my tutor, which I am sure he can’t but take exceeding well, having never heard from any of my friends since I removed heather. I had notice by my Mother yt you had ordered me £40, and wonder that as yett I have not heard from John Nicholson, that, I fancy Mr. Atkinson’s letter has miscarried. I see Mr. Fremantel here on Sunday night who sett forward for Newcastle on Monday morning, that I fancy you will see him before you receive this. We had one man executed here on Saturday morning who was taken here just a little before our assizes by two Smiths, he had been twice put in the Gazett for a highwayman, and those fellows took him, hoped to receive the reward. The fellow knowing himself to be a great rogue, and that if he escaped here, they would have had a Habeas Corpus to remove him, sent for the man whose horse it was he had stolen, to come to challenge his horse, and was indited for it and pleaded guilty, hoping I suppose to be transported. There was a great interest made at Court for to save his life, but all would not doo, but by this he has baulked the fellows yt took him of their £40.
“So with my duty to my Mother and yourself,
“Oxon, August 18, 1705.”
Mr. Montagu was made guardian and manager to Mr. Rogers and his estate. Uneasy as he was at leaving his wife in her present situation, he was obliged to go to Newcastle to see into affairs. Sarah Robinson, who had gone home, was quickly summoned to return to her sister, to which her parents rather unwillingly gave their consent. Mr. Montagu writes each post, as often as he could, most affectionate letters to his wife; as he rode all the way, disliking a carriage, we see by his letters the time the journey took. March 19, he writes from Nottingham, having been four days reaching there. He says, “If j was mounted as j ought to be j could without much difficulty reach Allerthorpe on Monday night, whereas j must now be content if j get there some time on Tuesday.” He bids her divert herself with her friends and acquaintances, and to send him good accounts of her health, “as there is nothing under Heaven that is so dear to me.”
But no sooner had Mr. Montagu set out than the Duchess of Portland lost her youngest daughter Frances, just two years old, from convulsions after whooping cough. She forbade Mrs. Montagu coming to see her at first, for fear of her grief affecting her in her present condition. Mrs. Donnellan and Mrs. Pendarves were with the duchess, and did all they could to solace her grief, which was intense. After a few days, however, the two friends met, and had a sad meeting.
To return to Mr. Montagu’s travels, he got to Allerthorpe, where Mr. Carter joined him, and they proceeded to Newcastle, to Mr. Rogers’ house, where
“three attorneys attended to take inventorys of the goods, schedules of the writings and bonds, and whatsoever we found in the Secretoires etc. of the unhappy gentleman, but more is owing to the dexterity and unintermitting diligence of Mr. Carter in the despatch we have made than to everything else put together. We have found Bonds amounting to near £10,000 value.”
A general oversight was arranged to be taken by Mr. Carter of the estates and tenants, many of the latter being heavily in arrears in rents. It is characteristic of Mr. Montagu’s uprightness in business that, though not obliged to do so, he rendered to Sir James Clavering, Mr. Rogers’ uncle, a complete account of his estate, of which Sir James greatly approved, and regretted these steps were not taken ten years before. A Mr. Grey was put in charge of Mr. Rogers.
Mr. Montagu and Mr. Carter commenced their journey home, the latter going to Darnton Fair en route. People rose early for business then. Mr. Montagu states Mr. Carter “sat up late last night and rose this morning at 3, and set out at 6 for Bedale, where he will be occupied all day.” He adds, “He is unwearied, j never knew his fellow. He has lived three times as much as any other man no older than he, and has done three times as much business and benefited many and hurt none. I wish j could say as much of those who are in a rank of life infinitely superior to him.” Truly this is a fine picture of a righteous steward.
By May 1, when Elizabeth writes to her mother, Mr. Montagu had returned to her, she and her sister meeting him at Highgate. Mention is made in this letter of Miss Brockman having become temporarily speechless from inoculation. Sarah returns to Mount Morris, and the last letter before Mrs. Montagu’s confinement tells of the purchase of a “magnifique Berceau” just in time, as on May 11 Mrs. Montagu gave birth, at their house in Dover Street, to a fine boy, to the infinite joy of Mr. Montagu and his sister, Mrs. Medows. A young farmer’s wife, a Mrs. Kennet, living near Mount Morris, had been engaged as a wet-nurse to the child.
On May 30 the Rev. William Freind, to whom Mr. Montagu had written to announce the birth of his child, writes to congratulate him, and to say Mrs. Freind had presented him with a daughter that morning. Mr. Montagu had promised to stand godfather if it was a boy,[272] but if a daughter Mrs. Montagu was to be godmother. To this letter, on June 4, Mr. Montagu replied that his wife and child are doing well, and he says—
“The latter end of next week we intend for the baptism of our infant, and if you were here should be prouder to have the ceremony performed by you than anybody else, for if j may judge from what has happened to the Father, j imagine it would be auspicious to the Son. I am sure j ought never to forget the share you had in putting me in the possession of the Mother,[273] in whom j find my every wish more than compleated. In less than a fortnight we intend going to Sandleford,[274] and after that to go on the inoculation, which j hope will have an happy event, which, if so, j cannot be too thankful to Providence.”
[272] This child was christened Elizabeth. She died young.
[273] Mr. Freind had married them.
[274] Mr. Montagu’s seat near Newbury.
He adds his desire for Mr. Freind and his family to visit them at Sandleford en route home from Bath.
The reader will remember that Mrs. Montagu was peculiarly afraid of smallpox, but she had determined, if once a mother, she would be inoculated, so that she should be able to attend to her child if it ever had the disease, and to prevent separation from or infection to it if she herself took the disease in the natural manner. When her dread of it is recollected, it will appear a heroic deed on her part. Her mother, Mrs. Robinson, was far from easy at the idea of the inoculation taking place in the summer heat.
Meanwhile the little boy was christened John, though he soon acquired the nickname of “Punch,” their own familiar peep-show, as the fond parents deemed him, and is only twice mentioned in the letters I have as my little “Jack.”
In a letter of June 21, from the Duchess of Portland, who was at Welbeck with Lady Oxford, she mentions—
“The Duke of Kingston[275] has been in the utmost danger, so great Doctor Hickman has refrained sleeping part of a night, not without the assistance of Barbecued Hog, Tokay, etc., etc., etc. to keep up his spirits, to enable him to go through the immense fatigue of waking a few hours with his patron.” She adds, “Thank God the children are all well. I hope your little man is so, my best wishes must ever attend the dear boy.”
[275] He died in 1773, when the title became extinct.
Mrs. Montagu went to recruit at Sandleford with Mr. Montagu, preparatory to removing the child and establishment there, as she writes to her sister Sarah, who, with Mrs. Medows, is left in Dover Street in charge of the son and heir—
“I really long to have you here. I think I may say you never saw anything so pretty as the view these gardens command, for my part I would not change the situation for any I ever saw; there is nothing in Nature pretty that they have not. The prospect is allegro, and as ‘Mirth with thee I chose to live,’ I am glad it is of that kind, ‘the loathed melancholy of Cerberus and blackest midnight, born in Stygeian cave forlorn,’ dare not appear in this little paradise. There is a charming grove where your reveries may wander at pleasure, you may allegorize like Spenser, or pastoralize like the lesser poets, there are roses and honeysuckles hourly dropping to put you in mind ‘how small a part of time they share, that are so wondrous sweet and fair,’ and this will whisper to you ‘de coglier d’amor la rosa,’ indeed, my dear Sall, these pretty things are mere toys, as are all things in this world, but a true friend. I am thankful for the benefits of fortune, and pleased with them, but really attached only to the person who bestows them. My benefactor bestows favours with more pleasure and more complaisance too, than most people receive them with, and this gives the relish to favour, for as Ophelia says, ‘Gifts grow cheap when givers are unkind.’
“I hope the young plant thrives under your care. Pray write every post, and say all you can about the boy, for as insignificant as he seems in his swaddling cloaths, it is more interesting to his parents to hear of where he went, than to hear of all the feats of Hercules girded in his Lion’s skin.”
Then she orders a dozen bibs to be made for the babe, of “fine damask, the pattern of Lady Betty Bentinck’s pinned to my embroidered quilted petticoat.”
Sandleford Priory is two miles south of Newbury, Berks. It was originally founded by Geoffry, 4th Earl of La Perche, and his wife Matilda of Saxony, between the years 1193 and 1202, dedicated to St. Mary and St. John the Baptist, and placed under the Austin Canons; but Mr. Money, in his “History of Newbury,” states “the recluses of Sandleford” are mentioned in the Pipe Roll of the 26th of Henry II., 1180, so that a body of religious had existed there or near before the date of the building by the Earl de la Perche.[276] In the reign of Edward IV., circ. 1480, a dispute arose between the Prior and the Bishop of Salisbury, in whose diocese Sandleford lay; in consequence of this dispute the monastery was forsaken, and the King, at the instance of the Bishop (Richard Beauchamp), gave it to the Dean and Chapter of Windsor. In the 26th of Henry VIII. it was stated to be in their possession, valued at £10.
[276] His ancestor accompanied the Conqueror to England.
In the time of James I., 1615, Sandleford was declared to be a separate parish, and unratable from Newbury, but the chapel being dismantled and unfit for use, £8 a year was ordered to be paid to the Rector of Newbury, which entitled the occupants of the Priory to a seat in the Newbury parish church, which has been continued ever since.
The lessees from the Dean and Canons of Windsor appear, from a paper of my uncle, Lord Rokeby’s, to have been, early in the eighteenth century, the Pitt Rivers of Stratfieldsaye, by whom the lease was sold in 1717 to William Cradock, Esq., after an intermediate alienation. The lease was purchased in 1730 by Mr. Edward Montagu, grandson of the 1st Earl of Sandwich. A letter of April, 1733, of Mr. John Rogers to his aunt, the Hon. Mrs. Sarah Montagu, at Sandleford, about the death of his mother, Mrs. Rogers, and her leaving her sister £10, and each of her three children a ring, is in my possession, and shows she was then living or staying with her son Edward.
The chapel is erroneously stated in several works (vide Tanner, etc., etc.) to be destroyed. It was disused, not destroyed, though the bells, seats, and the tomb of the crusading knight[277] had disappeared. As we proceed further into the manuscripts we shall see it was used as a bedroom or rooms!
[277] Probably Count Thomas de la Perche, son of the founder, as his father was buried at St. Denis Nogent. Thomas died in 1217. For a description of the tomb, etc., see note at the end of this book.
The situation of the Priory is charming, the principal rooms fronting south on a slight eminence, sloping to the river Alebourne, now called Enborne, which crosses the high-road just below the lower lodge, and skirts the south side of the park. On the east the ground slopes to a wooded valley, down which are many ponds, dating from the monks’ time, some of which were joined together by Mr. Montagu, afterwards more by his widow, to form lakes. Many fine trees surround it in these days, and at the time of Mr. Montagu’s first living there, seem to have been exceedingly numerous; also walled gardens, which are now removed. Beyond the valley to the east the ground rises in a wooded ridge. The village here mentioned must have been a few cottages near the mill on the west, which existed where Sandleford Lodge is now built: these have all long ago disappeared.
SANDLEFORD PRIORY.
To the duchess Mrs. Montagu wrote in raptures of the beauties of Sandleford, but in the middle of her description states, “Here was I interrupted by a Parson, his wife and daughter, and I shall not be reconciled to ‘Prunello and grogram’ again a great while, they robbed me of those hours I could have dedicated to your grace.” Prunello was the woollen stuff then used for clerical gowns, grogram a coarse kind of taffety, a mixture of silk and mohair, applicable to feminine attire.
Mrs. Botham writes on July 8, that as Mrs. Montagu was unable, when her baby was born, to be applied to, she had given him his father’s name, John. Lydia Botham had two, if not three, daughters, but this was her first son.
From Sandleford Mrs. Montagu returned to London, intending to be inoculated, but in a letter of July 12 she informs the duchess that Dr. Mead considered she had better defer the operation till the heat of the summer was over—in September. In the same letter she states that Mrs. Medows and herself had called on the old Countess of Granville,[278] who appears to have been a most garrulous old lady, and Mrs. Montagu says—
“She fell with all her violence on my complexion, and behold, she certainly by her description takes my forehead to be tortoishell, my cheeks to be gold, my eyes to be onyx, and my teeth amber: all these are precious things, but Mr. Montagu not having so rich a fancy as King Midas, I know not whether he would like such a wife. Your Grace may believe I was extremely mortified. The good woman says Mrs. Medows looks better and younger for being married; but for me I am pale and green, and describes me as worse than the apothecary that lives about the rendezvous of death in Caius Marius. She is of opinion that lying in has spoiled my face; true it is I have furnished a noble pair of chops to the little boy, and if mine are a little the lanker for it, I scarce grudge it....”
[278] Grace, Viscountess Carteret, and Countess Granville in her own right.
Further on she says, “Thank you for your kind inquiry after the young ‘Fidget,’ who loves laughing and dancing, and is worthy of the Mother he sprang from. As for Mrs. Donnellan, she is well. Mrs. Delany is better than well.”
Mrs. Pendarves had been married on June 9 this same year to the Rev. Dr. Patrick Delany,[279] afterwards Dean of Down, and an intimate friend of Swift’s.
[279] Dr. Delany, born 1686, died 1768; made Dean 1744.
The Montagus, accompanied by Sarah Robinson, now moved with the child to Sandleford. A letter to the Duchess of Portland of July 26 says—
“Sandleford, near Newbury.
“Madam,
“If I was as good a poet as Boileau[280] I would complain of l’Embarras de Londres, and also of l’Embarras de la Campagne, and of the still greater embarras of travelling from one place to another. When I had the happiness of your letter, I was so encompassed with boxes, trunks and portmanteaus, and even that lesser plague of band-boxes, that I could not give myself the pleasure of writing to your Grace. Bag and baggage we arrived here on Thursday night: first marched the child crying, nurse singing, and the Abigails talking; Mr. Montagu, my sister and myself brought up the rear. We had fine weather and a pleasant journey. We took a boat from the Inn of Maidenhead Bridge, and rowed round his Grace of Marlborough’s Island.[281] I had the pleasure of reflecting on the agreeable morning I had spent there with you.”
[280] Nicholas Despreaux Boileau, born 1636, died 1711. French poet of note.
Further in the letter she states the duke[282] had planted some cannon on the borders.
“Mrs. Medows has promised to take the child while I am sick,[283] and I am best satisfied that it will be with her, for I am sure she will take care of it, and thank God! it is a very strong healthy child; indeed were he otherwise I should not leave him, for I think when they are sickly, no one can be tender enough for them but a parent.”
She says—
“Dr. Courayer dined with us the day before we left town: he was more elated with having a letter from you, than he had been dejected with the overthrow of the French;[284] he looks well, and his mind is the seat of tranquillity. Donnellan promises to come down here soon. I hope she will stay till I go to London to be inoculated.”
[284] Alluding to the battle of Dettingen, fought in June, 1743.
In alluding to a lady who had “excellent sense and wit, but a want of softness in her manners,” she adds—
“This is of great consequence to a woman to keep off disagreeable manners, for the world does not mind our intrinsic worth so much as the fashion of us, and will not easily forgive our not pleasing. The men suffer for their levity in this case, for in a woman’s education little but outward accomplishment is regarded. Some of our sex have an affectation of goodness, others a contempt of it from their education; but the many good women there are in the world are merely so from nature, and I think it is much to the credit and honour of untaught human nature that women are so valuable for their merit and sense. Sure the men are very imprudent to endeavour to make fools of those to whom they so much trust their honour and happiness and fortune, but it is in the nature of mankind to hazard their peace to secure power, and they know fools make the best slaves.”
A letter early in August to the duchess, who had now returned to Bullstrode from Welbeck after visiting Matlock, says—
“I was in hopes to have heard when you would come to town. I wish you may come up to us soon after the 24th (August) of this month, which is the time I propose for going to London for inoculation. I think there is no danger of hot weather after the middle of September. Dr. Mead says it is the best time for me....
“Matlock must be well worth seeing, we have nothing here of the wild and uncultivated sort. I intend to go and indulge Reveries at an old Castle[285] where Chaucer made his fairies gambol, with as much grace and prettiness as the Muses of old on the hill of Parnassus. The Castle is on a rising just above Newbury, and commands a pretty view of the country. The prospect is of sufficient extent to let the poetick fancy soar at pleasure among the beauties of Nature. Pray where is ‘Pen,’[286] will she produce a sprig of bays? it must be a little Master Apollo or a Miss Minerva from parents of such art and science. I have sent your Grace a copy of a letter Lord Orford[287] sent to General Churchill,[288] if ever he was to be envy’d it was when he wrote that letter: it seems to come from a mind pleased with everything about it, and easy in itself, amidst the refinement of luxury and expense, without the madness of intemperance, or inconveniences of prodigality.”
[285] Donnington Castle.
[286] Mrs. Delany’s old pet-name.
[287] Alias the great Sir Robert Walpole.
[288] General Charles Churchill, commonly called “old Charles Churchill,” to distinguish him from his son, who afterwards married Mr. Edward Walpole’s daughter; he was the illegitimate son of James II. and Arabella Churchill.
The end of this letter is missing. Lord Orford’s letter, written in an unknown hand, is thus:—
“Houghton, June 24, 1743.
“Dear Charles,
“(Lord Orford’s letter to General Churchill.)
“This place affords no news, no subject of entertainment for fine men. Men of Wit and Pleasure about Town understand not the charms of the inanimate world: my Flatterers here are Mutes: the Oaks, the Brookes, the Chestnuts seem to contend which shall best please the Lord of the Mannour; they cannot deceive, they will not Lye. I in sincerity admire them and have as many Beauties about me as fill up all my hours of dangling, and no disgrace attends me from 67 years of age. Within doors we come a little nearer to real Life, and admire upon the almost speaking canvass all the airs and graces which the proudest of Town ladies can boast, with these I am satisfied, because they gratifie me with all I wish, and all I want, and expect nothing in return, which I cannot give. If these, Dear Charles, are any Temptation, I heartily invite you to come and partake of them. Shifting the scene sometimes has its recommendation, and from Country Fare you may possibly return with a keener appetite to the more delicate Entertainments of a refined life.
“P.S.—Since I wrote the above we have been surprised with good news from abroad. Too much cannot be said about it, for it is truly matter of infinite Joy, as it is of Infinite Consequence.”
Lord Orford is here alluding to the battle of Dettingen.
The duchess, in a letter of August 26 from Bullstrode, says, “Thanks for Sir Robert’s letter, I had never seen it.” In alluding to the tiresome etiquette and interference she suffered from at Welbeck under Lady Oxford’s despotic rule, she says—
“I please myself that my children will love me better, as my covetousness will not be obliged ’em to pay me court, and as I shall have no suspicion of their duty, but be convinced that their motives proceed from disinterested love, and by that means we shall each of us be happy. Was the Duchess of Marlborough[289] possessed by one good quality? I should think she deserved pity more than the poorest creature in the street, not to have one child, but what wishes her dead, nor capable of knowing the enjoyments of friendship.... We propose being in London Monday sennight.”