[289] Sarah, the celebrated Duchess of Marlborough.
On Thursday, August 25, Mrs. Montagu took a sad leave of her little boy, and started on her journey to London, sleeping at Windsor, at the house of her sister-in-law, Mrs. Medows. Mr. Montagu remained with the child till the time his wife should be inoculated, when he was to join her in London, and Mrs. Medows was to take charge of him. Sarah joined her sister in London; it will be remembered she had had the disorder.
As inoculation is now out of date, I shall extract from the various letters the mode of procedure. Arrived in Dover Street, Mrs. Montagu is told by Elias, the duchess’s porter (then a most important domestic magnate), his mistress was coming to London on Monday. She therefore writes to beg the duchess, the duke, and Mr. Achard to dine with her that day “at 4 or 5 according to their convenience.” Business, however, prevented the duchess leaving Bullstrode for a week, but she is reinvited, as Dr. Mead says Mrs. Montagu will not be infectious till the disease appears. Meanwhile, in preparation for the dreaded operation, she was “dosed, then blooded, another dose or two of physick is all I shall want, and then proceed to meet that distemper I have been running from these four and twenty years: it is at present my misfortune the smallpox is so little stirring they cannot find a subject.” She writes to the duchess also in another letter, “Though Dr. Mead, Dr. Cotes, Mr. Hawkins, and the subaltern of the Physical faculty, the Apothecary, have been smallpox-hunting this week, they have not procured a subject for me.” She urges the duchess to dine, “as I shall be as well till 7 or 9 days after the operation as ever I was in my life.”
The duchess had been out of order with hysterical fits, and states she was ordered to drive in a chaise. Of this vehicle we gain a glimpse from this allusion of Mrs. Montagu’s in answer to the duchess, “A chaise is health, spirits and speed, a lady must lay aside her hoop, her laziness and pride, before she is diminutive enough for a chaise.” A portion of a very beautiful letter, written by Mrs. Montagu to her husband before he joins her, I copy—
“Dover Street, Tuesday, August 30.
“My Dearest,
“The happiest moments I have spent since I parted from you, were those I employed in reading your letter: accept the sincerest thanks a grateful and tender heart can make to the most kind and generous love. While Heaven shall lend me life, I will dedicate it to your service, and I hope our tender engagements shall not be broke by the cruel hand of fate. Notwithstanding the distemper I am going into, I have great hopes of my life, and a certainty of my love to you as long as that life shall last. Your kind behaviour and conversation has made my Being of such value to me that I am taking the best means to preserve and secure it from hazards, but let not the experiment cost you an anxious thought. It would be a reproach to the laws of Nature, if one as virtuous as you are, should not be sure to be happy. I trust you shall ever be so independent of a weak woman, who can serve you in nothing but wishes: could I reflect back the happiness I receive from you, I should tremble at my own importance to think of sinking from happiness to insensibility, and nothing might overcome my little courage, but to imagine I left you a portion of sorrow and regret as a burthen on all your years to come, would not only afflict but even distract me.”
The same day that she wrote this letter to her husband, she writes a note to Mrs. Donnellan, who had joined her brother, the Rev. Christopher Donnellan, at Tunbridge Wells. He, having been ordered to drink the waters, and having crossed from Ireland for that purpose, Mrs. Montagu says, “Does not your brother think he is in Babel? How does he like English women with French dresses and French manners? In short, what does grave good sense think of Tunbridge?”
By Mr. Montagu’s desire, Dr. Sandys was added to the previous M.D.’s. A day or two after this Mr. Montagu joined her, and she was inoculated on September 3.
On September 7 Mrs. Montagu writes to Mrs. Donnellan—
“My very dear Friend,
“As the time that passes between the expectation of a matter of importance and its happening is not a time of the greatest pleasure and tranquillity, you will be glad to hear it is four days since I was inoculated. I am still well and in perfect good spirits: it would be a sign of levity as I should be sorry and ashamed to find in myself to be disturbed at the approach of a distemper I have been seeking. The Duchess of Portland spent the day with me on Monday, and was here again with Lady Wallingford yesterday, and I expect her Grace this afternoon. In the meantime I hope to hear from you, and my sister will give you intelligence of me. Dr. Mead and Dr. Cotes attend me; I have given them on their prescribing two guineas apiece, but I am told when Dr. Mead attends constantly, one guinea a day will be enough, if he comes only once a day, but I wish you would be so kind as to enquire and let me know when you write to me; and I will beg you to order your maid to buy 2 Dozen Wheatears[290] and send them by the Haye Coach. Mr. Montagu never saw any, so if you please to tell your servant to send them with the feathers on.
“I am extremely glad to hear Mr. Donnellan finds benefit by the waters. Your family in Town flourishes much,[291] Mr. Percival is a young beau, Mrs. Percival has grown almost a toast, and for Mrs. Shuttleworth,[292] she is a perfect beauty, she has a bloom like fifteen; I never saw anyone look so fresh and jolly.
“The town is full of reports of the discontent of the Army, it is almost feared the English and H(anoverian)s should fall upon each other. A gun going off while the Captain was at dinner, he bade General Honeywood go and see what was the matter; the General brought word it was nothing, upon which the great Captain sent a H(anoveria)n officer, who brought word it was the musket of a soldier upon guard; the Captain then cry’d he could have no truth from the E(nglis)h and that the E(nglis)h had no discipline: the D(uk)e of M(arlboroug)h said they had as much discipline as the H(anoverian)s, for that coming by their quarters, a ball went under his horse’s legs.
“Mr. Hawkins[293] comes every day to dress my arms, though the wounds given for the inoculation are very trifling, he does not think from the appearance of them I shall be ill yet. I shall be glad when the proper period for it arrives, but must wait with patience; it is said people do not know themselves, but by the little anxiety I have about myself, one would imagine I knew myself to be of as small consequence as I really am.... My dear little Babe is perfectly well....”
[290] Wheatears are delicious eating. They are migratory, and only frequent certain counties. They appear to have been more plentiful formerly. Sussex and Surrey are favourite localities.
[291] These are Mrs. Donnellan’s stepfather and her mother.
[292] Mrs. Shuttleworth was evidently a relation.
[293] The surgeon.
DENTON HALL.
To this I subjoin a portion of Mrs. Donnellan’s answer from Tunbridge Wells—
“I received your comfortable letter, writ with the spirit of a Christian, a Philosopher and a woman of true fortitude. Since you don’t expect any appearance yet, I may venture to write, or if you should not be quite well, my letter is of no consequence, and may be thrown by. I will allow all your reasoning for yourself to be very good, and will not dispute with you now, whether you are of consequence to the world or not, I will only beg you to act as if you were, and take care of yourself for the sake of the few, and let the world come in for its share of you by an by. I am of opinion one guinea a day is sufficient from a private gentle woman to any Physician in England, if he makes but one visit. I know all our family, and greater than us never gave more either to Hollins or Willmot; indeed if they prescribe twice they must be paid twice, but that I hope and believe will not be your case. I am not acquainted with anyone who makes use of Dr. Mead, but I suppose he is fee’d like other Physicians of note, and I think raising these sort of things on one another when they are already high enough by conscience is wrong....
“Our company quits us apace, but as there is not one body but Lady Sunderland[294] and Miss Sutton and Lady Catherine Hanmer that I care particularly for, and they stay, I am quite easy about the matter. I generally take a rural walk with my maid and man, and I am just returned from the Rocks, whose natural beauties strike me more agreeably than the laboured work of a palace. My brother rides every day, but walking does not agree with him.... No one here cares for a walk that carries them further than Tod’s Room or Chenevix’s Shop.[295] In the evening I conform with the world, and play at Whisk, Roli Poli, or what they will, and make them wonder that a person who has a guinea in their pockets and can perform at such entertainments, should prefer wandering in fields and woods with company little better than the creatures that inhabit them.”
[294] Née Judith Tichborne, third wife of Charles, Earl of Sunderland; remarried Right Hon. Sir Robert Sutton.
[295] A famous fancy-shop.
On September 12 Mrs. Montagu writes to the duchess, who had returned to Bullstrode, to say Mr. Hawkins did not believe, from the appearance of her arms, she would have the smallpox. Dr. Mead and Dr. Cotes had attended the day before, expecting to find inflammation, but the wounds appeared healed. From this it appears the surgeon attended the wounds daily, and doctors occasionally. The very next day (September 13) Mr. Hawkins pronounced there was no longer a chance of the smallpox.
Mrs. Montagu writes to the duchess, “As Anacreon who swallowed many a hogshead of the juice of the grape was at last killed with a little grape stone, I who have missed the dire disease, am grumbling with the toothache.”
The duchess writes to Mrs. Montagu to beg her to think that though the smallpox has not appeared, she is as much secured as if it had. On September 15, as a wind-up to the inoculation, Mrs. Montagu “was blooded.”
“On Saturday we went to see Mr. Pope’s[296] garden and grotto, to Hampton Court and Bushey Park,” she writes to the duchess; and on Wednesday she was intending to pay a visit to her parents at Mount Morris, Kent, before returning to her child, for whom, she says, “her heart sickens.” On October 8 she proceeded to Sandleford, leaving Mr. Montagu, who had business, to follow in a few days; and she writes to the duchess from the inn at Maidenhead Bridge. In this letter she says she has great difficulty in “squeezing the cotton in the ink bottle which I am forced to do before each word, and as my pen is as prodigal of ink, as the bottle is sparing of it, after I have been half an hour replenishing my pen, one inconsiderate blot squanders it away.” This alludes to the strange habit of having cotton placed in the inn inkstand, under the delusion that it made it last longer. The whole writing of the letter is thick and blotted. She also mentions, “My sister set out for Bath this morning, with Mrs. Cotes. Poor madam Sally’s stomach is greatly out of order, and her nerves are often affected, but I hope the waters will do her good.”
[296] Pope’s villa and grotto at Twickenham.
Mrs. Cotes was the doctor’s wife, and a sister of Lord Irwin, a great friend of Sally’s, very small in stature and pretty, familiarly called “the little Madam.” The two ladies, accompanied by Mrs. Cotes’ footman, set out for Bath, diverging from Newbury for a night at Sandleford to see “Punch.” A passage from a letter of Sarah’s will show the perils of the road. They travelled in a post-chaise—
“A man set out with us from London, and kept us company about seven miles. He often asked the footman who we were, and whether we were going over Hounslow Heath; to the last he made no answer, but after being tired with his curiosity told him we were only ladies’ maids, upon which he forsook us, either being too proud to accompany abigails, or supposing we had not money enough to make it worth his while to go on to Hounslow Heath with us. We had one post-boy that pleased us extremely, he sung all the way, our pleasure did not arise from any music in his voice, but from seeing him so happy, and admiring the power of a contented spirit, that could make a person so joyful, that was at the caprice of any one, without any greater advantage than a shilling’s reward, and who is always to be jolted almost to death, by the only creatures that are beneath him.”
Almost shaken to pieces, they arrived at their lodgings at Mrs. Elliot’s, in the Orange Grove, Bath. Sarah describes the rooms as small, but comfortable, “looking down Wade’s Passage and into the coffee-house, which is a guard to the windows, and very often prevents their approach.” She grumbles at the expense of their journey, but says provisions are cheap, fowls one shilling each.
Jenny, her maid, had travelled by coach, a post-chaise of that time only holding two people. Here is a passage worthy of Fielding, “Jenny travelled down unspotted and pure with the old parson, who gave her no comfort, but one spiritual kiss upon getting to the end of their journey.”
Both Mrs. Cotes and Sarah suffered from the hardness of the post-chaise, and Sarah also hints that other visible effects had been incurred which would last for days; hence fleas, if not worse, must have existed in it! Mrs. Montagu, in writing to condole with them, says, “It is a daring mind that ventures in a post-chaise. I wonder the partizans of these vehicles do not establish a broad bottom, and a competent share of cushion.” The vehicle was, from what I make out, a two-wheeled chaise. Mrs. Cotes’ footman had been directed to call, on his way back to London, on Mrs. Montagu. The style of speech of a servant of this period is shown in this passage—
“Mrs. Cotes’ man called very civilly, and brought me your last letter. ‘Pray, Mr. Thomas,’ says I, ‘did you leave the ladies well?’ ‘Yes, and very merry, Madam.’ ‘They had a good journey, I hope?’ ‘Yes, a very merry, Madam.’ ‘They were not at all afraid?’ ‘No, nothing but very merry, Madam.’ ‘Were they not tired when they came to their inns?’ ‘No, always very merry, Madam!’ At last Thomas’s account made me ‘so merry, Madam,’ I was forced to retire to laugh.
“Your nephew gets his share of sunshine every day, his teeth tease him and produce the dew of sorrow on his little cheeks sometimes, but in a moment it is forgotten, and he is always lively, and in continual health: he is thought to grow like his mother, so I think I may cease to be handsome with a good grace, as I have transferred it to my offspring.... Your nephew is in his birthday suit, laughing so I can hear him through the doors; the usurpation and authority of those bandages called garments he is too full of Whig principles to approve of!”
There were no babies’ carriages in those days, so little Punch drove out daily in the chariot, not to be confounded with the coach, a much larger vehicle.
In the same letter it appears that the good old Yorkshire steward, Mr. Carter, had had a bad fall, and the house in Dover Street not being large enough, Morris Robinson was trying to secure them one in Bruton Street. Mrs. Montagu, having suffered from weakness and hysterical fits, was recommended to ride daily—a pastime which was agreeably varied by the cutting of new walks through the Sandleford woods, and the continual amusement afforded to her and Mr. Montagu by the contemplation of their child’s too precocious ways.
A few details of life at Bath may prove amusing. Sarah writes to her sister that the waters agree very well with her, but that people are amazed at her walking between each glass. She had found a companion in Mrs. Wadman, Lord Windsor’s sister, whom she had met at the pump-room, as they drank the waters about the same time, and both were fond of walking.
The Rev. W. Freind and his wife were at Bath, and Sarah goes to hear him preach a charity sermon,
“the best I ever heard. I am going to dress to the best of my skill and power for the sake of his Majesty, this is kept as his birthday, and there is to be a ball and supper to-night, the men have subscribed on purpose. Mr. Simon Adolphus Sloper[297] is to be my partner, and has sent me his tickets, which will carry in Mrs. Freind also. Mrs. Cotes’ cold is too bad to go.... The Archbishop[298] is much censured for going away so soon, he has not tried the waters long enough to know whether they would be of any use to such an extream case as his.... Mrs. Potter would let her husband see nobody but herself, and took his duty of preaching upon herself; she tempered it with a comfortable compliance, and when he used to say ‘I am sure I shall dye, I wish it might be at home,’ ‘To be sure, my dear,’ answers the good wife, ‘it is proper you should dye where you like, if you chuse it you shall go and dye at Lambeth.’ ...”
[297] Mr. Sloper lived at West Woodhay, near Newbury.
[298] John Potter, born 1674, died 1747. Archbishop of Canterbury.
At one of the balls Sarah did not dance, but she said she did not regret it, “having no inclination to dance with any man but Mr. Pitt,[299] and that I have not acquaintance enough with him to expect, I can only cherish my hopes of future good fortune.” At another ball she dances with Mr. Vanburgh, “a very pretty sort of man, but our affections to him are quite Platonic, as he is in love with the youngest Miss Nash.” This must have been the sister or daughter of Mr. Richard Nash[300] (“Beau Nash”), the despotic Master of the Ceremonies at Bath. He was not well at this time, and Mrs. Montagu sends her kind regards and condolences on his health. Amongst other people mentioned at Bath by Sarah were the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Berkeley, Mr. Powlett, and Mr. Bathurst, son of Lady Selina, the two Offleys, Mr. Greville, and Lord Robert Carr, said to be very handsome.
“Last night in the middle of the dancing we drank tea with a gentleman who had invited about twenty of us some days before. They give tea now almost as much of common days as they used to do on Sundays.”
[299] Afterwards Earl of Chatham.
[300] Richard Nash, for fifty years Master of the Ceremonies, Bath.
Sarah says she is going to play shuttlecock with a Mr. Amiens,[301] at the end of this letter; and in the next she states—
“I played at Shuttlecock about half an hour, there were five couple of us: in truth I played so much better than any in the room, I put them all in amazement, but it was rather owing to their bad play, and to my being matched with the two men that played the best, than my superior skill.... In my last I mentioned I was going to the ball: there was a table of sweetmeats, jellies, wine, Biskets, cold Ham and Turkey set behind two Screens, which at 9 o’clock were taken away, and the table discovered.... Above stairs there was a hot supper for all that would take the trouble to go up.”
[301] I think this was Mr. Amyand?
The ignorance of some ladies of this period is shown by Sarah in the following extract:—
“A lady told us last night that Miss Molyneux is so great a Mathematician that she can inster Greek, and that often a dozen of the most learned men of the Kingdom had puzzled their wise heads about a piece of Greek, and could make nothing of it; they proposed to send it to Miss Molyneux, and she instered it (alias construed it), and returned them her insteration!”
Whilst Sarah was at Bath, Mrs. Montagu wrote frequently to her mother at Mount Morris, much, naturally enough, about her child, about whom the fond grandmother was never tired of hearing. A little sentence gives a clue to his looks, “If my Father has drawn a blue-eyed simpering Cherubim, you may fancy him not unlike your grandchild; the child’s eyelashes are black and long, and he has a laughing look in his eyes, blue, like my Father.” He was still toothless, and suffered much with his gums, which made his mother already uneasy. Mr. Montagu had just taken some prodigious sized carp from a fish-pond at Sandleford, and was throwing three of the old monks’ ponds, or fish stews, into one large one.
Mrs. Donnellan writes from Bullstrode on October 21, and says her brother is now going to Bath, where he will stay with their relations the Mountraths,[302] and that Sarah Robinson, “if she meets him she must make the advances, all the young ladies do, as he is a grave, stiff Parson.” Dr. Young and Lady Peterborough[303] were at Bullstrode when she wrote.
In a letter to the duchess of October 25, Mrs. Montagu describes the gardens at Midgham, the seat of Mr. Poyntz,[304] near Aldermaston,
“to which Mr. Montagu carried me last week, I had no small expectations of them, both from report and the known sense and genius of the owner.... Over the door of a little grotto he declares for retirement in open fields, caves and dens, with living waters and woods. Statues of the Muses adorn his walls, their Arts adorn his mind and inspire him with the elegant ingenious gratitude that gives this public demonstration of honour to them. Every venerable oak has a seat under it from whence he takes the sacred oracles of meditation.... The gardens are of uneven ground, prettily diversified with hills and valleys. There is a fine bason before the house, that is always well supplied with water, and inhabited by fish.... I did not see Mr. Poyntz’s house, as it is not anything extraordinary, it would have been an impertinent curiosity to desire it, as they visit here when in the country.”
[304] Right Hon. Stephen Poyntz, Lord Treasurer.
Mrs. Donnellan writes for the duchess as well as herself in reply, Lady Oxford being there, and all the usual writing-hours given up to playing Pope Joan with her. In this letter, alluding to “Punch” watching with pleasure the colour of his bed-curtains, she says, “Master Wesley,[305] who is the most extraordinary child for sense I ever knew, at three months old, used to be put in a good humour with a suit of tawdry Tapestry hangings.”
[305] This was Garrett Wesley, afterwards Earl of Mornington. He was Mrs. Donnellan’s godson, born 1735, died 1781.
The Duke of Portland had the misfortune to break his arm at the end of November, just as the Rev. Dr. and Mrs. Delany had arrived for their first visit since their marriage on June 9.
In writing to condole with the duchess, a typical story of a footpad is given by Mrs. Montagu. The duchess had just set up keeping bees at Bullstrode, and Mrs. Montagu intended to do the same, but laments she cannot
“have anything of a menagerie[306] here, there is no trusting anything out of doors. The town of Newbury is a melancholy example of the decay of trade, there is misery and poverty and lawless necessity in an unhappy abundance. We have robbing upon the commons here very frequently: a poor labourer who has been digging in our garden last week was very oddly preserved from a wound by a Buckler made of Cheese, like Sardella in ‘The Rehearsal.’ The poor man had five shillings in his pocket, when he was stopped by a footpad. He did not care to surrender his wealth, and so resisted; another robber came to his comrade’s assistance, and stuck a knife several inches deep into some cheese and bread he had over his bosom, in a wallet betwixt his coat and waistcoat. We had a highwayman taken by a French dancing master a little while ago. When the dancing master carried him before the Justice of Peace, the Justice asked what day of the month he was robbed? ‘Ah,’ says the dancing master, ‘me can no tell dat,’ but turns to the highwayman, ‘but you do know, I pray tell Monsieur, for you must know what day you did rob, and I pray you now be so civil as tell de gentleman,’ which, as the highwayman denied the fact of the robbery, was as good a blunder as one could desire. The highwayman has since cut his throat, but is likely to recover, only to try the hempen collar.”
[306] Menagerie was the name given to a collection of birds, from rare fowl to pheasants, etc.
Mr. Montagu had started that morning (December 1) for the meeting of Parliament, Mrs. Montagu accompanying him “halfway to Reading.”
A letter of December 3 of Mr. Montagu’s shows the state of politics in the House—
“I have been making what enquiry j could about the state of public affairs, and can learn nothing that is agreeable to one who loves Great Britain, and is more concerned for his country than the fatal E(lecto)r of H(anove)r. For though the ministry have been at variance about some of the treaties mentioned in the Speech and in the Privy Council, they came to Division, where Lord Carteret and his friends were only four, and the opposers, j, amongst whom were Mr. Pelham and Lord Chancellor and others, still matters have since been so far made up amongst them that it is said they all agreed (by the mediation of Lord Orford) in the speech and address, which is reckoned to be Lord Carteret’s, and after a division in our House, the address was carried by a considerable majority, the yeas being 278 against 149 noes. Mr. Pitt exerted himself against the address with his usual eloquence and with great acrimony against a Minister whom j need not name, after j shall tell you that in his invective he said what he meant was not against the Ministry, but against one who was a Minister, and had renounced Great Britain, who had eat of a certain tree that the Poet tells us makes People forget everything, even their country, but he hoped the people would never taste of the fruit of the same tree, nor after his example forget their country.... Mr. Pelham is to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sandys Pay Master of the Army. The Duke of Marlborough[307] has resigned.”
[307] He resigned his commission in disgust.
A letter of December 4 of Mrs. Montagu to the duchess makes the following comments on the new edition of Pope’s “Dunciad,”[308] to which he had just added a fourth book:—
“We got Mr. Pope’s new Dunciad printed, but I think it differs little from the old one: the new Hero[309] is certainly worthy to have the precedency over all foolish Poets. I like the last Dunciad for exposing more sorts of follies than the first did, which was merely upon bad poets and bad criticks. I am always glad when I see those fops who have translated their manners and language into French foppery well ridiculed for the absurd metamorphosis, to ridicule wrong placed pride is of great service, for if it was not done this land would be over-run with conceit, for here people are proud of their vices and follies and iniquity, and as long as Pride arises from such Stocks, we shall never want an increase of it. Milton says, ‘Nought profits more than self-esteem right placed,’ and surely it is true of that pride that makes us disdain vice, but that which makes people glory in it is as pernicious. The British vice of gluttony is openly professed so much, one can hardly dine at a fashionable table where eating is not the discourse the whole time, and treated of as an affair of the utmost consequence.”
In a letter of December 8, after congratulating the duchess on the duke’s recovery from his broken arm, Mrs. Montagu adds this description of the learned Mrs. Pocock;[310] it is interesting, in contrast with that of the lady who insters Greek!—
“I have been petrifying my brain over a most solid and ponderous performance of a woman in this neighbourhood; having always a love to see Phœbus in petticoats, I borrowed a book written by an ancient gentlewoman skilled in Latin, dipped in Greek and absorbed in Hebrew, besides a modern gift of tongues. By this learned person’s instruction was Dr. Pococke[311] (her son) skilled in antique lore while other people are learning to spell monosyllables, but Hebrew being the mother tongue, you know it is no wonder he learnt it. His gingerbread was marked with Greek characters, and his bread and butter instead of glass windows was printed with Arabick, he had a mummy for his jointed baby, and a little pyramid for his playhouse. Mrs. Pocock lives in a village[312] very near us, but has not visited here, so I have not had an opportunity to observe her conversation, but really I believe she is a good woman, though but an indifferent Author. She amuses herself in the country so as to be cheerful and sociable at three score, is always employed either reading, working or walking, and I don’t hear she is pedantic.... She always carries a Greek or Hebrew Bible to Church.... I desire your Grace to make ten thousand apologies for me to Mrs. Delany if it is true I have robbed her of a good name, but I hope you only said this to put me in terrors. I desire my best compliments to her, Dr. Delany, to whom I wish very well, though I have offered the shadow of a great injury in seeming to deprive them of each other.”
[310] Daughter of the Rev. Isaac Milles, Rector of Highclere, a very learned man.
[311] Rev. Dr. Richard Pococke, eminent Orientalist, Bishop of Meath, born 1704, died 1765. Dr. Pococke added the “e” to his name.
[312] Newtown.
This was caused by Mrs. Montagu, in a fit of absence, having addressed a congratulatory letter to Mrs. Delany as Mrs. Pendarves, her former name, which caused much mirth in the Bullstrode circle.
Mr. Montagu writes on December 8—
“We had yesterday a motion of consequence in the House, which was to have an humble address presented to his Majesty to forthwith dismiss the Hanoverians in the British pay, which occasioned a fine debate, and was carried in the negative by a majority of 50, the numbers being 181 against 131. The same is to come on tomorrow before the House of Lords, and Lord Sandwich is to begin, which j doubt not he will do in the best manner.”
Dr. Freind, who, with his wife, was invited to spend Christmas at Sandleford, playfully bids Mrs. Montagu to write him a sermon to preach before the King, as he will have to do in a few weeks.
The year ends with Sarah and Morris Robinson and the Freinds staying at Sandleford.
The first letter of interest in 1744 is one from Mr. Montagu to his wife, written February 23, from London, whither he had returned for the meeting of Parliament.
After alluding to parliamentary debates and elections, and to the failure of the new tax proposed upon sugar, “which was carried in the negative by a majority of 8 only, to the great joy of those concerned in the Sugar Colonies, and the duty is to be raised on the surplusage of the tax which was given upon spirituous liquors[313] last year,” he says—
“The danger of the Pretender, if we may believe our wise and vigilant ministers, is not yet blown over. It is said that a few days ago several French men of war were seen off Rye and that the Pretender’s Eldest Son has been seen walking about publickly at Calais, and is styled Charles the 3rd, his Father having relinquished his rights in his favour; but people seem to be little affected with any apprehensions of danger, and what the designs of the French were, a little time will discover; whatever they shall prove to have been j am heartily sorry for the alarm, and whatever ground or no ground there has been for the rumour of an invasion, j am afraid it will be made use of as a pretence for a further plundering of us, and invasion of our pockets, for j cannot forget what j have heard before j sat in the House, that a member (I think his name was Hungerford) should say the Pretender was the best wooden leg a ministry ever had to beg with, and perhaps the present may have as much inclination to make use of it as ever any of their worthy predecessors had.”
[313] Tax on spirits, passed 1742–3.
On February 25 Mr. Montagu writes—
“Since my last the King has sent another message to the House with some intelligencies concerning the invasion and the French King’s[314] answer to Mr. Thompson,[315] our agent in Paris in relation to the removal of the Pretender’s Son out of France, in pursuance of treaties which in substance is as follows, viz.:—‘That engagements entered into by treaties are not binding any further than those treaties are religiously observed by the contracting parties on all sides. That when the King of England shall have caused satisfaction to be given on the repeated complaints that have been made to him of the infractions of these very treaties of which he now demands the performance, which violations were committed by his orders, his Most Christian Majesty will then explain himself upon the demands now made by Mr. Thompson in the name of his Majesty.’ Besides this there was a long affidavit of a Master of the packet boat read, letting us know that he saw a young man who was called the Chevalier, and said to be the Pretender’s Eldest Son, with another young man, his brother, that there was arrived there Count Saxe,[316] who was to bring over here in transports, 1500 men, together with several particulars too long to be inserted here.... The House addressed his Majesty to augment his forces both by sea and land as much as be necessary, and that they would defray the expense.
“An express arrived yesterday that Sir John Norris[317] with his squadron was in sight of the French fleet, that he stood off Romney, and they were at Dengeness, that he weighed anchor and would endeavour to come up with them, and bring them to an engagement if possible. It was this morning reported he had demolished them, but this wants confirmation, as well as the news of Admiral Matthew’s[318] having beat the Toulon fleet,[319] with which there has been an engagement.”