“Can I begin the new year more auspiciously than by dedicating the first hours of the New Year’s Day to that person from whose friendship I hope to derive so much of the honour and happiness of every year of my life? Among the wishes I form for myself, not the least earnest are those of seeing Lord Lyttelton and his son enjoy all the health, felicity and fame that can be attained in this world, with the chearing prospect of a better state.... The world much admires the Pamphlet,[258] and Lord Bath does not deny he is the author as I am told. I ordered Mr. Bower to send it to your Lordship, but it is out of print.... The Hereditary Prince[259] is gone to the King of Prussia with 18,000 gallant men. I was at Lady Hervey’s last night, she is very well.”

“My eyes have at last served me to read the collection of letters which have afforded me much entertainment, those from the illustrious I consider as written in their theatrical character, for though they are written behind the scenes, which gives them an air of reality, they are made to suit the assumed character. Lord B(ath) is Patriot and Philosopher, after the manner of the Ancients, his letters bear a consular and stoical dignity, and when I expect to see them signed Marcus, Cato or Caius Cassius, he surprises me with a Christian name and modern title. Those of another eminent person appear more natural, though perhaps they are not more sincere, but the modes we are used to by their familiarity appear less constrained and artificial.... I will send Mr. Lyttelton the Gazette extraordinary from Quebec next post, it is from the Indian Savages, and expressed in hieroglyphicks; it will give him an idea of the expresses sent by the Mexicans and Montezuma. I will send him the explanation with it.... Mr. Stewart gave me this curious piece this morning.... I did not say Lord Bath own’d, but that he did not stoutly deny the pamphlett. Mr. Pitt and his party are angry at it, and I hear H. Walpole has answer’d it.”

“I hear my cousin Pitt is gone abroad with Lord Kinnoul.... I wish his tour may afford him as much pleasure as it will improvement. But nothing can ever hinder a mind like his, active and desirous of knowledge from improving itself everywhere, but particularly in foreign countries.... I only wish the eyes of the handsome Spanish Ladies may not make a greater impression on his heart than the beautiful Vales of Arragon and Castile.”

“The Tagus is extremely noble, and the shore on the other side is covered with woods of pine and fir. The city is quite destroy’d, and though they talk of magnificent plans for the rebuilding it, there is little likelihood that it should rise out of its ruins for many years.”

“The story of a conspiracy is universally disbelieved, the whole is attributed to the malignity of the Duke of Aveiro, and the resentment of the old Marquis and Machioness of Tavora for the dishonour[261] done to their family since the late dreadful execution, which is followed by the erection of the Bastile, into which people of the first rank are committed without any cause assigned, makes them afraid to be even seen with one another.... I hear my little friend Tom has not forgot me in my peregrinations, has apprehensions from the impressions I may receive from the Spanish ladies. Pray give my love to him, and assure him if they resemble those of Portugal I never was in less danger.”

“I am going in about a week or ten days into the true country of Knight Errantry. I shall set out for Spain and pass through Andalousia and Granada before I go to Madrid, but instead of Rosinante and the Barber’s basin I shall provide myself with side-creeping mules and a heavy crazy old coach that has outlived the earthquake. I propose being at Madrid about the time the King makes his public entry, which is to be extremely magnificent. I shall dispute the prize at every tilt and tournament, and expect to send you a lock of hair plucked as a trophy from the forehead of a wild bull that I have laid dead at my feet. We have a very good chance of escaping the Corsairs, and sea-sickness, as the French Ambassador[262] here has had the goodness to write to his Court for a passport to enable us to get to Italy through the South of France.”

“Blackheath, May 7, 1760.

“My Lord,

“I return you my sincerest and warmest thanks for your most entertaining and instructive present.[264] When I heard that you had undertaken that work, I expected no less, and now that I have it, without a compliment I could wish for no more from you. You have applied History to its best use, the advantage of morality; you have exposed vice and folly, but with so noble a hand, that both fools and knaves must feel that you would rather correct than execute them. You have even shown mercy to one who never showed nor felt it; I mean that disgrace to humanity, that sanguinary monster of the North, distinguished only by his Barbarism and his Barbarity, Charles the 12th[265] of Sweden. I would fain have homicide no longer reckoned as hitherto it has been, a title to Heroism, and the infamous but fashionable traffick of human blood, no matter for or against, who, if they pay but well, called by its true name assassination. Your Lordship has still a great field left open to you for another and yet another volume, which nobody can range in so usefully to mankind as yourself. I must take the liberty of troubling your Lordship with a petition to your brother the Governor of Jamaica,[266] whom I have not the pleasure of being acquainted with myself. It is to recommend to his protection and favour a relation of mine, one Captain Stanhope, who is now there, and, I believe, has some little employment given him by the present Deputy Governor, Mr. Moore. My kinsman was formerly an Officer of the footguards, but being a man of wit and pleasure, shared the common fate of that sort of gentleman, and was obliged to leave England and go to Jamaica, for (I doubt) more than suspicion of debt. I am assured that he is now quite reformed, and has a mind to be an honest man.

“I have just received my dear Mrs. Carter’s letter, and am very happy in her approbation of ‘the Dialogues.’ With her encouragement I do not know but at last I may become an author in form. It enlarges the sphere of action and lengthens the short period of human life. To become universal and lasting is an ambition which none but great genius’s should indulge; but to be read by a few, a few years, may be aspired to.... The Dialogues, I mean the three worst, have had a more favourable reception than I expected. Lord Lyttelton’s have been admired to the greatest degree.”

“I own the late instance of their going to hear Lord Ferrers’ sentence particularly provoked me. The Ladies crowded to the House of Lords to see a wretch brought, loaded with crime and shame, to the Bar, to hear sentence of a cruel and ignominious death, which, considering only this world, casts shame back on his ancestors and all his succeeding family.”

“Saturday night, after ten.

“My dearest Sister,

“The Bride triste, the Bridegroom tristissimo; but to the order of the nuptials, Pappa Robinson and Mr. Richardson[268] in Pappa’s postchaize, bride and bridegroom, Mrs. M(orris) Robinson and Sister Montagu in her coach and six. Brother Morris Robinson and Mr. Montagu in Brother Morris’ postchaise, so went we to Kensington Church, the neighbours gazing, the children running, the mob gathering; from Church we went to Greenwich, where the Bridegroom gave us a very elegant and splendid dinner: then we walk’d in Greenwich Park, return’d to the Inn to drink tea, after tea the Bride and Bridegroom and Mr. Richardson got into my coach, I carry’d them to Kensington, and there I left the lovely loving pair.... William smiled and looked in high beauty as we went, as we return’d he was grave, angry perhaps, that Phœbus did not gallop apace his fiery-footed steeds and hasten on the happy hour. Never was wedding so decent, so orderly, so unlike a wedding, none of your fulsome fondness, I assure you, a few fond glances, but not a syllable addressed to each other. I believe William will behave well, and she is sensible and good-natured.... I am glad the wedding is over that I may depart on Monday to Tunbridge. I have been disappointed of my lodgings, the lady who was to have left them being ill, but I have got a house for a week till I can have that I had hired.”

“My Dearest,

“I had a very agreeable journey hither, but found my present lodging too small to receive the maids who are to come in the postchaise, so cannot send for them till Lady Fitzwilliam is well enough to leave Dr. Morley’s. I can give but little account of Tunbridge as yet. I drank the waters at the well this morning, and have now taken leave of the walks till to-morrow, as this fine weather will be better spent in an airing than on the Pantiles.... Lord Bath was on the Walks, and General Pulteney,[269] and Mr. and Mrs. Torriano and Mr. Marriott. Many of the ladies are too lazy to come down in a morning, and those that do come to the well are an hour later than when I was here last.”

“I believe your Lordship must accept of a house on Mount Ephraim, which Lady Pembroke laid in last year, for I do not believe I can get you a better. Order your postillion to stop at Mr. Dowding’s on Mount Ephraim when you come, and there your Lordship shall be inform’d of the certain place of your abode.”

“this has hindered me from receiving so much pleasure from the unexpected kindness of Lord Barrington[270] as might naturally have been expected.” He then comments on her disappointment “at the smallness of the favour conferred upon me, for it seems to me much superior to anything i would have expected. However favourable you, dear Madam, may judge me, i cannot rate my talents so highly as to think they are undervalued at £100 per ann., when no business is to be done for it.” This was his appointment as Master of Kensington Barracks, which took place on June 12. “I had a letter from Dr. Monsey dated Wotton, that gives me much concern, for by his account he seems to be in a bad state of health, and i should think by no means qualified to travel in the pais (sic) du tendre, but he is a thorough-paced hero, and can be romantic in the midst of pain. Should you lose your knight errant i do not think the world can furnish you with a successor, for amongst all your other admirers you will not perhaps meet with one who at seventy is capable of all the tenderness which they have at twenty....” After this he alludes to the inflammation of the eyes Mrs. Montagu was suffering from. “If you cannot see to write he and all your friends will lose one of their greatest pleasures. Has he prescribed the Vitriol Water?”

“Monsieur des Champs brought me his translation of your three Dialogues. They are as well done as the poverty of the French tongue will admit. But such eloquence as yours must lose by being transposed into any other language.... There is great mourning in the gay world for poor Lady Lincoln.[273] I have seen her so lively, so cheerfull, so happy, that it shocks me to think of her sudden dissolution, and it frights me when I think that I have very dear friends who may as suddenly die, and especially some whose spirits, like hers, exceed their strength. Monsey says he cannot tell what was the cause of her death.”

“I went to the ball last Friday, it was the first time I had been to the publick rooms, and it had like to have been fatal to me, for the coachman not being acquainted with the place, the night dark, and having no flambeaux, had like to have overturned just coming out from Joy’s Rooms, down a place where the coach would have been entirely topsy-turvy; the footmen were thrown off from behind, but several people being by, the coach was held up, and I got safe out, and no hurt done to the persons or machine. My fright was such I did not get my rest till six o’clock in the morning. I had many civil messages in the morning, and Lord and Lady Feversham came up the hill to inquire after me; my nerves are still a little the worse. If the coach had fallen it would have gone down some feet, but the standers-by behaved with great humanity, bearing a very heavy load on their shoulders. I believe our new coachman is too lazy to serve us. The danger I was in when John and the postillion were drunk and had like to have overturned us on a gallop against a post when we came from Windsor, and my second peril on Friday, makes me tremble whenever I get into the machine.”

“My Dearest,

“I am more concerned than j can express at the peril you were in. I tremble and shudder when j consider how fatal the consequences might have been if you had been actually overturned.... I have inquired after the cause of this unhappy affair, and though Ned says he cannot say the coachman was drunk, still he had been at the Ale House, and when he came home said there was no danger, and that the boys made almost as much noise as his Mistress. I find he is a lazy, proud, and what they call a gentleman coachman, and such as j would very soon get rid of.”

“The gentleman here ordered the place of my danger to be mended and acquainted me he had done so, and hoped I should not be frighted away from the balls.

“Sir Roger Twisden inquired much after you and my Father. He stays but a few days here. Lord Bath was ill again yesterday, he told me he was mortified that he had never been able to wait on me, but he was so weak he could not venture to trouble any one with a visit. I think he is in a bad way, but has a great deal of witt whenever he is tolerably well. His Lordship, I know, has been prejudiced in my favour by some of his friends, who are also friends of mine and Mr. Domville in particular, which I believe has given him a desire to be acquainted with me, but I believe he will hardly be able to make a visit this season, and in London he never visits any one who does not inhabit a ground floor. He has still a fine countenance, and those piercing eyes that denote a mind extraordinarily lively and penetrating.”

“None of his friends, I believe, will remember him longer and very few with equal affection. Indeed, there was something in his conversation and manners more engaging than can be described. With all those talents which had so long rendered him the object of popular admiration, he had not the least tincture of that vanity and importance which is too often the consequence of popular applause. He never took the lead in conversation, or even assumed that superiority to which he had a claim, as he was blessed with an exemption from many of the pains and infirmities of old age; he had none of its defects. In so many months as I was continually in his company last year (1763), I do not recollect a single instance of peevishness the whole time. His temper always appeared equal. There was a perpetual flow of vivacity and good humour in his conversation, and the most attentive politeness in his behaviour, nor was this the constrained effort of external and partial good breeding, but the natural turn of his mind, and operated so uniformly on all occasions that I never heard him use a harsh or even an uncivil expression to any of his servants.”

“great civilities the few hours he was here ... an old quaker of four-score, who was reckoned one of the greatest Chymists in Europe, and is a man of witt and learning and who was connected with all the witts of the last age, has taken a great fancy to me because he will believe, in spite of all I can say, that I wrote certain ‘Dialogues,’ and he sits by me so cordially and attends on me so much, that if he was forty and I was twenty years younger it would be scandalous.... Torriano will be kill’d by the Archbishop’s[275] sumptuous fare, who feeds more like a pig of Epicurus than the head of a Christian Church.”

“the new translation of Sophocles.... The Œdipus Coloneus affected me extreamly, and would have done so more if it had not been for the constant presence of the Chorus, but the passions are awed and checked by a crowd. I am more than ever averse to the Chorus because, though the translator tells us the Choruses of Sophocles are less alien to the subject of the Drama, than those of any other tragedian, yet here they hurt the interest of it very much.”

“I have the pleasure to tell you that I find everything done incomparably well, as far as is done, and that the Beauty and Elegance of my House, upon the whole, exceeds my expectations. The bed which is adorned with your handywork is so pretty that if you were to see it I think you would own your pains were not lost. And then the prospect out of that chamber is so delightful, and in case of a rainy day the prints it is hung with are so amusing that if you were at Hagley I believe you would wish to lodge there yourself, and leave the best apartment to vulgar women of quality, who love finery better than the delicate beauties of Nature and Art. My lower print room in the Atticks is also much obliged to you for the boxes of its Toilette, which suit admirably well with the furniture of it.”

“I shall be mortified if they do not make part of the glories of the first.... My imagination will attend all the ceremonies of the day, and should my spirit appear it will not come like Banquo’s ghost to frown on the banquet, and least of all to frighten and menace the noble Master of the feast to whom I wrote a long and happy enjoyment of his new palace.”

“You may remember to have heard Lord Bath talk of a robbery here which a gentleman was suspected to have committed, of Bank bills to the amount of £300; this person, finding he was suspected, it is supposed, threw them this morning into the musick gallery on the Walks, where one of the Fidlers found them, and is entitled to £30 reward. The person who was guilty of this theft is a gentleman, and his brother is an officer of credit in the army, so one is glad he escapes, but the circumstances almost amount to a conviction. The person robbed was so overjoy’d at finding his bills he seem’d in a fever this morning.”

“The great Monsey came hither on Friday and stays till Thursday, he is an excellent piece of Tunbridge Ware. He is great in the Coffee house, great in the rooms, and great on the Pantiles. Bucks, Divines, Misses, and Virtuosi are all equally agreeable to him. Miss Sally Stanley leaves me on Friday. There is no abatement of Lord Bath’s[282] passion and I have had two sides of folio paper from the Bishop of London,[283] so affectionate, so polite, so badine it would surprise you. I answered his Lordship’s first letter, concerning the ‘Highland Poems,’[284] and with great deference urged the reasons which induced me to esteem them genuine. His Lordship pays great compliment to what I had said on the subject, answering other parts of my letter with spirit and gaiety, and at last concludes that, in spite of 83, without a voice, and with shaking hands, he had endeavoured to follow my train of thought, which he should always look upon as a very good direction.”

“I shall take leave of Tunbridge to-morrow sennight, the 15th of September. I shall take two days’ rest in London, and propose to set out on Thursday, 18th....”

“Madam,

“By a letter from my wife last post, I learn that you have been so good as to renew your invitation to us to be your guests at Tunbridge—an offer so advantageous that my not availing myself of it sooner must put my understanding in a suspicious light, from whence I should be glad to have it extricated and not to write so long an Apology as Colley Cibber’s for my life, thus it is. Two small daughters were inoculated; it was necessary for me and mine to perform quarantine at a distance from many of our most respectable friends, particularly from you; I had some business to settle in Scotland, and my friend Wedderburne[286] was going thither alone. Having finished my business within my fortnight of Quarantine, I have been detained from day to day in hopes of seeing his Grace of Argyll, of whose setting out we got the first certain account yesterday by a letter from Grantham. Whether this relation will give you a more favourable opinion of my sense than you would have had without it, I don’t know, but by much drinking with David Hume and his associates, I have learnt to be very historical; and am nightly confirmed in the belief that it is much easier to tell the How than the Why of any thing, and that it is, moreover, better suited to the state of man; who, we are satisfied from self-examination, is anything rather than a rational animal. I am sorry to hear that you propose to leave Tunbridge so soon as the 15th. If you happen to have such heavenly weather there as we have in this place, you will be probably tempted to stay some days longer; in which case my wife and I may still enjoy the pleasure, with which we flattered ourselves, of passing a day or two with you. I see by the newspapers that Admiral Boscawen is come safe home, and when you write to the Lady, be so good as to transmit my hearty congratulations, who am, with the greatest respect,