LIFE IN BATH, LONDON, AND AT BULLSTRODE, 1738–1740 BEGINNING OF
CORRESPONDENCE WITH MRS. DONNELLAN.
[Year: 1738]
On April 16, 1738, the Duchess of Portland’s son, William Henry,
afterwards 3rd Duke, was born, after which Elizabeth returned home
with her father. On June 30 the duchess wrote to apologize for a long
silence--
“I should have answered dear Fidget’s letter before I left
London, but you are sensible what a hurry one lives in there,
and particularly after being confined some months from public
diversions, how much one is engaged in them, Operas, Park,
Assemblies, Vaux Hall--which I believe you never had the occasion
of seeing. You must get your Papa to stay next year: it is really
insufferable going out of town at the most pleasant time of the
year. I am positive the easterly winds have much greater effect
upon the spirits in the country, than it is possible they should
have in London. I dare say the chief part of the year your Papa is
in town he don’t know which way the wind is, except when he goes
into a Coffee House and meets with some poor disbanded Officer who
is quarrelling with the times and consequently with the weather,
because he is not a General in time of peace; or a valetudinarian,
that if a fly settled on his nose, would curse the Easterly wind,
and fancy it had sent it there; these are the only people that ever
thought of East wind in London.”
At the end of the letter the duchess says, “My amusements are all of
the Rural kind--Working, Spinning, Knotting, Drawing, Reading, Writing,
Walking, and picking Herbs to put into an Herbal.”
[Page heading: SIR ROBERT AUSTIN]
This little peep of her life is most characteristic, though fond
of the pleasures of high society diversions, and the varieties of
London, she took an interest in all sorts of country and domestic
pursuits, and excelled in them. She turned in wood and ivory; she
was familiar with every kind of needlework; she made shell frames,
adorned grottoes, designed feather work, collected endless objects in
the animal and vegetable kingdom; was a hearty lover of animals and
birds of all kinds. Her letters are lively and affectionate, but not
clever and witty as her friend Elizabeth Robinson’s. She complains of
her stupidity in letter-writing. Elizabeth had the witty head, and the
duchess the cunning hand, but both possessed that valuable possession,
warm hearts. To the duchess’s last letter Elizabeth replies--
“I arrived at Mount Morris rather more fond of society than
solitude. I thought it no very agreeable change of scene from
Handel[49] and Cafferelli.[50]... Sir Francis Dashwood’s sister is
going to be married to Sir Robert Austin, a baronet of our county;
if the size of his estate bore any proportion to the bulk of his
carcase, he would be one of the greatest matches in England ... a
lady may make her lover languish till he is the size she most likes
... as it is the fashion for men to die for love, the only thing
a woman can do is to bring a man into a consumption; what triumph
then must attend the lady who reduces Sir Robert Austin ... to
asses’ milk. Omphale made Hercules spin, but greater glory awaits
the lady who makes Sir Robert Austin lean.... I told my Pappa how
much he laid under your Grace’s displeasure for hurrying out of
town: but what is a fine lady’s anger, or the loss of London, to
five and forty? They are more afraid of an easterly wind than a
frown when at that age.”
[49] George Frederick Handel, born 1685, died 1759.
[50] Gaetano Majoriano Caffarelli, celebrated Italian singer, pupil
of Porpora, died 1783.
[Page heading: VARIOUS RECIPES]
[Page heading: THE GOAT]
On December 17 Elizabeth writes to the duchess in answer to a string of
queries the latter had sent her--
“I must take the liberty to advise what is to be done, and to avoid
confusion will take them in the order of the letter. Item, for the
wet-nurse[51] after the chickenpox, that she may become new milch
again, a handful of Camomile flowers, a handful of Pennyroyal,
boiled in white wine, and sweetened with treacle, to be taken at
going to rest. For my Lord Titchfield who grows prodigiously,
Daisy roots and milk. For the small foot and taper ancle of my
Lady Duchess, bruised and strained by a fall, a large shoe and oil
Opodeldock. For the horse whose Christian name I have forgotten,
Friar’s Balsam, and for the death of a dormouse take four of the
fairest Moral and Theological Virtues, with patience and fortitude,
quantum sufficit, and they will prevent immoderate grieving.... I
heard a very ridiculous story a few days ago: Mr. Page, brother to
Sir Gregory, going to visit Mr. Edward Walpole,[52] a tame goat
which was in the street followed him unperceived when he got out
of the coach into the house. Mr. Walpole’s servant, thinking the
goat came out of Mr. Page’s coach, carried it into the room to Mr.
Walpole, who thought it a little odd Mr. Page should bring such a
visitor, as Mr. Page no less admired at his choice of so savoury a
companion; but civility, a great disguiser of sentiments, prevented
their declaring their opinions, and the goat, no respecter of
persons or furniture, began to rub himself against the frame of a
chair which was carved and gilt, and the chair, which was fit for
a Christian, but unable to bear the shock of a beast, fell almost
to pieces. Mr. Walpole thought Mr. Page very indulgent to his dear
crony the goat, and wondering he took no notice of the damage,
said he fancied tame goats did a great deal of harm, to which the
other said he believed so too: after much free and easy behaviour
of the goat, to the great detriment of the furniture, they came to
an explanation, and Mr. Goat was turned downstairs with very little
ceremony or good manners.... Dr. Middleton has got two nieces whom
he is to keep entirely, for his brother left them quite destitute.
They are very fine children, and my Grannam is very fond of them.
The doctor is soon to bring forth his ‘Cicero,’ everybody says the
production will do him credit. Lady Thanet has set an assembly on
foot about eight miles from hence, where we all meet at the full
moon and dance till 12 o’clock, and then take an agreeable journey
home. Our assembly in full glory has ten coaches at it; and Lady
Thanet, to make up a number, is pleased in her humility to call
in all the parsons, apprentices, tradesmen, apothecaries, and
farmers, milliners, mantua-makers, haberdashers of small wares,
and chambermaids. It is the oddest mixture you can imagine--here
sails a reverent parson, there skips an airy apprentice, here
jumps a farmer, and then every one has an eye to their trade; the
milliner pulls you by the hand till she tears your glove; the
mantua-maker treads upon your petticoat till she unrips the seams;
the shoemaker makes you foot it till you wear out your shoes; the
mercer dirties your gown; the apothecary opens the window behind
you to make you sick. Most of our neighbours will be in town by
the next moon, so we shall have no more balls this winter. In
town the ladies talk of their stars, but here, ‘If weak women go
astray, the moon is more in fault than they.’ Will o’ Whisp never
led the bewildered traveller over hedge or ditch as a moon does us
country folk; a squeaking fiddle is an occasion, and a moonlight
night an opportunity, to go ten miles in bad roads at any time.
I must tell your Grace that my Papa forgets twenty years and nine
children, and dances as nimbly as any of the Quorum, but is now
and then mortified by hearing the ladies cry, ‘Old Mr. Robinson
hay sides, and turn your daughter:’ other ladies who have a mind
to appear young say, ‘Well, there is my poor Grandpapa; he could
no more dance so.’ Then comes an old bachelor of fifty and shakes
him by the hand, and cries, ‘Why you dance like us young fellows:’
another more injudicious than the rest, says by way of compliment,
‘Who would think you had six fine children taller than yourself? I
protest if I did not know you I should take you to be young.’ Then
says the most antiquated Virgin in the company, ‘Mr. Robinson wears
mighty well; my mother says he looks as well as ever she remembers
him; he used often to come to the house when I was a girl.’ You may
suppose he has not the ‘hyp’ at these balls; but indeed it is a
distemper so well bred as never to come but when people are at home
and at leisure.”
[51] Wet-nurse of the Marquis of Titchfield.
[52] Son of Sir Robert and brother of Horace Walpole.
[Year: 1739]
[Page heading: WILLIAM AND GRACE FREIND]
In April, 1739, Elizabeth’s cousin, Grace Robinson, sister of “Long”
Sir Thomas Robinson,[53] married the Rev. William Freind,[54] son of
the Rev. Dr. Robert Freind, Head Master of Westminster School. Soon
after the marriage, Elizabeth, who appears to have known Mr. Freind
intimately before he married her cousin, writes from “Leicester
Street, near Leicester Fields,” to Mr. and Mrs. Freind, “How rare meet
now, such pairs in love and honour joyn’d,” and addresses them as
“my inestimable cousins.” She states that her family return to Kent
shortly, whilst she is going to the Duchess of Portland in White Hall.
Elizabeth writes to the duchess on July 1, 1739, having just returned
home from her visit--
“I have thought of nothing but the company I was in on Tuesday
since I left town, though a worshipful Justice with a new leathern
belt, scarlet waistcoat and plush breeches, has been endeavouring
this whole afternoon to put you out of my head. I have been forced
to hear the most elegant encomiums upon the country, and the most
barbarous censures upon the town. First his Worship talked of
Larks and Nightingales, then enlarged upon the sweetness of bean
blossom, roses and honeysuckles, said the town stunk of cabbages
and limekilns, so that I found as to pleasures he was lead by the
nose.”
[53] Sir Thomas Robinson, eldest son of William Robinson, of Rokeby;
made a baronet in 1730. Called “Long” Sir Thomas to distinguish him
from Sir Thomas Robinson, afterwards 1st Baron Grantham.
[54] Succeeded his father as Rector of Whitney, Oxon, and afterwards
Dean of Canterbury.
[Page heading: COUNTRY BEAUX]
Further on she says, the Canterbury Races were to be on July 18, and
begs her Grace, if she knows any dancing shoes which lye idle, to bid
them trip to Canterbury, as there will be many forsaken damsels--
“Our collection of men is very antique, they stand in my list thus:
a man of sense, a little rusty, a beau a good deal the worse for
wearing, a coxcomb extremely shattered, a pretty gentleman, very
insipid, a baronet very solemn, a squire very fat, a fop much
affected, a barrister learned in ‘Coke upon Lyttelton’ but knows
nothing of ‘long ways for many as will,’ an heir-apparent, very
awkward; which of these will cast a favourable eye upon me I don’t
know.”
[Page heading: THOMAS ROBINSON]
[Page heading: A BONE-SETTER]
She was destined not to go after all, for she writes--
“Mount Morris, July 18, 1739.
“MADAM,
“The great art of life is to turn our misfortunes to our advantage,
and to make even disappointments instrumental to our pleasures. To
follow which rule I have taken the day which I should have gone
to the Races to write to your Grace. About ten days ago my Papa
took an hypochondriacal resolution not to go to the Races, for the
Vapours and Love are two things that seek solitude, but for me, who
have neither in my constitution, a crowd is not disagreeable, and
I always find myself prompted by a natural benevolence and love
of Society to go where two or three are gathered together.... The
theory of dancing is extreamly odd, tho’ the practice is agreeable;
who could by force of reasoning find out the satisfaction of
casting off right hand and left, and the Hayes; we often laugh at
a kitten turning round in pursuit of its tail, when the creature
is really turning single. I shall have an account of the Races
from my brother Robinson, who is there; as for the Barrister,[55]
he came down to the Sessions, and when he had sold all his Law,
packed up his saleable eloquence and carried it back to Lincoln’s
Inn, there to be left till called for. Would you think a person so
near akin to me as a brother could run away from a ball? I hear
some Canterbury girls who could aspire no higher than a younger
brother, are very angry, and say they shall never put their cause
into his hands, as he seems so little willing to defend it....
Next year we must certainly go to the Races for the good of the
county, and dance out of the spirit of Patriotism. The Election
year always brings company to Canterbury upon this occasion, and
as for me I will dance to either a Whig or a Tory tune, as it may
be, for in any wise I will dance. I am not like the dancing Monkies
who will only cut their capers for King George, I will dance for
any man or Monarch in Christendom, nay were it even a Mahometan
or idolatrous King; I should not make much scruple about it. I
had the misfortune to be overturned the other day coming from Sir
Wyndham Knatchbull’s,[56] the occasion of it was one of our wheels
coming off. I assure you I but just avoided the indecency of being
topsy turvey, my head was so much lower than its usual situation,
as put my ideas much out of place, and I think my head has been
in a perfect litter ever since.... I shall begin to think from
my frequent overturns a bone-setter a necessary part of equipage
for country visiting. I am sure those who visit much, love their
neighbours better than themselves; perhaps you will be as apt to
suspect me as anybody of that extream of charity, but I am so
tender of myself there are few I would hazard even a gristle or
a sinew, but civility is a debt that must be paid. I hope in all
accidents I shall preserve a finger and thumb, to write myself
“Your Grace’s most obedient and obliged
“Humble servant,
“E. ROBINSON.
“My humble service to the Duke.”
[55] Her brother Thomas.
[56] At Mersham Hatch.
[Illustration:
_Hamilton, Pinx._ _Emery Walker Ph. Sc._
_Mr. & Mrs. Matthew Robinson_]
[Page heading: DUKE OF PORTLAND]
The duchess was now expecting her confinement, and Lady Wallingford,
who was staying with her, corresponded with Elizabeth in French. Owing
to the residence of her father in France as Superintendent of Finances,
she was more French than English. Her letters are well written and
expressed, though the spelling is peculiar. At a later date she writes
to Elizabeth in broken English, and she scolds her for making her
correspond in English instead of French. Horace Walpole, in a letter
to the Earl of Buchan, states that Lady Wallingford was the image of
her father, and that her mother, Lady Katherine Law, lived during her
husband’s power in France in great state. On July 26, 1739, another
daughter, Lady Margaret, was born to the duchess. Dr. Sandys was, as
usual, the accoucheur, but it makes one horrified in these days to
think Dr. Sandys _bled_ the duchess for a feverish cold on the Monday
and Thursday after her child was born. Truly under this San Grado
treatment it was then the “survival of the fittest”! The duke now wrote
a bulletin of his wife to Elizabeth--
“Whitehall, August 9, 1739.
“MADAM,
“Tho’ J have not been overturned you’ll imagine by the scrawl you
receive yt both my thumb and forefinger have been dislocated; J own
j can’t agree with you in yt for j flatter myself j have the use of
them, but if you please j’ll agree with you that they never were in
joint, for which reason j am not so sensible of ye loss of jointed
fingers, as you might be had yours been broke by the overturn of
your coach, which accident j hope may never happen to you. The Dss.
is as well as can be expected tho’ a little weak, and is extremely
obliged to you for your letter, and also begged j would hint yt
tho’ she can’t wright letters she can read them, j need not explain
my meaning to you. She desires her kind service to Fidgett; and
should be glad if you would make her compliments acceptable to your
Mama, etc.
“j am with the uttmost respect, Madam,
“Your most obedient, humble servant,
“PORTLAND.”
The duke’s writing is very characteristic, but certainly rather
disjointed looking, and his I’s always written as long j’s.
Elizabeth had just had another coach adventure. The coachman who drove
her father and mother and her brother Matthew home after dining at a
neighbour’s, was drunk, which they did not perceive till he lashed the
four horses into a furious gallop. In vain Mr. Robinson called to him,
and swore at him; Matthew and Mrs. Robinson intreated; he persisted
in lashing the horses till he fell off the box, and two wheels ran
over him, but as Elizabeth states, “being preserved in beer, took very
little harm; both footmen were drunk, so took very little care about
us.”
In a letter to the duchess (August 15) we find Elizabeth and her sister
Sarah banished from home to Canterbury on account of a woman and three
children who lived in a farmhouse near the gate of Mount Morris having
the smallpox. That fell disease ever inspired Elizabeth with great
dread. Later in life at three different times she was inoculated,[57]
each time unsuccessfully, for this disease, then a universal scourge.
I should like the foolish fathers and mothers of the present day who
petition for non-vaccination to read the accounts given in letters
I possess of the unbridled ravages then made by smallpox, and to
consider that a usually temporary inconvenience to the child’s health
is a very trifling infliction compared with a loathsome disease, which
many people fled from nursing, and which even if it did not kill the
sufferers, probably disfigured them for life. The sisters first stayed
with Mrs. Scott,[58] and then with Mrs. Tennison, “wife to a prebend
in this church; there is very little company here, except Deans,
Prebends and Minor Canons, etc., etc.; nothing but messages and visits
from Prebends, Deacons, and the Church militant upon earth.” Later on,
speaking of her brother Matthew’s refusal to leave home on account of
the smallpox, she says, “I have seven brothers, and would not part with
one for a kingdom; and if I had but one, I should be distracted about
him; sure nobody has so many or so good brothers.”
[57] Lady Mary Wortley Montagu introduced inoculation into England
in 1721.
[58] Of Scott’s Hall.
[Page heading: INFLUENZA]
[Page heading: THE SMALLPOX]
Meanwhile the duchess had a return of fever, and was for some days
in great danger. On August 28 Lady Wallingford writes to say she was
out of danger. Influenza was rife then, and Lady Wallingford states
that she had not a single lackey fit to attend her from her house to
Whitehall, but had walked there by herself, though still suffering from
its effects. It was not then called influenza, but from the description
must have been that disease. Eight out of the nine in the farm at
Mount Morris caught the smallpox, and the duke, writing to Elizabeth on
September 15, a bulletin about his wife, adds--
“Both she and j[59] join in entreating you not to venture yourself,
and that pretty face of yours, to come within the walls of your
paternal mansion, and were j in your situation, nothing but
absolute commands should make me venture myself.”
[59] The “j” for “I,” characteristic of the duke’s writing.
After her visit to Canterbury, Elizabeth spent a month at Mersham Hatch
with the Knatchbulls. She now became seriously indisposed; her health
was always frail, and she appears to have suffered much from headaches
at this period. In a letter to the duchess she complains--
“I have swallowed the weight of an Apothecary in medicine, and what
I am the better for it, except more patient, and less credulous,
I know not. I have learnt to bear my infirmities and not to trust
to the skill of Physicians for curing them. I endeavour to drink
deeply of Philosophy, and to be wise when I cannot be merry, easy
when I cannot be glad, content with what cannot be mended, and
patient where there be no redress. The mighty can do no more, and
the wise seldom do as much.”
On October 10 she announces that she and her mother, who had been
extremely unwell too, had been advised to drink the Bath waters, and
were to be accompanied there by her father. She hopes to see the
duchess on her way to Bath, but bids her tell her porter to admit her,
as she has grown so thin--
“he will think it is my ghost and shut the door. I shall stay but
a few days in town and then proceed with my Father and Mother,
to the waters of life and recovery. My Pappa’s chimney ‘hyp’ will
never venture to attack him in a public place; it is the sweet
companion of solitude and the off-spring of meditation, the disease
of an idle imagination, not the child of hurry and diversion. I
am afraid that with the gaiety of the place, and the spirits the
waters give, I shall be perfect Sal-Volatile, and open my mouth
and evaporate.... I was a month at Hatch, where the good humour of
the family makes everything agreeable; we had great variety in the
house--children in cradles, and old women in elbow chairs. I think
the family may be looked upon as the three tenses, the present,
past and future.”
[Page heading: COTTAGE LIFE]
On a fresh scare being caused by the illness of her maid, which the
old women of the parish pronounced to be smallpox, Mrs. Robinson sent
Elizabeth and Sarah to the cottage of the carpenter hard by without
delay, though so late that Elizabeth writes--
“I arrived at my new lodging but the moment before it was time to
go to bed, where I slept pretty well, notwithstanding the goodman
and his wife snored, the little child cryed, the maid screamed, one
little boy had whooping cough, another roared with chilblains. The
furniture of our chamber is extraordinary, the ornamental parts as
follows:--on the mantelpiece four stone tea-cups, four wineglasses,
two broken, two leaden cherubims, a piece of looking-glass, with
a ‘beggerly account of empty bottles,’ as Shakespeare calls it, a
print of King Charles the Martyr, the woeful ballad of the children
in the wood, a pious copy of verses entitled ‘the believer’s
gold chain, or good councell for all men,’ with a resplendent
brass warming pan, in which my sister is dressing her head to the
disadvantage of her complexion, and not much to the rectitude of
her head-dress.”
The alarm proved to be false as to the nature of the maid’s illness,
and they returned the next day to the paternal mansion.
[Page heading: EDMUND CURLL]
On November 12 Elizabeth writes from Bath to her sister a long and
indignant letter upon some poems brought out in the name of Prior. She
says--
“I got at last this morning the poems just published under
Prior’s[60] name, brought them home under my arm, locked my
door, sat me down by my fireside, and opened the book with great
expectation, but to my disappointment found it to be the most
wretched trumpery that you can conceive, the production of the
meanest of Curl’s[61] band of scribblers.”
[60] Matthew Prior, born 1664, died 1721.
[61] Edmund Curll, born 1675, died 1747; publisher, etc., ridiculed
by Pope in the “Dunciad.”
She continues to inveigh against this forgery in eloquent terms, and
towards the end of the letter remarks “that mankind can’t support above
two dead languages at a time, so as to have any tolerable knowledge or
use of them, therefore in all probability Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden,
Prior, and Pope are but short-lived, in comparison of those Methuselahs
the Classicks.”
[Page heading: BATH]
[Page heading: GRACE FREIND]
The first letter to the duchess from Bath is dated--
“December 15, Friday, Bath.
“MADAM,
“After four days’ journey in very bad roads, I arrived here a
good deal tired: if Scarron[62] had not been very facetious, my
countenance had not received the impression of a smile since I
left Whitehall till my arrival at Bath. I read most of the way,
but was sometimes taken off ‘Le petit Ragotin’s’ disasters to fear
those that might happen to la petite Fidget.[63]... morning after
I arrived, I went to the Ladies’ Coffee House, where I heard of
nothing but the rheumatism in the shoulder, the sciatica in the
hip, and the gout in the toe. After these complaints I began to
fancy myself in the Hospitals or Infirmaries; I never saw such
an assembly of disorders. I dare say Gay[64] wrote his fable of
the ‘Court of Death’ from this place. After drinking the waters
I go to breakfast, and about 12 I drink another glass of water,
and then dress for dinner; visits employ the afternoon, and we
saunter away the evening in great stupidity. I think no place can
be less agreeable. ‘How d’ye do?’ is all one hears in the morning,
and ‘What’s trumps?’ in the afternoon. Lady Berkshire[65] did us
the honour of a visit on Wednesday, and inquired much about your
health. Lord Berkshire[66] is literally speaking laid by the leg,
which the gout has usurped, for it has ever been a distemper of
very great quality, and runs in the blood of the Howards. Mr.
Howard and Mr. Tom Howard,[67] Lord Berkshire’s youngest son, are
here, as are Mrs. Greville and her daughter; Lady Hereford,[68]
Lady F. Shirley,[69] Lady Anne Furnese,[70] Lady Anne Finch,[71]
Lady Widdrington, Miss Windsors, Miss Gage, and I should first
have said the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk,[72] and Mrs. Howard,
wife of Brigadier-General Howard; as for the men, except Lord
Noel Somerset, they are altogether abominable; however, such as
they are, I must dress for the ball, and I will add a supplement
to-morrow.
“P.S.--Madam, you know the _Spectator_ says a woman never speaks
her mind but in the postscript! Last night produced nothing but
some bad dancing, except Mr. Southwell,[73] who was overwhelmed
with congratulatory compliments; in one day he was chose Member,
made Father to a little daughter, and got a £500 prize in the
lottery; he seemed in good spirits, and bowed popularly low to all
his acquaintance.... I believe there is a great circulation of
company, for the bells are always ringing for somebody to come, or
tolling for somebody gone. There are many people I have known and
seen before, but very few whom I care to see again. One person whom
I like extremely, loves her husband so much better than me, that
I cannot persuade her to come out. I believe your Grace has often
heard me speak of Mrs. Freind,[74] who is not at all like Sir Tommy
her brother. What makes me like her still better is her contempt
of Matadors.[75] I do not think she ever dreamt of Spadille in
her life, tho’ most people here prefer its company to their best
friends.”
[62] Paul Scarron, born 1610, died 1660; French satirist. Husband of
Mademoiselle D’Aubigné, afterwards Madame de Maintenon; wrote “Le
Roman Comique,” etc.
[63] Her pet-name.
[64] John Gay, born 1685, died 1732; poet, etc.
[65] Catherine, daughter of J. Grahame, of Levens, Westmorland.
[66] 4th Earl of Berkshire.
[67] Afterwards 6th Earl of Berkshire, and 14th Earl of Suffolk.
[68] Wife of 6th Viscount.
[69] Daughter of 1st Earl Ferrers.
[70] Daughter of 1st Earl Ferrers, by second marriage.
[71] Daughter of 1st Earl Aylesford.
[72] Widow of 15th Duke, _née_ Sherburne.
[73] Son of Sir Thomas Southwell.
[74] Her cousin, _née_ Grace Robinson.
[75] Terms used in ombre and quadrille.
[Year: 1740]
In her next letter of January 4, 1740, she says--
“I should be glad to send you some news, but all the news of the
place would be like the bills of Mortality, palsy four, gout six,
fever one, and so on. We hear of nothing but ‘Mr. such-a-one is
not abroad to-day.’ ‘Oh no,’ says another poor gentleman, ‘he dyed
to-day.’ Then another cries, ‘My party was made for Quadrille[76]
to-night, but one of the gentlemen has had a second stroke of the
palsy and cannot come; there is no depending on people, nobody
minds engagements.’
“I beg the favour of your Grace to tell Mrs. Pendarves that I often
enquire after her from her friend Mrs. Donnellan. I hear there is
hope of Mrs. Pendarves coming here in March, but I know you will be
against the journey, so I dare not say how glad I should be to see
her. I assure we have none like her here.”
[76] Quadrille, a card-game for four people, played with 40 cards,
8’s, 9’s, and 10’s discarded.
[Page heading: LORD NOEL SOMERSET]
[Page heading: DOWAGER DUCHESS OF NORFOLK]
Miss Anne Donnellan, who according to the then prevailing custom in
regard to unmarried women beyond extreme youth was called Mrs., was
the daughter of Nehemiah Donnellan, Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer
of Ireland, and Martha, _née_ Miss Usher. Her father was dead, and
her mother had, in 1712, remarried the Hon. Philip Percival, brother
to the 1st Lord Egmont. The Donnellans were great friends of Dean
Swift, and Anne and her brother, the Rev. Christopher Donnellan,
were correspondents of his, as can be seen in the printed letters in
“Swift’s Life.” The next letter to the duchess says--
“Lord Berkshire was wheeled into the rooms on Thursday night, where
he saluted me with much snuff and civility, in consequence of which
I sneezed and curtseyed abundantly; as a further demonstration of
his loving-kindness, he made me play at commerce with him. You
may easily guess at the charms of a place where the height of my
happiness is a pair royal at commerce, and a peer of fourscore.
Last night I took to the more youthful diversion of dancing, and am
nothing but a fan (which my partner tore), the worse for it; our
beaux here may make a rent in a woman’s fan, but they never will
make holes in her heart, for my part Lord Noel Somerset[77] has
made me a convert from toupets and pumps, to tye wigs and a gouty
shoe. Ever since my Lord Duke reprimanded me for admiring Lord
Crawford’s[78] nimble legs, I have resolved to prefer the merit of
the head to the agility of the heels; and I have made so great a
progress in my resolution as to like the good sense which limps,
better than the lively folly which dances. But to my misfortune
he likes the Queen of Spades so much more than me, that he never
looks off his cards, though, were I the Queen of Diamonds, he would
stand a fair chance for me. Lord Aylesford comes to the rooms every
night like ‘Beau Clincher’ in a blanket: he wears a nasty red rugg
great coat. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk bathes, and being very
tall she had like to have drowned a few women in the Cross Bath,
for she ordered it to be filled till it reached to her chin, and
so all those who were below her stature, as well as rank, were
forced to come out or drown; and finding, according to the Proverb,
in vain to strive against the stream, they left the bath rather
than swallow so large a draught of water. I am sorry for the cruel
separation of your Grace and Miss Dashwood, I believe no one parts
with their friends with greater reluctance than you do.”
[77] Afterwards 4th Duke of Beaufort.
[78] John, 17th Earl of Crawford, and 7th Earl of Lindsay.
On January 25 Elizabeth says, “An unfortunate joint in my hip has been
so troublesome, I could not have believed the rheumatism would attack
so dancing a leg;” and then commenting on Lord Noel Somerset’s recent
engagement to Miss Berkeley[79]--
[79] Elizabeth Berkeley, daughter of John Symes Berkeley, of Stoke
Gifford.
“I think Lord Noel’s wife must be happy, and Miss Berkeley is
a very deserving woman, and good-natured. Everybody is content
except those who would have liked the gentleman for themselves....
A man of merit, and a younger brother is a purchase only for a
large fortune; as for those who have more merit than wealth,
they must turn the penny by disposing of their useless virtues
for riches, the exchange may sometimes be difficult, Virtues not
being sterling, nor merit the coin of the nation.... Gold is the
chief ingredient in the composition of worldly happiness. Living
in a cottage on love is certainly the worst diet and the worst
habitation one can find out. As for modern marriages they are great
infringers of the baptismal vow; for ’tis commonly the pomps and
vanities of this wicked world on one side and the simple lust of
the flesh on the other side. For my part when I marry I do not
intend to enlist entirely under the banner of Cupid or Plutus, but
take prudent consideration and decent inclination for my advisers;
I like a coach and six extremely, but a strong apprehension of
repentance would not suffer me to accept it from many who possess
it....
“I beg your Grace to make my compliments to Mrs. Pendarves, and
return my sincere thanks for saying so much in my favour as could
introduce me to so an agreeable an acquaintance as Mrs. Donnellan.
I assure you what she says gives pleasure, and what she sings
delight.”[80]
[80] Her exquisite singing is mentioned in Mrs. Delany’s Memoirs.
[Page heading: FROST FAIR]
In January, 1740, the weather was so severe, a frost fair was held on
the Thames for weeks together; booths, tents, and shows of all kinds
were the order of the day. In a letter to the duchess this is alluded
to thus:--
“What will the world come to now the Duchesses drink gin, and
frequent Fairs? I am afraid your gentlemen did not pledge you, or
they might have resisted the frost and the fatigue by the strength
of that comfortable liquor. I want much to know if your Grace got
a ride in the Flying Coach, which is part of the diversion of a
Fair.... I am much obliged to your Grace for forming schemes for
me. If any castles come to my share they must be airy ones, for
I have no material to build them on Terra Firma. I am not a good
chimerical architect, and besides I would rather dwell this summer
in a small room in a certain mansion near Gerrard’s Cross,[81]
than in the most spacious building I could get. I shall not be
troublesome to you in town, for our stay here will be so long that
our family will hardly go down till May. The time will come that we
shall meet at Philippi.”
[81] Meaning Bullstrode, which is close to Gerrard’s Cross.
[Page heading: MRS. DONNELLAN]
A letter from Mrs. Donnellan, with whom Elizabeth had struck up a
lively friendship, and entered into a correspondence, is dated from
London, April, 1740, portions of which I copy--
“Since my last I passed a most agreeable day with your friend and
mine; the Duke and Duchess of Portland proposed a jaunt into the
city to see city shows, and were so obliging as to ask me with
Mrs. Pendarves to be of the party. We were four men, four women:
our fourth woman was Lady Wallingford, whom I never saw before;
but she seems good-natured and civil; our four men, the Duke, Lord
Dupplin, Mr. Achard,[82] and Dr. Shaw,[83] all new to me. We set
out at ten in two hackney coaches, and stopped at everything that
had a name between us and the Tower, going and coming, and dined at
a city Tavern. I am extremely glad your time is fixed for coming
to us, and that we shall have you a month. You will find the rage
for whist[84] a little abated, I hope, if the weather and Vaux
Hall is in its lustre. You are right in quarrelling with the men
for letting cards take their places in the ladies’ hearts, for I
dare say they would rather hear the gentlemen say fine things,
than win a Slam, and it is a want of gallantry in the men that
runs the women into cards; for something we must have to stir our
passions, or life seems dull. Your account of Bath folks diverted
me much.... My present delight is the fine lady who admires and
hates to excess; she doats on the dear little boy that dances,
she detests Handel’s Oratorios; indeed she don’t say she admires
Mademoiselle de Chateauneuf’s kicking the tambourine, till she
shows herself naked to the waist. She owns it is indecent, but she
goes constantly to see her. I don’t know whether you have heard of
the kicking entertainment? I have not seen it, but I have heard it
very lively described; she kicks twice for the King, and once for
the audience, to the great edification of the spectators. I suppose
you have heard of the false dice at the last masquerade. I fancy
it must have been a pretty sight, a dozen Dominoes, at five in the
morning examined before Justice de Val: I think they should have
been all Devils with Horns and Hoofs. I saw the Duke and Duchess
of Portland yesterday morning at Zincke’s,[85] where she and
Mrs. Pendarves are sitting for their pictures.... Adieu; make my
compliments to all your family, and believe me, dear Madam,
“Your affectionate friend, and humble servant,
“ANNE DONNELLAN.”
[82] Mr. Achard had been tutor to the duke, and was afterwards his
secretary.
[83] Dr. Shaw, born 1692, died 1751; Regius Professor of Greek,
Oxford. Great traveller, botanist, etc.
[84] Elizabeth hated games of cards.
[85] Christian Frederick Zincke, born 1684, died 1767; eminent
miniature painter.
[Page heading: THE PLUNGE BATH]
Elizabeth suffering much still from headaches, Dr. Sandys was
consulted, and he recommended the plunge bath. This was at Marylebone,
at the then popular gardens. This was considered a hazardous exploit,
and she first wrote to ask her parents’ consent. Writing to Sarah, she
says--
“If you was to see me souse into the cold bath, you would think I
had not sense or feeling.... The Duchess went with me the first
time, and was frightened out of her wits, but I behaved much to my
honour. Mrs. Verney went to learn to go in of me. Mrs. Pendarves
went with me to-day, and was as pale as a ghost with the fear of
my being drowned, which you know is impossible. I go in every
day and have found benefit already; but there are two things I
dislike, viz. the pain of going overhead, and the expense of the
bath. The Duke and Duchess are very good in lending me the coach
every morning to Marrybone, which is two miles from here, but the
bath was better than any at Charing Cross: the Duchess says if
there is any bath, as she thinks there is in their neighbourhood at
Bullstrode, she will send me to it, a tub not being near so good.”
The whole parish of Marylebone belonged to the Duchess of Portland.
There were nine springs of water there: _vide_ “Old and New London,”
vol. iv.
[Page heading: FAIRINGS]
April, 1740, occurs a letter to her sister Sarah, written whilst
staying with the duchess in London. Elizabeth says--
“Lord Oxford went to Bath in the post chaise for a week, he brought
us all fairings. Mine were a fan, and a snuff box of Egyptian
pebbles set in Pinchbeck.[86] The Duchess a fan, and an enamel tag
for her lace.”
[86] Christopher Pinchbeck invented this sham gold. He died in 1732.
The next letter to her mother says--
“I was at Mr. Zincke’s yesterday in the morning, where I am to
sit for my picture. On Thursday we went out of town to Sir John
Stanley’s[87] at North End. There we met Mrs. Pendarves. I was
much pleased with my visit. Sir John at 80 years old has as much
politeness, good nature and cheerfulness as I ever met; his
behaviour has neither the formality of age, nor the pertness of
youth.”
[87] Sir John Stanley married Anne Granville, aunt to Mrs.
Pendarves, who had been Maid-of-Honour to Queen Mary II.
[Page heading: “LONG” SIR THOMAS ROBINSON]
In March Lord Oxford gave a ball at Marylebone--
“The Ball was very agreeable. I will give you the list of company
as they danced;--the Duchess and Lord Foley,[88] the Duke and
Mrs. Pendarves, Lord Dupplin and ‘Dash,’[89] Lord George[90] and
‘Fidget,’ Lord Howard and Miss Cesar, Mr. Granville[91] and Miss
Tatton, Mr. Howard and another Miss Cesar. The partners were chosen
by their fans, but a little supercherie in the case of one of our
dancers appointed failed, so our worthy cousin Sir Tommy[92] was
sent for, and he came, but when he had drawn Miss Cesar’s fan
he would not dance with her, but Mr. Hay,[93] who as the more
canonical diversion, chose cards, danced with the poor forsaken
damsel. The Knight bore the roast with great fortitude, and to make
amends promised his neglected Fair a ball at his house. I believe
in his economy he saves a dinner when invited to supper, for he
eat a forequarter of lamb, a chicken, with a plentiful portion of
ham, potted beef and jellies innumerable, and made a prodigious
breakfast of bread and butter and coffee, a little after two in
the morning.... I sat for my picture[94] this morning to Zincke; I
believe it will be very like. I am in Anne Boleyn’s dress. I desire
you to send me up my worked facing and robing, my point, some
lute-string, and the cambrick for my ruffles. I had the pleasure
of hearing to-day that our dear Robert had succeeded in getting a
ship. I am sorry he will go out with the first fleet. I tremble,
too, for fear he should have any engagement with the Spaniards.
Mrs. D’Ewes desires to recommend herself to you being of the party
of loving sisters.”
[88] Thomas, 2nd Baron Foley.
[89] Miss Dashwood, “Delia.”
[90] Lord George Bentinck, the duke’s brother.
[91] Brother of Mrs. Pendarves.
[92] “Long” Sir Thomas Robinson, of Rokeby.
[93] The Rev. Robert Hay, son of the 7th Earl of Kinnoul; afterwards
Archbishop of York.
[94] See portrait in this book.
Mrs. D’Ewes, _née_ Anne Granville, was the beloved sister of Mrs.
Pendarves, recently married to Mr. John D’Ewes.... In the next letter
to her mother she describes what she calls a “new head,” given to her
by the duchess. “Last Tuesday I put on my New head; it is extremely
handsome, very broad, and the lace has more thin work in it than has
been made till this year.” To this head was added ruffles and a tucker
by the same donor. Quin was acting then in London. She writes to Sarah--
“I have been to the play _As you Like it_. Quin outdid his usual
outdoings. I never heard anything spoke with such command of
voice and action as the ‘seven stages of man,’ from the rough bass
of the good Justice, ‘whose round belly with good capon lined,’
till he sunk to the childish treble; it was really prodigious, the
alteration of the voice, he spoke the slippered pantaloon just like
my Uncle Clark.[95] I saw the facetious Monsieur and Mademoiselle
Fausan dance, but Quin had so possessed himself of my thoughts
that I was not over-delighted with them, tho’ I think they dance
very well for a character dance. Wednesday I went into the cold
bath, and from thence the Duke and Duchess, Mr. Achard, Lord George
Bentinck, Lady Throckmorton, Mrs. Collingwood, and Sir Robert
Throckmorton[96] went to Mary-le-Bone gardens to breakfast; after
that they all went with me to Zincke’s to sit for my picture, and
we spent the evening at Vaux Hall. On Thursday we went, two coaches
and six, to Kew, Richmond, and Petersham, Lord Harrington’s,[97]
where I could turn Pastorella with great pleasure, such prospects,
from the most charming place I ever saw, I was ready to call out,
‘O care Selve beate.’ I would tell you more of my meditations, but
the bell for supper interrupts me.”
[95] Her great-uncle on her mother’s side.
[96] 4th Baronet and his second wife.
[97] 1st Earl of Harrington.
[Page heading: LORD WALLINGFORD’S DEATH]
Lady Wallingford was attacked by smallpox at this time, but had it very
favourably. In a letter to Mrs. Robinson, Elizabeth says--
“She never had three hundred all over her, and was at the heighth,
I believe, in seven days. Her Lord dyed very suddenly of a quinsy
before she had been downstairs, so she had not even the melancholy
consolation of a last farewell; she laid up two pairs of stairs,
and he below, so they told her he was removed, and died at
Kensington. He has left everything to her.... Lord Wallingford
certainly caught his death with attending her, a sad aggravation
of the affliction; he died with the greatest courage imaginable.
Sandys, who with several Physicians and Surgeons was called in,
begged him to settle his affairs, upon which he made his will (that
he had by him, being very deficient in points of Law), and took
leave of his friends. There was no hopes from the first, for this
convulsive Quinsy is always mortal.”
In another she says he died of “cramp in the throat,” which sounds more
likely. It has been stated that Lord Wallingford died in France, but
his death occurred at Whitehall.
The duke and family, including Elizabeth, left Whitehall in June for
Bullstrode.[98] In a letter of June 24 to Mr. Freind and his wife, she
says--
“The rural beauties of the place would persuade me I was in the
plains of Arcadia, but the magnificence of the building under whose
gilded roof I dwell, has a pomp far beyond pastoral. We go to
chapel twice a week, and have sermons on Sunday, for his Grace of
Portland values the title of Christian above that of Duke, and the
chaplain may preach against every vice in fashion without fear of
offending either his Patron or Patroness.”
[98] Bullstrode was originally in the Shobbington family before the
Conquest. Judge Jefferies bought it, and built the house here
mentioned in 1686. His son-in-law sold it to the Earl of Portland.
In 1807 it was sold to the Duke of Somerset.
[Page heading: THE MENAGERIE]
In another letter--
“We breakfast at 9, dine at 2, drink tea at 8, and sup at 10. In
the morning we work or read. In the afternoon the same, walk from
6 till tea-time, and then write till supper. I think since we
came down our despatches in numbers, tho’ not in importance, have
equalled those at the Secretary’s Office.... The Duchess and I have
been walking in the woods to-night, and feeding the pheasants in
the menagerie. The late Duke had Macaws, Parrots, and all sorts of
foreign birds flying in one of the woods; he built a house and kept
people to wait upon them; there are now some birds in the house,
and one Macaw, but most were destroyed in the Duke’s minority.”
[Page heading: FRANKS]
[Page heading: LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU]
On July 22 occurs this interesting letter to her mother--
“MADAM,
“Much visiting has of late hindered my writing to you. My Lady
Duchess does not care to spare me to write except when she is so
employed too, and the time set apart for that is in the evening,
and when we make visits at any distance, it is late before we
return, and letters go from here between 10 and 11. When we first
came down, we supped at 9, but we found so early an hour encroached
too much upon our hours of writing, so now we sup at 10, at which
time the Duke comes into the Duchess’s dressing-room,[99] where
we write together, and franks our packets. On Saturday, we were
at Windsor to visit the Miss Granvilles, daughters of the famous
Lord Lansdowne;[100] they unhappily inherit neither the wit of
their Father, nor the beauty of their Mother.[101]... The Duchess
is very civil to them, and Miss Granville was her acquaintance in
infancy, and it is very right in her to take notice of them now.
Lord Weymouth[102] supports them, but how long he will be willing
or able to do so, no one knows. On Sunday, I was at Mrs. Hare’s,
widow to the late Bishop Hare,[103] and was much entertained there
by Sir John Shadwell and his family, who are just come from abroad.
Lady Shadwell[104] saw Lady Mary Wortley at Venice, where she now
resides, and asked her what made her leave England; she told them
the reason was, people were grown so stupid she could not endure
their company, all England was infected with dullness; by-the-bye,
what she means by insupportable dullness is her husband,[105] for
it seems she never intends to come back while he lives. A husband
may be but a dull creature to one of Lady Mary’s sprightly genius,
but methinks even her vivacity might accommodate itself to living
in the Kingdom with him; she is a woman of great family merit, she
has banished her children,[106] abandoned her husband. I suppose
as she cannot reach Constantinople, she will limit her ambition to
an intrigue with the Pope or the Doge of Venice.... The Duke of
Leeds’[107] wedding was very grand. The Duke of Newcastle’s[108]
entertainment upon the occasion was 15 dishes in a course, four
courses. The Duchess of Newcastle, sister to Lady Mary Godolphin,
and Mr. Hay are gone down with the Duke and Duchess of Leeds. The
Duchess had a diamond necklace from her Mother worth £10,000,
she was very fine in cloaths and jewels. The old Duchess of
Marlborough[109] is now mightily fond of her. Her Grace is at law
with the Duke of Marlbro’; she talked two hours like the widow
Blackacre in Westminster Hall, amongst things of value she was to
surrender to the Duke[110] there was the late Duke’s fine sword,
and George, ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘as for the George, he will sell it,
but for the sword he won’t know what to do with that, so I believe
he will lay it by, or may be if he can he will pawn it, he can make
no other use of it, I am sure.’... Pray have you heard from the
dear little boys?[111] I have always forgot their direction. I
think it is Scorton, near Richmond?
“I am, Madam,
“Your most dutiful daughter,
“E. ROBINSON.”
[99] In the eighteenth century dressing-rooms represented the modern
boudoir.
[100] George Granville, Lord Lansdowne, born 1667, died 1735; great
statesman and writer. Uncle to Mrs. Delany.
[101] Lady Mary Villiers, daughter of the Earl of Jersey, widow of
J. Thynne.
[102] Their half-brother.
[103] Francis Hare, D.D., born 1665, died 1740; Bishop of St. Asaph
and Chichester.
[104] Daughter of Evelyn, Duke of Kingston, born 1690, died 1762.
[105] Edward Wortley Montagu, grandson of 1st Earl Sandwich. His
mother, Anne Wortley, a great heiress; he took her name.
[106] Her two children, the eccentric Edward Wortley Montagu,
junior, and Mary, Countess of Bute.
[107] Thomas, 4th Duke of Leeds.
[108] 1st Duke of Newcastle-under-Lyme, Thomas Pelham Holles. The
_bride_, Lady Harriett Godolphin, grand-daughter of the Duke of
Marlborough.
[109] The celebrated duchess.
[110] Charles Spencer, 2nd Duke of Marlborough.
[111] Her three little brothers.
[Page heading: THE REV. WILLIAM FREIND]
Mr. Freind, having written a letter to Elizabeth expressing a fear that
her head might be turned by the great company, and the splendid place
she was residing in, she replies--
“I am neither condemning greatness, nor envying it, but gratefully
and cheerfully enjoying what I am. I thank Providence for the
blessings it has given me, without either despising or wishing
for the gifts it has bestowed on others. I enjoy the present time
without regretting the past, or wishing for that to come, but still
as conducive to happiness, prefer to-day to yesterday or to-morrow.
I keep content for the present, and hope for the future, and love
this life without fearing another.”
This letter was sent to Witney, Oxon, the seat of the blanket
manufacture. The Rev. William Freind had become Rector there, since the
resignation of his father, the Rev. Dr. Robert Freind, in the previous
year. His mother was a Miss Jane de l’Angle, daughter of the Rev.
Samuel de l’Angle, once pastor of the reformed church at Charenton,
near Paris, who, on the persecution of Louis XIV., fled to England and
was made a Prebendary of Westminster. The Rev. William Freind built
the good stone rectory still existent at Witney. A medallion portrait
of him is over a door in the Hall. Mrs. Donnellan had been recommended
to drink the waters at Spa in the Ardennes, and, accompanied by her
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Cottington, set out, poor Mr. Cottington dying
soon after their arrival. Mrs. Donnellan wrote to Elizabeth on July 11
a long letter, out of which I copy the account of the water cure as
then practised--
“We are all out by six in the morning in our chaises, and go three
miles to the Geronsterre waters. We come home by nine, and take
a cup of chocolate, dine between 12 and 1, go to the Assembly at
4, where there are all countries, and all languages, half a dozen
card tables, and no crowd; from the Assembly we take a walk in the
Capucins garden; all are in before 8 to supper, and to bed at 10.”
[Page heading: PRINCESS MARY OF HESSE]
Princess Mary[112] of England had been married in May to the Prince of
Hesse.[113] The prince did not come to England, so her brother, the
Duke of Cumberland, acted proxy. The following account is of gifts
given to the princess’s suite who accompanied her to Hesse:--
“The Duchess of Dorset[114] has had fine presents upon going over
with the Princess of Hesse. The Prince presented her with a gold
teapot, tea-kettle, and lamp, and Lady Caroline Sackville[115] with
a set of Dresden china and a diamond solitaire. The Duchess had
likewise a set of Dresden teacups, and a service of Dresden China,
and the King gave her a gold snuffbox with a thousand pounds Bank
bill in it.”
[112] Princess Mary, daughter of George II.
[113] Frederick, Landgrave of Hesse Cassel.
[114] Wife of 1st Duke of Dorset, _née_ Elizabeth Colyear.
[115] Daughter of the Duchess of Dorset, afterwards Countess of
Dorchester.
In a letter to Sarah Robinson of August 11, mention is made of--
“a mask at Cliefden, on Princess Augusta’s[116] birthday; ‘The
Story of Alfred,’ wrote by Thomson[117] and Mallet,[118] Mr.
Grenville commends it and says it will be published. I own I
cannot give much credit to it, for I rather imagine he commends
it as a patriot than a judge. I never knew anything of Thomson’s
that seemed to be wrote, or could be read, without great labour of
the brain.... Lord and Lady Oxford are to come here next Monday,
(Bullstrode), and stay a month. Lord Dupplin has made a copy of
verses upon my going into the bath, which we would impute to
Sandys[119] to his great amazement. He says he does not know who
wrote them, but thinks he is very sure he did not.”
[116] Daughter of George II., born 1737.
[117] James Thomson, born 1700, died 1748; poet, wrote “The
Seasons,” etc.
[118] David Mallet, Scottish poet, patronized by Pope; died 1765.
[119] A well-known lady’s doctor.
[Page heading: MONKEY ISLAND]
August 25, Elizabeth writes to her father--
“The Duke and Duchess were so obliging as to carry me to see
Windsor Castle last week. It is so delightful a place and so fine
a palace, I am surprised his Majesty does not spend his summer
there, I should think it as well as going to Hanover. The same day
we were at Windsor, we went to see a little island[120] circled by
the Thames, which the Duke of Marlborough[121] purchased and has
beautified at the expense of £8000. There is too great an embarras
of buildings upon it, the finest of which I think something
resembling the Temple of Janus. He has a better title to build one
to war than to fame, for he has got a commission, but renown I
believe is what he will never gain. He sent out a few days ago for
four-score workmen to improve a place he never proposes to live at,
after the old Duchess dies. His Grandfather now saved a people, now
saved a groat, but such a warrior and economist as this gentleman
he will never save either.
“Lady Andover[122] told me in a letter I received from her last
post, that Mrs. Botham was grown very grave, and a great workwoman
and an excellent housewife; if that is the case, Mr. Botham
preaches to those of his household as well as those of his parish.”
[120] Monkey Island.
[121] Charles, 3rd Duke.
[122] Second daughter of Heneage, Earl of Aylesford, wife of
William, Lord Andover.
[Page heading: LYDIA BOTHAM]
[Page heading: COUNTESS OF OXFORD]
This is the first allusion to Lydia Botham, cousin of Elizabeth
Robinson; she, and her more illustrious sister Elizabeth, or Eliza
Lumley, afterwards wife of the Rev. Laurence Sterne, of “Shandean”
memory, were the children of the Rev. Robert Lumley, of the Lumley
Castle family, Rector of Bedale, Yorks, from 1721 to 1732; and of
Lydia, daughter of Anthony Light,[123] and widow in 1709 of her first
husband, Thomas Kirke, of Cockridge, near Leeds (a famous Virtuoso),
she married afterwards the Rev. Robert Lumley;[124] for the table
elucidating this pedigree the reader must turn to the end of the
introductory portion of this work. The Lumleys are said to have been
brought up in style, but little means had remained to them. Both
parents were dead; Lydia had recently married the Rev. John Botham,
Rector of Yoxall, Staffordshire. Elizabeth Lumley, her sister, was
residing alone in “Little Alice Lane,” under the shadow of York
Cathedral. In a folio-sheet letter to her sister Sarah, Elizabeth
explains that owing to the Countess of Oxford being at Bullstrode, she
had more time to herself, as the countess and she had spent alternate
mornings with the duchess. The countess was kind to Elizabeth, but she
was a rare admirer of etiquette. When she was with the duchess, she
actually wished to see all her letters, which was naturally annoying
to a married woman; she also expected them to be couched in the most
formal manner, as addressed _to a ducal person_! Hence, when Elizabeth
was away from the duchess, and Lady Oxford was with her, the letters
were often written under cover to the duchess’s two lady dressers,
so as to indulge in fewer formalities; also, as can be read in Mrs.
Delany’s Memoirs in letters from the duchess, nicknames were often set
up between the circle of friends, known only to themselves in case
of their being opened. This passage in the letter will point to the
formality of the circle when including Lady Oxford--
“While our present Guests are here we are so overcharged with
ceremony, we cannot move about, and as I am not (thanks to the
humility of my station), of the Countess’ cabinet council, I have
the morning to myself. To employ them to my edification, I have
laid in a great store of Italian, which I cannot read with the
Duchess as she has forgotten it so much. I have laid aside the
Arcadia[125] till Mrs. Pendarves comes, who is fond of it, and the
Duchess and I have agreed that she shall read it to us.... I beg
you will send me the receipt for York Curds, and also for Pancakes,
called ‘A quire of paper.’”
[123] Of Durham; his grandmother, wife of Gilbert Kirke, was one of
the coheiresses of Francis Layton of Rawdon.
[124] As stated in former pages, her mother, Mrs. Light, remarried
for second husband, Thomas Robinson, father by her of
Matthew Robinson.
[125] “The Arcadia,” written by Sir Philip Sidney.
On August 21, in a letter to Mrs. Donnellan at Spa, occurs the passage--
“Our friend Penny is under great anxiety for the change her sister
is going to make. I do not wonder at her fears; I believe both
experience, and observation, have taught her the state she is
going into is in the general, less happy than that she has left.
‘Pip’ has a good prospect, for they say the gentleman[126] has
good sense, good nature, and great sobriety; these are very good
things, and indeed what a stock of virtues and qualifications ought
to be laid in to last out the journey of life, where so much too
lies through the rugged ways of adversity, all will hardly serve to
lengthen love and patience to the end.”
[126] John D’Ewes, of Wellesbourne, Co. Warwick.
The lady to be married was Anne Granville, whose nickname was “Pip”;
she was about to be married to Mr. John D’Ewes. “Pen” was Mrs.
Pendarves’ nickname, afterwards Mrs. Delany, and those who have read
her memoirs will remember how unhappy was her _first_ experience of
married life. Much mention is made in this letter of an apron Elizabeth
is working for the duchess; she begs for patterns of flowers from her
father’s pencil, and Mr. Hateley, an artist friend. Embroidered aprons
were then the rage, but only for demi-toilette; the beautiful Duchess
of Queensberry,[127] going to Court in an apron about this time, was
forbidden to attend. The aprons were of all colours as well as white,
and the duchess, fearing a light ground would soon soil, bade Elizabeth
work hers on a black ground. Sarah Robinson at the same time was
working her sister one.
[127] Catherine Hyde, Duchess of Queensberry. Prior’s “Kitty,
beautiful and young;” wife of 3rd Duke.
[Page heading: EARL OF OXFORD]
The following passage is indicative of the times:--
“Lord Oxford drinks hard at the chaplain sometimes, but whether a
churchman’s conscience lyes deep, or a bumper to Church and King
agrees with an orthodox stomach, I don’t know, but he seems less
confounded with a bottle of claret than he is with his text, and
shows the bottom of it too, which he cannot do with the other.”
Mr. Freind having written a letter in which he rallies Elizabeth about
not choosing one of her many admirers, she replies--
“I have lately studied my own foibles, and I have found out I
should make a very silly wife, and an extremely foolish Mother,
and so have as far resolved as is consistent with deference to
reason and advice, never to trouble any man, or spoil any children.
I already love too many people in this world to enjoy a perfect
tranquility, and I don’t care to have any more strings to pull my
heart; it is very tender, and a small matter hurts it. I have been
lately a little out of spirits about my incomparable Duchess; she
has been a good deal out of order, but by bleeding and care, she is
much better, I wish I could say well.”
[Page heading: ADMIRAL VERNON]
Mention of Admiral Vernon[128] is made in a letter of September 12 to
Mr. Freind after the victory of Portobello, which had been taken by him
in 1739; he had bombarded Carthagena--
“I hope the glorious Vernon will do some great exploit by himself.
All the ladies in Suffolk give place to Mrs. Vernon, even those of
the highest rank. I wish the Admiral may be made a peer when he
returns, Baron Something and Viscount Portobello will sound very
well.”
[128] Admiral Vernon, born 1684, died 1757.
[Page heading: CHARLEMAGNE]
Mrs. Donnellan returned from Spa early in September, in company of
Mrs. Anne Pitt, a sister of Mr. William Pitt, afterwards Lord Chatham.
Portions of her letter I copy--
“We had a very pleasant journey together, and find ’tis possible
to travel comfortably without that lordly person--_Man!_ I have
mentioned being at Aix-la-Chapelle, which is a bad day’s journey
from Spa. I went with Mrs. Hoare, and we chose to go at the time
Charlemagne makes his procession round the town, which is an annual
ceremony, and the most solemn and ridiculous I have seen. He built
the town, and made it an imperial city, and this procession is in
memory of him. He is represented by a pasteboard figure, 12 feet
high (for they will have him a giant), he has on his head a very
fine curled and powdered full-bottomed periwig, an Imperial crown
on that; downwards, he has a yellow damask night-gown, which hides
those who carry him. He walks round the city attended by all the
Orders in their different habits (which is a pretty sight),--the
magistracy, and the Host carried under a canopy. They stopped
before the Town House where we were, and said Mass at an altar
raised on purpose, then they adored the Host, and Charlemagne
stooped and goggled his eyes, which are pulled by wires, and so the
ceremony ended. We landed at Deal on Sunday night, in a storm of
thunder, lightning and wind, wet to the skin. I have bought some
Spa necklaces. I have a blue one for you, and a green one for the
Duchess.
“My folks are quite taken up with fitting their[129] house in Bond
Street, which they design getting into at Michaelmas. I have a
cheerful dressing room in it, which I dedicate to a few friends,
none other shall come into it, and it luckily only holds a few
seats; I will reserve one for you.”
[129] Her mother, then the Hon. Mrs. Philip Perceval, and her second
husband.
[Page heading: THE REV. DR. YOUNG]
On September 23, in a letter of Elizabeth to her sister, we first
hear of Dr. Young, the author of “Night Thoughts.” At this time this
celebrated poem was not written, but various other poems, satires, and
tragedies had made him famous. Edward Young, LL.D., was born in 1684,
educated at Winchester, New College, and Corpus Christi, Oxford; in
1730 was Rector of Welwyn, Herts; in 1731 he married Lady Betty Lee,
widow of Colonel Lee, and daughter of the Earl of Lichfield. The Duke
of Wharton was his literary patron.
“Dr. Young is coming soon. We wish for his coming, for I hear he
is agreeable, and, indeed, his private character is excellent. He
sends his compliments to me when he writes to the Duchess, and says
he is perfectly acquainted with me, and all that is the vision of
a Poet, for I never saw him in my life, but he is so kind as to
commend me and all my works in all places.”
In the next letter (October 8) she says--
“MY DEAR SALLY,
“The sons of Apollo haunt this place much; the tuneful
Green[130] is gone, but the poetical Dr. Young is with us. I
am much entertained with him, he is a very sensible man, has a
lively imagination, and strikes out very pretty things in his
conversation, tho’ he has satyrized the worst of our sex, he
honours the best of them extremely, and seems delighted with those
who act and think reasonably. I think he has written a Satire
against that composition of oddity, affectation, and folly which is
called ‘a pretty sort of a woman,’--if anyone has a mind to put on
that character they need only pervert their sense, distort their
faces, disjoint their limbs, mince their phrases, and lisp their
words, and the thing is done, grimaces, trite sentences, affected
civility, forced gaiety, and an imitation of good nature completes
the character.... That sentences, systems and definitions should
give way to Cribbage, but two Duchesses command my presence! The
Duchess of Kent[131] came here yesterday; she is a very sensible
polite woman, and she wants one to play Cribbage, so my dear, dear
sister, Adieu!
“E. R.”
[130] Dr. Green, a celebrated musician.
[131] The second wife of Henry (Grey), 1st Duke of Kent, _née_
Sophia Bentinck, great-aunt of the Duke of Portland of these pages.
[Page heading: THE DUCHESS OF KENT]
In a letter to Mrs. Robinson--
“The Duchess of Kent is very agreeable, has good sense and
politeness, and those who know her well say many valuable
qualities. I look upon my Duchess as the Arch-Duchess, before whom
all lesser stars hide their diminished heads; as for Dr. Young, he
is a very sensible man, and an entertaining companion, and starts
new subjects of conversation, and there is nothing so much wanted
in the country as the art of making the same people chase new
topics without change of persons. The Duchess and Dr. Young design
to leave us to-morrow.... Dr. Sandys has given Deb quicksilver,
which has been of great service to her, and it appears that she had
worms.”
“Deb” was Elizabeth’s lady’s maid. The Pharmacopeia was then of such an
extraordinary kind, that from time to time I shall mention the remedies
used for various complaints; why more people were not killed by some of
the nostrums is marvellous.
Elizabeth writes to Sarah on November 1, telling her she is reading the
“Decameron” of Boccaccio. The duchess was also renewing her Italian
knowledge. They were reading aloud Dr. Samuel Clarke’s sermons, and she
says--
“Hay[132] is an auditor, as he cannot read himself; Mr. Achard is
a translator of pronunciation so that one would take his English
to be French when he reads aloud, then as for the Duke, he hunts
thrice a week, and has business, so that our invalid is glad of a
female lecturer.”
[132] The Hon. John Hay, son of 7th Earl of Kinnoul, a relation of
the duchess, then a great invalid.
Mr. Achard, a Frenchman mentioned previously, had been the duke’s
tutor, and was now his secretary.
From the letters, he appears to have been very tall; he was frequently
called “Brother Bonaventura,” and as his humour was variable, at times
“Monsieur du _Poivre_,” at others “Monsieur du _Miel_!”
[Page heading: DR. GREY]
The next letter to her father thanks him for a design he had made for
an apron for the duchess, with which she was delighted, and--
“if the work could be as elegant as the drawing, would be the
most finished apron for the most finished Duchess. Lord Oxford
and George Vertue[133] arrived here last night after a ramble
which the best geographer could hardly describe; they have been
haunting church-yards, and reading the history of mankind upon the
gravestones. Dr. Grey[134] is employed in a work which to make its
appearance in public you would not easily guess at. I believe ’tis
no perplexity upon Mysteries, no refutation of the doctrine of
Transubstantiation, no explanation of the Catechism, but a thing
for which his serious qualifications do not seem very fit. He is
writing upon Hudibras!”
[133] George Vertue, eminent engraver, archæologist, and author;
born 1684, died 1756.
[134] Rev. Dr. Zachary Grey, author, died 1766.