“Sandleford, _September 26, 1778_.... Nuneham is a very fine place, and
the owners of it are so amiable and agreable, that one passes one’s time
very pleasantly. It sometimes resembles a congress of all the ambassadors
in Europe; for Lord Harcourt, having been in a publick capacity, all the
ambassadors, and, indeed, all the foreigners of distinction come thither.
I remember passing three days there once without hearing a syllable of
English spoken. Had every one of the company spoken his mother tongue,
it would have resembled Babel. Monsieur and Madame de Noailles are most
agreable persons, and I wish we may not have any other foreigners while
they stay.
“... I do not know any one who makes his house so agreable to his friends
as my brother (William). His parts and knowledge make him an excellent
companion; and his apparent benevolence, integrity, and virtues endear
his talents.... I agree entirely with the Primate that your rev. consort
would grace a Stall; but he is of so unambitious a spirit, I believe
he will not take any pains to get into one. Dean of Canterbury would
suit him very well. A dean is not obliged to fast or pray, nor has the
troublesome care of any soul but his own.
“... We are now very busy with the harvest. We had a great deal of hay,
and, fortunately, very little of it was spoiled. We have a prodigious
crop of Wheat this year, and I dare say our neighbours have the same; and
yet old wheat sold at 7_s._ 6_d._ a bushel last week; and some new wheat
for 8_s._ I hope, though I am a farmer, that the prices will soon fall,
for the poor labourers cannot earn a subsistence for their families when
bread bears such a price. I have about forty reapers at work, at present,
to take advantage of the fine weather. I brewed seven hogsheads of
small beer for them, and fear it will not last till the end of harvest.
The poor reapers and haymakers bring nothing but water into the field,
which, with bad cheese and fine bread, is their general fare. I think our
northern people are much more notable. Their meals are more plentiful and
less delicate. They eat coarse bread, and drink a great deal of milk, and
have often salt beef.
“... I must not congratulate you on the taking of Ticonderoga, as I
imagine all the prophecies in your House foretold it would not be taken;
and I observe, in general, if people have predicted a misfortune,
they had rather it should happen than have their prediction fall into
discredit.”
London life began to try her strength. In a note to Garrick, at the close
of the year: “I’m hurried to death with assemblies,” is the form of
her excuse for not calling on Mrs. Garrick; “and I am forced to manage
_mon souffle de vie_.” She hardly dares hope to secure Lord Lyttelton’s
company to meet Garrick, unless on a Saturday or Sunday; “for the
peers are as inactive as Jews on Saturday, and as jolly as the idlest
Christians on Sunday.”
The shadow of the loved brother Morris falls on the following letter:
“_January 8, 1778._ ... My spirits felt a great damp at first returning
to London, where I used to enjoy the friendly converse of my poor
departed brother. Death, disasters, and incidents have reduced a large
fireside to a small circle. A few years, indeed, shows me that the
flattering hopes one entertained in the nursery, of living and social
gaiety and freedom with those nearly allied in blood, were mere pleasing
delusions. If other things do not sever these natural connections, the
fatal scissors cuts their thread.
“Tho’ my poor brother never had opportunity of amassing great wealth, I
was in hopes he would have left some thousands more behind him; but the
easiness and flexibility of his temper, and a certain placid indolence,
made him give into more expense than was prudent. The world lays the
whole blame on him, and is loud in compassionate lamentations for his
widow. Indeed, her present condition is very lamentable, and I pity her
extremely; but certainly she loved expense better than he did. I imagine,
poor man, he thought her fine dress and appearance raised her in the eyes
of the world. There is no end of the bad consequences of an improper
marriage. When men and women make an indiscreet match, they say it is no
concern of any one; but when any distress is the consequence, the friends
who were thought impertinent if they troubled themselves about the match,
are thought cruel if they take no part of the evil.
“... M. de Jarnac, who married an Irish beauty, in the mistaken opinion
that she was also a fortune, has been stock-jobbing here prodigiously;
but if we should really have a French war, he will be bit.
“A very superb theatre is going to be built in the Haymarket. It is to
be in prices the same as the opera; no places taken, and the play to
begin at eight o’clock, which certainly suits better the present hour of
dining. Once a week, each of the other theatres, on certain conditions,
are to lend their actors; so they will each save the expence of a sixth
part at least of their theatrical shows. The other five nights their
houses will be the fuller. If ye London apprentices of these days are
half as bold as he who kill’d the lion, I think they will assault our new
theatre. Neither its price, hours, nor situation will suit them. The town
has been very sickly. Lady George Germaine has been dangerously ill of
the measles, but is better.
“... Montagu” (her nephew and heir) “is in fine health; and as to
spirits, he never wants them. He rides in the manège from eleven till
twelve, and then his tutor sets him on Pegasus. The day before yesterday
was the first time he had attain’d the honour of riding between the
pillars, and he was as proud of it as Alexander when he had tamed
Bucephalus. He dances, under the care of the celebrated M. Valonys, early
every morning. These exercises make a boy more healthy as well as more
graceful. On Tuesday he returns to Harrow, where his master tells me
he does very well. I carried him to-day to see Mr. Lever’s museum. The
collection of birds, both as to their variety and preservation, exceed
that in the King of France’s collection of natural curiosities; but, not
being shown me by M. de Buffons and Monsr. D’Aubenton, I did not see them
with so much pleasure. The finest as well as rarest bird being a wise and
learned man. Mr. Lever is gone into the country, and I was disappointed
at not seeing a man who would sell in exchange an acre of good land for
an extraordinary fungus.”
_Hill Street, February 21, 1778._—“... The town is now full of company;
full of bustle. Real business and serious occupation have their hours of
retreat and rest, but the pursuits of pleasure have no intermissions. The
change of objects is the _delassement_ in that case. As to me, I am, like
other light and insignificant matters, whisked about in the whirlwind.
“I approve my dear neice’s ambition to excel in dancing a minouet; not
that dancing a minouet is a matter of great importance; but a desire to
do everything well will carry her on to perfections of a higher kind....
A little ball, a frolick now and then, is very good for young persons,
but I think you and my brother judged very well in not carrying my neice
to assemblies. In our silly, dissipated town, girls never are produced
into assemblies till after seventeen, and, indeed, they would never have
anything but absurdity and affectation, if they were introduced into the
world in their infancy.
“... I am glad my father has agreed to allow Mrs. (Morris) Robinson an
hundred pounds a year, to which I have added fifty. She now knows that
she will have a subsistence, and must accommodate herself to it. So far
it is comfortable to her, and I am sure it is happy for the family
that the world should not have a reason to be talking about it. Mr.
Danne, Mr. Wilmot, and several persons of credit in the law and in other
professions, came to me with strong remonstrances at the cruelty of
letting Mr. Morris Robinson’s widow be destitute. So that, for the honour
of the family, I would have given her what she now has, if my father
had refused it. I have had only a thousand pounds out of my family, and
for Mrs. (Morris) Robinson I have no partiality; but in Italy you have
heard the most powerful of all arguments to do right, it is the address
of beggars, their ‘_Fate ben per voi!_’ To be justifying bad things
by others’ faults is never graceful; but in family connections there
is great folly in it, and it is only giving people occasion to throw
disgrace when it comes too near one.
“It has been a great mortification that Mrs. (Morris) Robinson’s name
has been often mentioned at this end of the town lately. I was always
desirous that it might remain on the other side Temple Bar; but my
brother was so generally beloved, that, out of respect to him, his widow
was an object of compassion.”
The subject is pursued in the next letter to Mrs. William Robinson.
“_February 28, 1778._ ... I am sure you who have a feeling and a generous
heart will be pleased with Mr. Thomas Harris and Mrs. Harris’s behaviour
to Mrs. M. Robinson. Besides paying her all kinds of civilities, Mr.
Harris desired that when she went to a new habitation, he might present
her with a hundred pounds towards furnishing it. Bad as the world is,
and tho’ selfishness makes so great a part of the human composition, yet
a social, kind character like my poor brother’s makes its impression on
tempers of the like kind, and, indeed, one has a comfort in seeing his
memory so much beloved and respected. Mrs. M. Robinson has continually
some marks of attention paid to her. As hard hearts love to insult
adversity, tender ones endeavour to console it. The civilities the poor
woman receives are paid, not to her merits, but to her distress or my
brother’s memory. In either case, they do honour to human nature.”
An incident that might have cost Mrs. Scott her life, from her cap having
caught fire, is cheerfully noticed in a letter, dated Saturday, March 1,
1778, from Mrs. Scott to Mrs. Robinson: “I am burned pretty deep in the
back of my neck.... From thence to my face, I have reason to hope, will
be more speedy of cure, and the little damage my face received is well
already, except an abridgment of eyebrow and eyelash, which, perhaps, may
never come again, and I am perfectly indifferent whether they do or no;
for at fifty-five (at least), half an eyebrow is just as good as a whole
one. I have reason to think myself most happy in having come off so well
as I did, considering all the very horrid circumstances of the affair....”
Of one of her nephews, she significantly adds: “I think how much better
a good dull man is than a Charles Fox and many others, whose talents and
vices have grown together in a superlative degree.” And in a subsequent
letter she treats of her young niece and what young nieces love:
_May 7, 1778._ Mrs. Scott to Mrs. Robinson.—“I had the pleasure of seeing
your daughter on Monday look very well, and dance a good minuet.... Her
mantua-maker is certainly the most insatiable of that insatiable tribe.
She requires two yards more of lutestring, tho’ she has already had
twenty-three, which is most shameful; and her art gives her no right to
be so, for it is not well made; at least, the sleeves set abominably....
The ball was resplendent—was full, and the children’s dresses extremely
expensive, and very pretty and whimsical; but I could not forbear being
sorry to see so much extravagance used, to breed girls as early as
possible to the love of it, as if it would not come quite soon enough:
though my niece’s dress was not chargeable with that fault: being white,
it looked very nice and genteel, and became her....
“It is reported that Lord Percy’s haste for a divorce is increased by his
having fallen violently in love with Miss Burrell. It is so like a story
to be made that the truth appears to me doubtful.” ...
The same writer subsequently touches on a variety of subjects: “Mrs.
(Morris) Robinson tells me she finds a good dinner more necessary than
ever; ... and as she is determined to live in London, tho’ she should be
able to afford but one room, yet she has friends who will often invite
her to a good house and a good dinner.
“... Her resentment appears to me very unreasonable, but her anger
was always more ready at call than her reason, and, by her present
distresses, seems to have gained superior strength. Had the late
misfortunes softened her temper into mildness, she might justly have
said, ‘It is good for me that I have been afflicted!’”
In speaking of a tutor recommended for young Morris Robinson, Mrs. Scott
writes: “At Mrs. Cockerell’s he taught the young ladies to read, had a
few pupils of his own, and read and preached well as curate in Chelsea
Church.... The only blot in Mr. Sympson’s character is that he was, I
presume, two or three years married before he acknowledged it, in order
to keep his fellowship; for when he brought his wife to Chelsea, she had
a child or two. Though necessity ought not to be without law (we are told
it is so), it may justly be pleaded as some alleviation of the breach of
law. As his wife, on this account, came among us under a little cloud,
the quality of Chelsea did not visit her, except Mrs. Freind, and one or
two more who spoke well of her.... The other Miss Burrell (one, you know,
married Lord Algernon Percy) is going to be married to Duke Hamilton, and
they are going to consummate their unfinished loves on shipboard; for
she is to accompany him to America, where it is very proper he should
go, as the amplest field for him to indulge his passion for shooting.
He has exercised himself with shooting across Hanover Square out of a
wind-gun, to the utter dismay of old Lady Westmoreland, and Sir Thomas
Fredericks. A bullet whistled by the ear of the latter, as he sat in his
dining-room, and lodged in the wainscot; two more penetrated into other
parts. Surprized at so dangerous an incident, he ran to the window, and
there saw the duke, his _vis à vis_, at his window, with a gun in his
hand. He immediately sallied forth to give his grace a deserved chiding,
but during the time, the duke having had leisure to charge again, he shot
dead a favourite dog which bore Sir Thomas company.”
In a later letter, Mrs. Montagu, referring to the above marriage, says:
“Miss Burrell has no reason to be afraid of Duke Hamilton. He might
boyishly fire off a gun, but he has the character of a very good-humoured
young man. He has no vices, is handsome, and is, in all respects, like
other people. He does not make any great _éclat_; but the next best thing
to great and good reputation is, to be little spoken of. When there are
not talents for the first, there is prudence in the latter.
“... I suppose you know there was a report of my father’s death. My
porter had a very fatiguing morning with messages. I had promised to
introduce the Dowager Duchess of Beaufort to the French ambassadress on
Wednesday night. So, tho’ the weather was terrible, I went out, and such
was the report of poor papa, that I was stared at as a ghost as I enter’d
the room, and the servants below were very busy questioning my footmen.
To-day I had a message from Lady Anne and Lady Betty Finch, with an
apology, that not having heard of that melancholy event till to-day, they
had not sent their enquiries. All this while the old gentleman is in as
good health as he has been this twelvemonth.”
This purely private subject is followed, in a letter of April 10, 1778,
by one of public importance.
“... I am sure you will be desirous to hear a true account of Lord
Chatham’s accident in ye House, and of his present condition of health.
The newspapers are in but little credit in general, but their account of
that affair has been very exact. His lordship had been long confined by a
fit of the gout, so was debilitated by illness and want of exercise. The
House was invaded by numbers who went to hear him on so critical a state
of affairs. The thunder of his eloquence was abated, and the lightning of
his eyes was dimmed in a certain degree, when he rose to speak; but the
glory of his former administration threw a mellow lustre around him, and
his experience of publick affairs gave the force of an oracle to what he
said, and a reverential silence reigned through the senate. He spoke in
answer to the Duke of Richmond. The Duke of Richmond replied. Then his
lordship rose up to speak again. The genius and spirit of Britain seemed
to heave in his bosom, and he sank down speechless. He continued half an
hour in a fit. His eldest and second sons and Lord Mahon were in great
agony, waiting the doubtful event. At last, he happily recovered; and
though he is very weak still, I am assured by his family, that he looks
better than he did before this accident. The next day, Lord Shelburne and
the Duke of Richmond carried on the same debate, and Lord Shelburne’s
speech was much admired.
“... It is said my friend, Mr. Pulteney, has been twice at Paris,
negotiating with Doctor Franklin; but the result is not known. Mrs.
Pulteney was here last night, but I was too discreet even to mention the
affair.
“... Montagu came home to-day. The school in a manner broke up yesterday,
but as the weather is hot, the town sickly, and I was to have an
assembly, I would not bring him home. He goes to Sandleford on Tuesday,
and I am to follow him on Wednesday. The weather is inviting, and I hate
this season of the year in London. If I am here, I am obliged often to
have company, and my eating-room is not large enough nor high enough for
large dinners and numerous guests.
“... Doctor Robinson, who call’d on me this morning, told me, a gentleman
he met in Berkely Square just before, assured him the French had taken
two of our armed ships. The doctor is an historian of great veracity, but
in an affair of this kind, he could not examine the evidence.
“... Lord Kerry’s fine furniture sold very dear these bad times. I bought
a large glass at the French ambassador’s sale, and some other things for
my new house, pretty cheap. I suppose so great a sale just before made
the second sale more reasonable.”
_October 10, 1778._ Mrs. Scott to Mrs. W. Robinson.—“... He” (Rev. Wm.
Robinson, who had published a political pamphlet,) “has won the heart of
the wax-worker, Mrs. Wright. Mr. Roweller went to see her performances,
and, in conversation, asked her if she had seen the pamphlet. She told
him she was charmed with it, had sent over a great number into her
country, and assured him the author would be adored there; and desired,
if he knew him, that he would tell him, that if he liked her or either of
her daughters, they were entirely at his service. One of the girls cried
out, ‘Lord, mamma, we never saw the gentleman. We may not like him!’ ‘I
don’t care a farthing for that,’ replied Mrs. Wright; ‘if he likes you,
you shall marry him!’”
Ladies of another quality come upon the stage in the following chapter.