CHAPTER VIII.
Mrs. Montagu respected her gentle husband’s memory in the way he would have approved—by attending to the business which his death left on her hands. She withdrew to Sandleford, not to cover her face, but to woo the fresh air. She then travelled to Denton Castle, to plunge into occupation, and to show her steward that her recent grief had not rendered her insensible to her interests. From the castle, or hall (it is called by both names), she wrote on July the 10th, 1775, the following, not at all woebegone, but sensible, letter to her sister-in-law:
“... I know your good-nature will have suggested to you, and accepted as an excuse for my long delay of writing, the various business which my present situation occasions. My long and very melancholy confinement much affected my health and spirits. The fresh air and constant exercise at Sandleford proved of great service to me, and encouraged me to venture on a much longer journey. On the 30th of June, I set out on my expedition to Northumberland, and, on the 3d of July, at noon, I got as far as my estate at Burniston. Exactly opposite to some of my land, there is a tolerable inn. I eat a hasty dinner, and taking my steward with me, went over as many of the farms as I could that night,and sent invitations to my tenants to dine with me the next day.
“Mine Host, by sending to the neighbouring markets, assembled together sirloins of beef, legs of mutton, loins of veal, chickens, ducks, and green peas, which, with ham, pigeon-pie, tarts, and custard, fill’d up every chink of table, and, I believe, of stomach. Unfortunately, there was not a room large enough to contain all my good friends, so the women and the young lasses dined with me, and the men with the steward.
“As Mr. Montagu had been always a very good landlord, I thought it right to show the good people they would have a kind landlady, and therefore I would not pass by without taking notice of them. Several of them enquired after the young gentlemen that came from Horton to Allerthorpe. I assured them Mr. William Robinson was a profound divine, and Mr. Charles a sage counsellor at law. They rejoyced that Master Willie was happy in a good and rich wife, and had three fine Bairns. In the evening I went on to Darlington, where part of my estates come down to the turnpike road. I stopped at a tenant’s who has a pretty large house, desired them to dress a dinner the next day for me and my tenants.... Darlington was rather too far for the women to reach. I lay at Darlington, and early ye next day went over to this Estate, and passed the whole day there with great pleasure. A fine, rapid river, woody bank, and some of the most stately oaks and beech in Yorkshire, would recommend it sufficiently to the eye that does not behold it with the complacency of a proprietor, and you will believe it loses nothingof its charms by that circumstance. After dinner I wandered again about the place, visited most of my tenants’ houses, and did not take leave of Eryholme (?) till night drew her sable curtain, which gave me occasion to recollect that the day of my life must soon close, and all these things be hid from me; but if I make a proper use of them while they are mine, it is all I ought to be solicitous for, as I am not amongst those unhappy Persons whose views are bounded to the short day of human life.
“I was much pleased with all my tenants in Yorkshire. They are a very different sort of people from the farmers in ye south. They are alert in their business and interests, and far from the stupid state of savage. At the same time, they do not ape the manners nor imitate the dress of the fine folks. The farmer’s wife spins her husband’s shirts, and the daughters make butter and cheese at the hours our southern women work catgut and dress wire caps. Some of my tenants have been about fifty years on the estate; have married their sons to girls worth many hundred pounds, and have got their sons into their farms, and they are retired on a decent subsistance, gained by many years of frugal industry. They all pay duely on their rent-days. No complaint, on the part of the tenants, of poverty; or, on the landlord, of arrears. The land is in good condition, and by having been long settled, they have acquired an affection for the farm they are placed upon, and will always give as good a rent as it deserves; and they know the nature of the undertaking too well to give more. It is a folly to let farms too cheap; and it is both wickedness and folly to let them too dear. Thisyear has been particularly unfavourable to my tenants, as the estates are chiefly meadow and pasture; and yet, though these estates had been lately raised, they did not ask any indulgence or favour. They said there had not been such a dry season these fifty years; and, with great good-humour, said they hoped the next would be better. Indeed, the drought is terrible for the dairy-farms. Hay here will be at an excessive price. The coal-owners who are not provident with stocks of it will be at vast expenses. I have always two years’ stock in hand. The further north, the greater the drought. I believe there has not been any material rain since the 18th of March. Cows there (and here) are obliged to be driven to the rivers to drink. Our little streams are all dry’d. My cows go every day to the Tyne to get drink. The Tyne Vale, where I live, used to look green and pleasant. The whole country is now a brown crust, with here and there a black hole of a coal-pit, so that I cannot boast of the beauty of our prospects. As to Denton, it has mightily the air of an ant-hill: a vast many black animals for ever busy. Near fourscore families are employ’d on my concerns here. Boys work in the colliery from seven years of age. I used to give my colliery people a feast when I came hither, but as the good souls (men and women) are very apt to get drunk, and, when drunk, very joyful, and sing, and dance, and hollow, and whoop, I dare not, on this occasion, trust their discretion to behave with proper gravity; so I content myself with killing a fat beast once a week, and sending to each family, once, a piece of meat. It will take time to get round to all my black friends. I had fifty-nine boys andgirls to sup in the courtyard last night on rice pudding and boil’d beef; to-morrow night I shall have as many. It is very pleasant to see how the poor things cram themselves, and the expense is not great. We buy rice cheap, and skimmed milk and coarse beef serve the occasion. Some have more children than their labour will cloathe, and on such I shall bestow some apparel. Some benefits of this sort, and a general kind behaviour, gives to the coal-owner, as well as to them, a good deal of advantage. Our pitmen are afraid of being turned off, and that fear keeps an order and regularity amongst them that is very uncommon.
“The general coal trade and my concerns in it are, at present, in a thriving way, and if all goes on so well two years longer, and I live till then, I will establish a spinning, knitting, and sewing-school for ye girls. When I say establish, I mean for my life, for one cannot be charitable longer. When the night cometh, no man can work. Charitable institutions soon fall into neglect and abuse. I made a visit at Burniston to my Uncle Robinson’s almshouses. I gave each of the old people a guinea. I have sometimes sent them money; for what my uncle appointed near a hundred years ago is hardly a subsistence. Indeed, they would starve if they had not some helps.
“I have not been one moment ill since I set out on my journey. I walk about my farms, and down to my colliery, like a country gentlewoman of the last century. I rejoyce in the great improvement of my land here by good cultivation, but I do not like my tenants so well as those in Yorkshire. We arehere a little too rustick, and speak a dialect that is dreadful to the auditor’s nerves; and as to the colliery, I cannot yet reconcile myself to seeing my fellow creatures descend into the dark regions of the earth; tho’, to my great comfort, I hear them singing in the pits.... If I did not think you kindly interested yourself, I would not trouble you with this long history of myself.
“I had the pleasure of seeing my neice in great good-humour, beauty, and health; and these are the fairest features of youth. Long may they dimple and bloom on her cheek. I approve much of my little nephews going to a school of a private sort at first. I think boys of a gentle and bashful disposition are discouraged at being thrust at once into the prodigious racket of a great school....
“I think my sister Scott greatly mended by James’s powders. I was very uneasy about her before she went to Bath, but Doctor Moisy has done great things for her.... I have not seen her look so well for some years.... I expect Doctor Beattie and his wife every day. I propose to return to the south the end of this month, in order to take some weeks at Tunbridge.... I believe I shall pass the winter in the south of France, but have not yet determined, as all human projects are uncertain; but it is my wish to do so.”
Illness delayed the realisation of this wish. Mrs. Montagu was in Hill Street in November, receiving only a few of her most intimate friends. “I called on Mrs. Montagu,” writes Mrs. Boscawen to Mrs. Delany, in the above month; “only Lady Townshend was there, and in her best way, very chatty.”
In 1775-76, among the visitors at Bath occasionally seen by Mrs. Scott, was a little lame Scottish boy, between four and five years old. When he had bathed in the morning, got through a reading-lesson at an old dame’s near his lodging on the Parade, and had a drive over the Downs with the author of “Douglas” and Mrs. Home, the boy was sometimes to be seen in the boxes of the old theatre. On one such occasion, witnessing “As You Like It,” his interest was so great that, in the middle of the wrestling-scene in the first act, he called out, “A’n’t they brothers?” The boy, when he had become a man, said in his autobiography, “A few weeks’ residence at home convinced me, who had till then been an only child in the house of my grandfather, that a quarrel between brothers was a very natural event.” This boy’s name was Walter Scott. Much of the other company at Bath was then about to withdraw from the stage which the boy was to occupy with such glory to himself, and to the lasting delight of his countrymen.
The year 1778 opens with the following letter to Mrs. Robinson: “... I wish I could thank you for your letter in as fair characters as my neice returned hers for the books. I have ostentatiously shewed her letter to many of my friends. My sister and I have not let my brother share in the honour; for we confess no Robinson ever wrote so well; so that she inherits this, with many other good things, from her Mama. If she can compose a sermon as well as her brother, and writes it in her own hand, it will retrieve the honour of manuscript-sermons, which of late years have sold cheaper than even any other goods....
“The town is very empty, and I know not how we who are here contrive to be as much engaged as at other seasons. The Bath has been very full of persons of distinction.
“Lord Villiers (the prince of maccaronies) gave, a few days ago, a play in a Barn. He acted Lord Townley; Miss Hodges, Lady Townley. I suppose the merit of this entertainment was, that people were to go many miles, in frost and snow, to see in a barn what would have been every way better at the theatre in Drury Lane or Covent Garden. There was a ball also prepared after the play, but the barn had so benumbed the vivacity of the company, and the beaux’ feet were so cold, and the noses of the belles were so blue, many retired to a warm bed at the inn at Henley, instead of partaking of the dance. M. Texier acted M. Pigmaleon, and Miss Hodges the Statue. Modern nymphs are so warm and yielding, that less art than that of M. Texier might have animated the nymph. My neice will never stand still to be made love to before a numerous audience. Miss Hodges’ father is lately dead; her mother is dying. How many indecorums the girl has brought together into one petite peice!
“I dare not send you any publick news, as my brothers are engaged to the Congress and American Independency.
“I think the fine world goes on as usual at this time of the year. ‘Caractacus’ has succeeded very well on the stage, tho’ it is more calculated for the study than the theatre.
“Our French ambassador pleases all people, of course, by his conversation and manners. By hissplendour of living and polite attentions at table, he charms the great vulgar; so that he is in general esteem, and, indeed, deserves to be so. He dined with us ye other day, and I am to dine with him on Sunday. Mme. de Noailles cannot come to me till she is brought to bed. She is extremely sensible and agreable.
“Lord Granby very thoughtlessly carried his lady to Brussels, on a jaunt of amusement, soon after she was brought to bed, and, by getting cold, she is most dangerously ill. She is much better; but the duchess dowager is so uneasy about her, I am afraid we shall not be able to dissuade her from going to Brussels, tho’ this weather makes sea voyages and, indeed, land journeys very terrible.
“... My brother Charles told me the good folks in Kent were angry with me or your consort for making a justice of peace of Doctor Pennington; but, indeed, I never heard the doctor had an ambition to be of the worshipful quorum till my brother mentioned it. As it is not Greek and Hebrew, but lands and tenements and such solid property, which give a title to be justice of peace, I should not in any way have assisted the doctor’s project, if I had had it in my power. I am so far from being a favourer of the Alliance of Church and State, I think the further they keep asunder the better—a two-edged sword is a terrible weapon.”
In the summer of 1776, Mrs. Montagu was to be seen in Paris, welcomed to the first circles as a happy sample of an accomplished English lady. Voltaire, then in his dotage, took the opportunity of her presence to send to the Academy a furious paperagainst Shakespeare. The lady had a seat of honour among the audience while the vituperative paper was read. When the reading came to an end, Suard remarked to her, “I think, madam, you must be rather sorry at what you have just heard!” The English lady, Voltaire’s old adversary, promptly replied, “I, sir! not at all. I am not one of M. Voltaire’s friends!” She subsequently wrote: “I felt the same indignation and scorn, at the reading of Voltaire’s paper, as I should have done if I had seen harlequin cutting capers and striking his wooden sword on the monument of a Cæsar or Alexander the Great.”
In October, after her return to Hill Street, she thus described to Garrick the influence exercised over her by French tragedy and French tragedians:
“... Mrs. M—— cannot help intimating that she never felt such pity and terror, which it is the business of tragedy to excite, as at the French theatre, where M. le Kain roars like a mad bull, and Molé rolls his eyes, and has all the appearance of a man in a phrensy ... persons of real taste seem convinced of the false taste prevalent in their tragedies.”
The “flutter of Paris” was almost more than her strength could bear. The idea of its being succeeded by the “racket of London” alarmed her. She avoided the “racket,” and recovered from the “flutter,” by spending a season of rest at Sandleford, where she dreamed over Voltaire’s address against Shakespeare, became a rural cottager, feeder of pigs, cultivator of potatoes, or pretended to be so, and “did idleness.” “There is as much an idleness to be done,” shewrote to Garrick, “as there is a darkness that may be visible, and is, like the other, a state and a condition, and a very pleasant and gentle one, when the working-day of bustle and hurry is over.... I came to do idleness, and it is not all done.”
The visit to Paris is alluded to among an “infinite deal” of other subjects, in a letter to her brother William, dated Sandleford, June 9, 1777.
“It would be with much greater pleasure I should take up my pen to tell you I am at Sandleford, if I could flatter myself with the hope of alluring you to it: you would find me in the character of a housewife. The meagre condition of the soil forbids me to live in the state of a shepherdess-queen, which I look upon as the highest rural dignity. The plough, the harrow, and the spade remind us that the golden age is past, and subsistence depends on labour; prosperity on industrious application. A little of the clay of which you complain, would do us a great deal of good. I should be glad to take my dominions here from the goddess Ceres to give them to the god Pan, and I think you will agree with me in that taste; for wherever he presides, there Nature’s republick is establish’d. The ox in his pasture is as free and as much at his ease as the proprietor of the soil, and the days of the first are not more shorten’d to feed the intemperance of others, than the rich landlord’s by the indulgence of his own. I look upon the goddess Ceres as a much less impartial and universally kind deity. The antients thought they did her honour by ascribing to her the invention of laws. We must consider her also as the mother of lawsuits and all the divisions, dissentions, and distinctionsamong mankind. Naturalists tell us all the oaks that have ever been, were contain’d in the first acorn. I believe we may affirm, by the same mode of reasoning, that all arts and sciences were contain’d in the first ear of corn. To possess lasting treasure and exclusive prosperity, has been the great business and aim of man. At Sandleford you will find us busy in the care of arable land. By two little purchases Mr. Montagu made here, my farm contains six hundred acres. As I now consider it an amazonian land, I affect to consider the women as capable of assisting in agriculture as much as the men. They weed my corn, hoe my turnips, and set my Pottatoes; and by these means promote the prosperity of their families. A landlord, where thedroit du seigneurprevailed, would not expose the complexions of his female vassals to the sun. I must confess my amazons hardly deserve to be accounted of the fair sex; and they have not the resources of pearl-powder and rouge when the natural lilies and roses have faded.
“You are very polite in supposing my looks not so homely as I described them; but tho’ my health is good, the faded roses do not revive, and I assure you I am always of the colour ofla feuille-morte. My complexion has long fallen into the sere and yellow leaf; and I assure you one is as much warned against using art, by seeing the ladies of Paris, as the Spartan youths by observing the effects of intoxicating liquors on the Helots. The vast quantity of rouge worn there by the fine ladies makes them hideous. As I always imagine one is less looked at by wearing the uniform of the society one lives in, I allowed myfrizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn. But a few years ago, I believe, my vanity could not have submitted to such a disfiguration. As soon as I got to Dover, I return’d to my former complexion. I own I think I could make that complexion a little better by putting on a little rouge; but at my age, any appearance of solicitude about complexion is absurd, and therefore I remain where age and former ill health have brought me; and rejoice that I enjoy the comforts of health, tho’ depriv’d of its pleasing looks.
“I allowed my frizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn”Photogravure after the painting by Girardet
“I allowed my frizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn”Photogravure after the painting by Girardet
“I allowed my frizeuse to put on whatever rouge was usually worn”
Photogravure after the painting by Girardet
“I am very glad to find my neice has recovered her health. I was much afraid of a consumption for her.... It has given me great pleasure to hear your health is pretty good, ... but if St. Anthony’s fire should menace, remember that his distemper, as well as his temptation, is most dangerous in a desart or wilderness, and repair to the city of Bath. Tho’ I say this, I was never in my life more sensible of the charms of rural life and the blessings of tranquility, but at the same time I am sensible that my relish of them is much quickened by having been for a twelvemonth past in a very different mode of life. I regret very much that the emperor did not come to Paris last summer, tho’ I suppose, among the French nobility, I met with men as polite; among the academicians, with men more learned, ingenious, and witty; yet, as I am a Virtuoso in what relates to the human character, and love to see how it appears in various situations, I should have seen an emperor, as an emperor is an unique in human society at present; and the Austrian family has always had a strongly-marked personal character. All my French correspondentsassure me that his Imperial Majesty veils his dignity on all occasions under the character of Count de Falkenstein. He sleeps at his ambassador’s, but dines with the two noblemen of his Court who attend him at anHôtel garnie. When he goes to Versailles to visit his sister, he refuses to lodge in the palace, and lodges at a bagnio. He goes sometimes to Versailles in his coach; at others, in a fiacre, or walks. The French, who are much struck with everything that is new, are full of wonder and respect at the publick spectacles. They give a thunder of applause whenever he appears. In private society, his Majesty is easy and affable, and, by what I can understand, glad to show he is more conversant in the common affairs of common life than princes usually are. The objects of his curiosity and the subjects of his discourse are such as seem to indicate he is a man of sense. Whether he has talents for empire, time must show. Without understanding the doctrine of chances as well as Demeri (?), one may pronounce the chances are nearly infinite he has not. I am glad, however, princes begin to travel. One has a chance of meeting these itinerant monarchs somewhere; and they amuse, at least, as well as stuff’d eagles or lions in a museum. I was in great hopes that you would have come to town to hear Lord Chatham, in support of his motion, the other day.”
In the following month, the letter below was written at Sandleford, July the 9th, 1777:
“... As she” (one of Mrs. Montagu’s nieces) “was not the worse for the ball, I am glad she partook of the pleasure of it. If she resembles a certain Miss Robinson who lived in the neighbourhood someyears ago, she will reckon a ball amongst the first enjoyments of human life. Considering her state of health, I do not know whether it was very prudent in her brother to carry her there, but I am sure it was very amiable; the error should always be rather on the side of indulgence. We should consider that, though there will be dancing as long as the world endures, it is but a short time that an individual will dance.
“... The warmth of the weather prevented my seeing the ‘School for Scandal,’ but every one agrees with you to commend it. Of all the vices of the human disposition, a love of scandal and detraction is the most contemptible. It is now got from the gossips’ tea-table to the press. The scriblers weekly let fly their pop-guns at the Duchess of Devonshire’s feathers. Her grace is innocent, good-humoured, and beautifull; but these adders are blind and deaf, and cannot be charmed. However, the scriblers are all of them hungry; but the circulators of scandal, who have neither hunger for their excuse, nor wit to give it a seasoning, are sad vermin, and I am glad Mr. Sheridan has so well exposed them.
“The uncertainty of human life is certainly a discouragement to every enterprize, but to none less, I think, than to building a house. If it is a good one, there will be somebody to live in it and enjoy its comforts; if otherwise, its inconveniences will not make one uneasy in the tomb. To undertake a trust which, by not fulfilling, may be detrimental to some person; to bring children into the world when it is too late in life to hope to see them educated and established, are things about which a prudent personmay hesitate; but even in this case, we can never do wrong when we follow the general principles by which the author of our nature has intended we should be directed. The shortness and uncertainty of life would discourage all great undertakings; and, as the human race is to continue, providence has ordered we should act as if we were to live for ever.
“We have had a series of the worst weather I ever knew since I came here, at this time of year. Sir William Temple says, the three greatest blessings are health, peace, and fine weather. The first two are the most important and I have enjoyed them in so perfect a degree, that I have well endured the want of the third. Doctor Robinson’s ‘History of America’ has amused me by my fireside, when wind and rain have combined against my amusements abroad. A long deprivation of the quiet joys of rural life gave me a quick relish for them. If I had staid in town, the great numbers of foreigners who have lately arrived there, who have all brought letters of recommendation to me, or who would have been naturally introduced by my previous acquaintance with them abroad, must have taken up much of my time and attention.
“Lord Shelburne called here the other day to invite me to Bowood, to meet l’Abbé Raynal, who I knew at Paris, and two French countesses who brought letters to me from some of thebeaux espritsthere; so to them I shall have an opportunity of expressing my regret at being out of town. But there is a Spanish Baron de Castile and some others who were also recommended to me, who I fear will depart with a bad opinion of my hospitality; for, twenty toone, my English porter in Hill Street could not make them understand, when they delivered their letters, that I was in the country. At present my scheme is to go to London for the melancholy pleasure of taking leave of the Lord Primate and my friend Mrs. Vesey.... When these friends leave London, I believe I shall set out for Mount Edgecumbe, having long promised Lady Edgecumbe a visit, and shall carry Montagu with me, who is a schoolfellow of Mr. Edgecumbe, and is much invited.... Mr. and Mrs. Vesey are going to Mr. Burke’s, at Beaconsfield, who has kindly asked me to be of the party; but I shall be a good while absent from Sandleford, and have many domestick matters to settle before I depart. I had a most polite, entertaining letter the other day from my Brother Robinson. I wish we two honest farmers lived nearer together with brotherly love and rural sincerity. I flatter myself we should be very happy; but in this short life, how short a time does one enjoy the friends one loves.
“... In spite of my cure and Doctor Fothergill’s skill, I have made but a poor progress towards health.... My nerves mend, but I cannot better bear the noise of a cannon now than I could the report of a pistol when I first return’d to Hill Street. My doctor keeps me very quiet. He will not allow me to see the wise, the witty, or the fashionable world. I have not dined below stairs these four or five days. The doctor has to-day begun to try a new medicine; but I have as little faith in doctors of physick as some of my family have in doctors of divinity. I imagine my fever at Canterbury was the influenza, which has lately raged so much. It leavespeople very weak, and much affects the nerves. Some have lost their speech for a few days; others their hearing. My Northumberland steward and my brother who left London when I did, were both taken ill on the road. I believe fatigue of preparation for my foreign journey did me some harm; but I believe my principal illness was owing to contagion in the air. My servants have all been sick. None of my family have escaped but Miss Gregory and Matt.
“The patriots are rather in despair of changing the ministry. This may damp their ambition, but will keep their patriotism in its vigour. There is something so mortal to patriotism in a place, that one can never wish those who have assumed that character to sacrifice it to the emoluments of an employment....
“Mr. Burke is kept from the House of Commons by the death of his father-in-law. Lady Mary Somerset has recovered her health, and her nuptials will soon be celebrated. Hymen may exult, for the pair are lovely. Miss Gregory often spends the evening with Lady Mary and Lady Betty. As Lord Granby is of the party, you may suppose Lady Betty and Miss Gregory attend most to each other.... Tell my neice I have not forgotten her doll, but have not been well enough to accomplish an affair of such importance as dressing a lady. My nephews both shall come with the doll, thus teaching by allegory, that men are to be learned, and ladies elegant.”
In Mrs. Scott’s letter which now follows, the details refer to the death of the brother most dearly loved by both his sisters—Morris Robinson, who married Jane, daughter of John Greenland, of Lovelace. His two sons, Morris and Matthew, succeeded,in the order indicated, to the barony of Rokeby. Matthew was at this time domiciled with Mrs. Montagu, whose name he had taken as her acknowledged heir.
Mrs. Scott to Mrs. Robinson. “November 16, 1777.... The world has indeed become a very different scene to me since we parted. It has lost the greatest charm it had for me. The loss is not only a brother, but, as Solomon expresses it, that friend that was more than a brother, one with whom I had lived full forty years in the tenderest affection, in the most perfect harmony; never interrupted even by a mere dispute, except on his first connexion with his present widow. It is totally irreparable. I own I loved nothing so well; and though I am not so new to misfortune as not to have learnt to bear patiently, and to see, while I lament the loss of a blessing, that I ought to be grateful for having so long enjoyed one so uncommon; yet the sense of it must ever lie a sorrow at my heart. There was a loveliness of nature in him that I never saw equalled.... I do not think he had a fault, except the weakness of complying with one who was not satisfied with that degree of expense which was proper for them; and for that he might make the same excuse that the great Duke of Marlborough did when told he was too complying a husband: ‘Friend, can a man live without sleep?’ His own disposition did not lead him either to vanity or extravagance. I confess, therefore, he was guilty of a weakness, but it was one founded on the extreme sweetness of his temper; an unfortunate effect of a most amiable cause. However, she to whom it is owing is now much to be pitied. She would not believewhat he frequently told her, but is now sadly awakened to the truth of it.”
In the subjoined fragment of a letter from Mrs. Montagu, reference is made to the Scotch thief and deserter, John Aitkin, the incendiary, otherwise known as Jack the painter, who was hanged, in 1777, for attempting to set fire to Portsmouth Dockyard and shipping.
“... I was mortified to hear the dreadful box which was intended to destroy Portsmouth was made at the respectable city of Canterbury. Mr. Silas Deane will make no very respectable figure when John Painter’s story is produced in public. If Doctor Franklin had been an incendiary, he would have been a more dangerous man than Mr. Deane; for you know he can bottle up lightning; but philosophers are honester men than politicians.... Lord Temple has been very useful in getting this horrid affair of John the painter brought to light.... Doctor Dodd’s affair is almost forgot. Some suppose that for want of some formality on his trial, he will escape hanging. Lord Chesterfield has behaved with great kindness to the doctor’s brother, who is a worthy man, and to Mrs. Dodd’s nephew....
“The match between Lord Powis and Miss Warren is not to take place, the young lady having expressed a predilection for Lord Bulkely, who is to have her.
“Lady Strathmore’s conduct at Newcastle, in the election, is, perhaps, not generally known. Her ladyship sits all day in the window at a public-house, from whence she sometimes lets fall some jewels or trinkets, which voters pick up, and then she gives them money for restoring them—a new kind of offeringbribes. What little interest I have I gave to Sir John Trevelyan, who, we hope, will carry the election by a good majority. My steward tells me he is very weary of the bustle and treating the voters; and that the town is in a wild uproar. Mr. Stoney Bowes has sold £5,000 a year of his lady’s income for her life to procure himself £40,000. I believe this gentleman will revenge the wrongs Lord Strathmore suffered from her ladyship. It is said Sir Thomas Robinson died worth above £10,000, but it is supposed he has left it to his natural daughter.”
Lady Strathmore had the misfortune to be an heiress, Mary Eleanor Bowes. Lord Strathmore took her, her money, and her name, in 1767. In nine years he was removed by death; his widow soon after married Mr. Stoney, an Irish heiress-hunter, who adopted the name of Bowes, and thoroughly avenged the wrongs and sufferings of the first husband. But Stoney Bowes was sorely mauled in the cruel and scandalous struggle. It is a disgraceful story, from which the reader may well turn to a few plain lines from Mrs. Scott, in a fragment of a letter of this date: “I shall be very glad of my niece’s company on her way to Whitelands, and if I can find out any amusement for her, she shall have it. Plays, which I think are the best, it is so difficult for those to get places at, who do not give largely to the box-keepers, that I am discouraged from attempting, by having no hopes of success (but I shall try when my niece comes), tho’ I feel no degradation to my dignity from sitting in a front box, and like it just as well as the side, if not further back than the second row. I went with my sister to ‘Percy,’ and that is the only one I have seen.”
The side boxes ranked then as the orchestra stalls do now—the most fashionable, but among the very worst seats in the house. Mrs. Montagu, in the letter opening the next chapter, takes her correspondent to houses of a more agreeable quality.