To Mrs. W. Robinson.—“Sandleford, February 3, 1784. ... The air-balloons, without a pun, may be said to rise higher and higher, by every experiment. Messrs. Roberts performed a journey of 150 miles in six hours. By this mode of travelling I might go hence to my house in Northumberland in twelve hours; but till the aerial navigation is more ascertained, I shall not attempt it; lest, instead of finding myself at the verge of my coal-pits, the end of my journey, I should alight on the summit of a Welsh mountain.
“Montagu had last night the pleasure of receiving a very kind and sensible letter from your son, and every stroke of his pen sets ye mark of a good heart. I think you will have great comfort in him. The most brilliant persons are not always the happiest or most esteem’d; more rarely still the best-beloved. Too much presumption in their own excellencies, too little indulgence to the defects of others, if it does not totally destroy our admiration, certainly eliminates our affection; and it is far better to be beloved than admired.
“... As to the new plantations (at Sandleford), their progress to perfection will be so much slower than mine to decay, I cannot expect to see much advance there; but the hope of their giving pleasure to those I love, when I am no more, will render them objects of pleasant contemplation.... If you have seen the Recorder lately, he would perhaps tell you that we had an alarm of fire one night, but it was extinguished and all danger over in less than an hour. The fire began from my old dressing-room. It is the second time it has happened there. The first accident was many years ago. You may imagine we no longer hazard making a fire in a chimney which has such communication with timber. I assure you, on the cry of Fire! in the house at four in the morning, Montagu jump’d out of bed, rush’d into my room, and begg’d that he might immediately conduct me down stairs, with a tender zeal, equal to that of the pious Æneas to the old Anchises. The end of the passage, from the dressing-room to my bedchamber, appeared to be in flames, but we had one staircase at a distance, which promised a safe retreat; so that really I was not so much agitated, or he any way disordered. Montagu, by his alacrity, was of infinite use. The first water thrown on the flames boil’d up; but he and a blind man whom I have kept ever since he lost his sight, which is about fifteen years since, were more useful than all the rest of the family. I sent to Newtown to call up the workmen employ’d at my new offices, and they pull’d up the beams and rafters as soon as the flames were quench’d. My Newtown neighbours behav’d with great neighbourly kindness, but all the assistance had been in vain, if I had not been awake and rais’d the family at the first crackling of the fire; for it made very rapid advances. I was much complimented on my courage, from which my composure was suppos’d to arise, but I confess that composure had its rise in cowardice. I was so glad to find our lives were not in danger, that ye consequences threatened to my property made little impression. The coward’s declaration, ‘Spare my life and take all I have!’ seem’d to be the expression of my mind. Thank God! the damage has been in all respects very trifling. I am very glad that this alarm did not happen after my lord primate and Sir W. Robinson arrived. A fire is the worst fête champetre one can treat one’s friends with.
“... Business will detain me here for a fortnight longer.... I shall then go to Bath for about a month, to enjoy the primate’s society, who generally spends the evening with me. I have not any pretence to drink the waters, being perfectly well. I may take a little of them, perhaps, as I love to fall in with the customs of the place in which I reside.
“... My great piece of feather-work is not yet compleated; so, if you have an opportunity of getting me any feathers, they will be very acceptable. The brown tails of partridges are very useful, tho’ not so brilliant as some others.”
At sixty-five, Mrs. Montagu did not consider herself too old to figure at court. The poets had not ceased to take interest in her and to make her the subject of their rhymes. “Have you seen Mr. Jerningham’s lines on Mrs. Montagu falling down-stairs at the Drawing-room?” asks little Miss Port of her father, in a letter dated February, 1785, in the Delany correspondence. “In case you should not, I will send them to you.”
“Ye valiant Fair! ye Hebes of the day,
Who heedless laugh your little hours away!
Let caution be your guide, whene’er you sport
Within the splendid precincts of the Court.