By May 1, when Elizabeth writes to her mother, Mr. Montagu had returned to her, she and her sister meeting him at Highgate. Mention is made in this letter of Miss Brockman having become temporarily speechless from inoculation. Sarah returns to Mount Morris, and the last letter before Mrs. Montagu’s confinement tells of the purchase of a “magnifique Berceau” just in time, as on May 11 Mrs. Montagu gave birth, at their house in Dover Street, to a fine boy, to the infinite joy of Mr. Montagu and his sister, Mrs. Medows. A young farmer’s wife, a Mrs. Kennet, living near Mount Morris, had been engaged as a wet-nurse to the child.
On May 30 the Rev. William Freind, to whom Mr. Montagu had written to announce the birth of his child, writes to congratulate him, and to say Mrs. Freind had presented him with a daughter that morning. Mr. Montagu had promised to stand godfather if it was a boy,[272] but if a daughter Mrs. Montagu was to be godmother. To this letter, on June 4, Mr. Montagu replied that his wife and child are doing well, and he says—
“The latter end of next week we intend for the baptism of our infant, and if you were here should be prouder to have the ceremony performed by you than anybody else, for if j may judge from what has happened to the Father, j imagine it would be auspicious to the Son. I am sure j ought never to forget the share you had in putting me in the possession of the Mother,[273] in whom j find my every wish more than compleated. In less than a fortnight we intend going to Sandleford,[274] and after that to go on the inoculation, which j hope will have an happy event, which, if so, j cannot be too thankful to Providence.”
[272] This child was christened Elizabeth. She died young.
[273] Mr. Freind had married them.
[274] Mr. Montagu’s seat near Newbury.
He adds his desire for Mr. Freind and his family to visit them at Sandleford en route home from Bath.
INOCULATION
The reader will remember that Mrs. Montagu was peculiarly afraid of smallpox, but she had determined, if once a mother, she would be inoculated, so that she should be able to attend to her child if it ever had the disease, and to prevent separation from or infection to it if she herself took the disease in the natural manner. When her dread of it is recollected, it will appear a heroic deed on her part. Her mother, Mrs. Robinson, was far from easy at the idea of the inoculation taking place in the summer heat.
Meanwhile the little boy was christened John, though he soon acquired the nickname of “Punch,” their own familiar peep-show, as the fond parents deemed him, and is only twice mentioned in the letters I have as my little “Jack.”