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.”
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.
VARIOUS RECIPES —
THE GOAT
On December 17 Elizabeth writes to the duchess in answer to a string of queries the latter had sent her—