“The last and best good office you did me, I believe, will claim my thanks to the longest day of my life.... I know it will please you to hear that I have, every day since you made me a wife, had more reason to thank you for the alteration. I have the honour and happiness to be made the guest of a heart furnished with the best and greatest virtues, honesty, integrity and universal benevolence, with the most engaging affection to every one who particularly belongs to him. No desire of power, but to do good, no use of it but to make happy. I cannot be so unjustly diffident as to doubt of the duration of my happiness, when I see the author of it dispensing content to all his dependants, and should he ever cease to use me with more care and generosity and affection than I deserve, I should be the first person he has ever treated in this manner. Since I married I have never heard him say an ill-natured word to any one, or have I received one matrimonial frown. His generous affection in loving all my friends, and desiring every opportunity for my conversing with them, is very obliging to me. We have often pleased ourselves with the hopes of seeing you frequently in Dover Street this winter; but alas, I am a prisoner at Allerthorpe, and the worst of prisoners confined by infirmities and ill health.
“Mr. Montagu went to Parliament ten days ago to my mortification, but with my approbation. I desired him to go, and half wished him to stay! I knew his righteous star would rule his destiny, so I helped him on with honour’s boots, and let him go without murmuring. He left me my sister, and where she is there will happiness be also.... We have not been troubled with any visitor since Mr. M. went away, and could you see how ignorant, how awkward, how absurd, and how uncouth the generality of people are in this country, you would look upon this as a piece of good fortune....
“I am very happy in one thing, that drinking is not within our walls; we have not had one person disordered by liquor since we came down, though most of the poor ladies have had more Hogs in their dining rooms than ever they had in their hog stye....
“I imagine you will have seen Dr. Middleton’s translations of the Epistle by this time; pray tell me what you think of them.”
“NIGHT THOUGHTS”
The Duchess of Portland, on December 4, writes in great annoyance at some of her letters being lost. She was much worried about the health of her mother, who suffered severely from cramp in the stomach. She desires Elizabeth to write a visible[254] letter to cheer Lady Oxford, and adds, “I rejoice you are better. I hope you have left off footing it and tumbling downstairs. Have you read ‘Night Thoughts’? If you have, I beg you will give me your opinion of it.”
[254] Often the familiar letters were enclosed to Mrs. Elstob, a learned lady and authoress, who was now governess to the Portland children. Lady Oxford was then at Bullstrode.
Dr. Young had lost his beloved wife, his step-son and step-daughter the year before. The step-daughter died of consumption, brought on by grief at her mother’s loss. Her step-father had taken her abroad for her health. She died at Montpellier, and was refused Christian burial by the bigoted French of those days. The poor doctor, assisted by his servant, dug her grave in a field, unaided by any one. Can any one wonder at the gloom pervading the poem?
Whilst the duchess is writing to Mrs. Montagu, the latter writes on December 5—
“Madam, after being sunk into stupidity by the company of a strange kind of animal called a country Beau and wit, how unfit am I for conversation of the Duchess of Portland!”