West’s mother, Lady Langham was now paying her son a visit. Mrs. Montagu writes—
“I think the vast territories of imagination could not afford any view so pleasing as the meeting of such a son and such a mother; the pictures not only pleased my mind, but warm’d my heart ... that you may at Lady Langham’s age be as well able to take a journey, and your son as well deserve, and as joyfully receive such a visit is my sincerest and most earnest wish ... another pleasure attends you all, and which your benevolence and not your pride will feel, that of setting an example of those various charities, of parent, child, husband and wife, which make the happiness of domestic life; and there is surely more honour in filling well the circle mark’d of Heaven in these spheres of relation, than in running the wild career of Ambition in its most shining track. Indeed there is no part of a conduct that so certainly deserves our approbation as an acquittance of family regards. Actions of a public nature often are inspired by vanity, domestic behaviour has not popular applause for its object, tho’ with the sober judgment, as Mr. Pope says of silence, ‘its very want of voice makes it a kind of fame.’”
She then proceeds to thank West eloquently for Botham’s presentation to Kingston (this must be a mistake for Ealing), and ends with desiring some paper hangings “she and Mrs. Isted had laboriously adorned” to be taken down with care at her house at Hayes, but leaves the rest of the hangings to the landlord. “I presume some retail grocer, haberdasher of small wares, or perhaps a tallow chandler, will shortly be in possession of my Castle at Hayes.”
MR. HATELEY
At Sandleford were staying young Mr. Hateley, an artist, and Miss Anstey. The latter being in treaty for a house in London, accepted Mr. Montagu’s escort thither, and Mr. Hateley wishing to accompany them a portion of the way, mounted a horse, which flung him at the first start off and grievously cut and bruised him. The doctor was summoned after the departure of Mr. Montagu and Miss Anstey, who “blooded him, and he was ordered to take no food but balm tea lest he should have a fever.... The Harvest Home Supper last night was very jolly, the guests had as good appetite as those who meet to eat Turtle,” writes Mrs. Montagu to her husband on September 23.
Miss Anstey, having lost her parents, and Trumpington having become her brother’s property, had determined to live in London. She took Mr. Montagu to help her in choosing a residence in Queen Street, a new-built house for £800. Miss Anstey executed several commissions for Mrs. Montagu, amongst which she mentions, “I have sent several prints of Nun’s habits, some one of which I hope may become the beautiful Eloise, and I shall very much rejoice to hear she has taken the Veil.”
Mention is made in a previous letter of Mrs. Montagu’s of Hateley painting a picture of Eloise, but who sat for it I cannot say. Hateley recovered from his accident. A new post-chaise had been ordered for the Montagus, and Mr. Montagu found it “nothing showy or brilliant,” but his wife assures him, “I shall find no fault with the plainness of the post-chaise, neatness being all that is aimed at.”
LILLINGSTON DAYRELL
West, writing on October 8 from Wickham, says—
“I have the honour to agree with my dearest and most excellent cousin in looking upon writing letters as one of the evils of Human Life, and for that reason I have always declined engaging in a correspondence of that kind with anybody but her, tho’ I was once invited to it by the great Mr. Pope.... I am now turning my thoughts towards Chelsea, where I hope to be settled for the whole winter by the beginning of next month. My Mother and Mrs. Ives[69] go from hence to my brother’s[70] house in the country, where they will remain a week or ten days, and from there return to Lillingston.[71] Mr. and Mrs. Dayrell were prevented by the death of two of his Aunts from making us a visit at Wickham, by which accident and the absence of my sister Molly, my Mother lost the opportunity of exhibiting the pleasing picture of a Hen gathering with a careful and maternal tenderness all her chickens at once under her wings, but she will have them by turns.”