LIFE AT A FARM —
A COUNTRY SQUIRE
The next letter to Mrs. Donnellan, whom Elizabeth rebukes for her silence, is dated April 10. In this she says—
“Before this time you must have been informed by the Duchess or Mrs. Pendarves of my distress, and also my flight from the maternal mansion to the house in the neighbourhood. I am at present very happy as my sister is out of all danger, and I rejoice in thinking she will have one enemy of life and health the less. So much for the state of my mind; the situation of my person is not so gay and cheerful. My best friends among the living are a Colony of rooks who have settled themselves in a grove by my window. They wake me early in the morning.... I have not yet discovered the form of their government, but I imagine it is democratical.... If I continue here long I shall grow a good naturalist. I have applied myself to nursing chickens, and have been forming the manners of a young calf, but I find it a very dull scholar. I intend to gather some cowslips for Mrs. Perceval[145] as soon as they appear; pray let me know if they should be prepared in any particular manner....
“There are some squires here who would make excellent Polyphemus’s; one of them drank tea here yesterday, and complimented me with all the force of rural gallantry, but for some fault in the flattery or the flatterer, I liked neither him nor myself any better for all the fine things he said. After he was gone I did but relieve my spleen with some laughter on the subject, when I was told by the matron of the family, he would be a good match for a woman with twenty thousand pounds, and indeed could one lend out one’s liking upon land security, I think one might very well settle it upon him. To laugh at a poor man is barbarous. He is a great friend of the family I am with, and I fear will come often; and in spite of his respectable manors and fee simple, and ancient mansion, both great and good, I shall not be able to give a serious attention to his discourse.
“I wish you could see my habitation, a right reverend and venerable one it is; the staircase that leads to my chamber is hung with the funeral escutcheons of my grandfathers, grandmothers, Aunts and Uncles, that I seem to be entering the burying vault of the family to sleep with my Fathers. It is a comfort, no doubt, to think one’s ancestors have had Christian burial, but of what use are these tawdry escutcheons? Sure no passion of the mind, no situation of the human creature is without vanity, if the mourner can adorn with pomp, and the breathless carcase be dressed in it.
“... address to me at Mr. Smith’s, Hayton, near Hythe.”
[145] Mrs. Donnellan’s mother.
HANDEL
On April 9 the Duchess of Portland lay in of a daughter, Frances, who died in 1743. Mrs. Donnellan writes on April 11 to give a good report of the duchess’s health, and in this letter she says—
“I long to hear from you, I want to know who you have to entertain, and keep up the spirits your sister’s safety must give you. I hope Mr. Robinson,[146] your brother, is in banishment with you, for you will want such a companion to sweeten a long absence from all your other friends. I heartily wish you were in any place where I could come to you.... The only show we have had since you left us was for Handel, his last night, all the fashionable people were there.”