boys] admires clocked stockings as much as you do; he is forever peeping under my petticoats – what nonsense I do fill my letters with.’ But she never made any declarations of passion to her husband, contenting herself with mildly titillating, fond and flirtatious replies to his declarations of need. Kildare once remarked with sober sadness, ‘you have never mentioned or hinted at feeling the effect of my happiest moments.’
Emily’s first child George, whose courtesy title was Lord Ophaly, was born in January 1748, less than a year after her marriage. Emily was sixteen years old. George was followed by a tribe of siblings so large that occasionally Emily and Kildare failed to recognise their children when they came back from sojourns in London or Dublin. Arriving home from a trip to London in 1762, Emily ‘was sitting down by myself very quietly to write to my dear Jemmy,’ when ‘a dear little child run in to me and puts its arms round my neck; who should it be but sweet Henry! I did not know him the least in the world … Three months makes a surprising change at his age, but yet I wonder I did not know him.’
William followed George in 1749 and after him came Caroline in 1750, Emily in 1752 and Henrietta in 1753. Little Caroline died in 1754 and when Emily’s next child was born, right on cue in 1755, she too was named Caroline, only to follow her namesake into a very early grave. A third son, Charles, was born in 1756. So the family grew. Now and then Emily and Kildare complained about the size of their family. They worried about how their younger children would survive when they grew up, particularly the girls who could not, given their parents’ profligacy, count on much money. Butthey were proud parents all the same. Emily’s mother-in-law noticed that they were very particular about their children’s upbringing. Old Lady Kildare was exasperated with them, Emily reported to her husband and said, ‘you and I were both so exact and had so much fiddle faddle about our children! You indeed were worse again than me, she would not be your servant nor your child for the world, you was so tiresome.’
Emily found the ever-repeating cycle of pregnancy, childbirth and confinement tedious. But she never regretted her large family and she was fond of each of her children. In 1762, three months after the birth of Sophia, she began to suspect – rightly as it turned out – that she was already pregnant again. She soon got the better of her annoyance and wrote to Kildare, ‘I have resolved not to grumble! After all, are not my pretty babes a blessing? When I look round at them all, does not my heart rejoice at the sight, and overflow with tenderness? Why then repine? They are good, they are healthy, they are pretty; God Almighty bless them; if they gave me pain, they now make up for it by giving me pleasure.’
Emily loved the routine of the country and the nursery. She plunged herself into domestic life and extracted great pleasure from events that bored her husband. ‘Henry naked is the dearest little being on earth,’ she would exclaim and demanded regular bulletins from the nursery if she was away. ‘Pray tell me something of dear little Charles – if he begins to walk, and how he likes his shoes and stockings.’ ‘My love to the dear girls. Kiss my Charles, my dear, dear pretty little Charles, and tell me something about him when you write.’ ‘Dear little Charles is lame; he has a sore leg. I have quite a hospital here. He is mighty comical about it and calls it the gout.’ If Kildare was away, Emily regaled him with chatty details; she told him the story of her days for her own enjoyment rather than his. ‘I am sure you will be glad to hear I have a fine bed of double jonquils in bloom, which delights me. You know I have a passion for them. You can’t expect any news from hence I am sure; a chatty letter you don’t love,but I can’t help making mine a little so; ’tis quite natural to me,
Emily’s first child George, whose courtesy title was Lord Ophaly, was born in January 1748, less than a year after her marriage. Emily was sixteen years old. George was followed by a tribe of siblings so large that occasionally Emily and Kildare failed to recognise their children when they came back from sojourns in London or Dublin. Arriving home from a trip to London in 1762, Emily ‘was sitting down by myself very quietly to write to my dear Jemmy,’ when ‘a dear little child run in to me and puts its arms round my neck; who should it be but sweet Henry! I did not know him the least in the world … Three months makes a surprising change at his age, but yet I wonder I did not know him.’
William followed George in 1749 and after him came Caroline in 1750, Emily in 1752 and Henrietta in 1753. Little Caroline died in 1754 and when Emily’s next child was born, right on cue in 1755, she too was named Caroline, only to follow her namesake into a very early grave. A third son, Charles, was born in 1756. So the family grew. Now and then Emily and Kildare complained about the size of their family. They worried about how their younger children would survive when they grew up, particularly the girls who could not, given their parents’ profligacy, count on much money. Butthey were proud parents all the same. Emily’s mother-in-law noticed that they were very particular about their children’s upbringing. Old Lady Kildare was exasperated with them, Emily reported to her husband and said, ‘you and I were both so exact and had so much fiddle faddle about our children! You indeed were worse again than me, she would not be your servant nor your child for the world, you was so tiresome.’
Emily found the ever-repeating cycle of pregnancy, childbirth and confinement tedious. But she never regretted her large family and she was fond of each of her children. In 1762, three months after the birth of Sophia, she began to suspect – rightly as it turned out – that she was already pregnant again. She soon got the better of her annoyance and wrote to Kildare, ‘I have resolved not to grumble! After all, are not my pretty babes a blessing? When I look round at them all, does not my heart rejoice at the sight, and overflow with tenderness? Why then repine? They are good, they are healthy, they are pretty; God Almighty bless them; if they gave me pain, they now make up for it by giving me pleasure.’
Emily loved the routine of the country and the nursery. She plunged herself into domestic life and extracted great pleasure from events that bored her husband. ‘Henry naked is the dearest little being on earth,’ she would exclaim and demanded regular bulletins from the nursery if she was away. ‘Pray tell me something of dear little Charles – if he begins to walk, and how he likes his shoes and stockings.’ ‘My love to the dear girls. Kiss my Charles, my dear, dear pretty little Charles, and tell me something about him when you write.’ ‘Dear little Charles is lame; he has a sore leg. I have quite a hospital here. He is mighty comical about it and calls it the gout.’ If Kildare was away, Emily regaled him with chatty details; she told him the story of her days for her own enjoyment rather than his. ‘I am sure you will be glad to hear I have a fine bed of double jonquils in bloom, which delights me. You know I have a passion for them. You can’t expect any news from hence I am sure; a chatty letter you don’t love,but I can’t help making mine a little so; ’tis quite natural to me,
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