[Eliza Straubenzee, formerly wife of the London banker John Hankey.] Autograph Letter Signed to her 'dear Children', addressed to her son John Peter Hankey, written from India following her 'interesting and remarkable trial' for adultery.

The present item presents a double significance as a result of the circumstances in which it was composed. The author writes in a tone of forced levity to her two sons John Peter Hankey (1770-1807) and Thomson Hankey (1773-1855), grandsons of the banker Sir Thomas Hankey (1704-1770), from whom she is separated as a result of her divorce from their father, following a sensational adultery case, her marriage to Hankey having been dissolved by an act of parliament in the previous year, her hairdresser and maid having deposed that she was living in a state of intimacy with Lt-Col. Van Straubenzee (on whose memorial she appears as 'Lydia Straubenzee'). It would appear that Straubenzee and his new wife have travelled to India to avoid the scandal. (For more information see the Journal of the House of Lords, volume 36 (1783), p.614, 'Hankey's Divorce Bill', and the account of the 'very interesting and remarkable trial of Mrs. Elizabeth Hankey', published in London in 1783.) The letter is 3pp., 4to. Bifolium. 58 lines of text. On worn and aged paper, with loss to eight lines as a result of the breaking of the seal. Addressed, with remains of red wax seal, on reverse of second leaf, to 'John Peter Hankey Esqr | Bishopsgate street | London'. The letter begins: 'I was in great hopes my dear Children to have met by this time with some little thing to have sent you, but such is the stupidity of this Country they neither make things themselves or have the sense to bring them from other countries. A China Ship came in a few days ago. I went to Madras desirous of finding some Crackers or Colours for you, the Captain had never thought of bringing either, not even an Ivory ship for Thomson. it seems they carry such things to the London Market but wisely suppose the good folks here do not abound in Taste, & are therefore contented if they get some bad tea, ugly silks, & plenty of Sugar candy. however by the first ships going from hence I shall try to get some things sent to me.' She discusses her health 'in this climate', and 'the manner of travelling in this strange place': 'I am carried in a large tea tray with a cover over the top. & full of pillows by ten men. they take it four at a time & relieve one another without stopping. they go about five miles an hour sometimes more. & will carry you forty miles a day. in this machine which they call a palanquin you sleep at night, & indeed it is as good as the beds in ones home for they are very seldom more than a cane couch'). Many houses, she reports, 'have roofs like a barn & the rats, birds, bats, & lizards are very friendly & inhabit the same room always'. She describes 'some races' which 'lasted three days', in 'nine or ten tents in a very pleasant field near the spot by which means & an excellent band of musick we made the time pass pleasantly'. She continues, somewhat poignantly given the circumstances: 'I wait with no little impatience for a Letter from my dearest boys. I long to know how they do, where they are & if the learning goes on well. The more blockheads I see the more anxious I am they should profit by the opportunities they have of being otherwise'. The conclusion of the letter has suffered loss as a result of the breaking open of the seal. In it she refers to 'your Aunt Agnes', and assures her sons that they are 'never an instant' out of her thoughts: 'I count the hours till my return'. She signs 'your ever affate Mother | Eliza Straubenzee'. In a postscript she refers rather stiffly to her former husband: 'Make my best Compts to Mr Hankey.'