The Letter-Bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope — Volume 1
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Title: The Letter-Bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope — Volume 1
Compiler: A. M. W. Stirling
Release date: January 1, 2005 [eBook #7253]
Most recently updated: December 30, 2020
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER-STANHOPE — VOLUME 1 ***
Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
[Illustration: THE VISCOUNTESS ANSON]
THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER-STANHOPE
COMPILED FROM THE CANNON HALL PAPERS, 1806-1873
BY A. M. W. STIRLING
TWO VOLUMES: VOLUME ONE
"_TON_ IS INDEED A CAMELEON WHOSE HUE CHANGES WITH EVERY RAY OF LIGHT."
_ALMACK'S_
TO CHARLES G. STIRLING
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
PREFACE
The following papers, which extend over a space of nearly seventy years
during a most interesting period of our National History, may be said to
form a sequel and a conclusion to two previous publications, _Coke of
Norfolk and his Friends_, which appeared in 1906, and _Annals of a
Yorkshire House_, which appeared in 1911. They are, however, more
essentially a continuation of the latter, in which the Cannon Hall
muniments and anecdotes were brought down to the years 1805-6, from which
date the narrative is resumed in the present volume.
In that first series of Papers which was published in the Annals, the bulk
of the correspondence centred round the personality of Walter Spencer-
Stanhope, M.P., who lived from 1749 to 1821. In the present series, the
correspondence is principally addressed to or written by John Spencer-
Stanhope, his son, who lived from 1787 to 1873. Other letters, doubtless,
there were in plenty, to and from other members of the family, but only
those have survived which found their way back to the old Yorkshire house
whence so many of them had originally set forth with their messages of
love and home tidings, and which were there preserved, eventually, by the
grandmother of the present writer, Lady Elizabeth, wife of John Stanhope
and daughter of the celebrated 'Coke of Norfolk.'
The following book, therefore, is appropriately termed the "Letter-bag" of
the lady to whom its existence is due, although her personal contribution
to its contents does not commence before the year 1822, when she first
became a member of the family circle of its correspondents. In it, in
brief, is represented the social existence of two generations and the
current gossip of over half-a-century, as first set forth by their nimble
pens in all the freshness of novelty. Thus it is an ever-shifting scene to
which we are introduced. We become one with the daily life of a bygone
century, with a family party absorbed in a happy, busy existence. We
mingle with the gay throng at the routs and assemblies which they
frequented. We meet the "very fine" beaux at whom they mocked, and the
"raging belles" whom they envied. Then the scene changes, and we are out
on the ocean with Cuthbert Collingwood, in our ears rings a clash of arms
long since hushed, a roar of cannon which has been silent throughout the
passing of a century, while we gauge with a grim realisation the iron that
entered into the soul of a strong man battling for his country's gain.
Then the black curtain of death shrouds that scene, and we are back once
more in the gay world of _ton_, with its petty gossip and its petty
aims.... Later, other figures move across the boards; Wellington, as the
ball-giver, the gallant _chevalier des dames_; Napoleon, in his _bonnet de
nuit_, a mysterious, saturnine figure; his subordinates, who shared his
greed without the dignity of its magnitude; next, in strange contrast,
Coke of Norfolk, the peaceful English squire, seen thus for the first
time--not as a public character, a world-wide benefactor--but in the
intimacy of his domestic life, as "Majesty," the butt of his daughter's
playful sallies, as the beloved father, the tender grandfather, a
gracious, benevolent presence. We read the romance of his daughter, that
pretty, prim courtship of a bygone day; we see her home life as a young
wife, the coming of another race of merry children; by and by, we follow
the fortunes of graceful "little Madam" with her brilliant eyes, and see
the advent of yet another lover of a later day. So the scenes shift, the
figures come and go, the great things and the small of life intermingle.
And as we read, by almost imperceptible stages, the Georgian has merged
into the Victorian, and the young generation of one age has faded into the
older generation of the next, till we are left confronted with the
knowledge, albeit difficult of credence, that both have vanished into the
mists of the Unknown.
Meanwhile, one aspect of this glimpse into the past requires but little
insistence. Among these two generations of Stanhopes a high standard of
education prevailed. This, coupled with the opportunities which they
possessed of mingling with the best-known people of their day, both in
England and France, makes it obvious that records written by such writers,
with all the happy abandon of a complete sympathy between scribe and
recipient, have a value which transcends any more laboured enumeration of
historical data. The worth of their correspondence lies in the fact that
it presents, artlessly and candidly, the outlook of a contemporary family,
of good position and more than average intelligence, upon events ordinary
and extraordinary, under four sovereigns. And while many books have been
edited describing the sayings and doings of Royal personages and political
leaders during that period, few have yet been published which present them
in the intimate guise in which they jostle each other throughout the
following pages, and fewer still which give any adequate picture of the
social life as lived during these years by the less notable bulk of the
community.
Yet more, the writers of these letters are no mere puppets of ancient
history, who move in a world unreal to us and shadowy. Their remarks to us
are instinct with the freshness--the actuality--of to-day. Whether as
happy, noisy schoolboys and girls, or as men and women of the fashionable
world bent on pursuit of pleasure or of learning, to us they are
emphatically alive. Almost we can hear and echo the laughter of that merry
home-circle; their jests are our own, differently phrased, their joys and
sorrows knit our hearts to them across the century. They lived at a date
so near our own that it has all the charm of similarity--with a
difference; and it is just this likeness and unlikeness which lend such
piquancy to their experiences.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
CHAPTER
I. LETTERS RELATING TO THE WORLD OF _TON_, 1805-1806
II. LETTERS OF AN EXILE, 1805-1810
III. _ON DITS_ FROM LONDON, YORKSHIRE AND RAMSGATE, 1806-1807
IV. _ON DITS_ FROM GROSVENOR SQUARE AND CANNON HALL, 1808-1810
V. ANECDOTES FROM A PRISONER OF NAPOLEON, 1810-1812
VI. LETTERS FROM AN ESCAPED PRISONER, 1812-1813
VII. LETTERS FROM ENGLAND AND FRANCE, 1811-1821
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE VISCOUNTESS ANSON _Frontispiece_
_From a miniature by Cosway_
SILHOUETTES OF MRS SPENCER-STANHOPE AND HER DAUGHTERS MARIANNE AND ANNE
SILHOUETTES OF ISABELLA, FRANCES, AND MARIA SPENCER-STANHOPE
MRS TRIMMER
"THE YOUNG ROSCIUS"
CARICATURE OF SIR LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON
MADAME CATALANI
SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, BT.
_From a picture painted while he was a prisoner in the Tower_
PASSPORT GIVEN BY NAPOLEON IST TO JOHN SPENCER-STANHOPE
EDWARD COLLINGWOOD
SIR RICHARD CARR GLYN, BT.
PRINT OF GEORGE III. WHEN MAD
THE MARCHIONESS CONYNGHAM
QUEEN CAROLINE, BY HARLOWE
WALTER SPENCER-STANHOPE, AETAT. 70
_From an ivory bust_
"In town what numbers into fame advance,
Conscious of merit in the coxcombs' dance,
The Op'ra, Almack's, park, assembly, play,
Those dear destroyers of the tedious day,
That wheel of fops, that saunter of the town,
Call it diversion, and the pill goes down."
_Young_
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
For the enlightenment of those readers who have not read the previous
volumes of which the present is the continuation, it may be well to
recapitulate briefly the material with which these dealt.
In 1565 a branch of the Stanhopes came from Lancashire into Yorkshire, and
eventually settled at Horsforth, Low Hall, near Calverley Bridge, in the
latter county. During the period of the Civil Wars, a branch of the family
of Spencer migrated from the borders of Wales into Yorkshire, and in the
reign of Charles II. one of them purchased the house and land at that date
constituting the estate of Cannon Hall. In 1748 Walter Stanhope of
Horsforth united the two families by his marriage with Ann Spencer of
Cannon Hall, and their son Walter, eventually inheriting both properties
from his respective uncles, bore the name of Spencer-Stanhope.
Walter Spencer-Stanhope was for thirty-nine years a member of the House of
Commons, during which time he represented respectively Haslemere,
Carlisle, and Hull. In 1787 he married Mary Winifred Pulleine, who
inherited the estates of Roddam and Dissington in Northumberland, in trust
for her third and fourth sons. By her he had fifteen children, but his
eldest son and first-born child, owing to an accident at birth, was
rendered _non compos_, and his second son, John, was therefore in the
position of his heir.
Mrs Stanhope, an exemplary and affectionate mother, appears occasionally
to have become confused with the number of her progeny and to have been
fearful of forgetting the order of their rapid entrance into the world or
of certain events which formed a sequel to their arrival. She therefore
compiled a list of such incidents, which is here subjoined, since the
reader may find it useful for occasional reference.
_The Family of Walter Spencer-Stanhope of Cannon Hall._
Walter Spencer Spencer-Stanhope, his first-born, came into the world
about eight o'clock in the morning of the 26th of August, 1784, & was
christened in Horsforth Chapel the 25th of September following, his
Sponsors were Edward Collingwood, John Ashton Shuttleworth, Esqre., &
Mrs Lawson of Chirton. He was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 13th of
February, 1787, and had about 30 small-Pox. He had the measles very
favourably in November 1790.
Marianne, our next-born, came into the world in Grosvenor Square on
the 23rd of May, 1786, about 7 o'clock in the morning, was baptised
there on the 20th June following. Her Sponsors were Sir Richard Carr
Glyn, Mrs Stanhope, and Mrs Greame his mother and aunt. She was
inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 13th of February 1787, and was very
full. She had the measles in Grosvenor Square very favourably in March
1806. [1]
John, his third child, came into the world in Grosvenor Square on the
27th of May, 1787, between 6 & 8 o'clock in the morning. He had
private Baptism in his house that Evening & public Baptism on June
25th, 1787, or thereabouts. His Sponsors were the Earl of
Chesterfield, Sir Mathew White Ridley and Lady Glyn. He was inoculated
the 12th February, 1788, by Baron Dimsdale and had the disorder
favourably. He had the Measles and Whooping-cough at Sunbury. [2]
Anne, his 4th child, was born September 7th, 1788, between 6 & 8 in
the Morning at Cannon Hall, was christened at Cawthorne Church,
November 2nd, 1788, having received private Baptism about a Fortnight
after she was born. She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale on or about
24th of April, 1789, and had the Disorder very favourably. Her
Sponsors were the Countess of Burford, Mrs Marriott & Mr Pulleine. [3]
Catherine, his fifth Child, was born between 6 & 8 o'clock on the
morning of September, 1789, at Cannon Hall; was christened at the
beginning of November following, having received private Baptism 3
weeks before. Her Sponsors were Mrs Bigge, Mrs Anne Shafto & Colonel
Glyn, She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale, the beginning of April,
1790, and had the Disorder very favourably. She died 20th of November,
1795, of a Complaint in the Throat or Lungs, and was buried at
Cawthorne Church.
Elizabeth, our next Child, was born on the 5th of November 1790, about
1 o'clock in the afternoon, had first private Baptism & was afterwards
christened at Cawthorne Church on the 11th of December following. The
Sponsors were Mrs Ord, of Morpeth, Mrs Pulleine & Mr John Collingwood.
She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale in March 1791 & had the disorder
very favourably. Died April 15th, 1801, of obstruction, in Grosvenor
Square, and was buried in St James's Chapel, Hampstead Road.
Edward, our seventh Child, was born on the 30th October, 1791 at 1/2
past twelve at noon, was christened at Cannon Hall in December. The
Sponsors were Mr Collingwood, Mr Fawkes of Farnley & Mr Glyn. He was
inoculated by Baron Dimsdale April 1st, 1792 & had the Disorder very
favourably. Had the measles in 1806. [4]
William, our eighth Child was born at 1/2 past four o'clock on the 4th
of January 1793, was christened on the 5th of February following, at
Cawthorne Church. His Sponsors were Admiral Roddam, Mr Carr Ibbotson
and Mrs Beaumont. He was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 24th of
March, 1793, & had the Disorder very favourably. He had the Measles at
Sunbury School May 1802. Went to Sea in the Ocean to join Lord
Collingwood off Cadiz, March, 1806. [5]
Thomas Henry, our ninth Child, was born at 1/2 past one in the morning
the 14th of May 1794, was christened the 9th of June following in
Grosvenor Square. His Sponsors were Lady Carr Glyn, Collingwood Roddam
Esqre., & Ashton Shuttleworth Esqre. He was inoculated by Baron
Dimsdale in April 1795 & had the Disorder very favourably. Had the
Measles at Sunbury 1802. Died April the 3rd, 1808, after a long and
painful illness. Was buried with Eliza in St James's Chapel in
Hampstead Road.
Charles, our tenth Child, born on the 14th October, 1795, christened
at Cawthorne, Sponsors Colonel Beaumont, James Shuttleworth Esqre., &
Mrs Elizabeth Roddam. Was inoculated in the spring, 1796, by Baron
Dimsdale. [6]
Isabella, our eleventh Child, was born on the 20th of October 1797, at
one in the morning, christened at Cawthorne Church the 8th of December
following. Sponsors, Mrs Roddam, Mrs Smith of Dorsetshire & Mr Smyth
of Heath. Was inoculated in Autumn 1798 by Mr Greaves of Clayton. [7]
Philip, our twelfth Child, was born January 25th, 1799, at one in the
morning; was christened by Mr Phipps February, 1799. The Sponsors were
Mr Edwyn Stanhope, the Rev. John Smith, Westminster & Lady Augusta
Lowther. Was inoculated with the Cow-pox May 1800 by Mr Knight. Had
the Measles at Putney in the Autumn, 1806. [8]
Frances Mary, our thirteenth Child was born on the 27th of June, 1800,
at 1/2 past twelve at Noon in Grosvenor Square & was christened there
by the Rev. Mr Armstrong on the 26th of July following. The Sponsors
were Samuel Thornton Esqre, Mrs Greame of Bridlington & Mrs Marriott
of Horsmonden, Kent. Inoculated with the Cow-pox by Mr Greaves in the
Autumn of 1800. [9]
Maria Alicia, our fourteenth Child, was born at Cannon Hall the 4th of
September 1802, 1/2 before seven in the Morning & was christened at
Cannon Hall by the Rev. Goodair on 22nd of October following. The
Sponsors were the Rev. D. Marriott, Mrs Henry Pulleine of Carlton &
Mrs Morland of Court Lodge, Kent. Inoculated with the Cow-pox by Mr
Whittle in Grosvenor Square the Spring following. [10]
Hugh, our fifteenth Child, [11] was born September 30th, 1804, about
five in the Morning & was christened at Cawthorne Church by the Rev.
Mr Goodair the 1st of November following. The Sponsors were Edward
Collingwood Esqre., Mr Smith of Dorsetshire & Lady Elizabeth Lowther
of Swillington. The four youngest had the measles at Ramsgate.
As will be seen by this comprehensive list, of the fifteen children of
Walter Spencer-Stanhope and his wife, three only failed to attain
maturity. The tale of their brief lives has no part in the following
correspondence, and might be dismissed without comment, save that the
mention of them serves to bring yet nearer to us that mother whose
powerful brain, warm heart and tireless pen bound to her the affections of
her children with a devotion seldom surpassed.
Of Henry Stanhope, destined to die after much suffering, many letters, not
inserted here, remain eloquent of the manner in which, throughout his long
illness, his mother denied herself to all her acquaintance and never left
his side. Of little Catherine Stanhope, who expired at the age of five,
two pathetic mementoes exist. One is a large marquise ring which never
left the mother's finger till she, too, was laid in the grave; the other a
silken tress like spun sunshine, golden still as on that day in a dead
century when, viewing it through her tears, Mrs Stanhope labelled it
tenderly--"_My dear little Catherine's hair, cut off the morning I lost
her, November 20th, 1795._" Of little Elizabeth a more curious and
harrowing reminiscence has survived.
_Grosvenor Square, Saturday, April the 28th, the day on which the
remains of my dear child were deposited in the vault at Mrs
Armstrong's Chapel between six and seven in the morning, attended by
her dear, afflicted father._
So little Elizabeth, in the spring-time of her life, passed to her grave
at a strangely early hour on that April morning; and her mother, in the
hushed house, took up the thread of life once more with pious submission
and the iron will for which she was remarkable.
At the date at which this book opens, many years had gone by since that
storm of sorrow had fallen upon her, suddenly, like a bolt from the blue.
All unsuspected, indeed, another grief, the death of her little son, was
approaching; but for the present contentment reigned.
[Illustration: MARIANNE]
[Illustration: MRS. SPENCER-STANHOPE AND HER FIVE DAUGHTERS]
[Illustration: ANNE]
[Illustration: ISABELLA]
[Illustration: FRANCES]
[Illustration: MARIA]
After celebrating the Christmas festivities, as usual, in Yorkshire, early
in January, 1805, she journeyed with her husband and family back to their
house in London, No. 28 Grosvenor Square, a building since much altered,
but still standing at the corner of Upper Grosvenor Street. [12] There she
was occupied introducing into society her clever eldest daughter Marianne,
aged nineteen, and preparing for the _début_ of her second daughter, Anne;
and thence with the dawning of that year destined to be momentous in
English history, she wrote to her son John, his father's heir-
presumptive, a youth of eighteen, who had just gone to Christ Church:
The New Year smiles upon us, and, thank God, finds us all well, except
Henry, and he gains strength. May you see many happy ones and may the
commencing year prove as happy to you as I have every reason to
believe the last was.... You are really, my dear John, the most
_gallant_ son I ever heard of to make such very flattering
speeches.... It is vastly gratifying to a mother to have a son desire
to hear from her so frequently, and such a request must always be
attended to with pleasure.
How assiduously the writer fulfilled her promise is testified by those
packets of letters, dim with the dust and blight of a vanished century,
but in which her reward is likewise attested. "I do not believe," she
affirms proudly, "that there is a man at either of the Universities who
writes so often to his mother as you do, and let me beg you will continue
to do so, for the hearing from you is one of the chief pleasures of my
life." Moreover, that family of eight sons and five daughters, who, at
this date, shared her attention, in their relations to each other were
singularly united. Throughout their lives, indeed, the tie of blood
remained to them of paramount importance, although, as often happens, this
fact bred in them a somewhat hypercritical view of the world which lay
without that charmed circle. Graphic and lively as it will be seen are
their writings, their wit was at times so keen-edged that it is said to
have caused considerable alarm to the dandies and belles of their
generation, who suffered from the too vivacious criticism of their young
contemporaries. This was more particularly so in the case of Marianne, the
eldest daughter, afterwards the anonymous author of the satirical novel
_Almack's_. Brilliant and full of humour as is her correspondence, it
shows her to have been what family tradition reports, rich in talent and
accomplishments, gifted with imagination and keenly observant of her
surroundings, but withal cynical of speech and critical of temperament--a
woman, perhaps, more to be feared than loved.
Her brother John, the recipient of most of the following letters, was, on
the contrary, a youth of exceptional amiability, and unalterably popular
with all whom he encountered. Intellectual from his earliest childhood, in
later life he was a profound classical scholar. A seven months' child,
however, the constitutional delicacy which was a constant handicap to him
throughout his existence had been further accentuated by an unlucky
accident. When at Westminster, a fall resulting from a push given to him
by Ralph Nevill, Lord Abergavenny's son, had broken his collar-bone, and
with the Spartan treatment to which children were then subjected, this
injury received no attention. But what he lacked in physical strength was
supplied by dauntless grit and mental energy, so that, although in the
future debarred by his health from taking any active part in political
life, he early attained, as we shall see, to no mean fame as a traveller
and an explorer, while he was regarded as one of the savants of his
generation.
During 1805, when he was yet a freshman at Christ Church, his younger
brothers and sisters were likewise variously employed with their
education, the boys at the celebrated schools of Sunbury and Westminster,
the girls in the seclusion of a large school-room in the rambling house in
Grosvenor Square. And that the learning for which they all strove was of a
comprehensive nature, moreover, that those of their party who had already
entered the gay world never disdained to share such labours, is shown in a
letter written many years afterwards to John by his brother Charles, in
which the writer complains sarcastically--
You have no idea how happy, year by year, as of yore, the little ones
seem--(for they will always be called so, though now Frances is as big
as me and amazingly handsome). Yet still they have not one moment of
time to themselves. They cram and stuff with accomplishments
incessantly, and they prison me in my room & won't allow me to pry
into the haunts of the Muses. Marianne and Anne have been learning to
paint for these last two years, and make (_I_ think) but slow
progress. Marianne never will have done (I wish I could be so
industrious). She is now beginning to learn the harp. They are both
learning to sing from some great star, which is only money and time
thrown away; & Isabella, Frances and Maria learn to dance of one of
the most celebrated Opera dancers. Isabella learns a new instrument
something like a guitar, called a harp-lute. Marianne and Anne, having
learnt French, German, Latin and Italian, are now at a loss to find
something left to know, and talk of learning Russian. They will be
dyed blue-stocking up to their very chins.
Allowing for the exaggeration of a schoolboy, the letter throws an
interesting light on the standard of education aimed at by those who,
despite the imputation to the contrary, had no pretension to belong to the
recognised blue-stocking coteries of their day. And the father of that
busy, happy circle, in the seriousness of his own life and aims, presented
the same contrast to many of his contemporaries which was reflected in his
family.
Fourteen years senior to his wife, and at this date in his fifty-seventh
year, Walter Stanhope had been M.P. respectively for his different
constituencies since 1775. A keen politician, he was punctilious in his
attendance at the House.
Nevertheless, as shown in a former volume, although a man of ability and
of intense earnestness of purpose, his devotion to his political labours
never wholly counteracted a certain lethargy of temperament which,
throughout his life, limited achievement. Thus, although in his youth
undoubtedly gifted with a lively fancy, or with what his generation termed
sensibility, this very trait seems at variance with the sum of his later
career. True, that under stress of emotion he could rise to heights of
impassioned oratory which provoked by its very evidence of latent power;
but the tenor of his existence was scarcely in accordance with these brief
flashes of genius, and the fulfilment of his prime belied its promise. The
record of his life remains one which commands respect rather than
admiration. Level-headed, sober in judgment and conduct, even while
possessed of a wit which was rare and a discernment at times profound, his
days flowed on in an undeviating adherence to duty which makes little
appeal to the imagination. As a churchman, as a parent, as a landowner, as
a politician he fulfilled each avocation with credit. As a man of the
world he could toy with but remain unmastered by the foibles of his age.
While a Fox and a Pitt rose to heights and sank to depths which Stanhope
never touched; while a Wilberforce was imbued with religious fervour as
with a permeating flame, Stanhope, to his contemporaries, presented
something of an anomaly. As in his early years he had been a Macaroni who
eschewed the exaggerations of his sect, so throughout life he could gamble
without being a gamester, could drink without being a toper, be a
politician without party acumen, and a man of profoundly religious
feelings devoid of fanaticism. But since he who himself is swayed by the
intensity of his convictions is he who in turn sways his fellows, possibly
the very restraint which saved Stanhope from folly debarred him from fame.
[13]
Meantime his generation was one of colossal exaggeration, both in talent
and in idiocy, in virtue and in vice. Men sinned like giants and as giants
atoned. Common sense, mediocrity--save upon the throne--were rare. Even
the fools in their folly were great. The spectacle was recurrent of men
who would smilingly stake a fortune as a wager, who could for hours drench
their drink-sodden brains in wine, then rise like gods refreshed, and with
an iron will throw off the stupor which bound them, to wield a flood of
eloquence that swayed senates and ruled the fate of nations. Even the fops
in their foppishness were of a magnitude in harmony with their period.
They could promote dandyism to a fine art and win immortality by
perfecting the rôle. Their affectation became an adjunct of their
greatness, their eccentricity an assumption of supremacy; their very
insolence was a right divine before which the common herd bowed with a
limitless tolerance.
In the world of London, as that celebrated gossip, Gronow, points out,
from generation to generation, certain men of fashion have come to the
fore amongst the less conspicuous mass of their fellows, and have been
defined by the general term of "men about town." The earlier
representatives of that race, the Macaronis of a former date, ere 1805 had
been replaced by a clique of dandies whose pretensions to recognition were
based on a less worthy footing. For while those previous votaries of
fashion, although derided and caricatured according to the humour of their
day, were, none the less, valuable patrons of art and literature, the
exquisites of a later date could seldom lay claim to such distinction. To
dine, to dress, to exhibit sufficient peculiarity in their habits and
rudeness in their manners whereby to enhance that fictitious value in the
eyes of those who did not dare to emulate such foibles, was the end and
aim of their existence. Yet it is doubtful whether posterity remembers
them less faithfully. Side by side with the great names of their century
there has come down to us the record of these apparently impudent
pretenders to fame, and it is questionable whether a Nash, a Brummell, or
a D'Orsay are less familiar to the present generation than those whose
claim to the recognition of posterity was not so ephemeral.
Thus, while the circle of acquaintance with which the lives of Stanhope
and his family at this date mingled serves to throw into sharper relief
his own divergence of character from that of many of his contemporaries--
those men who to great abilities, and sometimes to great achievement,
joined the pettiness of a fop and the follies of a mountebank--still more
did the typical man-about-town, with his whims and his foibles, his
shallow aims and his lost opportunities, compare strangely with the larger
souls of his generation. For the moment was one which called forth the
greatness or the littleness of those who met it, and which heightened that
contrast of contemporary lives.
With the coming of the nineteenth century the political outlook for
England had waxed grave. The air was full of wars and rumours of wars.
Napoleon, the mighty scourge of the civilised world, was minded to
accomplish the downfall of the one Power which still defied his strength.
"The channel is but a ditch," he boasted, "and anyone can cross it who has
but the courage to try." Boats were in readiness at Boulogne and at most
of the French ports, fitted up for the attempt, while the Conqueror of
Europe dallied only for the psychological moment to put his project into
execution. With bated breath Europe awaited the possible demolition of the
sole barrier which yet lay between the Tyrant and universal monarchy,
while upon the other side of the "ditch" the little Island expected his
arrival in a condition of prolonged tension and stubborn courage. At any
moment her blue waters and green fields might be dyed with blood. At any
moment a swarm of foreign invaders might trample her pride in the dust,
and crush her as other nations had been effectually crushed. But she meant
to sell her liberty dear. Out of a population averaging 9,000,000 souls
there were 120,000 regular troops, 347,000 volunteers, and 78,000 militia;
and still Napoleon paused.
Upon the threatened throne still sat good Farmer George and his prim
German consort, models of dull domesticity, of narrow convictions, of
punctilious etiquette--the epitome of respectable and respected
mediocrity, save when, with a profound irony, the recurring blast of
insanity transformed the personality of the stolid monarch, and shattered
the complacency of the smug little Court. Within its shelter hovered the
bevy of amiable Princesses, whose minutest word and glance yet lives for
us in the searchlight of Fanny Burney's adoring scrutiny. Afar, the sons
pursued their wild careers. The Prince of Wales, the mirror of fashion,
diced and drank, coquetted with politics and kingship, and--a very
travesty of chivalry--betrayed his friend, broke the heart of the woman
who loved him, deserted the woman who had wedded him, and tortured with
petty jealousy the sensitive soul of the child who might rule after him.
In secret silence Mrs Fitzherbert endured the calumny of the world, and
ate out her heart in faith to the faithless. With flippant and undignified
frivolity the Princess of Wales strove to support an anomalous position
and find balm to her wounded pride and weak brain; while the passionate,
all-human child-princess, Charlotte, awakening with pitiful precocity to
the realities of an existence which was to deal with her but harshly,
pitted her stormy soul against a destiny which decreed that before her the
sweets of life were eternally to be flaunted, to be eternally withheld.
* * * * *
But with the dawning of 1805 the crisis of England's fate approached
consummation. Napoleon's plans were known to be completed. Pitt's
Continental Allies were secretly arming. The sea-dogs who guarded the
safety of our shores--Nelson, Collingwood, Cornwallis, Calder--were on the
alert. Yet while England's very existence as a Nation hung in the balance,
in the gay world of London those who represented the _ton_ danced and
flirted, attended routs and assemblies, complaining fretfully of the
unwonted dullness of the town, or in their drawing-rooms discussed the
topics of the hour--the acting of the wonder-child Roscius; the lamentable
scandal relating to Lord Melville; or, ever and again--with a tremor--the
possibilities of invasion.
THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER-STANHOPE
CHAPTER I
1805-1806
LETTERS RELATING TO THE WORLD OF TON
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _January 18th, 1805._
Here we are established as of old and beginning our usual
avocations.... Our Opera-box we like extremely. I generally take some
young woman, which makes us cheerful. Miss Glyn [1] was of my party
one night, and was well pleased. Little Roscius [2] appeared again
to-night. I almost despair of seeing him, though I will try.
On Saturday morning, Marianne and I and five or six hundred others
went to hear Mr Sydney Smith [3] lecture upon the _Conduct of the
Human Understanding_. His voice is fine and he is well satisfied
with himself. I cannot say we came away much wiser, but we were well
amused. I hear that Mr Smith protests that all women of talent are
plain.
Lady de Clifford [4] is to be Governess to Princess Charlotte, Mrs and
Miss Trimmer [5] the acting ones. I doubt the mother accepting the
appointment. On the 25th February there is to be a grand ball at
Windsor.
[Illustration: MRS. TRIMMER]
_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope_.
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _February 1st, 1805._
MY DEAR JOHN,
I fear you will have thought me long in performing my promise, but as
I was to have gone to Court yesterday, I delayed writing to you until
the ceremony was over; as it is, instead of my letter being full of
royalty, peers and ribbons, you must accept nothing but the remnant of
those ideas, which the interesting hairbreadth adventures of _Tom
Jones_ have left me; in plain English the Drawing-room was put off
on account of the Queen's indisposition, and I am just at the end of
the above-mentioned delightful book. Oh! had I the wit of Partridge,
the religion of Thwackum, or the learning of Square, I might describe
with tolerable accuracy the intolerable stupidity of this great town.
The Opera is thin of company, thin of performers, thin of lights, thin
of _figurantes_, thin of scene-shifters, thin of everything! One
night we were a good deal entertained by having his R.H., & _chère
amie_ [6] in the next box to us, really they squabbled so, you
would have imagined they were man and wife....
As for Politicks, of which you ask so much, everyone here seems
discontented. All Pitt's friends, angry that he has deserted them for
Addington, and Lord Stafford, the head of them all, angry that the
ribbon should be given to Lord Abercorn--to one who has protected
rather than to one who has insulted Pitt--"Such little things are
great to little men."
The King, everyone agrees, looks charmingly and is more composed than
he has been for long. Lady de Clifford is appointed Governess to the
Princess (Charlotte)--_the bosom friend of Mrs Fitzherbert,
hélas!_--and Mrs and Miss Trimmer under her; some say they will not
accept it. Dr Fisher, Bishop of Exeter, is to be Governor. I am for
making he and Mrs Trimmer disagree about Religion.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. February 23rd._
On Thursday Marianne and I attended the Drawingroom, and so
disagreeable a crowd I never was in. Miss Drummond [7] looked very
well and Miss Glyn quite pretty--the great Hoop suits her figure. I
have not heard you mention being acquainted with a young man of the
name of Knox-Irish. [8] His father and mother live in this street, and
are friends of Mrs Beaumont's. [9]
I have finished the Life of Sir William Jones. [10] His acquirements
appear to have been wonderful--eight languages perfectly, but I think
it was twenty-eight of which he had more or less some knowledge. He
was withal a very religious man. His attainments were of the right
sort, for they fixed his principles and all his writings are in favor
of Virtue.
The speech Mr Windham made in the House of Commons was full of wit,
and would I think amuse you.
_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
(_Undated._)
The apparent good spirits in which you write, even after a
Mathematical Lecture, gives us reason to hope that that favourite
exercise has not quite deprived you of your valuable intellect Long
may it continue thus! Long may you be the glory of CH. CH.
Mathematicians; and when you have left the British Athens, long may
your name stand forward among the lists of those Worthies who
discovered that two parallel, straight lines might run on to all
Eternity without ever meeting!
As a little incitement to you to continue acquiring learning, I will
send you a short account of the manner that two Dukes of Suffolk
(_sic_) spent their time at Cambridge in 1550:
"During dinner, one of them read a Chapter of the Greek Testament, and
did afterwards translate it into English; they then said Grace, in
turns; & did afterwards propound questions, either in Philosophy or
Divinity; & so spent all the time at Meat in Latin disputation.
"When there was any Public disputation, they were always present;
every Morning they did read & afterwards translate some of Plato in
Greek, & at Supper present their Labours. They were of St John's
College, & every day were devoted to private lectures, & the Residue
they did account for."
I ought almost to apologise for sending you so long an extract, but I
thought it would remind you so forcibly of yourself and your
distribution of your time, that I was unwilling to deny you the
pleasure of the comparison.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
(_Undated._)
Thanks for the account of the distribution of your time. I flatter
myself you are too much attached to home and to the life you have led
here ever to get into the idle way of spending Sunday, which I fear
you will witness too frequently at Oxford, for from your account of
what they are obliged to do on that day, a very small portion only
need be given up to the religious duties of the day.
I was particularly pleased with a passage I met with the other day in
which Bishop Newton on the Prophecies, speaking of Lord Bolingbrook,
who, you know, was an unbeliever and from his talents and eloquence
had too much weight at the time, says, "Raleigh and Clarendon
believed, Lock and Newton believed, where then is the discredit to
Revelation if Lord Bolingbrook was an Infidel. 'A scorner,' saith
Solomon, 'seeketh Wisdom and findeth it not'"
I know not if your father took any notice of the part of your letter
to him where you mention that, in a lecture, it had been proved that
the Blacks were a species between men and monkeys--I think, for I have
not your letter, that I have stated rightly what was said. It might be
asserted, but surely could not be _proved_, and it is doctrine I
do not like, as it goes directly to justify using them as beasts of
burthen--a very good argument for a slave dealer.
_March 1st._
Your father is very well. He was sorry for the fate of the Slave Trade
Bill last night.
The Elopement and distress in the House of Petre has been the chief
subject of conversation for the last few days. Miss Petre [11] made
her escape from her father's house in Norfolk with her Brothers' tutor
on Monday last. It is said they are at Worcester and married only by a
Catholic Priest. However, Lord and Lady P. are gone there and it is
expected she will be brought back to-night. They can do nothing but
get her married to the man at Church. She is 18, he 30, and no
Gentleman. She was advertised and 20 guineas reward offered to anyone
who could give an account of the stray sheep. It is a sad History.
What misery this idle girl has caused her parents, and probably
ensured her own for life.
_Marianne Stanhope to John Spencer Stanhope._
_March 3rd._
You have doubtless read in the papers the account of Miss Petre's
elopement with her brother's tutor, Mr Philips. He is a very low man,
quite another class, always dined with the children, never associated
the least with the family, a sort of upper servant. Lady Petre thought
him rather forward, he was to have left them at Easter. She had seen
her daughter at twelve the night before, and only missed her at
breakfast. Her clothes were all gone. A friend of his, a brandy
merchant, accompanied her in the chaise, the tutor rode first. A
clergyman refused to marry them some time ago at Lambeth, but they
have since been married at Oxford by a Mr Leslie, a Catholic priest,
which is not enough. They are not yet discovered.
_The Same._
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _March 4th, 1805._
MY DEAR JOHN,
... London cannot be duller, those who remember it formerly were
astonished at the change that time has wrought, and those ho look
forward to the future, hope it will not always be so; but without a
joke, except the Opera and the house of Glyn, I have scarcely seen
anybody or been anywhere. We have three dinner engagements this week,
besides one at home, but not one Assembly. You must know that we
contrive to go out almost every night, but that it is only one degree
better, or if you please, two degrees worse, than dozing at home;
then, you know, as the existence of an Assembly is the not having room
to stir, when you have plenty of elbow room from the thinness of the
company it must be bad; besides another thing, when you have no time
for conversation, you fancy everybody is agreeable, and in fashionable
life, trust me, imagination is always preferable to reality!
Not a ball have I heard of excepting one the other night at Mr
Johnstone's, Hanover Square. Now you know, balls without dancing are
such very enchanting things! Without the Opera it requires a stretch
of imagination to know how we should have existed. Our neighbour, Mrs
Fitzherbert, in the next box to our own, affords us plenty of
amusement. I shall almost become an adept at finding out Royalty by
their conversation, from frequently overhearing what passes between
the Lady, and not only one but several of their R.H.'s. I will give
you an infallible guide to a Royal conversation. Stupidity for its
basis, an ignorance of intellectual merit for one prop, and a contempt
of moral excellence for the other; witticisms, _double entendres_,
mimickry, and every species of oaths that any English gentleman ever
made use of for the _fond_; as a whole you may call it double refined
folly and vulgarity. This is only doing justice to the conversations I
have overheard; far be it from me to wish to diminish the meridian
lustre with which these noble gentlemen shine. Let me rather forgive
_them_ for understanding who have no conduct and those for conduct who
have no understanding. The excellent qualifications of the lady as an
associate are evident, she has neither conduct nor understanding.
The ball at Windsor has been the general subject of conversation this
last week. The House of Stanhope put in a good appearance. Mrs
Pierrepont was there. The supper was most magnificent. Seats were
raised above the rest for the Royal Family; during the entertainment
the King rose, and gave the Queen's health, while everybody bowed and
curtseyed. Afterwards, the Queen repeated the same compliment to His
Majesty.
Our next-door flirt complained much to Lord Grantham at being obliged
to dance a great deal with Lord Petersham, which she thought very
tiresome. Mr Kinnaird [12] seems quite off, Lord P. quite out of
spirits. Papa thinks he really loves not her purse but _her_. She
seems to love nobody, and flirts with everybody. I saw her at Court on
Thursday se'nnight looking beautifully cross at not having a man near
her. The Drawing-room was a dreadful squash.
I have seen a good deal of the Kinnairds lately, we dine there to-
morrow and stay the evening. Georgiana is very pleased and looks well.
The Royal Institution is more the _ton_ than anything and Ladies
of all ages submit to a squeeze of an hundred people in a morning, to
hear lectures on the Human Understanding, Experimental Philosophy,
Painting, Music or Geology. We only attend a course of the latter--
don't shout at the name, it means the History of the Earth. You see
how wise I grow! Mr Eyre thinks all the ladies will be pedants, and
when you have been there, you will think so too. To see so large a
party, the majority ladies, not very handsome though all listening
with profound attention to the opinion of Descartes and Newton, some
taking notes and all looking quite scientific, is really ridiculous.
Mr Davy, [13] who lectures on Geology or the Chemical History of the
Earth, is very clever, his style is good, his matter interesting, and
to make use of an expression I heard a gentleman use, he certainly
writes on the subject _con amore_.
I hope you will like Sir Wm. Jones's life. I have not read it but have
heard it is very clever. My lectures at present are _Metastasio_,
and _St Simon's Memoirs_, the Bp. of London's lectures and Bigland's
_Letters on Ancient History_.
There is a little tale of Miss Edgeworth's which is much admired, "The
Modern Griselda," which you must read.
Of the names mentioned in this letter, that of Lord Petersham deserves
more than a passing notice. Among the members of the House of Stanhope, it
must first be remarked, there were to be found some notable exceptions to
the prevailing social type of that generation. Philip, Earl of
Chesterfield, for one, although he failed to keep up the traditions of his
famous predecessor in art and elegance, was never notorious for the
weaknesses of his day; and Charles, the 3rd Earl Stanhope, more violently
eschewed the foppishness of many of his contemporaries, devoting all his
attention to mechanical contrivances and scientific research. His
simplicity of life, however, was said to be the expression of his
Republican tendencies which he had inherited in a pronounced form from his
father, who had likewise left behind him the reputation of having been a
magnificent patron of learning. In fact, in order to emphasize his
democratic principles, so shabby had been the attire of the second Earl
Stanhope, that on one occasion he had actually been stopped by a new door-
keeper as he was about to enter the House of Lords. "Now then, honest man,
go back!" quoth this vigilant guardian of the sacred precincts; "you can
have no business in such a place, honest man!" And it was only with
considerable difficulty that the eccentric peer had asserted his right to
admittance among his fellows, whose honesty was enhanced by a more elegant
exterior.
In marked contrast, therefore, to these other members of the family, it
was in the Harrington branch that the foibles of the _beau monde_ were
cultivated with intention.
Charles, 3rd Earl of Harrington, born the same year as Charles, 3rd Earl
Stanhope, had married Jane, daughter and heiress of Sir John Fleming, Bt,
who proved no unworthy successor to her celebrated predecessor
immortalised by George Selwyn for vivacity and abnormal conversational
powers. [14] The drawing-room of this later Lady Harrington was recognised
as a great social centre where her friends could meet, if not actually
without invitation, at least at a shortness of notice which marked the
informality of the entertainment and lent to it a subtle charm. The
hostess, whose energy was unbounded, would go out in the morning and pay
about thirty calls, leaving at each house an invitation bidding her
friends to assemble at Harrington House that same evening.
She would then walk up Bond Street at the hour at which the fashionable
young men of the day were likely to be abroad, and would dart from one
side of the road to the other as she spied a suitable object for her
purpose. A circle of friends assembled thus three or four times a week,
resulted in the formation of a recognised clique, the delightful
informality of which was much appreciated by her young relations from
Grosvenor Square, and the _entrée_ into which was much envied by those who
were admitted only to the larger and more stately parties reserved for the
less favoured.
Nor were Lady Harrington's impromptu evening assemblies less celebrated
than her perpetual tea-drinkings at Harrington House. The superior quality
of this expensive beverage in which the family of Stanhope indulged there,
and the frequency with which Lady Harrington presented it to her visitors
at all hours of the day, gave rise to the saying that where you saw a
Stanhope, there you saw a tea-pot. A story current in town was that when
her son, General Lincoln Stanhope, returned home after a prolonged absence
in India, he found the family party precisely as he had left them many
years before, seated in the long gallery sipping their favourite
refreshment. On his entry, his father looked up from this absorbing
occupation, and, with a restraint indicative of the highest breeding, gave
voice to the characteristic greeting--"Hullo! Linky, my dear boy, you are
just in time for a cup of tea!"
Such a home was the very atmosphere in which to develop a fashionable man
of the period; and the eldest son of the House, Charles. Lord Petersham,
did not discredit his surroundings. Tall, handsome, and faultlessly clad,
he was one of the most celebrated dandies of his day. Decidedly affected
in his manners, he spoke with a slight lisp; and since he was said to
recall the pictures of Henri IV., he endeavoured to accentuate this
likeness by cultivating a pointed beard. He never went out till six in the
evening, and one of his hobbies indoors was the strenuous manufacture of a
particular sort of blacking which, he always maintained, once perfected,
would surpass every other. His sitting-room emphasized his eccentricity.
One side of it represented the family _penchant_, being covered with
shelves upon which were placed canisters containing the most expensive and
perfect kinds of tea. On the other, in beautiful jars, reposed an equally
choice and varied assortment of snuffs. Lord Petersham's snuff-boxes and
his canes were alike celebrated; indeed, his collection of the former was
said to be the finest in England, and he was reported to have a fresh box
for every day in the year. Thus Gronow relates that once when a light
Sevres box which he was using, was admired, Lord Petersham responded with
a gentle lisp--"Yes, it is a nice summer box--but would certainly be
inappropriate for winter wear!"
Caricatures of the period represent the heir to the Earldom of Harrington
clad in light trousers and a brown coat, seated upon a brown prancing
horse. One of his whims, indeed, was to affect everything brown in hue--
brown steeds, brown liveries, brown carriages, brown harness and brown
attire. This was attributed to the fact of his having been in love with a
fair widow of the name of Brown, whose charms he thus endeavoured to
immortalise; but whatever the truth of this rumour, it is evident from the
letter of Marianne Stanhope, that at the age of twenty-five he honoured
with his devoted attention a lady whose personal attractions and unamiable
disposition afforded a fund of entertainment to his relations living next
door to her in Grosvenor Square. And this sidelight on the character of
the dandy gives pause to criticism. How much, perhaps, of the eccentricity
for which Lord Petersham was remarkable, like that of the celebrated Lady
Hester Stanhope, may be attributed to the buffetings of a secret fate?
Yet, this man who, with exceptional abilities and exceptional opportunity
for exercising those abilities, could contentedly fill his empty days with
the manufacture of blacking, or pass an entire night, as Gronow relates
him to have done, playing battledore and shuttlecock for a wager with Ball
Hughes, was, in much, a typical product of his generation. His mannerisms
were accepted by his contemporaries with a forbearance which bordered on
admiration, and, however childish his peculiarities, he remained
unalterably popular. Nor were the other members of his family less
appreciated for their good-nature and amiability.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _March 19th, 1805._
I shall employ my Pen in sending you an account of last night's
gaiety--the first really gay night Marianne has had.
We began our evening at a concert at Mrs Methuen's, from thence we
proceeded to a very fine Assembly at the Ladies' Townshends, and about
twelve arrived at the Duchess of Bolton's, where we found them
tripping on the light fantastick toe with great spirit. Marianne found
herself near Lady A. Stanhope, [15] who was extremely attentive to
her, & her first partner introduced to her by Lady Harrington was Mr
Mercer. After supper she danced a Reel, and afterwards two dances with
Mr Dashwood, & then two with Mr Cooke of the Guards. I need not, after
this account of the ball say she was well amused. There were a great
many men & very young ones, not too fine to dance. Lord Alvanley [16]
is not amongst the smartest. Hay Drummond amused me, for _at five in
the morning_, he asked me if I had a daughter there!--I was in bed
by 1/2 after five.
Marianne is quite well this morning and very well disposed to go to
Almack's if your father does not object. On Thursday we go to another
ball at Lady Ledespenser's.
We have now delightful weather, soft rain yesterday; therefore I
expect a pull in the Sociable will be delightful to-day & do us all
good after our night's raking.
The Duchess of Bolton, [17] who was a cousin of Walter Stanhope, had been
a widow since 1794, when the dukedom became extinct on the death of her
husband. The latter, well known during the lifetime of his elder brother
as the eccentric Lord Henry Paulet, was believed to have supplied Smollet
with his character of Captain Whiffle in _Roderick Random_. For many years
he had resided at Bolton--formerly Baltimore--House, a quaintly
constructed, solitary mansion, standing on the outskirts of London amid
rural scenery, and encircled by a fine garden. Celebrated for its
hospitality in those the last days of its splendour, Bolton House had
opened its portals nightly to the guests who drove down from town to take
part in the festivities there, amongst the most frequent of whom had been
Walter Stanhope and his young wife. The duchess, however, subsequent to
her husband's death, had heard with dismay of a projected transformation
in her surroundings. The erection of new buildings in the neighbourhood
was predicted--houses which would blot out the rural scenery and for ever
destroy the privacy of her country home. And although this dreaded
innovation did not actually come to pass till 1801, long before the first
stone of Russell Square had been laid, the duchess had sold her threatened
mansion to Lord Loughborough, a friend of Walter Stanhope, and had
established herself in a new home but four doors from the house of the
latter, No. 32 Grosvenor Square.
Settled thus in the heart of London, her love of entertaining remained
undiminished, and beneath her hospitable roof the House of Stanhope, in
its various branches, continued to assemble as of yore. There Lady
Harrington still figured as one of the most constant guests, ever ready to
do a kindly action to any of her young relations whom she encountered. Mr
Mercer, whom she presented to Marianne Stanhope at the party on March
18th, was, as she was well aware, a man greatly in request in society, and
to whom an introduction was eagerly coveted on account of his exceptional
talent for music. Gifted with a remarkably fine voice, he sang duets in
company with a friend, in Greek, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and English.
"Mercer's voice and both their tastes are exquisite," relates Lord
Glenbervie at this date. "They accompany themselves, Mercer on the
Pianoforte, Gill on a Spanish guitar, which he has had made under his own
directions in London. Their foreign airs and words they have chiefly
picked up recently from ballad-singers in the streets."
Marianne Stanhope was therefore fortunate in securing this acquaintance,
as she was in having for a partner "Mr Cooke of the Guards," better known
in London society as "Kangaroo Cooke," for many years private aide-de-camp
and secretary to the Duke of York, and of whom Gronow relates that, "He
was in the best society and always attracted attention by his dandified
mode of dress." Still more, besides frequenting all the _Ton_ parties in
London at night, during the day he was invariably to be seen somewhere
between the barracks of the Horse Guards and the premises of Weston the
tailor in Bond Street, an ultra-fashionable promenade, which he paced and
re-paced, thus satisfactorily exhibiting the beauty of his clothes and
encountering the most select members of his acquaintance.
The curious nickname which clung to this dandy through life is usually
ascribed to a quaint resemblance noticeable in him to the Australian
quadruped after which he was called; but others attributed it rather to
the leaps and bounds by which he advanced socially, though on account of
his connections and the exquisite perfection of his dress this could not
be considered surprising. The fact that he bore such a name was well known
to him, and only on one occasion did it cause him any annoyance. Once,
when dining on board the flag-ship off Lisbon with Admiral Galton, he was
much startled by his host suddenly springing up and shouting out a
mysterious order, the terms of which seemed like a veiled insult. "Make
signal," thundered the Admiral, "for the _Kangaroo_ to get under way!" For
one instant the dismayed beau feared that this was a nautical form of
dismissal due to some offence of which he had unwittingly been guilty; but
his neighbour at table relieved his fears by explaining that the Admiral
was merely directing the immediate departure of one of the vessels of his
squadron, which, by a strange coincidence, bore the same name as his
honoured guest.
But a yet more celebrated leader of fashion mentioned by Mrs Stanhope as
being present at the ball given by the Duchess of Bolton was Lord
Alvanley. One of the accepted dandies in the same category as Lord
Petersham, the Duke of Argyle, Lords Foley and Worcester, Beau Brummell
and his great friend, Henry Pierrepont, Lord Alvanley had served with
distinction in the army, and further enjoyed the reputation of being one
of the wittiest men in Europe. Short and somewhat stout, with a small nose
and florid cheeks usually adorned with a lavish sprinkling of snuff, like
his rival Lord Petersham, he cultivated a lisp which accentuated the
humour of his utterances. He also adopted much the same method of
enhancing his value by indulging in certain peculiarities which, however
inconvenient to his fellows, appear to have been accepted by them with
surprising amiability. For instance, being fond of reading in bed, when he
at length felt sleep overpowering him, he would extinguish his candle by
the novel method of popping it alight under his bolster, or flinging it
into the middle of the room and taking a shot at it with his pillow--but
if the shot was unsuccessful, with a heavy sigh he left it to take its
chance. So well known, indeed, was this little habit of Lord Alvanley,
that hostesses who were anxious not to have their houses set on fire at
midnight would depute a servant to watch in a neighbouring apartment till
his lordship composed himself to sleep, a precaution which was invariably
adopted by Mrs Stanhope when he paid his annual visit to Cannon Hall.
However, despite such minor failings, Lord Alvanley enjoyed a popularity
seldom surpassed. To his other recommendations was added that of being a
celebrated _gourmet_, and the excellence was proverbial of the little
dinners which he gave in his house in Park Street, St James's, to which
never more than eight friends were bidden, and at which there was an
apricot tart on the sideboard all the year round. Moreover, although like
Brummell and Sheridan, many a _bon mot_ was fathered upon him to which he
had never given utterance, yet his reputation as a wit was well deserved,
and at a date when both the dandies and the fine ladies prided themselves
upon their undisguised insolence, Lord Alvanley remained a shining example
of good-nature, so that, save, perhaps, in one instance recorded in this
book, his wit never offended. Likewise, only once, it is said, did he
exhibit reluctance in consenting to oblige anyone who requested from him a
favour, on which occasion he conveyed his refusal in a singularly
characteristic manner. Some friends were anxious to get up a
representation of _Ivanhoe_, and begged Lord Alvanley to take the part of
Isaac. "That I fear is impossible," he replied. "Why so?" urged his
friends, "since you are so clever at doing different characters." "Ah,
but--" objected Lord Alvanley, "in all my life I have never been able to
_do_ a Jew!"
In truth, with the House of Israel his extravagance had made him painfully
familiar; nevertheless, as mentioned by Lord Broughton, on one occasion he
made his peccadilloes in this respect the subject of another jest. "Is
there any chance," he asked with assumed pathos, "of the ten tribes of
Israel being recovered? For I have exhausted the other two!"
* * * * *
It was three months after the ball at Bolton House, which had been
preceded by a concert at Mrs Methuen's that Mrs Stanhope mentions
attending another entertainment given by the latter hostess, to which she
went shortly after an evening of painful excitement.
_Tuesday, June 18th, 1805._
You would read in the papers of the riot at the Opera House. So
complete and mischievous a one I never before saw, or ever wish to see
again. I saw part of the stage pulled up and thrown into the Pitt, and
when the scene was thrown down, it was only wonderful people were not
killed, as the stage was full. Notwithstanding the damage was said to
amount from £900 to £1200, we are to have an Opera to-night.
It was said the House of Peers intended to, object to the Commons
prosecuting one of their House, but I have not heard anything more of
it--so I suppose it will pass over.
It formed the great topick of conversation at the Methuen's ball where
we were till five this morning--fine, but dull--the best supper I
ever saw.
The Opera House, at the date of this occurrence, was usually a brilliant
and attractive scene. The accommodation was divided into seats in the
gallery, boxes and pit. The latter, where many of the _élite_ were seated,
was separated from the stage by the orchestra only, which then consisted
of less than half the number of performers of which it would be composed
to-day. There were, consequently, no stalls, but a passage led from the
entrance to the front seats, known as Fop's Alley from the dandies who
lounged and promenaded there, partly to see and partly to be seen by the
ladies with whom the house was filled.
The dress of these exquisites was ruled by a punctilious etiquette, and
their knee-breeches, lace ruffles, diamond buckles, and _chapeaux bras_
were subject to the strictest regulations and to every fluctuation of the
prevailing mode. Their gold-handled spy-glasses were impartially directed
towards the stars upon the stage or to the belles in the neighbouring
boxes, where, from the grand tier to the roof, was a dazzling display of
beauty and of fashion. Their excursions to the Green Room were likewise
interspersed with visits to those amongst the audience to whose boxes they
had the entree; and as they murmured platitudes to their fair
acquaintance, they traced languidly the locality of yet other friends whom
they could visit, whose names were inserted upon the paper fans with which
each lady was provided, and on which was printed a diagram of the boxes
and a list of their owners throughout the great building.
But on this momentous night the very atmosphere of the place was
transformed. At the first token of the coming storm, many of the
frightened beaux hurriedly vacated their beloved promenade, while certain
peaceable members of the audience also endeavoured to escape from the
building. But the majority remained, brazenly instigating or prolonging
the disgraceful scene which followed. The cause of the sudden riot was
afterwards related personally by Michael Kelly, the then celebrated actor
and stage manager.
On account of the length of the arias and ballets, and the impossibility
of being able to get the lady-singers ready to begin in time, the operas
seldom finished till after twelve o'clock on Saturdays. The Bishop of
London had therefore sent to inform Kelly that if the curtain did not drop
before midnight, the licence should be taken away and the house shut up.
Against this fiat there was no appeal, and for two or three weeks running,
Kelly was obliged, on Saturday night, to order the closing of the
performance in the midst of an interesting scene in the ballet. On these
two or three occasions this was submitted to with unexpected good-humour
by the subscribers and the general public, but such a state of affairs
could not long continue.
"On Saturday, the 15th of June (Oh! fatal night!)," Kelly relates, "the
demon of discord appeared in all his terrors in this hitherto undisturbed
region of harmony. The curtain fell before twelve o'clock, just as
Deshayes and Parisot were dancing a popular _pas de deux_. This was the
signal for the sports to begin: a universal outcry of `Raise the curtain!
Finish the ballet!' resounded from all parts of the House; hissing,
hooting, yelling, (in which most of the ladies of quality joined)
commenced.
"The ballet master, D'Egville, was called for, and asked 'Why he allowed
the curtain to drop before the conclusion of the ballet?' He affirmed that
he had directions from me to do so. I was then called upon the stage, and
received a volley of hisses, yellings, etc. I stood it all, like brick and
mortar; but at last, thinking to appease them, I said the truth was that
an order had been received from the Bishop of London to conclude the
performance before midnight. Some person from the third tier of the boxes
who appeared to be a principal spokesman called out--'You know, Kelly,
that you are telling a lie.' I turned round very coolly and looking up at
the box from whence the lie came, I said, 'You are at a very convenient
distance; come down on the stage and use that language again, if you
dare!'
"This appeal was received by the audience with a loud burst of applause,
and the universal cry of 'Bravo, Kelly: well replied!--turn him out! Turn
the fellow out of the boxes!' The gentleman left the box, but did not
think proper to make his appearance on the stage. This was a lucky turn as
regarded myself, but did not appease the rioters; for finding their
mandate for drawing up the curtain and finishing the ballet was not
obeyed, they threw all the chairs out of the boxes into the Pitt, tore up
the benches, broke the chandeliers, jumped into the orchestra, smashed the
pianoforte, and continued their valourous exploits by breaking all the
instruments of the poor unoffending performers. Having achieved deeds so
worthy of a polished nation, and imagining no more mischief could be done,
they quitted the scene of their despoliation with shouts of victory."
There was, however, a finale to the drama which the rioters did not
expect. Mr Goold, a lawyer and great friend of Kelly, identified some of
the ringleaders and brought actions against them for damages which cost
them many hundreds of pounds. The lustres, scenes and musical instruments
which had been destroyed alone were estimated at £1500. And the
prosecutions were only withdrawn on the culprits undertaking to apologise
for their conduct, as well as to recoup all who had suffered through their
misbehaviour. Meanwhile, many persons were frightened from attending the
Opera for fear of a repetition of such scenes, and the rival attraction of
the performances given by the young Roscius prospered in proportion.
This infant prodigy, who was born in 1791, first appeared on the stage at
the age of eleven, and for over five years personated the most difficult
characters before enraptured audiences, earning from fifty to seventy-five
guineas per night, apart from benefits, so that he really made from £4000
to £5000 a year.
In 1805, the House of Commons adjourned in a body to witness his
performance of _Hamlet_. Wherever he appeared an excited mob instantly
gathered; ladies vied with each other in the endeavour to kiss his hand,
and at the hour when he was expected at the Play House a larger crowd
assembled than ever collected to see the king. "He and Bonaparte now
divide the world," wrote Sir William Knightly at this date; "This is, I
believe, the first instance since the creation, of a child so much under
age, getting such an income by any ability. I think he is very excellent,
his gracefulness is unparalleled and the violence of the desire to see him
either on or off the stage is like a madness in the people."
In the autumn of 1805, Roscius went a tour in the Provinces; in August of
that year he was in the North, and Mr Smith, the Vicar of Newcastle
(formerly tutor to the sons of Walter Stanhope) wrote to Mrs Stanhope an
account of the prodigy's reception there:--
_August 19th_.
The Young Roscius is engaged here for three nights, and makes his
_début_ this evening in the play of "Douglas"; places are as yet
allowed to be taken only for the first four nights of his performance,
and so great is the expectation of Newcastle, that if the boxes had
held double the number of spectators, all the seats would have been
taken.
But whatever impression the young actor made on the other inhabitants of
Newcastle, the verdict pronounced by the critical Mr Smith is very
modified praise:--
For Mrs Stanhope's comfort and the credit and taste of the people of
Newcastle, I add that Master Betty has had a very good Benefit,
considering the thinness of the Town. I should conjecture the house
amounted to about £95; and admitting that he mouths a good deal, is
indistinct in his lower tones, and does not pronounce very accurately,
I was not displeased with his performance of Warwick in the play "Earl
of Warwick."
[Illustration: MASTER WILLIAM HENRY WEST BETTY, "THE YOUNG ROSCIUS" _From
an engraving by J. Ward after J. Northcote._]
Despite this far from enthusiastic verdict, great was the excitement of
the Stanhope family to hear that the next county to be visited by Roscius
was Yorkshire, whither they usually returned before Christmas. Ere that
date, however, their thoughts were much occupied by a double tragedy, the
death within a month of their friends, Lord and Lady Kinnaird. [18]
_November 2nd, 1805._
I sent you word of the truly deplorable situation of the two poor
Kinnairds; within one month deprived of both parents, and all their
brothers in Yeomanry. When the last accounts were received, the
present Lord Kinnaird was at Vienna. Lady K. did not, as I sent you
word, die in her carriage, tho' in it when she was seized. Lord K. was
dining at the Ordinary at Perth races and was seized at dinner, the
Uvula descending into the Windpipe. He recovered sufficiently to
return into the room, but did not survive many days.
Lord Primrose [19] from whom the whole detail came, sent us also an
account of his gaieties, he and his father had been a tour in Scotland
and had not neglected to visit at Drummond Castle with which he was
enchanted, which he could not well fail being, as the lady of the
Castle [20] is a passionate admirer of it, and takes great pleasure in
it and manages much about the Estate.
We have at last concluded Roscoe's elaborate work, the Life of Leo X,
and I do not think I shall ever go through the whole again. The
Italian wars are tiresome and to me always most uninteresting. I
neither like Leo's principles nor those of his biographer. Parts I
shall certainly read again. The style is elegant, and he is an able
apologist. I certainly should recommend parts of the work to you; it
will be an amusement to you at Christmas.
The comment of Mrs Stanhope, as a staunch Tory, upon the famous _Life of
Leo X._, which was then attracting much attention, affords an amusing
contrast to the extravagant praise bestowed upon the work by the Whigs of
the day. Shortly after she had finished its perusal she must have returned
with her family to Yorkshire, where a fresh excitement awaited her.
"The Gallery at Bretton," she writes, "is to be painted, as well as the
staircase. The Architect says, he has worked there six months already. We
are going over to see the result of his labours."
Bretton Park, which was then undergoing such complete renovation, is
situated about a couple of miles from Cannon Hall, and its owner at this
date afforded endless food for discussion both in Yorkshire and London.
In a previous volume, [21] reference has been made to the celebrated Mrs
Beaumont, or, as she was universally called by her generation, Madame
Beaumont. The natural daughter of Sir Thomas Blackett of Bretton, she had
been made his heiress, and had married Colonel Beaumont, M.P. for York.
Although Mrs Stanhope and many others then living could remember her as a
village girl riding to Penistone every market day to sell butter and eggs,
Mrs Beaumont successfully ignored any such unpleasant reminiscences on the
part of those acquainted with her early life, and continued to dominate a
situation to which, thus heavily handicapped, she might well have
succumbed.
By dint of an unassailable belief in her wealth and importance, she held
her own with the county families, whose slights she ignored or repaid with
interest, and whom she alternately flouted and patronised. At once a
source of irritation and of amusement to her neighbours, this was
particularly so in the case of the family at Cannon Hall, whose property
adjoined her own and who were perpetually annoyed by her interference and
impertinence. There was unfortunately no boundary line between the
estates, so Mrs Beaumont used unhesitatingly to inform strangers that all
the land from the walls of Bretton to those of Cannon Hall was hers; while
on one occasion, when a dispute arose between herself and Mr Stanhope
respecting a certain tree, she settled the question in a characteristic
manner by causing this to be cut down in the night.
The letters of the younger Stanhopes were full of anecdotes of, or
complaints against their aggressive neighbour. "You can have no idea what
petty differences my father and Mrs Beaumont have about boundaries and
rights, which Madam Graspall claims in everything," wrote Edward Stanhope
on one occasion. "She warned us all not to shoot _anywhere_ on her ground
or Manors, also from Mr Bosville's, and she at once sent Mr Bird to shoot
on my father's land. However, we warned _him_ off! "But although the
sportsman with the inappropriate name met with a warm reception from the
younger branches of the House of Stanhope, Edward adds, "My mother never
will take part in these differences but chuses to call and dine. However,
as she was thus civil, this year Madam has chosen only to leave cards
without inquiring whether we were at home, and has now sent out cards for
a party and left us out!" None the less, although later in life, as we
shall see, the family at Bretton were cleverly satirised by Marianne
Stanhope, a show of friendship was maintained between the two families,
which, in the case of the younger generation was very genuine, for the
daughters of Madame Beaumont were the antithesis of their parent and were
simple and charming.
Yet Mrs Beaumont was undoubtedly one of the most curious characters of her
generation, in that, as stated, her self-assurance enabled her to tilt
successfully against the strong social prejudices of her day and to
sustain an all but impossible position with undoubted success. While
Yorkshire and London rang with tales of her effrontery, the imperturbable
lady, instead of perceiving snubs, dealt them, and in the height of her
triumphant career enjoyed the wrath of the amazed recipients. Meanwhile,
although many of the stories related of her were genuine, a few were
undoubtedly apocryphal, among which must be classed the following, very
generally believed in the West Riding a century ago.
It was said that being much addicted to gambling and proud of the
immensity of the wagers which she dared to risk, Madame Beaumont on one
occasion staked the entire Bretton estate on a game of chance. She lost;
and her opponent, being apparently as sporting as herself, dared her to
win it back by riding through Bretton Park and village astride on a
jackass with her face to the tail The idea of the haughty and pompous lady
undertaking such a penance must have seemed actually incredible, but
Madame Beaumont was not readily daunted. To the unbounded surprise of her
fellow-gamester she accomplished the feat and thus reinstated herself in
all her former wealth and grandeur.
In Yorkshire, she invariably drove about the country in a carriage drawn
by four beautiful black horses on which were seated postilions in velvet
jockey-caps. She owned an extraordinary number of carriages, and directly
news reached her that any visitor of importance was being entertained at
Cannon Hall, she would order out her finest equipage and drive over in
full state with the intention of enticing away the guest whose rank
attracted her. As usual, no rebuffs discouraged her-she failed to perceive
them. In London, she strove with equal determination to admit no one to
her parties who was not the possessor of a title--commoners, however well
born, were received by her with a scarcely concealed insolence. The big
yellow coach in which she and her daughters drove about town was a
familiar sight, making its triumphal progress through the most fashionable
streets, or drawn up by the Park railings that its occupants might
converse with the _élite_ among the loungers who thronged around it. For
those who scoffed at Madame Beaumont courted her diligently on account of
the excellence of her entertainments, while her luxury and the lavish
nature of her expenditure formed their favourite topic of jest and gossip.
Apart from her boundless hospitality to those whom she considered
sufficiently important to be honoured by it, the sums which she spent on
the house and stables at Bretton were said to have been enormous; and it
was doubtless with considerable curiosity that the family at Cannon Hall,
on their return to Yorkshire, hurried over to inspect the alterations
which their neighbour was effecting.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
CANNON HALL, _December 4th, 1805._
We drove to Bretton this morning. We walked all over the gardens and
the House. The number of people is enough to distract one Architect.
Improvers, Agents, etc., etc., without end. Much is done, and still
much remains to be done. Madame B. says she shall quite rejoice to
leave the place. The plants appear in great order and are very
valuable. The Collection is extremely large, but at present the plants
are so very small that to the ignorant they appear of little value--
which we know is impossible to be the case.
Thanks for the account of your studies; as for mine, I cannot give a
very favourable report of them. Hume's _Henry 8th_, Warton on Pope,
_Cowper's Letters_, and _The Idler_, are the books I have at present
in hand; but I have not much leisure. We are at present alone, and
with my family round me, I do not wish for company. It is not a bustle
of company I _like_, for I do not like the Society of the Country--it
is morning, noon, and night.
Roscius is now performing at Sheffield--I should like to see him
there!
Life in the country at this date was apparently more exhausting than life
in London. No moment of the day was sacred from the encroachments of
visitors. Morning calls were the fashion, and it was held to be impolite
to refuse admission to friends who, after a long drive over bad roads, not
only expected the offer of some substantial refreshment, but in view of
the fatigue they had undergone and their desire that they should be
sufficiently recovered before undertaking the return journey, were apt to
outstay their welcome. Of a neighbour, however, who resided beyond the
distance practicable for a morning call, and with whom Marianne Stanhope
had apparently been staying at this date, she gives a more enthusiastic
description. Mr Fawkes of Farnley was the son of her father's old friend
and neighbour at Horsforth, in the days of his youth, Walter Hawkesworth,
[22] who took the name of Fawkes on inheriting the property of Farnley
under the will of a cousin. He was succeeded, in 1792, by this son, Walter
Ramsden Fawkes, who, in 1806, became Member for York, and later, as his
father had been before him, High Sheriff for the county. This younger Mr
Fawkes was a man of exceptional talent, who is best remembered by
posterity as having been one of the earliest and most munificent patrons
of J. M. W. Turner, but who was better known to his contemporaries for his
remarkable oratory. Mr Stanhope relates of him that once at a meeting
which was convened in Yorkshire to discuss the Peace of Amiens, he made a
speech so brilliant that the reporters declared themselves unable to take
it down, so completely were they carried away by its extraordinary
eloquence and beauty of language.
_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
_December 4th, 1805._
You cannot think how charmed I was with Mr Fawkes when we were at
Farnley, he is so full of information and talent. He told us two
stories which pleased me so much that I will endeavour to relate
them--both facts.
About ten years ago a friend of his was riding thro' a long and gloomy
wood in one of the inland counties. As he came to the most intricate
part, suddenly his horse made a dead pause, pricked up his ears,
snorted, and when spurred, refused to proceed, his eyes all the time
upon one spot on the ground. On looking towards this place, conceive
the gentleman's horror at beholding a woman's body weltering in blood
and a dog licking the wounds. The traveller stood for some minutes
petrified with horror, his eyes rivetted on the body, when all at once
the dog, perceiving him, set off full speed thro' the thickest part of
the wood.
He was resolved to pursue the animal, and instantly spurring his
horse, he followed it through most intricate and unfrequented roads
for about ten miles, when he saw it enter a miserable house in a
little village. The traveller put up his horse, and entering the same
house, desired they would bring him something to drink. There were
three ill-looking fellows sitting round a table, under which the dog
had lain down. The traveller's object was now to find out to whom the
dog belonged, he tried every means, in vain, for about an hour, when,
seizing hold of the poker he, under some trivial pretext, gave the dog
a violent blow on the head, upon which one of the men with an oath
asked him why he did this. The gentleman with much presence of mind,
turned the poker promptly against the man who asked the question, and
having overpowered him in a pretended quarrel, discovered in his
pocket a bag of gold. The rest I do not know, but the man was hanged
for the murder in Oxfordshire or Warwickshire about ten years ago. Is
it not a curious story?
Mr Fawkes thinks it would be a fine subject for a picture--the awful
gloominess of the wood, the dead body, the dog licking the wounds, the
horror of the horse, and the man's countenance as he sat contemplating
the scene--he thinks might be wonderfully portrayed on canvas.
His other story is of a different cast. You have doubtless heard of
Edwards the great bookseller. He has quitted his shop in Town, and
gone to reside at his native place, Halifax. He is a great miser, but
being a man of talent, often visits Mr Fawkes. One day he arrived upon
such a miserable hired horse that they resolved to play him a trick.
Accordingly, after dinner the Steward came in, with a solemn face,
stating that instead of killing a horse that was meant for the dogs,
they had shot Mr Edwards's; that it was half eat before they found out
the mistake. Edwards was in a dreadful pucker; but at last, having
condoled with him, they told him that the only difference between his
deceased horse & the one of Mr Fawkes's which they had meant to kill,
was that Mr Fawkes's horse had not a white spot on its forehead, & his
legs were not white, but that by _painting them_ it would look
just the same, and that the people at the livery stable would never
find out the mistake. Edwards was highly delighted with this plan,
and, would you believe it, he was mean enough to hope by this means to
cheat the man. You may picture what fun it was to Mr Fawkes and his
servants to see him ride home on his _own_ hired horse all bedaubed
with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the
Livery Stables has never found out the trick _we_ have put on him!"
How they will all quiz him when finally they tell him the truth!!
When shall you come to Yorkshire? You will find Frances grown quite a
beauty and Philip an adept at _l'art militaire_. I am glad you
were so pleased with the young Beaumonts. Their sister rode here the
other day, she is a very nice girl and nearly pretty.
Mr and the Miss Abbotts left us yesterday, after a week's visit They
are very musical, but rather too Irish for our taste. To give you some
idea of them, they talk of people being _beasts and puking whelps,
and brutes_. They frequently _blest their souls and bodies_, and
"_talked their fill_" which was not a "_few_." Surely this cannot be
elegant, even in Ireland. Have you any Hibernian friends who could
inform you on this subject? Adieu, breakfast waits. All here send
their love.
These Hibernian friends were apparently not the only guests whose
peculiarities occasioned the Stanhope family some mild surprise. The
handsome Bishop of Carlisle [23] and his wife, Lady Anne Vernon, were at
this date frequently at Cannon Hall, and both of them and of their ten
sons various anecdotes are related. Mr Stanhope, indeed, as Member for
Carlisle, had long been intimate with the popular prelate, and used to
tell with what unstinted hospitality Dr Vernon was wont to receive his
countless visitors at the Palace on public days, also what a picturesque
sight he then invariably presented in his full-bottomed, snow-white wig
and bright, purple coat. But the good bishop, though extremely stately and
impressive of demeanour, was gifted with a keen sense of humour and could
enjoy a spice of frivolity when he could indulge in it without detracting
from his dignity. In 1807 he was appointed to the Archbishopric of York,
and was fond of retailing how a groom belonging to his old friend, Sir
James Graham, [24] got news of the event and rode hard to Netherby to take
his master the first tidings. Bursting into the dining-room where a large
party of guests were assembled, the man exultingly shouted out
the Information which he was desperately afraid someone else might have
anticipated--"Sir Jams! Sir Jams! The Bushopp has got his situation!" The
sense of humour cherished by Dr Vernon seems to have been inherited by his
sons in a different guise. In two undated letters Marianne relates to her
brother:--
Here is an anecdote of your friend, the sailor, Mr Vernon, [25] who
has got some prize money. He was walking, I believe, a few days since
with a gentleman in the streets when they met two men who spoke to him
civilly and to whom he returned a very short answer. His companion
inquired who they were. He said--"Two men who came over in the ship
with me." "Then why were you so cold in your manner to them?" asked
his friend. "Why, my dear fellow, because they were convicts returned
from transportation!" was Vernon's answer.
_Undated._
Your ball appears to have been very gay, but you never named your
opinion of Miss Monckton. [26] I assure you her sisters at Harrogate
were quite belles, the gentlemen made Charades on them. I must close
my letter with a story of Mr Vernon, [27] told me by a gentleman we
met at Sir Francis Wood's.
At one of the Lichfield balls, he came in so late that everybody
inquired the reason. He said he had been waiting for his tailor while
he was sewing the buttons on his etceteras. Each of these buttons
contained the picture of a French beauty, and he had the tailor in his
room while his hair was being dressed in order to tell him which to
place _nearest to his heart_.
In the course of the evening he told a lady a wondrous story, and upon
her looking surprised, he said vehemently--"Upon my honour, Madam, it
is true!"--adding gently--"When I say 'Upon my honour' Madam, _never
believe me_."
Adieu, and at least believe me, Your affectionate sister, M. A. S. S.
Mr George Vernon, indeed, appears to have been of a somewhat
impressionable temperament, for a few years later his sister-in-law, Lady
Granville, writing from Trentham to announce her departure for Texel,
remarks, "I must take Mr Vernon away to flirt with my beauties there. It
will not be dangerous for Lady Harriet, and Corise bears a charmed life.
_He will be proud beyond measure and fancy both are in love with him._"
Yet with the dawning of 1806, the mention made by the Stanhopes of these
friends comes in sad contrast to the lively tales respecting them in which
they were wont to indulge.
As January drew to a close Walter Stanhope received an intimation that the
illness of William Pitt was likely to have a fatal termination. He
hastened up to town, and was in time to take a last farewell of his
friend. [28] His family followed more leisurely, and on the 27th, from
Grosvenor Square, Mrs Stanhope wrote:--
I cannot say how shocked I was with the melancholy intelligence of
Edward Vernon's death, and of the dangerous illness of George. I hear
it was the scarlet fever.
On the 30th she adds:--
This morning I had particular pleasure in reading the favourable
report you sent your father of George Vernon. I now trust he will be
restored to his afflicted parents, and great as is their loss they
will have much cause for thankfulness to Providence when they reflect
how near they were losing both their valuable sons. I hear that the
Bishop and Lady Anne are wonderfully composed.
But the sinister note with which the year had dawned was unexpectedly
accentuated. In February she writes:--
What a moment is the present! Every hour brings report of death. In
addition to our great National losses is now the death of Lord
Cornwallis--a man who was a blessing and ornament to his country.
Awful and critical is the present period. Woronzow, the Russian
Minister, is likewise dead. He is brother to the Woronzow who is
Ambassador here. [29]
In our Peerage there are also great changes, Lord Coventry, Lord
Somers, and it is said, Lord Uxbridge, are _all_ dead.
_Friday._
It is strange there is not a word mentioned of Lord Uxbridge's death
in to-day's paper. The Ministry is still unsettled. Lord Moira is
expected in Town to-day. You will be glad to hear Addington is
certainly better, and that the family entertain hopes of his recovery.
Pray inform Glyn I saw Lady and Miss Glyn to-day, the latter in great
beauty, just returned from hearing Dr Crotch [30] lecture on Musick at
the Institution, where they attend as assiduously as ever.
_Saturday._
Lo! Lord Coventry is come to life again! I wish it were possible the
same could happen to Lord Cornwallis, but alas, that cannot be! Who
will succeed him must yet remain a secret.
Mrs Beaumont was with us last night. Col. Beaumont had in the morning
inquired whether Gloucester House was to be sold, as provided they
could renew the lease, they would like to have it.
Egremont House is to be sold on the 13th. My opinion is they will have
that. Why not both?
What think you of Sydney Smith lecturing to small audiences? Such is
popular favour. He may thank Westminster for the neglect he now meets
with.
I am reading a book I think you would be amused with. Turner's History
of the Anglo Saxons. It contains much to amuse an Antiquarian, and I
consider you as having a little taste that way. Lady Glyn, who is
with us, is studying Juvenal. Marianne has just lifted her eyes from
Euclid to desire her love to you. Anne is employed at her Harp.
Meanwhile, the family had resumed the placid routine of their usual life,
of which, in the next letter, Marianne furnishes her brother with a
graphic account.
_February 14th, 1806._
Mamma must, I am sure, have informed you of our various proceedings,
in her numerous letters to you, and therefore I will not torment you
with a repetition. Our life since we came to London has passed in its
usual routine of _faisant bien des riens_; arranging the teaching
geniuses, making the usual purchases and visiting the usual set;
walking in Hyde Park, and watching the people in the Square. This
morning, we have Mr Roussin for the third time, have taken a short
turn in the Park, and called on Mrs M. Marriott, and at present Anne
is rehearsing to Myer on the harp, who is all astonishment at the
progress she has made. We dine and stay the evening at the Dowager
Lady Glyn's.
Anne relishes London vastly, and hitherto the little going out she has
had agrees with her. The Opera is her delight. Papa took William
there, and I never saw a child so happy. He enjoys going out
prodigiously.
Are you not outrageous at the manner in which Mr Singleton, [31] son-
in-law to the great man who died for his country, was turned out? I
think it is really a disgrace to the Nation. I should have thought
every connection of my Lord Cornwallis would have been distinguished
with honours, instead of which he is turned out of Office as soon as
the account arrived of his Father-in-Law's death.
The papers have indeed been in a most bloody humour, they have
unjustly killed Lord Coventry, Lord Uxbridge, Lord Harrowby, and it
was astonishingly reported that Lord Melville had destroyed himself,
when he was quite well. It really was curious to hear people inquiring
in the most melancholy tone, what was the cause of such a Lord's
death, and the next person announcing merrily that he was perfectly
well! Lord Kinnaird is expected home daily with the transports.
We heard the other day that the Princesses had received a letter from
the Duchess of Wurtemburg [32] since she had seen the Empress of
France. Upon entering, the Duchess said she felt something like
_effroi_, which Madame Bonaparte took for _Froid_ and she threw over
her shoulders a most beautiful shawl she had been wearing herself. The
Emperor was very polite and never named England or the English. He
brought a most superb _présent de noces_ for the Princess of
Wurtemburg who is going to be married.
I wish also to tell you a story I heard of Erskine. He was dining one
evening with a large party at Carlton House. The conversation turned
upon Sir Robert Calder's sentence. [33] Erskine said, to set a pack of
yellow Admirals who had never seen active service to judge a brave and
distinguished Officer was horrible. "They might as well," said he,
"_set a parcel of Attorney's clerks to judge Erskine_!" Is not
this _Chancellor Ego_?--This was just before he was Chancellor.
His wife died a short time ago, and his daughter wrote word to a
friend that had her father known how soon her mother would die, he
would not have behaved better to her! They must all be mad, I think.
Thomas Erskine, the third son of the 10th Earl of Buchan, was, in 1806,
appointed Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain and elevated to the
Peerage the same year by the title of Baron Erskine. Brilliant, eloquent
and witty, from his habit of invariably talking about himself and his
concerns, he was given the name of Chancellor Ego. Owing to his being of
opposite politics, the Stanhopes were disposed to view him somewhat
disparagingly, and owned, indeed, but slight acquaintance with him till
years afterwards when they met him at Holkham. It was on the occasion of a
dinner-party in London, however, that Lord Erskine once told John Stanhope
the following story, and which the latter used to recount as an instance
of the Chancellor's genuine kindliness of heart.
"In the days of my youth", Lord Erskine related, "I arrived in Edinburgh
one morning after a lengthy absence from Scotland, feeling delighted at
the prospect of re-visiting my old haunts and looking up my old friends. I
went first to a bookseller's shop which I was fond of visiting, and as I
was leaving it, to my surprise and pleasure I encountered an old butler
who had been for many years in my father's service. I noticed, however, to
my regret, that the old man looked greatly changed. He was pale, worn and
shadowy as a ghost. Moreover, when I greeted him genially he showed little
excitement at the unexpected encounter. 'I came to meet your honour,' he
said, very gravely, 'I want to solicit your interference with my Lord to
recover a sum of money due to me which the steward at the last settlement
would not pay.'
"Struck both by his manner and his unaccountable knowledge of my
movements, I decided to question him further respecting the cause of his
evident distress. Stepping back into the shop, therefore, I invited him to
follow me, explaining that there we could discuss the matter privately.
When, however, I turned round to hear what he had to tell me, I found that
he was gone, nor, on returning to the door, could I see him anywhere in
the street.
"Unable to account for his abrupt departure, and anxious to help him if it
lay in my power, I recalled that his wife had a little shop in the town,
and I succeeded in tracing my way thither. Judge of my astonishment on
finding the old woman in widow's mourning, and on learning from her that
her husband had been dead for some months! Still more was I startled upon
hearing that on his death-bed he had repeatedly told her that my father's
steward had wronged him of some money, but that when Master Tom returned
he would see her righted. Needless to say, as speedily as possible I
accomplished the old man's dying wish which had been so strangely brought
to my knowledge."
The next mention of Chancellor Ego which occurs in Mrs Stanhope's
correspondence is not so complimentary:--
_June 3rd, 1806._
Your sisters are now well, and propose being very gay. To-morrow, in
the morning, we attend the Drawingroom, after which your father dines
at what is called Mr Pitt's Dinner, & where the attendance is expected
to be very large. In the evening, I am to have a few friends, amongst
them Lady C. Wortley and Mr Mercer, who sing together most
beautifully; after which I shall go to Mr Hope's, the finest house in
London, with respect to taste and _vertu_.
We have now fine weather. You would delight in Kensington Gardens, or
perhaps you would prefer joining the impertinent Loungers who sit on
Horseback, too lazy to join the walkers. The political world is at
present in a strange situation. Should Lord Melville be acquitted he
will probably take an active part in Indian affairs. There is a
canvass against him, but I trust British Peers are not to be
influenced.
I hope our _Dancing Chancellor_ will act properly as far as he is
concerned, but I believe he is now referred to the House of Peers. If
the intelligence has not yet reached you, you will wonder at the
expression "Dancing Chancellor." Know then that at Sheridan's ball the
Lord High Chancellor of England [34] danced with Miss Drummond after
having dined and sat too long with a party where was the Prime
Minister, [35] the Chancellor of the Exchequer [36] and a greater
Personage than any. They contrived to set Somerset House on fire
_twice_, and, after dancing, the head of the Law amused himself
with rowing on the Thames.--So much for the Rulers of this Land!
Thomas Hope of Deepdene, Surrey, and Duchess Street, Portland Place, who
is mentioned in the above letter, was a member of an eminent commercial
family, of Scottish descent, generally known as the Hopes of Amsterdam.
Having inherited an immense fortune at the age of eighteen, he became an
early patron of literature and the arts. Flaxman owed much to his support,
Thorwaldsen and Chantrey to his recognition of their genius early in life.
Crazy also about architecture, Mr Hope travelled all over the world,
studying famous buildings and collecting, meanwhile, priceless treasures
in pictures, statues, and furniture, so that on his return he
reconstructed his home in London, and replenished it with beautiful
possessions. In 1805 he published a handsome volume on Household
Furniture, illustrated by many drawings of the fine specimens in his own
house. He afterwards wrote other works, but is most celebrated as the
writer of a romance, _Anastasius_, the authorship of which was at one time
attributed to Byron, and of a scientific work, _The Origin and Prospects
of Man_, which may be considered the parent of the well-known _Vestiges of
Creation_, and which formed the basis of one of Carlyle's most remarkable
essays.
In 1806, he was, however, still looked upon as a mere superficial
dilettante, though, on account of the _objets d'art_ which he owned,
everyone was eager to gain access to his house. This desire was
accentuated with regard to the party which he gave that year, it being the
first for which he had issued invitations since his marriage, in the
previous April, with Louisa, the youngest daughter of the Right Rev. Lord
Decies, Archbishop of Tuam.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
_June 6th, 1806._
Had you been here on the Birthday night, you would have pronounced us
of the Wronghead Family, for we had nothing but _contretemps_ from the
moment we set out for the Drawingroom till the next day rose upon us.
At three we set out in wind and rain for St James's, & drove down
Grosvenor Street; but as there was a string of carriages from Oxford
Street, to get in was impossible. We therefore turned about and tried
Dover Street, but there we were not permitted to go. At last, after
much whipping and much delay, we were admitted into the string in
Albemarle Street, and in process of time reached St James's safely and
proceeded as far as the Guard Room.--Further, we never arrived! All
the people who came out of the Drawingroom looked expiring, and begged
we would not attempt to go in, as they were almost dead, and many had
fainted. Very soon we found the Queen had taken herself off, not
having spoken to above one third of the Company. Notwithstanding that
we had only our labour for our trouble, we were there till half past
seven before we could get our carriage.
In the evening I expected Mr Mercer and Lady C. Wortley to sing, and
the Eyres. All came but Mr Mercer, the songster,--another
disappointment! They stayed with me till half past eleven, when we set
out for Mr T. Hope's rout, but after waiting in the street _till
near one_, we found to get in was impossible. Therefore very
reluctantly we turned about and came home. Did you ever hear of such
disappointments? However, we are all quite well, which probably would
not have been the case had we done all we intended.
The Wit at the Drawingroom was to call it the _levée en masse_.
London does not abound in wit. The only things of the sort I have
heard are what has been said about Mrs Fox's Ball. The first is given
to Fox himself who was asked what it was like, and referred the
inquirer to the 22nd Chapter of the First Book of Samuel at the second
verse, [37] where is to be found a very just description of it, tho'
probably you would not have thought to have looked at your Bible for
an account of Mrs Fox's Ball. The other was a _bon mot_ of your
friend, Lyttleton [38] who said, "There was all the world, but little
of his wife!"
Last night I was at Mrs Law's, a very pleasant Assembly. Osborne
Markham [39] was flirting with his intended, Lady Mary Thynne, a
pretty-looking woman.
Mr Lyttleton, whose _bon mot_ respecting Mrs Fox's ball so pleased Mrs
Stanhope, was a constant source of amusement to her and her daughters.
Earlier that same year, on March 4th, she had written:--
I suppose you saw the address which Mr Lyttleton made to the
Freeholders of Worcestershire? It was very short & I think
comprehended in these words:--"_Be assured that the Hon. William
Henry Lyttleton will offer himself at the next county Meeting; if the
Freeholders will be true to their interest & to the welfare of the
country._"
This short address was posted in the corner of the newspaper. Now you
must know that his father knows nothing about his offering himself;
and this was printed in the corner of the newspaper that his sister
might cut it out before his father saw it! I understand that he has
the majority on the Poll at present & that he made a speech of above
two hours in length.
In an undated letter she subsequently relates:--
Have you heard the latest story of our friend Lyttleton? It appears
that at some large party he was seated at the card table next to Mrs
Beaumont who expressed herself very dissatisfied with the smallness of
the stakes. "In the great houses which I frequent," she explained
grandly to Lyttleton, "we constantly play for _paper_." "Madam,"
said Lyttleton in a solemn whisper, "In the little houses which
_I_ frequent, we play for note paper."
Meanwhile another event had been arranged to take place on that Birthday
night which for Mrs Stanhope proved so unfortunate, and had been announced
by her so early as May 30th previously:--
On the Birthday, all the friends of Mr Pitt have agreed to dine
together instead of on _his_ birthday, which is just past. The
first idea rose from the Opposition wishing to dine together on the
4th, but many objected. They then determined to celebrate Mr Pitt's
birthday on that day. Your father means to be there.
"Pitt dinners," as they were subsequently termed, forthwith became an
annual institution, and were held in all parts of the United Kingdom. John
Stanhope, who, in 1806, was staying in Edinburgh, attended one in that
city, and eight days later was invited to be present at another public
banquet designed to be commemorative of a very different event.
Throughout the months of May and June, public attention had been absorbed
by the famous trial of Lord Melville. So early as May 6th, Mrs Stanhope
had written delightedly:--"You will be glad to hear that the cross-
examination of Mr Trotter went in fayour of Lord Melville who looked
perfectly composed the whole time." But not till the 12th did the end
arrive.
_June 13th, 1806._
Your sisters both attended the trial and had the gratification of
hearing Lord Melville acquitted. The Prince had the good sense not to
vote. The Court was as full as possible & when the two youngest Peers
voted on the first charge & said Guilty, there was something like a
hiss from the House of Commons. I am glad it is over & I hope the
country will not be put to the expense of any more trials of the same
kind for many years. The Princes went and shook Lord Melville by the
hand as soon as it was over.
Thus it was that eight days after the Pitt dinner, Edinburgh felt itself
called upon to give another banquet, designed to celebrate the joyful
event of Lord Melville's acquittal. It was likewise proposed to illuminate
the city, but the Solicitor-General (Chief Magistrate in the absence of
the Lord Advocate) prohibited such a demonstration. He was, in
consequence, nicknamed, "The Extinguisher General," and the friends of
Lord Melville, to the number of five hundred, consoled themselves by
singing a song written by Walter Stanhope for the occasion, and entitled,
"A Health to Lord Melville." Each of the eight verses of which it is
composed proposes a toast that was staunchly drunk by all present; but
perhaps those in honour of the volunteers and of the luckless Princess of
Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, are the most significant.
"Since here we are set in array round the table,
Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall,
Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able
How innocence triumphed, and Pride got a fall;
But push round the claret,
Come, Stewards, don't spare it;
With rapture you'll drink to the toasts that I give.
Here, Boys,
Off with it merrily,
Melville for ever and long may he live!
What _were_ the Whigs doing, when, boldly pursuing,
Pitt banished Rebellion, gave treason a sting?
Why, they swore on their honour, for Arthur O'Connor
And fought hard for Despard, 'gainst Country & King!
Well then, we knew, Boys,
Pitt and Melville were true Boys,
And tempest was raised by the friends of Reform.
Ah, woe!
Weep for his memory;
Low lies the Pilot that weathered the storm. [40]
* * * * *
They would turn us adrift, tho', rely, Sir, upon it,
Our own faithful Chronicles warrant us that
The free Mountaineer, and his bonny brown bonnet
Have oft gone as far as the Regular's hat.
We laugh at their taunting,
For all we are wanting
Is licence our life for our country to give;
Off with it merrily,
Horse, Foot and Artillery,
Each loyal Volunteer--long may he live!
* * * * *
And then our Revenue, Lord knows how they viewed it,
While each petty Statesman talked lofty and big,
And the Beer tax was weak as if Windham had brewed it,
And the Pig Iron Duty a shame to a pig;
In vain is their boasting,
Too surely there's wanting
What judgment, experience and steadiness give;
Come, Boys,
Drink about merrily,
Health to sage Melville, and long may he live!
Our King too,--our Princess--I dare not say more, Sir,
May Providence watch them with mercy and might;
While there's one Scottish arm that can wag a day more, Sir,
They shall ne'er want a friend to stand up for their right.
Be d--d he that dare not,
For my part I'll spare not
To beauty afflicted a tribute to give!
Fill it up steadily,
Drink it off readily,
Here's to the Princess and long may she live!
And since we must not set Auld Reekie [41] in glory,
And make her brown visage as light as her heart,
Till each man illumine his own upper storey
Nor _Law_ trash nor Lawyer shall force us to part.
In Grenville and Spencer
And some few good men, Sir,
High talents and honour slight difference forgive,
But the Brewer we'll hoax;
Tally ho! to the Fox;
And drink Melville for ever as long as we live!"
CHAPTER II
1805-1810
LETTERS OF AN EXILE
To a man far distant from the memorable scene of Lord Melville's trial,
the news of the verdict, sent by Mrs Stanhope, must have caused peculiar
satisfaction.
Among her numerous correspondents at this date, probably few had been more
frequently in her thoughts during the past two years than her kinsman,
Cuthbert Collingwood. From her earliest days, indeed, he had occupied a
certain prominence in her horizon. Her mother, Winifred Collingwood, had
belonged to another branch of the Northumberland family which owned a
common ancestor with that of the afterwards famous Admiral, [1] and this
tie had been strengthened rather than diminished throughout the passing of
generations by the propinquity of the two branches.
In the commencement of his naval career, Cuthbert Collingwood, on board
the _Lennox_, had attracted the hearty approbation of Mrs Stanhope's other
relation, Admiral Roddam, [2] the grand old veteran who had been in the
service about thirty-seven years before his young neighbour from
Northumberland had become his midshipman. In 1787 he won as warm an
appreciation from her husband when he stayed at Cannon Hall and first made
the acquaintance of Walter Stanhope, who then formed for him a lifelong
friendship. During the all-too-brief period when Collingwood was on shore,
there occur entries in Stanhope's Journal recording many a quiet rubber of
whist played with the man whose harsh fate was to render such moments of
happy social intercourse a precious recollection through long, lonely
years. Returned to his post, Captain Collingwood's thoughts clung to that
family circle he had left-to the man who basked in the happiness of a home
life from which he, personally, was debarred. Year by year Collingwood
kept his kinsman Stanhope in touch with all his movements. Year by year,
Stanhope and his wife responded, supplying the absent seaman with news of
the chief events which were happening in the political world at home. And
the letters from Collingwood, with their stern grip of a strenuous life,
with their deep underlying tragedy of a profound loneliness, afford a
curious contrast to the shallow utterances of other correspondents. Over
the intervening miles of ocean, from that isolated soul on guard, they
reached the family in Grosvenor Square, bearing, so it seemed, something
of the freshness and the force of the wind-rocked brine which they had
traversed. Into that restless routine of London life, they carried the
echo of a distant clash of arms, the mutterings of a brooding storm. They
told how the sea-dogs upon the alert were playing a desperate game of
tactics with their country's foe, the outcome of which none could foretell
and the chances of which few dared to contemplate. And in the minds of
those to whom they were addressed they awoke an answering apprehension,
which entered into the heart of their home-life, for one of that circle,
little William Stanhope, was shortly to join his great kinsman at sea and
to play his small part in the fierce ocean drama which was going forward.
_Captain Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope_.
_"Dreadnought" off_ CADIZ, _July 10th, 1805._
I shall have great pleasure in taking your young sailor into my care,
whenever you chuse he should come--and you may assure yourself that I
will be as regardful of everything that relates to him as you yourself
could be. Considering how uncertain my situation is or where I may be
at any particular period, had I known your intention in March, I
should have recommended that he embarked then, and made his first
essay in a warm country and far from home....
When I sailed from England I had under my command a fine fleet, but
the change of circumstances since that has both altered my destination
and reduced my force. I am now blocking up the ports here. On my
arrival I found the Spaniards on the point of sailing, waiting only
for the Carthagena Squadron to join them, and _they_ were actually at
sea, in their way down, but recalled by a dispatch boat on our
appearance off the coast. We never know whether we go too fast or too
slow--had I been a few days later, we should probably have met them at
sea with their ten sail, and made a good day of it.
And he proceeds to append a comment on the news of Lord Melville's
impeachment which had just reached him from Mrs Stanhope.
Oh! how I lament the fall of Lord Melville! But I never can consent to
rank him amongst the herd of peculators who prey upon the publick. He
has been negligent in the economy and management of his office--he has
paid too little attention to the management of his own money affairs.
Had he been avaricious and greedy of wealth how many years has he been
in official situations wherein he might have enriched himself--and is
yet as poor as poverty, for I have it from good authority that his
patent of Nobility was several months in office before he could raise
£2000 to pay the fees of it, and Melville Castle must have been sold
if his son had not taken it.
Then the virulence with which he has been pursued from all quarters--
not merely submitting his case to the calm deliberations of
Parliament, or the lawful decisions of Courts of Justice, but made a
subject for Pot house discussion, where the snobby meetings of half-
drunk mechanicks have been convened to pass judgment on a man whose
whole life has been devoted to his country's service, and whose
conduct has been unimpeached till now. It is disgraceful to the
justice of the country, for it matters little what may be the decision
of a Court hereafter, when a man is already condemned in the publick
opinion. Those to whom Lord Melville was before indifferent and those
who blame the negligence of his office, have acquired a sort of
respect for his misfortunes, in being the object of such a factious
hue & cry.
I was very sorry to hear Mr Collingwood [3] had been so indifferent in
his health last spring, but I hope the warm weather will be of service
to him--the last I heard from his home he was better, I beg my best
and kindest regards to Mrs Stanhope & all your family and wishing you
& them health and every possible happiness.
I am, dear Sir,
Your faithful & most humble servant,
CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD.
_The Same._
_Sept 23rd._
It is a long time since I have heard from England.... I have here a
very laborious and a very anxious time. You will have heard from my
wife, perhaps the narrow escape I have had from being cut off by the
combined fleet. At that time I had only three ships with me and a
frigate--they had 36 sail, and had they managed their affairs with the
least ingenuity, I should have found it a very difficult thing to have
fought my way through them, but we made good use of their want of
skill and after seeing them safe into Port, we continued on our
Station to blockade the town and prevent all commerce.
I hope the Admiralty will give me credit for maintaining my station in
the neighbourhood of so powerfull a fleet, for I never quitted them
for a day, though I had but four ships; but now that I am reinforced
by the squadron under Sir R. Calder, I have a fine fleet of 26 ships
of line and some small frigates; and hope every good--and with God's
blessing with me will do a good day's work for my country, whenever
they give me an opportunity. That done, I shall be glad to retire to
my home & enjoy the comforts of my family, for my strength fails, and
the mind being on the full stretch, sinks and needs relief.
I have a gentleman from Newcastle for my Captain, but he is a man of
no talent as a sea-officer and of little assistance to me.
How glad I shall be to get to my garden again at Morpeth and quitting
the foe, see for the rest of my life only friends about me.
Ever through the thunder of cannon or the stress of a watch which ceased
neither day nor night, through the threatenings of death or the
allurements of fame, one thought was paramount in Collingwood's mind. A
yearning for a peaceful garden he had left behind--to him a veritable
garden of Paradise--for the innocent prattle of his children, the sweet
companionship of his wife. A dream of reunion tormented and sustained him.
"Whenever I think how I am to be happy again my thoughts carry me back to
Morpeth," he wrote. Incapable of a dramatic appeal to sympathy, his
letters to Stanhope, in their strong self-repression, breathe a longing
the more profound. For that Paradise of his dreams Collingwood would have
joyfully bartered fame, emolument, all that the world could offer, had not
duty claimed from him a prolonged sacrifice of all which he held dear.
Whether, if he could have looked on through the few remaining years of his
life and have foreseen the end of that longing and those dreams, his weary
spirit could still have borne the burden laid upon it, none may say. But
buoyed up by that ever-present hope he faced the strain of his eternal
watching with an unflinching courage, which may have been occasionally
strengthened by a recollection which visited him, and the remarkable
circumstances of which cannot be ignored.
For the week before the war had broken out, Collingwood, in the peace of
that distant Northumberland home, had been elated by a vision which
contained for him a strange element of great promise. In his sleep he had
seen with extraordinary vividness the English Fleet in battle array; the
details of their position were clear to him, and, later, he beheld an
engagement in progress the incidents of which were extraordinarily
realistic. Finally, the glory of a great victory came upon him, to fill
his waking moments with delight and haunt his recollection. So minute, so
circumstantial had been the particulars of the dream, that, profoundly
impressed at the time, he had related them in full detail to his wife. In
much imaginative, Collingwood was not without the vein of superstition
which seems inseparable from his profession, and he had the simple faith
of a child. He believed in the ultimate fulfilment of that vision and the
thought pursued him.
Meanwhile, his letter to Stanhope of September 23rd, reached its
destination at a moment of increased national suspense. Napoleon's
elaborately planned ruse to entice Nelson to the West Indies had succeeded
only too well. And while Nelson sought his decoy Villeneuve off Barbadoes,
the French Admiral, as pre-arranged, was hastening back to effect, in the
absence of his dupe, the release of the French Fleet blockaded by
Cornwallis. But luck and wit saved England. Nelson chanced upon a ship
which had seen the returning enemy; he succeeded in warning the Admiralty
in time; Villeneuve, intercepted by Calder, suffered an ignominious
defeat, and Napoleon consummated his own disaster by the tactlessness of
his wrath against his unfortunate admiral who had thus succumbed to a
force inferior in numbers. Villeneuve, stung by the bitter taunt of
cowardice, rashly left Cadiz to fight Nelson--a manoeuvre which, at best,
could little advance the cause of the Emperor, which, as the event proved,
courted a catastrophe out of all proportion to any possible gain, and
which was undertaken by the luckless Frenchman for no other end save that
of disproving the imputation of cowardice under which he smarted.
Whether in the placing of the ships at the Battle of Trafalgar that vision
of Collingwood played any part, history will never know--whether it must
be regarded by the curious as in itself prophetic, or merely as a chance
occurrence, the suggestion of which was by chance adopted. Yet it is
obvious that the relation between this remarkable dream and its fulfilment
can scarcely be viewed merely as an interesting coincidence. The inference
is too strong that in any consultation between Collingwood and Nelson with
regard to the order of battle the recollection of the scheme of attack
which had so impressed the former must--even if unconsciously--have
coloured the advice given by him to Nelson. Moreover such reflections give
rise to a further curious speculation. To Nelson posterity is wont to
ascribe the entire merit of the order of battle on that memorable day; he,
it is held, was the active genius who conceived the plan of action,
Collingwood was the acquiescer, a passive though able coadjutor. Yet
Collingwood himself, the most modest of men and the least likely to make
an erroneous statement with regard to such a question of fact, expressly
asserts the contrary. "In this affair," he says, "Nelson did nothing
without my counsel, _we made our line of battle together_ and concerted
the attack." [4] On this point he also insists, in writing to Stanhope, to
whom, as to his wife, he incidentally recalled the circumstances of his
having foreseen the battle in a dream at Morpeth the week before the war
broke out.
Throughout this period, in England, news was awaited with increasing
anxiety. On October 31st, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son John:--
The Papers are now quite alarming. I fear it is up with the Austrians
for the Russians cannot now join them. This horrid Bonaparte is a
scourge to the whole world. It is wonderful with what enthusiasm he
seems to inspire his men. They go where he likes and accomplish all
his plans.
Your father has written again to Admiral Collingwood to inform him
that if he does not return home, which, as he has changed his flag
from the Dreadnought, is not very probable, that he will send William
to him in the spring. Admiral Roddam, tho' he prefers a frigate,
approves of his going with Admiral C. as he is both a good man & an
excellent sailor, & will scrupulously perform that which he promises
to undertake.
_Nov. 2nd, 1805._
Not only Glyn, but all of us must shake with the horrid German
intelligence. I have little faith in the hope the papers hold out that
we may yet hear of a victory gained by the united Armies of Russia and
Austria--a few days must relieve us from our present state of
uncertainty--though I fear not of anxiety. How thankful I am that I
have no near connection going on the cruel expedition at this time.
A few days, and the great news came, with its conflicting elements of
glory and of grief.
_Walter Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
My Dear John,
It is impossible to begin on this day any letter to any person without
most joyfully and most thankfully celebrating the glorious victory of
Lord Nelson. I cannot say that my triumph is so much alloyed as that
of many others seems to be and yet I trust I have as grateful a mind
and as high an admiration for Military renown as another man. No, it
is that I think that Nelson's glorious death is more to be envied than
lamented, and that to die wept by the land we perished for is what he
himself would have wished.
Would to God my little William had been on board Collingwood's ship on
that glorious day, whatever might have been the risque!
_The Same to the Vicar of Newcastle._
Although the death of Nelson is in my judgment more to be envied than
lamented, yet England secured by the loss of his life ought to feel,
bewail & reward it as far as posthumous honours and benefits to his
family and general Regret can do it. The late Victory affords peculiar
satisfaction to me from the brilliant Part that Admiral Collingwood
has had in it & the exquisitely good account he has given of it in his
Dispatches.
_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
CANNON HALL, _November 9th, 1805._
Your father said he should write you a long letter this morning.... No
longer have we cause to talk and grieve about the Austrians, we may
now talk and rejoice at our glorious, and at the moment, unexpected
victory. What a day it was! but in the midst of our rejoicings we must
pause to shed a tear over the Hero who fell, though as every Hero must
wish to fall. Admiral Collingwood's dispatches do him honour, he at
all times writes well and this was a subject to draw out all his
powers and show the Feeling and Goodness of his Heart. Your father
wishes William had been with him. I am satisfied as it is!
_The Same._
_November 14th, 1805._
Your letter my dear John, arrived on Sunday, after mine was sealed,
and as the carriage was at the door to take us to church, I had not
time to open it, to add my thanks for your letter of Congratulations
on our great and glorious Victory. What has followed since, at any
other time would have been considered great, at all times must be
thought gallant.
Yesterday letters from Barnsley, reporting the capture of the
Rochefort Squadron, were so firmly believed that the Bells were
ringing.
The tears of the Nation must be shed over the brave Nelson, but his
death was that of a Hero, and such he truly was. The Dispatches do
Admiral Collingwood great honor, and his bravery is already rewarded
with a peerage. I had a letter from his wife to-day, who says he wrote
in the greatest grief for his friend. She had not heard since the
Dispatches were sent, when the Fleet was in a miserable state, she, of
course, under great anxiety. The Euryalus has, I hope, brought further
accounts. Probably the funeral of Lord Nelson will be Publick--what a
thrilling sight it will be. Surely some mark of honour will be
bestowed upon his Widow. At present his Brother's wife has place of
her, and she has not been mentioned.
_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
I have made a vow not to name Lord Nelson or the Victory or Victories
in any of my letters, but postscripts are excluded. Every letter Mamma
has had has been full of nothing else; if care is not taken, it will
be like the invasion, a constant topick when you have nothing to say.
--I think it is a great proof of genius to have written a letter
without naming the event. What say you to Lord Collingwood? I would
rather have his patent of nobility than the longest pedigree in the
kingdom. I should glory more in his title than in the Duke of
Norfolk's.
Mamma had a letter from Lady Collingwood to-day, still very anxious
for his safety, as she had heard nothing since the Victory, and his
ship was then much disabled. He had written to her Lord Nelson's death
was a most severe blow to him, for he was his greatest friend. I
almost wish dear William had been with him.
_November 20th., 1805._
FARNELY.
We begin to be impatient for more news. Think of poor Lady
Collingwood--she was in a shop in Newcastle when the Mail arrived
covered with ribbands, but the coachman with a black hat-band. He
immediately declared the great victory, but that Lord Nelson and all
the Admirals were killed. She immediately fainted. When she heard from
Lord Collingwood first he wrote in the greatest grief for his friend,
and said the fleet was in a miserable state. Perhaps that may bring
him home.
Are you not pleased with his being created a Peer in so handsome a
manner. Why has not Lady Nelson some honour conferred upon her? Surely
the Widow of our Hero ought not to be so neglected.
Yesterday we drank to the immortal memory of our Hero. Mr Fawkes has
got a very fine print of him.
The clock strikes ten which announces breakfast, therefore adieu, my
dear John.
The wish expressed in the last letter that more tidings would arrive
respecting the great event which had taken place, was speedily gratified.
A letter written by Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker on November 1st, was
sent _via_ Stanhope for his perusal, and he preserved a copy of it.
_Lord Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker._
_November 1st., 1805._
You will have seen from the public accounts that we have fought a
great battle, and had it not been for the fall of our noble friend who
was indeed the glory of England and the admiration of all who saw him
in battle, your pleasure would have been perfect.... It was a severe
action, no dodging or manoeuvres. They formed their line with nicety
and waited our attack with composure. They did not give a gun until we
were close to them & we began first. Our ships were fought with a
degree of gallantry which would have warmed your heart. Everybody
exerted themselves and a glorious day they made of it, people who
cannot comprehend how complicated an affair a battle is at sea and
judge of an officer's conduct by the number of sufferers in his ship,
often do him a wrong, and though there will appear great difference in
the loss of men, all did admirably well; and the conclusion was good
beyond description, eighteen hulks of the enemy lying amongst the
British fleet without a stick standing, and the French Achilles
burning.--But we were close to the rocks of Trafalgar [5] & when I
made the signal for anchoring, many ships had their cable shot & not
an anchor ready.
Providence did for us what no human effort could have done, the wind
shifted a few points and we drifted off the land. The next day bad
weather began and with great difficulty we got our captured ships
towed off the land. The second, Gravina, who is wounded, made an
effort to cut off some of the ships with a squadron of 9 ships with
which he retired. In the night the gale increased and two of his
ships, the "_Mayo_" of 100 guns and "_Indomitable_" of 80 were
dismasted. The "_Mayo_" anchored amongst our hulks and surrendered;
the "_Indomitable_" lost on the shore and I am told that every soul
perished. Among such numbers it is difficult to ascertain what we have
done, but I believe the truth is 23 sail of the line fell into our
hands of which three got in again in the gale of wind....
The storm being violent and many of our own ships in most perilous
situations, I found it necessary to order the captures,--all without
masts, some without rudders & many half full of water--to be
destroyed, except such as were in better plight, for my object was
their ruin & not what might be made of them. As this filled our ships
with prisoners and the wounded in a miserable condition, I sent a flag
to the Marquis of Solana [6] to offer him his wounded men, which was
received with every demonstration of joy and gratitude, & two French
Frigates & a Brigg were sent out for them. In return, he offered me
his Hospitals & the security of Spanish honour that our wounded should
have every care & every comfort that Spain could afford, so you see,
my dear Sir, though we fight them, we are upon very good terms.
But what most astonished them was our keeping the sea after such an
action, with our injured masts and crippled ships, which I did the
longer to let them see that no efforts of theirs could drive a British
Squadron from its station.
This letter is of exceptional interest since it throws fresh light on a
matter which has now afforded food for controversy for over a century.
Nelson's dying injunctions had been that the fleet was to anchor. Owing,
it was contended, to Collingwood having failed promptly to carry out these
instructions of the master mind, many prizes were lost. James, who in his
_Naval History_ is severe in his criticism of Collingwood's error of
judgment in this particular, has further pointed out that four ships which
did anchor on the evening of the engagement weathered the gale
successfully. This letter of Collingwood gives his reasons for his course
of action. It proves that although when he did give the order to anchor
its execution was impracticable, yet that he had strong reason for
destroying a number of the captured ships, which were all but worthless as
prizes. His assertion, "My object was their ruin and not what might be
made of them," bears out the verdict of Lord St Vincent, quoted by Lord
Eldon, that "Collingwood's conduct after the Battle of Trafalgar in
destroying under difficult circumstances the defeated fleet was above all
praise"; while the conclusion of Collingwood's letter contains a sentiment
at which few will cavil.
From Mrs Stanhope's Uncle, Edward Collingwood, in Northumberland, there
was subsequently forwarded to her a letter written by Collingwood in the
first glory of victory and the first bitterness of his grief for Nelson's
death.
My dear friend received his mortal wound about the middle of the
fight, and sent an officer to tell me that he should see me no more.
His loss was the greatest grief to me. There is nothing like him for
gallantry and conduct in battle. It was not a foolish passion for
fighting, for he was the most gentle of human creatures, and often
lamented the cruel necessity of it; but it was a principle of duty,
which all men owed their country in defence of their laws and liberty.
He valued his life only as it enabled him to do good, and would not
preserve it by any act he thought unworthy. He wore four stars upon
his breast and could not be prevailed to put on a plain coat, scorning
what he thought a shabby precaution: but that perhaps cost him his
life, for his dress made him the general mark.
He is gone, and I shall lament him as long as I live.
To Walter Stanhope he wrote:--
_Queen, March 6th., 1806._
I thank you and Mrs Stanhope most sincerely for your kind
congratulations on the success of the Fleet, and the high honour his
Majesty has been graciously pleased to confer on me in testimony of
his approbation, which I am sure will be very gratifying to all my
friends, and that you will enjoy it as much as any of them.
I have indeed had a severe loss in the death of my excellent friend
Lord Nelson. Since the year 73 we have been on terms of the greatest
intimacy--chance has thrown us very much together in service and on
many occasions we have acted in concert--there is scarce a Naval
subject that has not been the subject of our discussion, so that all
his opinions were familiar to me; and so firmly founded in principles
of honour, of justice, of attachment to his country, at the same time
so entirely divested of everything interesting to himself, that it was
impossible to consider him but with admiration. He liked fame and was
open to flattery so that people sometimes got about him who were
unworthy of him. He is a loss to his country that cannot easily be
replaced.
Thus in a few words, the very reticence of which enhances their
significance, did Collingwood sum up the greatness and the weakness of
Nelson. Gifted, brilliant, faulty by reason of his emotional temperament,
strong by reason of his enthusiasm--his all-enthralling sense of duty,
Nelson flashed like a meteor across the ken of his generation to vanish
in a haze of glory. He died at the psychological moment--his life,
according to this account, the sacrifice to a dazzling folly. And the
man whom he loved--the man whose sterling worth is swamped by Nelson's
more vivid personality, was left to battle on alone through the weary
years. The intoxication of victory did not blind Collingwood to the
colossal task which yet lay before him. To Stanhope he wrote with
undiminished anxiety:--
The idea that the Victory we gained has so entirely reduced the
enemy's fleet that no danger is now to be apprehended from them, ought
not to be encouraged. On the contrary, I believe they will make up for
their loss by extraordinary exertion. You see they have immediately
sent all their fleet to sea, and clean as they are from Port, they can
avoid an encounter when they are not very superior. The ships that I
have here are many of them the dullest in the British fleet, so that I
have little chance of getting near them until they come with double
our number, and when they do, I shall do the best with them I can.
Whatever their project is, it must be interrupted--defeated if
possible. Bonaparte seems determined to have the whole of the
Mediterranean, islands and all. Whenever he is prepared to take
possession he knows how to make a quarrel with the Court of Madrid.
A few months later he wrote:--
I have a laborious and anxious life and little time to write even to
my wife. The only comfort I have here is good health and the
consciousness that I am doing the best I can for my country--and a
good deal I believe we shall have to do before we can establish a
happy and secure peace--for I believe in the heart of the Tyrant
enmity is so deeply rooted towards England, that it will only be
extinguished with his natural life. I consider the contest with him
but in its infancy--our independence as a people is at stake. Wisdom
in our councils and fortitude in the field was never so necessary to
us, and I trust neither will be found wanting.
In every quarter the power of France is increasing,--here the
Spaniards are but his Puppets, his mandates come to Cadiz as they go
to Brest. His birthday is kept as that of their Sovereign, the French
flag is worn upon the Governor's house, upon rejoicing days, with that
of the Spanish. In Italy they hoist it upon the same staff as that of
the Pope--it will not be long before the Pope's is worn out with the
contentions of its bad neighbourhood. Sir Sidney Smith is doing what
he can to rouse the Calabrians to resistance--he gives them money and
the mob follow his officers--but the people of property have
universally attached themselves to the French-not from liking them--
but in the hope that in the end they may be left with the rag of their
fortunes.
At Cadiz they are making great progress in their equipment of a fleet,
they have 12 sail of the line ready for sea, two more well advanced in
their fitting,--I have 9, which I consider to be equal to beating
them, but whenever we meet I would do more-_not a shadow of one
should be left upon the face of the waters_. They will be cautious
whenever they come--and my ships sail but ill in general.
I heard from Lady Collingwood that she had the pleasure of visiting
you when in town.
And then comes a more personal note:--
I am totally at a loss about the obtaining my patent--from what
office does it issue and about what sum is the amount of the fees? I
suppose I shall be ruined by them. I will be much obliged to you for
any information you can give me on these subjects--that I may not, by
delaying to do what is proper, seem negligent of this high honour of
which I am (I hope) justly proud. Sir Isaac Heard sent me the form of
a letter which it was necessary to write to the Duke of Norfolk or
Hereditary Earl Marshal, for his Grace's patent to Garter, to grant me
supporters of armorial bearings appropriate. I suppose he will let me
know when that is done.
I hope you will forgive me, my dear Sir, for mentioning this subject
to you, but from my total ignorance of everything relating to it, I am
afraid of neglecting something which I ought to do.
Stanhope furnished his friend with all necessary information, and on the
following December 4th, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son--
Lord Collingwood proves himself worthy of the great charge reposed in
him. Mr Stanhope says he thinks next to Pitt's his is the greatest
trust. His property must be small. He married a Miss Blackett whose
father was brother to the late Sir Edward and is Uncle to the present
Sir William Blackett, a man of large fortune in Northumberland. He has
two daughters, the eldest must be nearly fourteen. I had this morning
a long account from my uncle of a ball given by Lady Collingwood at
Newcastle, where 450 people sat down to supper. Unfortunately the
Mayor instead of giving Lord Collingwood's health, gave _The Memory
of Lord Nelson_, with a solemn dirge, which so affected Lady
Collingwood that she fainted, and was obliged to leave the room. She
had not heard from Lord Collingwood for some time which made it the
more affecting.
It was on December 23rd, that Nelson's body preserved in spirits arrived
at Greenwich, and forthwith the favourite toast in Yorkshire was one
perhaps peculiarly characteristic of the county, "Here's to the Hero who
died for his country and came home in spirits!" On January 9th, his
funeral took place at St Paul's Cathedral, and Stanhope, who attended it,
must have felt a tightening of the throat as he realised how soon his
small son was to face dangers such as had occasioned the death of the
gallant man whom all England mourned. Moreover, Lord Collingwood had
encouraged few delusions with regard to his own capability of aiding the
career of the future midshipman. "If Parents were to see how many of their
chicks go to ruin from being sent too early abroad they would not be so
anxious about it," he wrote on one occasion, while on another he pointed
out--"I need not say how glad I shall be to take all the care of William I
can, and do him all the service in my power, but it is rather late in my
day to be very useful to him as I shall be seeking to retire about the
time he is launching into the world." Still more did he emphasise his
inability to obtain promotion for those for whom he might have most
desired it. On one occasion when Stanhope enclosed a letter from his
friend Sir James Graham begging for the advancement of a young lieutenant,
Collingwood replied, "I would gladly show every attention in my power to
any friend of yours, but I have _no opportunity of advancing any officer
beyond a midshipman sometimes_"; and four years after the Battle of
Trafalgar he explained that he had still "some of the Lieutenants who were
with me in action a few years since and no prospect of providing for them
--I have little here but constant labour."
But what he could do in the way of protecting and befriending his little
kinsman he was eager to accomplish, and his letters show how much anxious
thought he devoted to the subject.
_Admiral Lord Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope._
_January 20th, 1806._
I shall be very glad to see your son William, and will take good care
of him, and give him the best introduction to this service that I can.
I hope he has got on a little in mathematicks, because I have not a
school master now in my ship--I had, but he got hurt in the
_Sovereign_ and went home. Lord Barham tells me a ship is to be
sent out to me soon--William might come out conveniently in her....
With respect to his equipment, do not burden him with baggage--if he
takes care of it, it is but a miserable occupation, and if he does not
it will be lost. Therefore, to keep him clean and above want is
enough; a comfortable bed, that his health requires; two or three Blue
jackets and waistcoats; his Navigation books that he has been taught
from--whether it is Robinson's Elements, or Hamilton's Moore; a
quadrant and a case of instruments. For his reading, you will give him
such books as you think proper and are least voluminous--a history of
England--of Rome--and Greece, with voyages or abridgment of them--but
his baggage must be _light_--for the moment he enters a ship he
must have no personal cares--all that relates to himself must be
secondary--or nothing.
With respect to his supply of money or anything else, when he comes to
me, he shall want for nothing. I will take care he is sufficiently
provided and whatever expenses he has, I will tell you that you may
repay me.
You would be delighted at the glorious fight we have had. Had but my
friends Lord Nelson & Duff lived through it, I should have been happy
indeed. Lord Nelson was well known and universally lamented; Duff had
all the qualities that adorn a great and good man but was less known.
He commanded the Mess, and stuck to me in the day's battle as I hope
my son would have done--it was however a great day, yet I feel we have
much more to do--the French are venturing out with their squadrons and
they must be crushed. The powerful armies that are opposed to them on
the continent will, I hope, do their part well, but I cannot say I
have a very high opinion of Austrian armies & Austrian generals; their
military education is good, but they yet seem to want that good &
independent spirit that should animate a soldier--they are all money-
making and _will_ trade--and a soldier that makes wealth his
object will sell an army whenever he can get a good price for it.
I have received letters from Mr Collingwood and Admiral Roddam and am
exceedingly happy to hear they were then in good health. The Admiral
by this time has taken up his quarters at Skillingworth.
I am rather upon the rack just now. Duckworth went after the French
Squadron that I had intelligence of near Teneriffe. I am afraid the
Frenchman has duped him, and by throwing false intelligence in his way
has sent him to the West Indies--or I ought to have seen him again
before this; but Sir John Duckworth who is a well-judging man ought
not to have been so deceived as to suppose that a squadron which had
been three or four months at sea were on their way to the West Indies
--but I do not despair of catching them yet, even without him.
Napoleon then believed that he had successfully duped Collingwood in this
manner; "Mon opinion est que Collingwood est parti et est allé aux Grandes
Indes," he wrote at this date, only to discover later that his enemy had
never been deceived.
Meanwhile Stanhope was devoting all his attention to a matter which he had
much at heart. So far Collingwood's great services to his country had been
rewarded with the barren honour of a peerage which had made an unwelcome
claim upon his slender means, and with regard to which his one petition
had been refused--that since he had no son to succeed him the title should
descend to one of his daughters. Stanhope was therefore anxious to procure
for Lord Collingwood a more substantial award in the form of an annuity
which might benefit his family. On February 11th 1806, Mrs Stanhope wrote
to her son--
News I have none for you to-day, further than that your Father is
delighted with having had it in his power to be of use to Lord
Collingwood. His Pension was granted for three generations in the Male
line; now, as he has no son nor ever likely to have any, it was really
only rewarding him for his own life. At the Duchess of Gordon's, where
your Father was last night, he saw Sheridan and Lord Castlereagh [7]
and he mentioned that if half was settled upon his widow and the other
half on his daughters after his death, it would be a real advantage to
him, which both said should be done, if he would attend the House to-
day. Most probably he will propose it in the House [8] and the
intelligence will be conveyed by William. I think I sent you word we
had heard from Lord Collingwood--the date the 20th., of January,
therefore I imagine he must have been off Cadiz.
Yet even this suggestion to reward the man to whom England owed so much
met with considerable opposition. "Lord Collingwood's Annuity Bill came on
again on Monday," wrote Mrs Stanhope on February 28th. "Your Father still
hopes it will be settled on Lady Collingwood and her daughters, tho' Lord
H. Petty does not approve of the change, Lord Castlereagh and Mr Sheridan
are both of your Father's opinion."
Stanhope, however, carried his point and earned the gratitude of the
family of the absent Admiral. It is true that when the news first reached
Collingwood of the discussion relating to his pension which had taken
place in the House, he was deeply wounded. Some of the speeches seemed to
him to imply that the representation of the slender state of his finances
had been made with his concurrence, and he felt, as he told his wife, that
he had been held up in the House as an object of compassion. "If I had a
favour to ask," he wrote emphatically, "money would be the last thing I
should require from an impoverished country. I have motives for my conduct
which I would not give in exchange for a thousand pensions." But when he
heard of Stanhope's amendment of the original proposition, and that Lady
Collingwood and his daughters would now profit by the thoughtfulness of
his kinsman, he wrote an acknowledgment of such efforts on his behalf with
a sincere gratitude in which pride still mingled.
I am much obliged to you Sir for your kindness in taking so much
trouble about my pension--it is a subject I had not thought of myself
--as my family are amply provided for I left the bounty of the King to
take its course, but this is so much in addition and I am very much
obliged for your consideration of what perhaps I should not have
thought of.
By a strange coincidence, at the very moment when the question of this
annuity was before the House, Collingwood and Stanhope may be said to have
benefited jointly by a legacy from a common kinsman. Edward Collingwood,
Mrs Stanhope's uncle before referred to, expired in February 1806, leaving
his estate of Chirton to Lord Collingwood and his estate of Dissington to
his niece Mrs Stanhope in trust for her third son. The Admiral, however,
expressed little satisfaction in the acquisition of his new property. "I
am sorry the possessor of it is gone," he wrote with his usual warmth of
heart, "for I have lost a friend who I believe sincerely loved me, and
have got an estate which I could have done very well without. I am told
poor Admiral Roddam laments him very much and I love him the more for it."
Much correspondence forthwith ensued between Collingwood and Stanhope with
respect to the distribution of the portion of the furniture and
personalties which had been bequeathed to Stanhope and which he was
anxious to place at the disposal of Lady Collingwood, who, nevertheless,
declined the offer. "Lady Collingwood informed me of your kind attention
to her," wrote Collingwood, gratefully, on hearing of it, "but I think she
judged right, considering the uncertainty at what time I should come to
live there, ... besides, if I should have a son to succeed me, I should
probably rebuild the house, and the present furniture would not be
suitable to the new one. But," he adds again, feelingly, "the subject of
it must become more indifferent to me than it now is before I can
determine anything about it: it never engages my attention but in sorrow.
I lost more real happiness in the death of my friend, whom I esteemed and
reverenced, than his estate can make me amends for--its greatest value to
me is that it is _his_ bequest."
Likewise with regard to Stanhope's proposition of leaving "the moiety of
the books at Chirton which by the will of Mr Collingwood were devised to
the possessor of Dissington," Collingwood decided--"I think in this, as in
every other respect, his will should be literally complied with and
nothing left to future arrangement." He therefore requested his brother-
in-law, Mr Blackett, to choose "some learned and competent gentleman" who
was to act for him in conjunction with any person Stanhope saw fit to
appoint, to make a just division between them "in all the branches of
learning and science and with respect to value." Referring to the fine
classical volumes in the library, he pointed out that this would be a
simple matter, as most of these had duplicates or triplicates, but "God
knows," he exclaimed, "whether any of my family may want any of them! To
me the English authors are valuable and whether I shall ever see any of
them is doubtful."
The amicable discussion with regard to this matter was still in progress
while little William journeyed out to join his kinsman. A month after
Nelson's funeral, Stanhope was taking the preliminary steps for his son's
departure. "I brought William home to be measured," he wrote on February
9th, "and sent him back yesterday in very good spirits. His mind certainly
appears to open very much and he is a good little fellow. At times he is
low and said the other day how odd he should feel to be entirely with
strangers."
On February 26th, the embryo sailor set forth on his perilous adventures,
followed by the thoughts of his family, whose tender solicitude brings
very near that parting of a century ago. "I long to hear how the dear
little midshipman bears his departure," writes one of his brothers, "How
very pretty he will look in his uniform!" and the first details of the
little lad's arrival on board ship, of his quaint sayings and doings, and
how manfully he bore his separation from the last member of his family
circle have been faithfully preserved. But he soon pronounced a favourable
verdict on his new profession--"I like being on bord a ship very much, but
today it has bean a very ruf see," he wrote on March 10th, with a fine
discrimination of the advantages and disadvantages of a nautical career;
while, anxious to prove that he was now become a man of the world, who
could appreciate the exigencies of a situation which had been occupying
the attention of the public, he observes with sudden irrelevance--"What a
sad afair this seems, this deth of Mr Pit!"
Early in April, Collingwood wrote to announce the arrival of his new
midshipman, whom he describes as "a fine sensible boy with great powers of
observation," and William wrote, as he continued to write, gratefully and
enthusiastically of his treatment by Collingwood, whom he explains is "the
kindest and best man who ever lived." Thenceforward every item of
information respecting his son was sent by Collingwood to Stanhope, who in
return retailed to Collingwood everything which he could glean respecting
Lady Collingwood and her daughters. The latter came to London in May, with
a view to completing their education, and both they and their mother seem
to have turned to Stanhope and his family in every perplexity in life. "I
am greatly obliged to you for your account of my daughters," wrote
Collingwood, in a letter which shows how minutely he was kept informed of
every detail relating to them, even to their little tricks of speech and
manner. "I am not impatient for their going in to the North. I hope they
have lost much of their provincial dialect."
And still, at any mention of his home or of those dearest to him, there
breaks involuntarily into his correspondence that longing, which would not
be repressed, for a sorely needed respite from labour and for the balm of
reunion with those he loved. There were, perhaps, few people to whom he
ventured to unburden himself as simply and spontaneously as he did to
Stanhope, a man linked to him by the tie of kinship, yet not so closely as
to make any such self-revelation on his part a possible selfishness. Thus
it is that this hitherto unpublished batch of his correspondence betrays
ever more and more, with a pathos of which the writer was obviously
unconscious, how the strain of watching and of loneliness was undermining
an indomitable brain and soul.
Collingwood's existence, indeed, alternated between an eternal racking
anxiety and a monotony before which the imagination sinks appalled.
"Between days and nights I am almost wore out," he wrote briefly to
Stanhope on April 29th, 1806, "but I do not mean to quit my station while
I have health"; and on September 26th of that same year, after writing an
account of the situation in which he finds himself, he exclaims abruptly,
"It is the dullest life that can be conceived and nothing but the utmost
patience can endure it!" During long months of blockading, dawn after dawn
arose to reveal to his weary gaze the same boundless expanse of rocking
ocean, which he had well-nigh learnt to hate; the same restricted space of
deck to traverse; the same routine of action to contemplate; the same type
of food further to nauseate a reluctant appetite; the same complete lack
of mental and physical relaxation, which is, in itself, almost an
essential to sanity. Thus, soon, to the tension of that perpetual
guardianship was added the haunting dread that an existence which was
undermining his health might also impair his mental faculties, and this at
a time when he was aware that one false step, one error in strategy, and
ignominy might be his portion or the liberties of England herself be the
sacrifice.
In a diary [9] in which, during the last years of his life, he entered
memoranda, ostensibly from which to compile his dispatches, there is
conveyed more eloquently than by any laboured insistence the ceaseless
fret of his guardianship and the impracticability which he experienced of
sifting the truth or falsehood of the information on which his line of
conduct was dependent. Incessantly do its pages recall, with elaborate
care, the details of reported engagements and of reported manoeuvres of
the enemy, supplied from some apparently unimpeachable source, and
incessantly are such memoranda revoked emphatically by a later entry.
Once, after retailing minutely the details of an assault undertaken by the
Portuguese and Spaniards against the French--which he was informed had
continued for six days and during which about 8000 of the former and 6000
of the latter had been killed--and subsequent to which all the inhabitants
of Elvas had been put to the sword by the French--he appends with
pardonable irritation--"_Not a word of this true--the whole a fabrication
for the amusement of country gentlemen and ladies._" Meanwhile he was
confronted by the knowledge that those who were most ready to criticise
his decisions, had least comprehension of the difficulties with which he
had to contend.
On May 15th, 1807, Mrs Stanhope writes:--
I have had letters from Lord Collingwood and William of so late a date
as the 29th of April. Lord C. writes out of Spirits, the recent great
losses have hurt him and the failure at Constantinople, tho' no blame
attached to him. He sent out one third more force than the Government
considered necessary and they were at the Dardanelles when they were
supposed to be with him; but the defences of Constantinople, both
natural and of art, were little known, the Castles as strong as Cannon
can make them and of that particular kind the Turks use and from which
they fire balls of granite or marble;--those would not go far, but
they do very well for a passage which is so narrow their object cannot
be far of. One which passed through the _Windsor Castle_ weighed
800 pounds. He thinks there will be an active campaign in Italy--
Sicily their object.
On December 19th, Marianne Stanhope retailed--
Papa has this instant received a most delightful account from Lord
Collingwood of William, everything that is satisfactory. He says
everything that we could wish both of his health, disposition and
capacity, the letter is dated October 13th, off Sicily. He mentions
his hopes of being able to catch the French if they come to Sicily,
but the difficulty will be, from the extent of the coast they will
come from all quarters. He said that the Sicilians finding that we
take the part of the Court who are most completely detested will make
for relief from any quarter. The Turks, he says, detest the Russians,
and lament much the misunderstanding with us, but are completely in
the power of the French past all relief. The Buenos Ayres expedition,
he says, he always blamed, and that it turned out exactly as he
predicted, and that we are most completely detested by the people who
formerly respected us.
On August 13th, 1808, off Cadiz, Collingwood learnt that the French
General, Dupont, and some officers who had capitulated, had been brought
to Port St Mary, for their better security to be embarked on board a
Spanish Man-o'-war. The mob, however, attacked and wounded Dupont before
he could be got on board, and on August 26th Collingwood relates to Mrs
Stanhope:--
The Mob of Port Santa Maria seized on Dupont's baggage, for the
Generals and Juntas may make Conventions as they please, but the
People is the only _real Power_ at the present moment, and they
will observe as much of them as they like. On breaking open the Trunks
they were found to be filled with plunder--Church Plate mostly--but
everything that was gold or silver was acceptable. I went to see it
yesterday at the Custom House, and an immense quantity of it there
was--from a silver Toy to the Crown of Thorns which they had torn from
the head of Jesus Christ. I heard at first that the mob had been
raised against the French by the black servant of a Frenchman having
part of the robe of a Bishop for his dress, but this was not the case.
The black man had the Bishop's Cross hung with a chain of gold round
his neck--it was of large amethysts and diamonds worth about 2000
pounds.
Dupont was so very silly as to write to the Governor complaining of
the people who had _robbed_ him, saying that he felt sensibly for
the honour of Spain and desired that his "property" might be returned
to him. He had nothing but those trunks of plundered silver!
Collingwood's own reception by the Spanish people afforded a remarkable
instance of the estimation in which he was held and the extraordinary
recognition of his integrity even by a lawless, unreasoning mob. John
Stanhope, some years afterwards, recorded:--
"When, at an earlier period of the war, our expedition under the command
of General Spencer appeared off Cadiz, there prevailed so great a jealousy
against the English Army that the authorities refused to allow them to
land.
"Such, however, was not the case with Lord Collingwood when he appeared
with his fleet.
"He was received by high and low with the greatest enthusiasm. A publick
fête was given to him, and my brother William who accompanied him on shore
described the scene as one of the most striking sights he ever witnessed.
One only feeling seemed to pervade the immense crowd of all ranks
assembled to receive the Admiral, the desire of showing their respect and
admiration for his character. What a triumph for one who, in the hour of
victory, had succeeded to the command of a fleet that had annihilated the
Spanish Navy, and since that time had been constantly blockading their
coasts! But what must have been Lord Collingwood's feelings _when the only
pledge required before they permitted an English force to land in a place
of so much importance, was his word of honour!_ They felt in him a
confidence which they denied to our Government."
But in the midst of a situation so unique, Collingwood ignored the
unparalleled homage paid to him, to revert persistently to each item of
news respecting his distant home. The splendid fetes of which he formed
the central figure, the adulation of an entire nation, find no mention in
his letters to Stanhope, and are of less account to him than the most
trivial circumstance regarding his family or his native county, on which
his thoughts dwell tenderly, lingeringly. From Cadiz, in August, he
laments the tidings conveyed to him by Stanhope of the death, at the age
of eighty-nine, of his former Commander and neighbour, in Northumberland,
Admiral Roddam.
Poor Admiral Roddam! I have indeed mourned his death, because I lost
in him a kind friend who had always taken a sincere interest in my
welfare; but he was become too infirm to enjoy comfort, and then to
die is a blessing. I am glad he left your son his estate, but it was
want of knowing the world if he thought of improving the Property by
keeping him out of it so long.
For little William, on attaining the age of twenty-five, was to succeed to
the estate of Collingwood's former Commander, and this must, if possible,
have strengthened the link between the Admiral and the midshipman in whose
progress he took a profound interest. Collingwood's own character is
perhaps never more clearly portrayed than in his criticism of the little
lad who had been committed to his care. "Of William," he wrote to
Stanhope, in 1808, "everything I have to say is good--and such as must
give you and Mrs Stanhope much satisfaction. He is the best-tempered boy
that can be--has a superior understanding, which makes everything easy to
him. He is very inquisitive in what relates to his duty, and comprehends
it with a facility which few boys do, at this time I believe he has more
knowledge than many twice his standing. He is never engaged in disputes,
and this not from a milkiness and yielding to others, but he seems
superior to contention, and leaves a blockhead to enjoy his own nonsense."
In December of the same year he reiterates, "Your son always gives me
satisfaction. He behaves well and always like a gentleman and I endeavour
to instil in him a contempt for what is trifling and unworthy. When I come
home I will leave him in a frigate and I hope I may soon, for I grow very
weak and languid."
It was to be regretted that while evincing to the utmost his own contempt
for what was "trifling and unworthy," it was impracticable for Collingwood
to follow the example of his small midshipman and contentedly "leave a
blockhead to his own nonsense." The realisation was torment to him that
the very conditions of his service were dictated by those who had only a
partial conception of his requirements, that his representations--his
advice--were alike incessantly ignored, yet, none the less, that his
tactics would subsequently be criticised pitilessly by men incapable of
appreciating the difficulties with which he had been beset at the time of
action. "I have lately had a most anxious and vexatious life," he wrote on
May 16th, 1808, "since the Rochefort ships came into the Mediteranean and
joined the Toulon, I have been in constant pursuit of them, but with bad
intelligence and never knowing whether I was going right or not." Yet
though compelled to act thus blindly, in that torturing uncertainty, the
eyes of the world were upon him, and men, wise in the cognisance of after-
events, would unhesitatingly judge him in the light of that knowledge.
More than once in his letters to Mrs Stanhope did the pent up bitterness
of this recognition find vent. On May 16th, 1807, he wrote:--
I am sorry to see Mr Pole's speech about the Rochefort Squadron and
Sir R. Strachan, insinuating that he was well provided with
everything--and that had he been in the station that it was expected
he should have held, they could not have escaped. The fact is they
came here destitute of everything, one of his ships had not 20 tons of
water, and none of them were in a condition to follow the enemy to a
distant point. Those insinuations, though they advance nothing
positive, are disgusting--the season of the year and the situation of
the fleet on such an errand were sufficient reasons. Let your
Politicians beware how they sour the minds of such men--men whose
lives are devoted to their country. If ever they accomplish that, your
State would not be worth half-a-crown.
And again, in December of that same year, on discovering that he,
personally, had been the subject of brutal slander, his indignation burst
forth:--
_December 29th, 1808._
I have just seen in the newspapers what I conceive to be exceedingly
mischievous, and to officers who are bearing the brunt and severities
of war, is exceedingly disgusting, when the whole nation is clamorous
against the convention of Lisbon and the treaty which Sir Chas. Cotton
made with the Russian Admiral about the ships, it is stated that _I_
had made a proposition of the same kind to the Russian Commander at
Trieste which had been rejected. There is not a syllable of truth in
it. _I_ have had no correspondence with Russia, nor anything happened
that could have given rise to such a conjecture. It must therefore be
sheer mischief. There are such diabolical spirits, who, incapable of
good, cannot rest inactive but fester the world with their malignant
humours.
And meanwhile the ardent patriotism of Collingwood was deeply wounded by
the attitude of the politicians of his native land.
OCEAN, OFF TOULON, _May 16th, 1808._
The contentions in Parliament are disgraceful to our country and have
more to do with its reduction than Bonaparte has. They grieve my
heart; when all the energy and wisdom of the Nation is required to
defend us against such a Power as never appeared in Europe before--the
contest seems to be who shall hold the most lucrative office. I abhor
that kind of determined opposition; if the Ministers have not that
experience it were to be wished they had, they the more need support
and assistance. We have resources to stand our ground firmly, until
this storm is over--but it depends on the use we make of our means,
whether we shall or not.
It would appear to me good policy to make and preserve peace with all
the nations who have the smallest pretention to independence--we
should shut our eyes to many things which during the regular
Governments in Europe would deserve to be scrutinised--the laws and
rules of former times are not suited to the present--a man cannot
build a Palace during the convulsions of an earthquake, and I
sincerely hope our differences with America will be accommodated--if
favourable terms we can grant them. Are not _we_ constantly in
storms obliged to take in our topsail?--and even sometimes limit
ourselves to no sail at all? But our ship is saved by it and when the
storm is over we out with them again, and so should the State do.
The truth was that, in much, Collingwood was a more able diplomatist than
the men by whose authority he was circumscribed. His letters to Stanhope
prove that he was a more apt tactician and had a profounder grasp of the
political situation of his day than he has been credited with by
posterity. Again and again, does he foretell that a particular line of
action will be fraught with a particular result, or show how his
representations had been ignored until, too late, events had proved their
accuracy. Again and again, in some apparently trivial situation which he
had the insight to recognise was big with import, did his tactfulness
avert catastrophe which a lesser man would have hastened. "I have always
found that kind language and strong ships have a very powerful effect in
conciliating the people," he says in one letter to Stanhope, with dry
humour. And meanwhile the incompetency of many of those with whom he had
to work in alliance was a further source of trial to him. Only too
shrewdly did he recognise wherein lay the efficiency of Napoleon and the
incapacity of his opponents.
_October 7th, 1809._
Should the Austrians make their peace, which I am convinced they must,
the next object of Bonaparte will be Turkey, and probably the
Austrians be engaged to assist him in the reduction of it. All the
south part of Europe seems as if within his grasp the moment peace is
signed with Austria; he has long been intriguing with those countries,
sometimes with the Government, in other places with the people against
their Government; the arts, the dissimulations with which those
intrigues are conducted, avail him more than even the rapidity of his
armies--all the people he employs are equal to the task assigned them;
while in Austria and Spain, the operations are often directed by men
who, from Court favour, have got situations they are totally unfit
for. Catalonia has suffered much from this cause and everything has
gone wrong in Istria and Dalmatia, because there there was wanted a
man capable of conducting the war. It is true they have been removed,
but not until everything was lost by their want of skill.
And yet pitted against "such a Power as never appeared in Europe before,"
with the need of every faculty upon the alert, Collingwood was haunted
ever more and more by the dread that his increasing bodily weakness must
engender mental incapacity. A sinister note crept into his correspondence
and so early as August 26th, 1808, he wrote:--
_August 26th, 1808._
I have been lately unwell. I grow weak, and the fatigue and anxiety of
mind I suffer has worn me down to a shadow. I do not think I can go on
much longer, and intend, whenever I feel my strength less, to request
that I may be allowed to come to England. I have mentioned this to
Lord Mulgrave, but have not to the Admiralty Board.
Yet, determined not to abandon his duty, over a year later he was still at
his post.
"_Ville de Paris,_" PORT MAHON, _December 18th, 1809._
The truth is that I am so unremittingly occupied, that my life is
rather a drudgery than a service. I have an anxious mind from nature
and cannot leave to any what is possible for me to do myself. Now my
health is suffering very much, which is attributed to the sedentary
life I lead, and it may well be to the vexation my mind suffers when
anything goes counter. But when I _do_ come home, I hope I shall
not be thought to flinch, for I have worn out all the officers and all
the ships, two or three times over, since I left England.
Within a fortnight he wrote again:--
_December 29th._
I have no desire to shrink from a duty which I owe to my country, but
my declining health--the constant anxiety of my mind and fatigue of my
body--made me desire to have a little respite, and I asked to be
relieved from my command--a request which the Ministers seem to have
no disposition to grant to me, but if his lordship knew me personally
and was sufficiently acquainted with my sentiments he would know that
my request was not made without good reason. The service here requires
the most energetic mind and robust body--they cannot be hoped for in
an invalid, whose infirmities proceed from too long and unremitted
exertion of powers, but feeble at first.
Meanwhile, in Grosvenor Square, every item of news respecting the
intentions of Lord Collingwood was eagerly looked for, since on these were
dependent the movements of little William Stanhope. In the autumn of 1809
Mrs Stanhope wrote:--
William writes word that his height is 5 ft. 4 in., very fair for a
Stanhope of his age. What an affectionate creature he is, and how I
should delight in seeing him. I do not like the account he gives of
Lord Collingwood's health. If the French fleet would but come out and
he beat them, I doubt not he would then return immediately.
And on the 6th December she mentions an event which served to accentuate
the sadness of that protracted absence:--
Lord Collingwood has actually a daughter grown up. She has made her
appearance in Newcastle, very shy and distressed.
_February 27th, 1810._
We came to Town, Sunday Se'nnight. Since then Captain Waldegrave, who
was eleven months in the ship with William, and Dr Gray who was his
shipmate two years and like a Father to him, have both dined with us
and agree in their favourable accounts. He is quite well and
breakfasts every day with Lord Collingwood, with whom he also dines
three times a week, and he teaches William himself. Your father said--
"I fear he is a Pet!" To which Waldegrave answered--"It can never do
anyone harm to be Pet to Lord Collingwood!" As soon as the weather is
warm I suppose Lord C. will come back, in his last letter he said he
should leave William in a Frigate, but Dr Gray is inclined to think he
would bring him home. All the reports respecting the Toulon Fleet
being out, will, I hear, prove false.
On March 20th Mrs Stanhope wrote--"It is said that Sir C. Cotton is going
out immediately to take Lord Collingwood's command, for that he wrote word
if they did not supersede him quickly he should supersede himself. I fear
his health is very bad." Not till April, however, did this intelligence
receive confirmation--"At last Sir C. Cotton has sailed, so that, by the
end of June, Lord Collingwood may be back, having given up the command to
Sir C. Cotton. He was better the last account. Captain Waldegrave dines
here to-day, you would be exceedingly pleased with him, for his manners
are agreeable and his intelligence great."
Little did Mrs Stanhope, as she penned the reference to her dinner-party,
foresee the conditions under which this was destined to take place. Still
less did the authorities who were sending out that belated relief to the
wearied Admiral, or the family who now so joyously pictured his return,
dream how that service had been already superseded or in what guise that
return would take place. Weeks before, at Cadiz, the last act of a
prolonged tragedy had been performed. Still firmly refusing to forsake his
post till a competent successor had been appointed, Collingwood did not
surrender his command to Rear Admiral Martin till March 3rd, when a
complete collapse of strength made this imperative. Two days subsequently
were lost in the vain endeavour to leave port in the teeth of a contrary
wind, but on March 6th, the _Ville de Paris_ succeeded in setting sail for
England.
The day of days in Collingwood's life had at last arrived--that day to
which he had looked forward throughout the weary years, when, his task
honourably concluded, he could know that every beat of the waves was
bearing him towards home and his loved ones. Yet as, prostrated with
weakness, he lay in his cabin, listening to the familiar fret of the
waters, he understood that the burden had been borne too long, the
promised relief had come too late.
With the same dauntless courage with which he had faced existence he now
accepted the knowledge that this day--the thought of which had sustained
him through loneliness and battle and tempest--was to prove the day of his
death. History indeed presents few events of an irony more profound. At
sunset on March 6th, Collingwood set sail for England; at sunset on the
7th, he lay dead, and that fortitude with which he met a fate, the
harshness of which must have cruelly enhanced his bodily anguish, presents
to all time a sublime ending to a sublime career.
Meanwhile in England those whom he had loved continued to count the
lessening days to his return and to plan with tender solicitude every
means for cherishing and restoring the enfeebled frame which they fondly
believed needed but care and happiness to endow it with renewed health.
Little as they recked of the burden which the waves were, in truth,
bringing them, the knowledge, when it arrived, came with a blow which
stunned. In the first announcement of the news, the very terseness of the
communication seems to recreate more vividly the intense feeling which the
writer knew required no insistence.
On April 17th, 1810, Stanhope wrote briefly to the Vicar of Newcastle:--
GROSVENOR SQUARE.
DEAR SMITH,
You are the fittest person I know at Newcastle to execute with
propriety a most painful & most melancholy office. I have only this
moment been apprised of the loss both the public and the Collingwood
family have sustained, and am so shocked with the intelligence that I
can hardly write legibly. I enclose the letter. I am sure you will
communicate it with all delicacy & due Preparation to Lady Collingwood
& Mr and the Miss Collingwoods. Mrs Stanhope will endeavour to see
Miss Collingwood to-morrow. Pray assure them of my readiness to be of
every assistance to them in my power.
Of the manner in which the news arrived, Mrs Stanhope furnishes more
details.
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _April 23rd, 1810._
MY DEAR JOHN,
"I little thought when I wrote to you on Tuesday last that I should,
before that post went out, hear the afflicting intelligence of the
death of our great and valuable Friend, Lord Collingwood, whose loss
is a publick calamity. But I will enter into particulars.
"Just after I went out at three, a second post arrived from Captain
Thomas, desiring your father to communicate the dreadful tidings to
poor Lady Collingwood. It was five when we received the letter; your
father immediately enclosed the letter to the Vicar, to desire he
would break it to the family, and I wrote to the Mistress of the
School to acquaint the second girl. She wished to see no one or I
should have called the next day. Mr Reay heard of the event before we
did and recollecting that the Papers at Newcastle were delivered an
hour before the letters, wisely sent off an Express; therefore I trust
there was time for her to be somewhat prepared for the worst.
"With respect to ourselves, I need not tell you how shocked we were,
and unfortunately, we had not only a large party to dinner that night,
but some people in the evening. Amongst those who dined with us was
Captain Waldegrave, who had not heard of it till he came here, and I
never saw anyone so distressed, for Lord Collingwood had been a Father
to him as well as to William; and he is one of the most pleasing young
men I ever met with. Two days afterwards he brought here Mr Brown, the
flag-lieutenant of the _Ville de Paris_, who gave me many interesting
particulars, and spoke highly of William.
Your father has seen Lord Mulgrave twice, and it is settled that a
monument at the Publick expence shall be executed for Lord
Collingwood. He cannot have a publick funeral, but they wish the
family to bury him at St Paul's near Lord Nelson, which your father is
this day to write to propose, and I think it impossible Lady
Collingwood can have any objection, in which case it will be attended
by the Lords of the Admiralty & his own private friends. The Body is
now at Greenwich, for it arrived at Portsmouth as soon as the letters
announcing his death. He died like a hero, and when that character is
added, as it was in him, to the Christian, it is great indeed.
On the same date Mr Stanhope wrote to his son--"I saw Lord Mulgrave the
night before last, who desired I would inform Lady Collingwood and the
family that it was meant to move in the House for a monument for Lord
Collingwood in St Paul's, next to Nelson's. Of course the Body, which has
arrived in the Thames, will be deposited in that Church, and the funeral
must be splendid without ostentation--at the expense of the executors, or
rather of the family." It was not, however, till May 8th that Mrs Stanhope
was enabled to furnish her son with full details of the manner in which
the intended ceremony was to be performed.
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _May 8th., 1810._
I can tell you what Lord C.'s funeral is to be. It is to take place on
Friday at St Paul's. Mr C. and one of his sisters are in town. He is
anxious that it should be proper & your father has been his adviser,
but he was determined that it should be as private as possible, as
Lord Collingwood's wish on that subject was strongly expressed in his
Will.
The Body is now at Greenwich where the Hearse & ten mourning Coaches
will go. The company are to assemble at a room on the other side of
Blackfriars Bridge, where betwixt 20 & 30 are to get into the mourning
coaches, & their own are to follow, but no others. The company are, as
far as I can recollect, besides the ten relations & connections, the
first Lords of the Admiralty who have been in power since he had the
Command--Gray, Mulgrave, T. Grenville; Ld St Vincent declined on
account of health; the Chancellor & Sir Walter Scott; Admirals Ld
Radstock & Harvey, Capt Waldegrave, Purvis, Irvyn Brown, Haywood--
perhaps others; Doctors Gray & Fullerton, Sir M. Ridley & Mr Reay.
Government mean to vote him a national monument to be placed near Lord
Nelson & the Body will be placed as near his as it can be. You will be
glad to hear that there is a picture painted about a year & a half ago
which Waldegrave will get for Mr C. I therefore hope there will be a
print of him. His loss will be felt every day more & more. They say he
saved to the country more than any Admiral did before, in repairs of
the fleet; and to that country his life has been sacrificed.
A reference to Lord Collingwood written by the recipient of this letter,
John Stanhope, although it presents no new reflection upon his career, is
not without a peculiar interest in that it was a contemporary comment and
one of unstudied pathos.
Lord Collingwood, [he wrote in 1810] has sacrificed his life to his
country and to the full as much as has done his friend and commander
Lord Nelson. But Nelson's death was glorious; he fell in the hour of
victory amidst a nation's tears. Poor Collingwood resigned his life to
his country, because she required his services; he yielded himself as
a victim to a painful disease, solely occasioned by his incessant and
anxious attention to his duties, when he knew from his physician that
his existence might be spared if he were allowed to return to the
quiet of domestic life. Must not his mind have sometimes recurred to
his home; to his two daughters, now grown to the age of womanhood, but
whom he remembered only as little children; so long had he been
estranged from his country! Must he not have felt how delightfully he
could spend his old age in the society of his family, at his own house
at Chirton, the ancient possession of his ancestors, which had been
left to him by my uncle, and in the enjoyment of a large fortune,
which he had gained during his professional career! What a contrast
did the reverse of the picture show! A lingering disease, a certain
death. He repeatedly represented the state of his health to the
Admiralty, but in vain; his country demanded his services; he gave her
his life; and without even the consolation of thinking that the
sacrifice he was making would be appreciated. "If Lord Mulgrave knew
me," said he in one of his letters to my father, "he would know that I
did not complain without sufficient cause."
It was thus that Collingwood came home--that the long exile ended and the
tired frame attained to rest. On May 11th, he was laid by the side of
Nelson in St Paul's, and the comrades of Trafalgar were re-united in a
last repose. The ceremony on this occasion exhibited none of the pomp and
circumstance which attended the obsequies of the hero of Trafalgar. In
harmony with the wishes and the character of the dead man, so simple was
it that the papers emphasise in surprise that "not even the choir service
is to be sung on the occasion." And this, possibly, constitutes the sole
particular in which England endeavoured to fulfil any desire of the man
who had laid down his life in her service. His earnest request that the
peerage which had been bestowed upon him might descend to his daughter,
his pathetic representation that but for the unremitting nature of that
service he would presumably have had a son to succeed him, were callously
ignored. There were obvious reasons why Nelson's dying bequest to the
nation of the woman he had loved remained unregarded, there was none that
that of Collingwood should not have been granted and his barren honours
thus made sweet to him. But his generation mourned him with idle tears,
and succeeding generations have, possibly, done him scanty justice. Yet
one, a master-mind in English Literature, has raised an eternal testimony
to his worth--"Another true knight errant of those days," proclaims
Thackeray, "was Cuthbert Collingwood, and I think, since Heaven made
gentlemen, there is no record of a better one than that. Of brighter
deeds, I grant you, we may read performed by others; but where of a
nobler, kinder, more beautiful life of duty, of a gentler, truer heart?
Beyond dazzle of success and blaze of genius, I fancy shining a hundred
and a hundred times higher the sublime purity of Collingwood's gentle
glory. His heroism stirs British hearts when we recall it. His love and
goodness and piety make one thrill with happy emotion.... There are no
words to tell what the heart feels in reading the simple phrases of such a
hero. Here is victory and courage, but love sublimer and superior."
Nevertheless there is, in truth, little which appeals to the imagination
of posterity in the story of that drab martyrdom. Moreover Collingwood is
judged, not individually but by comparison. For ever he is obscured by the
more dazzling vision of Nelson. It weighs little in his favour that,
devoid of the vanity and the weakness which made of the latter a lesser
man even though a greater genius, Collingwood, throughout his life,
exhibited a nobility of soul which was never marred by one self-seeking
thought, one mean word, one base action. That very fact militates against
him. Collingwood had no dramatic instinct, and in the great issues of life
he never played to the gallery; he has not even attached to his memory, as
has Nelson, the glamour of a baffling and arresting intrigue. And there
remains eternally to his disfavour that he did not die at the
psychological moment. Whether he was, as some recent researches might lead
us to believe, a greater strategist than Nelson, as he was undoubtedly a
man of stronger principles and more disinterested motives, of wider
education and of profounder political insight, it is not our province here
to inquire. On his column in Trafalgar Square, to all time, Nelson stands
aloft surveying the generations who do him homage; far away, on the shores
of Tynemouth, a solitary figure of Collingwood, not erected till 1845,
gazes out across the ocean of his exile. It is as though the loneliness
which tortured that great soul in life haunts him beyond the grave, as the
adulation which was balm to Nelson's soul remains his portion to all
eternity. There might even be imagined an unconscious irony in the last
reference to Collingwood which occurs in the Stanhope correspondence,
wherein Mrs Stanhope, after the first horror which the news of her
kinsman's death had evoked, sums up thus the immediate effect of that
event upon her family life:--
_May 10th._
London is very gay now.... To give you some idea how we go on, I will
mention some of our engagements. To-night Opera; tomorrow, concerts at
Mrs Boehms and Lady Castlereagh's; Thursday, Dow. Lady Glyn, Lady de
Crespygny musick, and Lady Westmorland's; Saturday, Opera; 23rd., 24th
and 26th Balls. On Friday, of course, there are cards, but I shall not
go out on account of its being the funeral of our justly-lamented
friend.
CHAPTER III
1806-1807
ON DITS FROM YORKSHIRE, LONDON AND RAMSGATE
Three years before his death, in the midst of the stress and labour which
was undermining his bodily strength, Collingwood had written with regard
to this same wearing anxiety--"My astonishment is to find that in England
this does not seem to enter into the minds of the people, or at least not
to interrupt their gaieties. England on the verge of ruin requires the
care of all; but when that _all_ is divided and contending for power, then
it is that the foundation shakes."
To the lonely Admiral tossing on the ocean of his exile, absorbed in that
mighty problem of England's defence, the attitude of his countrymen at
home--their callousness and absorption in trivialities--had seemed well-
nigh incredible. But propinquity affects proportion, and as a small object
close at hand looms larger to the eye than a vast object upon a distant
horizon, so the anomaly continued to be witnessed in England which has
often formed part of the history of nations. Possibly one of the strangest
phases of the French Revolution was that in which--while heads fell daily
and the land ran blood--the round of theatres continued without
interruption and the existence of a certain section of the public remained
undisturbed. Thus it is not surprising to find, after the storm of feeling
which was roused by the Battle of Trafalgar, how quickly personal
interests superseded national, and the social life of the country reverted
placidly to its normal groove.
True that Nelson's great victory, even while it had dealt a final and
shattering blow to Napoleon's maritime power, had not been fraught with
the vast consequences which in the moment of exultation it was fondly
believed had been achieved. Bonaparte's supremacy in Europe remained
unshaken, and his victory of Austerlitz, following hard upon Trafalgar,
minimised the latter, while it crushed with despair the dying heart of
Pitt. As we have seen, that year dawned darkly which was to witness the
death of two of England's foremost statesm
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