"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 And the prosecutions were only withdrawn on the culprits undertaking to apologise for their conduct, as well as to recoup all who had suffered through their misbehaviour.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 ofHamlet. 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 hisdébutthis 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 famousLife 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 shootanywhereon 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 warnedhimoff! "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 theéliteamong 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'sHenry 8th, Warton on Pope,Cowper's Letters, andThe 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 Ilike, 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 bypainting themit 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 hisownhired horse all bedaubed with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the Livery Stables has never found out the trickwehave 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 atl'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 beingbeasts and puking whelps, and brutes. They frequentlyblest 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 placenearest 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. Inaddition to our great National losses is now the death of LordCornwallis—a man who was a blessing and ornament to his country.Awful and critical is the present period. Woronzow, the RussianMinister, is likewise dead. He is brother to the Woronzow who isAmbassador here. [29]
In our Peerage there are also great changes, Lord Coventry, LordSomers, and it is said, Lord Uxbridge, arealldead.
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 offaisant 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 likeeffroi, which Madame Bonaparte took forFroidand 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 superbprésent de nocesfor 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 thisChancellor 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 andvertu.
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 ourDancing Chancellorwill 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 firetwice, 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-knownVestiges 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 theobjets d'artwhich 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 butcontretempsfrom 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 streettill 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 thelevée 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 abon motof 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. OsborneMarkham [39] was flirting with his intended, Lady Mary Thynne, apretty-looking woman.
Mr Lyttleton, whosebon motrespecting Mrs Fox's ball so pleased MrsStanhope, 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 theFreeholders of Worcestershire? It was very short & I thinkcomprehended in these words:—"Be assured that the Hon. WilliamHenry Lyttleton will offer himself at the next county Meeting; if theFreeholders will be true to their interest & to the welfare of thecountry."
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 forpaper." "Madam," said Lyttleton in a solemn whisper, "In the little houses whichIfrequent, 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 onhisbirthday, 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 ableHow 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!
Whatwerethe Whigs doing, when, boldly pursuing,Pitt banished Rebellion, gave treason a sting?Why, they swore on their honour, for Arthur O'ConnorAnd 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 thatThe free Mountaineer, and his bonny brown bonnetHave oft gone as far as the Regular's hat.We laugh at their taunting,For all we are wantingIs 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 wantingWhat 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 notTo 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 storeyNorLawtrash nor Lawyer shall force us to part.In Grenville and SpencerAnd 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!"
1805-1810
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 theLennox, 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" offCADIZ,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, andtheywere 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 ofno 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 quittingthe 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 togetherand 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 hasgot a very fine print of him.
The clock strikes ten which announces breakfast, therefore adieu, mydear 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 sentviaStanhope 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….