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 hisNaval Historyis 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, gaveThe 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 haveno 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 theSovereignand 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 belight—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 andwilltrade—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 ishisbequest."
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 theWindsor Castleweighed 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 onlyreal Powerat 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 hadrobbedhim, 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 feelingswhen 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 thatIhad 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.Ihave 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 notweconstantly 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 Idocome 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 herappearance 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, theVille de Parissucceeded 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:—
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.
"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 theVille 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.
1806-1807
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 thatallis 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 statesmen, the great Tory in January, the great Whig in September; but while, big with import, history traced the tale of such giant upheavals in the national life, in strange contrast comes the quiet ripple of contemporary gossip.
"The Prince," wrote Mrs Stanhope from Yorkshire in the middle of September, "returns to attend Fox's funeral & then has said he will immediately come back to make his promised visits to Wentworth, Raby and Castle Howard." On the 20th of September Marianne wrote to her brother an account of H.R.H. attending Doncaster Races.
Doncaster Races were not near so splendid as they were expected to have been, few south country people, none of distinction.
The Prince of Wales looked wretchedly; he is thought to be in a bad state of health and was to be cupped last Monday. He arrived at Doncaster abouttwoin the morning, and the yeomanry commanded by Mr Wortley met by order to escort him into the town atnine the next morning, so that wasmanqué. The ball was very ill-managed, the Prince arrived at the rooms before they were lighted, neither of the stewards there to receive him—quite scandalous, I think.
The Same.Nov. 16th.
The Royal visitors at Wentworth were magnificently received. Lord Milton [1] exerts himself much in politicks, his onlyforteperhaps, however, that is better than if it were his onlyfoible. Lady Milton charms everybody, I have never met with one exception.
The Prince, of course you know, inspected the Cavalry at Doncaster andcomplimented them much. They were out five days on permanent duty, onone of which Mr Foljambe gave the whole regiment a dinner in theMansion House, a whole pipe of wine was consumed.
Lord Morpeth, [2] I am rejoiced to hear got his election. Mr Howard, his brother, is a very gentlemanlike, very handsome young man, worthy of his sister Lady Cawdor. [3] Would you believe it he has never been at Stackpole.
We were much disappointed on Friday by the non-arrival of Mr Wilberforce, [4] as I had promised myself much pleasure, even from so short a visit from such an excellent man. I have been reading some of hisViews of Christianity, and tho' I believe it is in some parts rather methodistical, I think it quite an angelic book. If he talks as he writes he must be charming.
CANNON HALLNovember 28th, 1806.
A most dreadful and fatal accident happened on Tuesday at Woolley [5] about seven in the Evening. Mrs Fawkes, [6] Mother to Mrs Wentworth, went to an unfinished window, fell out & was killed on the spot. She fell eleven yards perpendicular height.
Mr Wentworth, and his brother Mr Armytage, were here. Mrs Wentworth was not well, & had not accompanied them, therefore she was at home at the Moment, & poor Mrs Farrer, sister to Mrs Fawkes was actually in the room. They immediately sent for Mr Wentworth, & you may imagine the distress in which he left us. Poor Mrs Wentworth had only just recovered from the shock of her Governess dying after an illness of a few days.
To turn to a more cheerful subject—as the occupations of this house interest you, I must describe the present drawing-room trio. Hour eight; tea ordered; at the top of the table, in a great chair, Anne, reading the Roman history. At the bottom, Marianne with two folios, making extracts from Palladio on Architecture. My occupation speaks for itself. I greatly doubt whether a busier scene could be found at Oxford at the same hour.
Miss Baker [7] mentions that Yarborough has been ill at Cambridge & wishes to know whether it arises from their intense studying that the young men at the Universities are so frequently indisposed.
Mrs Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope.GROVE,January 26th, 1807.
We are now returning to town, your father arrived there last Thursday.The waggon with our goods was overturned twice in going from CannonHall to Wakefield….
This day se'nnight we left home, & called at Woolley, but Mrs Wentworth was not well enough to see us. Thence we waded through the worst possible road to Hensworth where we found Sir Francis (Wood) with the gout and Lady Wood like a Ghoul….
More bad roads to Fryston where we found, including ourselves, a party of seventeen, three less than was expected, among others Lord and Lady Galway [8] and two Miss Moncktons.
The noise, riot and confusion of the house I shall not attempt todescribe.
On the following day they drove from Fryston to a ball in the neighbourhood, of which Mrs Stanhope relates:—
We arrived about nine. The ball-room was beautiful. It was hung with white Calico, with a wreath of evergreens round the top of the room and festoons from it of the same all round; the only fault wasthe pure white of the Calico made all the ladies look dirty. There were 160 or 170 people, many I did not know, many Men, but where the majority came from I cannot pretend to say; Darlingtons, Ramsdens, Cookes, Taylors, etc, and our large party the chief from the neighbourhood.
The dances were too long and too crowded, which made it not pleasant for the dancers, but it was a fine ball, upon the whole, but much inferior in every respect to Kippax.
Your sisters danced a good deal, and both of them with a Bond Street lounger whose name was Carey. I believed he was rouged. He desired his hostess to introduce him to a partner, stipulating—"But let her be charming!" and as she had promised Anne,shehad the good fortune, and I suppose he found her what he wished, for he afterwards honoured Marianne, and they were both vastly amused at his conceit and folly.