CHAPTER I

Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

[Illustration: THE VISCOUNTESS ANSON]

THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER-STANHOPE

COMPILED FROM THE CANNON HALL PAPERS, 1806-1873

BY A. M. W. STIRLING

TWO VOLUMES: VOLUME ONE

"_TON_ IS INDEED A CAMELEON WHOSE HUE CHANGES WITH EVERY RAY OF LIGHT."

_ALMACK'S_

TO CHARLES G. STIRLING

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

PREFACE

The following papers, which extend over a space of nearly seventy years

during a most interesting period of our National History, may be said to

form a sequel and a conclusion to two previous publications, _Coke of

Norfolk and his Friends_, which appeared in 1906, and _Annals of a

Yorkshire House_, which appeared in 1911. They are, however, more

essentially a continuation of the latter, in which the Cannon Hall

muniments and anecdotes were brought down to the years 1805-6, from which

date the narrative is resumed in the present volume.

In that first series of Papers which was published in the Annals, the bulk

of the correspondence centred round the personality of Walter Spencer-

Stanhope, M.P., who lived from 1749 to 1821. In the present series, the

correspondence is principally addressed to or written by John Spencer-

Stanhope, his son, who lived from 1787 to 1873. Other letters, doubtless,

there were in plenty, to and from other members of the family, but only

those have survived which found their way back to the old Yorkshire house

whence so many of them had originally set forth with their messages of

love and home tidings, and which were there preserved, eventually, by the

grandmother of the present writer, Lady Elizabeth, wife of John Stanhope

and daughter of the celebrated 'Coke of Norfolk.'

The following book, therefore, is appropriately termed the "Letter-bag" of

the lady to whom its existence is due, although her personal contribution

to its contents does not commence before the year 1822, when she first

became a member of the family circle of its correspondents. In it, in

brief, is represented the social existence of two generations and the

current gossip of over half-a-century, as first set forth by their nimble

pens in all the freshness of novelty. Thus it is an ever-shifting scene to

which we are introduced. We become one with the daily life of a bygone

century, with a family party absorbed in a happy, busy existence. We

mingle with the gay throng at the routs and assemblies which they

frequented. We meet the "very fine" beaux at whom they mocked, and the

"raging belles" whom they envied. Then the scene changes, and we are out

on the ocean with Cuthbert Collingwood, in our ears rings a clash of arms

long since hushed, a roar of cannon which has been silent throughout the

passing of a century, while we gauge with a grim realisation the iron that

entered into the soul of a strong man battling for his country's gain.

Then the black curtain of death shrouds that scene, and we are back once

more in the gay world of _ton_, with its petty gossip and its petty

aims.... Later, other figures move across the boards; Wellington, as the

ball-giver, the gallant _chevalier des dames_; Napoleon, in his _bonnet de

nuit_, a mysterious, saturnine figure; his subordinates, who shared his

greed without the dignity of its magnitude; next, in strange contrast,

Coke of Norfolk, the peaceful English squire, seen thus for the first

time--not as a public character, a world-wide benefactor--but in the

intimacy of his domestic life, as "Majesty," the butt of his daughter's

playful sallies, as the beloved father, the tender grandfather, a

gracious, benevolent presence. We read the romance of his daughter, that

pretty, prim courtship of a bygone day; we see her home life as a young

wife, the coming of another race of merry children; by and by, we follow

the fortunes of graceful "little Madam" with her brilliant eyes, and see

the advent of yet another lover of a later day. So the scenes shift, the

figures come and go, the great things and the small of life intermingle.

And as we read, by almost imperceptible stages, the Georgian has merged

into the Victorian, and the young generation of one age has faded into the

older generation of the next, till we are left confronted with the

knowledge, albeit difficult of credence, that both have vanished into the

mists of the Unknown.

Meanwhile, one aspect of this glimpse into the past requires but little

insistence. Among these two generations of Stanhopes a high standard of

education prevailed. This, coupled with the opportunities which they

possessed of mingling with the best-known people of their day, both in

England and France, makes it obvious that records written by such writers,

with all the happy abandon of a complete sympathy between scribe and

recipient, have a value which transcends any more laboured enumeration of

historical data. The worth of their correspondence lies in the fact that

it presents, artlessly and candidly, the outlook of a contemporary family,

of good position and more than average intelligence, upon events ordinary

and extraordinary, under four sovereigns. And while many books have been

edited describing the sayings and doings of Royal personages and political

leaders during that period, few have yet been published which present them

in the intimate guise in which they jostle each other throughout the

following pages, and fewer still which give any adequate picture of the

social life as lived during these years by the less notable bulk of the

community.

Yet more, the writers of these letters are no mere puppets of ancient

history, who move in a world unreal to us and shadowy. Their remarks to us

are instinct with the freshness--the actuality--of to-day. Whether as

happy, noisy schoolboys and girls, or as men and women of the fashionable

world bent on pursuit of pleasure or of learning, to us they are

emphatically alive. Almost we can hear and echo the laughter of that merry

home-circle; their jests are our own, differently phrased, their joys and

sorrows knit our hearts to them across the century. They lived at a date

so near our own that it has all the charm of similarity--with a

difference; and it is just this likeness and unlikeness which lend such

piquancy to their experiences.

CONTENTS

PREFACE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CHAPTER

I. LETTERS RELATING TO THE WORLD OF _TON_, 1805-1806

II. LETTERS OF AN EXILE, 1805-1810

III. _ON DITS_ FROM LONDON, YORKSHIRE AND RAMSGATE, 1806-1807

IV. _ON DITS_ FROM GROSVENOR SQUARE AND CANNON HALL, 1808-1810

V. ANECDOTES FROM A PRISONER OF NAPOLEON, 1810-1812

VI. LETTERS FROM AN ESCAPED PRISONER, 1812-1813

VII. LETTERS FROM ENGLAND AND FRANCE, 1811-1821

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE VISCOUNTESS ANSON _Frontispiece_

_From a miniature by Cosway_

SILHOUETTES OF MRS SPENCER-STANHOPE AND HER DAUGHTERS MARIANNE AND ANNE

SILHOUETTES OF ISABELLA, FRANCES, AND MARIA SPENCER-STANHOPE

MRS TRIMMER

"THE YOUNG ROSCIUS"

CARICATURE OF SIR LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON

MADAME CATALANI

SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, BT.

_From a picture painted while he was a prisoner in the Tower_

PASSPORT GIVEN BY NAPOLEON IST TO JOHN SPENCER-STANHOPE

EDWARD COLLINGWOOD

SIR RICHARD CARR GLYN, BT.

PRINT OF GEORGE III. WHEN MAD

THE MARCHIONESS CONYNGHAM

QUEEN CAROLINE, BY HARLOWE

WALTER SPENCER-STANHOPE, AETAT. 70

_From an ivory bust_

"In town what numbers into fame advance,

Conscious of merit in the coxcombs' dance,

The Op'ra, Almack's, park, assembly, play,

Those dear destroyers of the tedious day,

That wheel of fops, that saunter of the town,

Call it diversion, and the pill goes down."

_Young_

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

For the enlightenment of those readers who have not read the previous

volumes of which the present is the continuation, it may be well to

recapitulate briefly the material with which these dealt.

In 1565 a branch of the Stanhopes came from Lancashire into Yorkshire, and

eventually settled at Horsforth, Low Hall, near Calverley Bridge, in the

latter county. During the period of the Civil Wars, a branch of the family

of Spencer migrated from the borders of Wales into Yorkshire, and in the

reign of Charles II. one of them purchased the house and land at that date

constituting the estate of Cannon Hall. In 1748 Walter Stanhope of

Horsforth united the two families by his marriage with Ann Spencer of

Cannon Hall, and their son Walter, eventually inheriting both properties

from his respective uncles, bore the name of Spencer-Stanhope.

Walter Spencer-Stanhope was for thirty-nine years a member of the House of

Commons, during which time he represented respectively Haslemere,

Carlisle, and Hull. In 1787 he married Mary Winifred Pulleine, who

inherited the estates of Roddam and Dissington in Northumberland, in trust

for her third and fourth sons. By her he had fifteen children, but his

eldest son and first-born child, owing to an accident at birth, was

rendered _non compos_, and his second son, John, was therefore in the

position of his heir.

Mrs Stanhope, an exemplary and affectionate mother, appears occasionally

to have become confused with the number of her progeny and to have been

fearful of forgetting the order of their rapid entrance into the world or

of certain events which formed a sequel to their arrival. She therefore

compiled a list of such incidents, which is here subjoined, since the

reader may find it useful for occasional reference.

_The Family of Walter Spencer-Stanhope of Cannon Hall._

Walter Spencer Spencer-Stanhope, his first-born, came into the world

about eight o'clock in the morning of the 26th of August, 1784, & was

christened in Horsforth Chapel the 25th of September following, his

Sponsors were Edward Collingwood, John Ashton Shuttleworth, Esqre., &

Mrs Lawson of Chirton. He was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 13th of

February, 1787, and had about 30 small-Pox. He had the measles very

favourably in November 1790.

Marianne, our next-born, came into the world in Grosvenor Square on

the 23rd of May, 1786, about 7 o'clock in the morning, was baptised

there on the 20th June following. Her Sponsors were Sir Richard Carr

Glyn, Mrs Stanhope, and Mrs Greame his mother and aunt. She was

inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 13th of February 1787, and was very

full. She had the measles in Grosvenor Square very favourably in March

1806. [1]

John, his third child, came into the world in Grosvenor Square on the

27th of May, 1787, between 6 & 8 o'clock in the morning. He had

private Baptism in his house that Evening & public Baptism on June

25th, 1787, or thereabouts. His Sponsors were the Earl of

Chesterfield, Sir Mathew White Ridley and Lady Glyn. He was inoculated

the 12th February, 1788, by Baron Dimsdale and had the disorder

favourably. He had the Measles and Whooping-cough at Sunbury. [2]

Anne, his 4th child, was born September 7th, 1788, between 6 & 8 in

the Morning at Cannon Hall, was christened at Cawthorne Church,

November 2nd, 1788, having received private Baptism about a Fortnight

after she was born. She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale on or about

24th of April, 1789, and had the Disorder very favourably. Her

Sponsors were the Countess of Burford, Mrs Marriott & Mr Pulleine. [3]

Catherine, his fifth Child, was born between 6 & 8 o'clock on the

morning of September, 1789, at Cannon Hall; was christened at the

beginning of November following, having received private Baptism 3

weeks before. Her Sponsors were Mrs Bigge, Mrs Anne Shafto & Colonel

Glyn, She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale, the beginning of April,

1790, and had the Disorder very favourably. She died 20th of November,

1795, of a Complaint in the Throat or Lungs, and was buried at

Cawthorne Church.

Elizabeth, our next Child, was born on the 5th of November 1790, about

1 o'clock in the afternoon, had first private Baptism & was afterwards

christened at Cawthorne Church on the 11th of December following. The

Sponsors were Mrs Ord, of Morpeth, Mrs Pulleine & Mr John Collingwood.

She was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale in March 1791 & had the disorder

very favourably. Died April 15th, 1801, of obstruction, in Grosvenor

Square, and was buried in St James's Chapel, Hampstead Road.

Edward, our seventh Child, was born on the 30th October, 1791 at 1/2

past twelve at noon, was christened at Cannon Hall in December. The

Sponsors were Mr Collingwood, Mr Fawkes of Farnley & Mr Glyn. He was

inoculated by Baron Dimsdale April 1st, 1792 & had the Disorder very

favourably. Had the measles in 1806. [4]

William, our eighth Child was born at 1/2 past four o'clock on the 4th

of January 1793, was christened on the 5th of February following, at

Cawthorne Church. His Sponsors were Admiral Roddam, Mr Carr Ibbotson

and Mrs Beaumont. He was inoculated by Baron Dimsdale the 24th of

March, 1793, & had the Disorder very favourably. He had the Measles at

Sunbury School May 1802. Went to Sea in the Ocean to join Lord

Collingwood off Cadiz, March, 1806. [5]

Thomas Henry, our ninth Child, was born at 1/2 past one in the morning

the 14th of May 1794, was christened the 9th of June following in

Grosvenor Square. His Sponsors were Lady Carr Glyn, Collingwood Roddam

Esqre., & Ashton Shuttleworth Esqre. He was inoculated by Baron

Dimsdale in April 1795 & had the Disorder very favourably. Had the

Measles at Sunbury 1802. Died April the 3rd, 1808, after a long and

painful illness. Was buried with Eliza in St James's Chapel in

Hampstead Road.

Charles, our tenth Child, born on the 14th October, 1795, christened

at Cawthorne, Sponsors Colonel Beaumont, James Shuttleworth Esqre., &

Mrs Elizabeth Roddam. Was inoculated in the spring, 1796, by Baron

Dimsdale. [6]

Isabella, our eleventh Child, was born on the 20th of October 1797, at

one in the morning, christened at Cawthorne Church the 8th of December

following. Sponsors, Mrs Roddam, Mrs Smith of Dorsetshire & Mr Smyth

of Heath. Was inoculated in Autumn 1798 by Mr Greaves of Clayton. [7]

Philip, our twelfth Child, was born January 25th, 1799, at one in the

morning; was christened by Mr Phipps February, 1799. The Sponsors were

Mr Edwyn Stanhope, the Rev. John Smith, Westminster & Lady Augusta

Lowther. Was inoculated with the Cow-pox May 1800 by Mr Knight. Had

the Measles at Putney in the Autumn, 1806. [8]

Frances Mary, our thirteenth Child was born on the 27th of June, 1800,

at 1/2 past twelve at Noon in Grosvenor Square & was christened there

by the Rev. Mr Armstrong on the 26th of July following. The Sponsors

were Samuel Thornton Esqre, Mrs Greame of Bridlington & Mrs Marriott

of Horsmonden, Kent. Inoculated with the Cow-pox by Mr Greaves in the

Autumn of 1800. [9]

Maria Alicia, our fourteenth Child, was born at Cannon Hall the 4th of

September 1802, 1/2 before seven in the Morning & was christened at

Cannon Hall by the Rev. Goodair on 22nd of October following. The

Sponsors were the Rev. D. Marriott, Mrs Henry Pulleine of Carlton &

Mrs Morland of Court Lodge, Kent. Inoculated with the Cow-pox by Mr

Whittle in Grosvenor Square the Spring following. [10]

Hugh, our fifteenth Child, [11] was born September 30th, 1804, about

five in the Morning & was christened at Cawthorne Church by the Rev.

Mr Goodair the 1st of November following. The Sponsors were Edward

Collingwood Esqre., Mr Smith of Dorsetshire & Lady Elizabeth Lowther

of Swillington. The four youngest had the measles at Ramsgate.

As will be seen by this comprehensive list, of the fifteen children of

Walter Spencer-Stanhope and his wife, three only failed to attain

maturity. The tale of their brief lives has no part in the following

correspondence, and might be dismissed without comment, save that the

mention of them serves to bring yet nearer to us that mother whose

powerful brain, warm heart and tireless pen bound to her the affections of

her children with a devotion seldom surpassed.

Of Henry Stanhope, destined to die after much suffering, many letters, not

inserted here, remain eloquent of the manner in which, throughout his long

illness, his mother denied herself to all her acquaintance and never left

his side. Of little Catherine Stanhope, who expired at the age of five,

two pathetic mementoes exist. One is a large marquise ring which never

left the mother's finger till she, too, was laid in the grave; the other a

silken tress like spun sunshine, golden still as on that day in a dead

century when, viewing it through her tears, Mrs Stanhope labelled it

tenderly--"_My dear little Catherine's hair, cut off the morning I lost

her, November 20th, 1795._" Of little Elizabeth a more curious and

harrowing reminiscence has survived.

_Grosvenor Square, Saturday, April the 28th, the day on which the

remains of my dear child were deposited in the vault at Mrs

Armstrong's Chapel between six and seven in the morning, attended by

her dear, afflicted father._

So little Elizabeth, in the spring-time of her life, passed to her grave

at a strangely early hour on that April morning; and her mother, in the

hushed house, took up the thread of life once more with pious submission

and the iron will for which she was remarkable.

At the date at which this book opens, many years had gone by since that

storm of sorrow had fallen upon her, suddenly, like a bolt from the blue.

All unsuspected, indeed, another grief, the death of her little son, was

approaching; but for the present contentment reigned.

[Illustration: MARIANNE]

[Illustration: MRS. SPENCER-STANHOPE AND HER FIVE DAUGHTERS]

[Illustration: ANNE]

[Illustration: ISABELLA]

[Illustration: FRANCES]

[Illustration: MARIA]

After celebrating the Christmas festivities, as usual, in Yorkshire, early

in January, 1805, she journeyed with her husband and family back to their

house in London, No. 28 Grosvenor Square, a building since much altered,

but still standing at the corner of Upper Grosvenor Street. [12] There she

was occupied introducing into society her clever eldest daughter Marianne,

aged nineteen, and preparing for the _début_ of her second daughter, Anne;

and thence with the dawning of that year destined to be momentous in

English history, she wrote to her son John, his father's heir-

presumptive, a youth of eighteen, who had just gone to Christ Church:

The New Year smiles upon us, and, thank God, finds us all well, except

Henry, and he gains strength. May you see many happy ones and may the

commencing year prove as happy to you as I have every reason to

believe the last was.... You are really, my dear John, the most

_gallant_ son I ever heard of to make such very flattering

speeches.... It is vastly gratifying to a mother to have a son desire

to hear from her so frequently, and such a request must always be

attended to with pleasure.

How assiduously the writer fulfilled her promise is testified by those

packets of letters, dim with the dust and blight of a vanished century,

but in which her reward is likewise attested. "I do not believe," she

affirms proudly, "that there is a man at either of the Universities who

writes so often to his mother as you do, and let me beg you will continue

to do so, for the hearing from you is one of the chief pleasures of my

life." Moreover, that family of eight sons and five daughters, who, at

this date, shared her attention, in their relations to each other were

singularly united. Throughout their lives, indeed, the tie of blood

remained to them of paramount importance, although, as often happens, this

fact bred in them a somewhat hypercritical view of the world which lay

without that charmed circle. Graphic and lively as it will be seen are

their writings, their wit was at times so keen-edged that it is said to

have caused considerable alarm to the dandies and belles of their

generation, who suffered from the too vivacious criticism of their young

contemporaries. This was more particularly so in the case of Marianne, the

eldest daughter, afterwards the anonymous author of the satirical novel

_Almack's_. Brilliant and full of humour as is her correspondence, it

shows her to have been what family tradition reports, rich in talent and

accomplishments, gifted with imagination and keenly observant of her

surroundings, but withal cynical of speech and critical of temperament--a

woman, perhaps, more to be feared than loved.

Her brother John, the recipient of most of the following letters, was, on

the contrary, a youth of exceptional amiability, and unalterably popular

with all whom he encountered. Intellectual from his earliest childhood, in

later life he was a profound classical scholar. A seven months' child,

however, the constitutional delicacy which was a constant handicap to him

throughout his existence had been further accentuated by an unlucky

accident. When at Westminster, a fall resulting from a push given to him

by Ralph Nevill, Lord Abergavenny's son, had broken his collar-bone, and

with the Spartan treatment to which children were then subjected, this

injury received no attention. But what he lacked in physical strength was

supplied by dauntless grit and mental energy, so that, although in the

future debarred by his health from taking any active part in political

life, he early attained, as we shall see, to no mean fame as a traveller

and an explorer, while he was regarded as one of the savants of his

generation.

During 1805, when he was yet a freshman at Christ Church, his younger

brothers and sisters were likewise variously employed with their

education, the boys at the celebrated schools of Sunbury and Westminster,

the girls in the seclusion of a large school-room in the rambling house in

Grosvenor Square. And that the learning for which they all strove was of a

comprehensive nature, moreover, that those of their party who had already

entered the gay world never disdained to share such labours, is shown in a

letter written many years afterwards to John by his brother Charles, in

which the writer complains sarcastically--

You have no idea how happy, year by year, as of yore, the little ones

seem--(for they will always be called so, though now Frances is as big

as me and amazingly handsome). Yet still they have not one moment of

time to themselves. They cram and stuff with accomplishments

incessantly, and they prison me in my room & won't allow me to pry

into the haunts of the Muses. Marianne and Anne have been learning to

paint for these last two years, and make (_I_ think) but slow

progress. Marianne never will have done (I wish I could be so

industrious). She is now beginning to learn the harp. They are both

learning to sing from some great star, which is only money and time

thrown away; & Isabella, Frances and Maria learn to dance of one of

the most celebrated Opera dancers. Isabella learns a new instrument

something like a guitar, called a harp-lute. Marianne and Anne, having

learnt French, German, Latin and Italian, are now at a loss to find

something left to know, and talk of learning Russian. They will be

dyed blue-stocking up to their very chins.

Allowing for the exaggeration of a schoolboy, the letter throws an

interesting light on the standard of education aimed at by those who,

despite the imputation to the contrary, had no pretension to belong to the

recognised blue-stocking coteries of their day. And the father of that

busy, happy circle, in the seriousness of his own life and aims, presented

the same contrast to many of his contemporaries which was reflected in his

family.

Fourteen years senior to his wife, and at this date in his fifty-seventh

year, Walter Stanhope had been M.P. respectively for his different

constituencies since 1775. A keen politician, he was punctilious in his

attendance at the House.

Nevertheless, as shown in a former volume, although a man of ability and

of intense earnestness of purpose, his devotion to his political labours

never wholly counteracted a certain lethargy of temperament which,

throughout his life, limited achievement. Thus, although in his youth

undoubtedly gifted with a lively fancy, or with what his generation termed

sensibility, this very trait seems at variance with the sum of his later

career. True, that under stress of emotion he could rise to heights of

impassioned oratory which provoked by its very evidence of latent power;

but the tenor of his existence was scarcely in accordance with these brief

flashes of genius, and the fulfilment of his prime belied its promise. The

record of his life remains one which commands respect rather than

admiration. Level-headed, sober in judgment and conduct, even while

possessed of a wit which was rare and a discernment at times profound, his

days flowed on in an undeviating adherence to duty which makes little

appeal to the imagination. As a churchman, as a parent, as a landowner, as

a politician he fulfilled each avocation with credit. As a man of the

world he could toy with but remain unmastered by the foibles of his age.

While a Fox and a Pitt rose to heights and sank to depths which Stanhope

never touched; while a Wilberforce was imbued with religious fervour as

with a permeating flame, Stanhope, to his contemporaries, presented

something of an anomaly. As in his early years he had been a Macaroni who

eschewed the exaggerations of his sect, so throughout life he could gamble

without being a gamester, could drink without being a toper, be a

politician without party acumen, and a man of profoundly religious

feelings devoid of fanaticism. But since he who himself is swayed by the

intensity of his convictions is he who in turn sways his fellows, possibly

the very restraint which saved Stanhope from folly debarred him from fame.

[13]

Meantime his generation was one of colossal exaggeration, both in talent

and in idiocy, in virtue and in vice. Men sinned like giants and as giants

atoned. Common sense, mediocrity--save upon the throne--were rare. Even

the fools in their folly were great. The spectacle was recurrent of men

who would smilingly stake a fortune as a wager, who could for hours drench

their drink-sodden brains in wine, then rise like gods refreshed, and with

an iron will throw off the stupor which bound them, to wield a flood of

eloquence that swayed senates and ruled the fate of nations. Even the fops

in their foppishness were of a magnitude in harmony with their period.

They could promote dandyism to a fine art and win immortality by

perfecting the rôle. Their affectation became an adjunct of their

greatness, their eccentricity an assumption of supremacy; their very

insolence was a right divine before which the common herd bowed with a

limitless tolerance.

In the world of London, as that celebrated gossip, Gronow, points out,

from generation to generation, certain men of fashion have come to the

fore amongst the less conspicuous mass of their fellows, and have been

defined by the general term of "men about town." The earlier

representatives of that race, the Macaronis of a former date, ere 1805 had

been replaced by a clique of dandies whose pretensions to recognition were

based on a less worthy footing. For while those previous votaries of

fashion, although derided and caricatured according to the humour of their

day, were, none the less, valuable patrons of art and literature, the

exquisites of a later date could seldom lay claim to such distinction. To

dine, to dress, to exhibit sufficient peculiarity in their habits and

rudeness in their manners whereby to enhance that fictitious value in the

eyes of those who did not dare to emulate such foibles, was the end and

aim of their existence. Yet it is doubtful whether posterity remembers

them less faithfully. Side by side with the great names of their century

there has come down to us the record of these apparently impudent

pretenders to fame, and it is questionable whether a Nash, a Brummell, or

a D'Orsay are less familiar to the present generation than those whose

claim to the recognition of posterity was not so ephemeral.

Thus, while the circle of acquaintance with which the lives of Stanhope

and his family at this date mingled serves to throw into sharper relief

his own divergence of character from that of many of his contemporaries--

those men who to great abilities, and sometimes to great achievement,

joined the pettiness of a fop and the follies of a mountebank--still more

did the typical man-about-town, with his whims and his foibles, his

shallow aims and his lost opportunities, compare strangely with the larger

souls of his generation. For the moment was one which called forth the

greatness or the littleness of those who met it, and which heightened that

contrast of contemporary lives.

With the coming of the nineteenth century the political outlook for

England had waxed grave. The air was full of wars and rumours of wars.

Napoleon, the mighty scourge of the civilised world, was minded to

accomplish the downfall of the one Power which still defied his strength.

"The channel is but a ditch," he boasted, "and anyone can cross it who has

but the courage to try." Boats were in readiness at Boulogne and at most

of the French ports, fitted up for the attempt, while the Conqueror of

Europe dallied only for the psychological moment to put his project into

execution. With bated breath Europe awaited the possible demolition of the

sole barrier which yet lay between the Tyrant and universal monarchy,

while upon the other side of the "ditch" the little Island expected his

arrival in a condition of prolonged tension and stubborn courage. At any

moment her blue waters and green fields might be dyed with blood. At any

moment a swarm of foreign invaders might trample her pride in the dust,

and crush her as other nations had been effectually crushed. But she meant

to sell her liberty dear. Out of a population averaging 9,000,000 souls

there were 120,000 regular troops, 347,000 volunteers, and 78,000 militia;

and still Napoleon paused.

Upon the threatened throne still sat good Farmer George and his prim

German consort, models of dull domesticity, of narrow convictions, of

punctilious etiquette--the epitome of respectable and respected

mediocrity, save when, with a profound irony, the recurring blast of

insanity transformed the personality of the stolid monarch, and shattered

the complacency of the smug little Court. Within its shelter hovered the

bevy of amiable Princesses, whose minutest word and glance yet lives for

us in the searchlight of Fanny Burney's adoring scrutiny. Afar, the sons

pursued their wild careers. The Prince of Wales, the mirror of fashion,

diced and drank, coquetted with politics and kingship, and--a very

travesty of chivalry--betrayed his friend, broke the heart of the woman

who loved him, deserted the woman who had wedded him, and tortured with

petty jealousy the sensitive soul of the child who might rule after him.

In secret silence Mrs Fitzherbert endured the calumny of the world, and

ate out her heart in faith to the faithless. With flippant and undignified

frivolity the Princess of Wales strove to support an anomalous position

and find balm to her wounded pride and weak brain; while the passionate,

all-human child-princess, Charlotte, awakening with pitiful precocity to

the realities of an existence which was to deal with her but harshly,

pitted her stormy soul against a destiny which decreed that before her the

sweets of life were eternally to be flaunted, to be eternally withheld.

* * * * *

But with the dawning of 1805 the crisis of England's fate approached

consummation. Napoleon's plans were known to be completed. Pitt's

Continental Allies were secretly arming. The sea-dogs who guarded the

safety of our shores--Nelson, Collingwood, Cornwallis, Calder--were on the

alert. Yet while England's very existence as a Nation hung in the balance,

in the gay world of London those who represented the _ton_ danced and

flirted, attended routs and assemblies, complaining fretfully of the

unwonted dullness of the town, or in their drawing-rooms discussed the

topics of the hour--the acting of the wonder-child Roscius; the lamentable

scandal relating to Lord Melville; or, ever and again--with a tremor--the

possibilities of invasion.

THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER-STANHOPE

CHAPTER I

1805-1806

LETTERS RELATING TO THE WORLD OF TON

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _January 18th, 1805._

Here we are established as of old and beginning our usual

avocations.... Our Opera-box we like extremely. I generally take some

young woman, which makes us cheerful. Miss Glyn [1] was of my party

one night, and was well pleased. Little Roscius [2] appeared again

to-night. I almost despair of seeing him, though I will try.

On Saturday morning, Marianne and I and five or six hundred others

went to hear Mr Sydney Smith [3] lecture upon the _Conduct of the

Human Understanding_. His voice is fine and he is well satisfied

with himself. I cannot say we came away much wiser, but we were well

amused. I hear that Mr Smith protests that all women of talent are

plain.

Lady de Clifford [4] is to be Governess to Princess Charlotte, Mrs and

Miss Trimmer [5] the acting ones. I doubt the mother accepting the

appointment. On the 25th February there is to be a grand ball at

Windsor.

[Illustration: MRS. TRIMMER]

_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope_.

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _February 1st, 1805._

MY DEAR JOHN,

I fear you will have thought me long in performing my promise, but as

I was to have gone to Court yesterday, I delayed writing to you until

the ceremony was over; as it is, instead of my letter being full of

royalty, peers and ribbons, you must accept nothing but the remnant of

those ideas, which the interesting hairbreadth adventures of _Tom

Jones_ have left me; in plain English the Drawing-room was put off

on account of the Queen's indisposition, and I am just at the end of

the above-mentioned delightful book. Oh! had I the wit of Partridge,

the religion of Thwackum, or the learning of Square, I might describe

with tolerable accuracy the intolerable stupidity of this great town.

The Opera is thin of company, thin of performers, thin of lights, thin

of _figurantes_, thin of scene-shifters, thin of everything! One

night we were a good deal entertained by having his R.H., & _chère

amie_ [6] in the next box to us, really they squabbled so, you

would have imagined they were man and wife....

As for Politicks, of which you ask so much, everyone here seems

discontented. All Pitt's friends, angry that he has deserted them for

Addington, and Lord Stafford, the head of them all, angry that the

ribbon should be given to Lord Abercorn--to one who has protected

rather than to one who has insulted Pitt--"Such little things are

great to little men."

The King, everyone agrees, looks charmingly and is more composed than

he has been for long. Lady de Clifford is appointed Governess to the

Princess (Charlotte)--_the bosom friend of Mrs Fitzherbert,

hélas!_--and Mrs and Miss Trimmer under her; some say they will not

accept it. Dr Fisher, Bishop of Exeter, is to be Governor. I am for

making he and Mrs Trimmer disagree about Religion.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. February 23rd._

On Thursday Marianne and I attended the Drawingroom, and so

disagreeable a crowd I never was in. Miss Drummond [7] looked very

well and Miss Glyn quite pretty--the great Hoop suits her figure. I

have not heard you mention being acquainted with a young man of the

name of Knox-Irish. [8] His father and mother live in this street, and

are friends of Mrs Beaumont's. [9]

I have finished the Life of Sir William Jones. [10] His acquirements

appear to have been wonderful--eight languages perfectly, but I think

it was twenty-eight of which he had more or less some knowledge. He

was withal a very religious man. His attainments were of the right

sort, for they fixed his principles and all his writings are in favor

of Virtue.

The speech Mr Windham made in the House of Commons was full of wit,

and would I think amuse you.

_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

(_Undated._)

The apparent good spirits in which you write, even after a

Mathematical Lecture, gives us reason to hope that that favourite

exercise has not quite deprived you of your valuable intellect Long

may it continue thus! Long may you be the glory of CH. CH.

Mathematicians; and when you have left the British Athens, long may

your name stand forward among the lists of those Worthies who

discovered that two parallel, straight lines might run on to all

Eternity without ever meeting!

As a little incitement to you to continue acquiring learning, I will

send you a short account of the manner that two Dukes of Suffolk

(_sic_) spent their time at Cambridge in 1550:

"During dinner, one of them read a Chapter of the Greek Testament, and

did afterwards translate it into English; they then said Grace, in

turns; & did afterwards propound questions, either in Philosophy or

Divinity; & so spent all the time at Meat in Latin disputation.

"When there was any Public disputation, they were always present;

every Morning they did read & afterwards translate some of Plato in

Greek, & at Supper present their Labours. They were of St John's

College, & every day were devoted to private lectures, & the Residue

they did account for."

I ought almost to apologise for sending you so long an extract, but I

thought it would remind you so forcibly of yourself and your

distribution of your time, that I was unwilling to deny you the

pleasure of the comparison.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

(_Undated._)

Thanks for the account of the distribution of your time. I flatter

myself you are too much attached to home and to the life you have led

here ever to get into the idle way of spending Sunday, which I fear

you will witness too frequently at Oxford, for from your account of

what they are obliged to do on that day, a very small portion only

need be given up to the religious duties of the day.

I was particularly pleased with a passage I met with the other day in

which Bishop Newton on the Prophecies, speaking of Lord Bolingbrook,

who, you know, was an unbeliever and from his talents and eloquence

had too much weight at the time, says, "Raleigh and Clarendon

believed, Lock and Newton believed, where then is the discredit to

Revelation if Lord Bolingbrook was an Infidel. 'A scorner,' saith

Solomon, 'seeketh Wisdom and findeth it not'"

I know not if your father took any notice of the part of your letter

to him where you mention that, in a lecture, it had been proved that

the Blacks were a species between men and monkeys--I think, for I have

not your letter, that I have stated rightly what was said. It might be

asserted, but surely could not be _proved_, and it is doctrine I

do not like, as it goes directly to justify using them as beasts of

burthen--a very good argument for a slave dealer.

_March 1st._

Your father is very well. He was sorry for the fate of the Slave Trade

Bill last night.

The Elopement and distress in the House of Petre has been the chief

subject of conversation for the last few days. Miss Petre [11] made

her escape from her father's house in Norfolk with her Brothers' tutor

on Monday last. It is said they are at Worcester and married only by a

Catholic Priest. However, Lord and Lady P. are gone there and it is

expected she will be brought back to-night. They can do nothing but

get her married to the man at Church. She is 18, he 30, and no

Gentleman. She was advertised and 20 guineas reward offered to anyone

who could give an account of the stray sheep. It is a sad History.

What misery this idle girl has caused her parents, and probably

ensured her own for life.

_Marianne Stanhope to John Spencer Stanhope._

_March 3rd._

You have doubtless read in the papers the account of Miss Petre's

elopement with her brother's tutor, Mr Philips. He is a very low man,

quite another class, always dined with the children, never associated

the least with the family, a sort of upper servant. Lady Petre thought

him rather forward, he was to have left them at Easter. She had seen

her daughter at twelve the night before, and only missed her at

breakfast. Her clothes were all gone. A friend of his, a brandy

merchant, accompanied her in the chaise, the tutor rode first. A

clergyman refused to marry them some time ago at Lambeth, but they

have since been married at Oxford by a Mr Leslie, a Catholic priest,

which is not enough. They are not yet discovered.

_The Same._

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _March 4th, 1805._

MY DEAR JOHN,

... London cannot be duller, those who remember it formerly were

astonished at the change that time has wrought, and those ho look

forward to the future, hope it will not always be so; but without a

joke, except the Opera and the house of Glyn, I have scarcely seen

anybody or been anywhere. We have three dinner engagements this week,

besides one at home, but not one Assembly. You must know that we

contrive to go out almost every night, but that it is only one degree

better, or if you please, two degrees worse, than dozing at home;

then, you know, as the existence of an Assembly is the not having room

to stir, when you have plenty of elbow room from the thinness of the

company it must be bad; besides another thing, when you have no time

for conversation, you fancy everybody is agreeable, and in fashionable

life, trust me, imagination is always preferable to reality!

Not a ball have I heard of excepting one the other night at Mr

Johnstone's, Hanover Square. Now you know, balls without dancing are

such very enchanting things! Without the Opera it requires a stretch

of imagination to know how we should have existed. Our neighbour, Mrs

Fitzherbert, in the next box to our own, affords us plenty of

amusement. I shall almost become an adept at finding out Royalty by

their conversation, from frequently overhearing what passes between

the Lady, and not only one but several of their R.H.'s. I will give

you an infallible guide to a Royal conversation. Stupidity for its

basis, an ignorance of intellectual merit for one prop, and a contempt

of moral excellence for the other; witticisms, _double entendres_,

mimickry, and every species of oaths that any English gentleman ever

made use of for the _fond_; as a whole you may call it double refined

folly and vulgarity. This is only doing justice to the conversations I

have overheard; far be it from me to wish to diminish the meridian

lustre with which these noble gentlemen shine. Let me rather forgive

_them_ for understanding who have no conduct and those for conduct who

have no understanding. The excellent qualifications of the lady as an

associate are evident, she has neither conduct nor understanding.

The ball at Windsor has been the general subject of conversation this

last week. The House of Stanhope put in a good appearance. Mrs

Pierrepont was there. The supper was most magnificent. Seats were

raised above the rest for the Royal Family; during the entertainment

the King rose, and gave the Queen's health, while everybody bowed and

curtseyed. Afterwards, the Queen repeated the same compliment to His

Majesty.

Our next-door flirt complained much to Lord Grantham at being obliged

to dance a great deal with Lord Petersham, which she thought very

tiresome. Mr Kinnaird [12] seems quite off, Lord P. quite out of

spirits. Papa thinks he really loves not her purse but _her_. She

seems to love nobody, and flirts with everybody. I saw her at Court on

Thursday se'nnight looking beautifully cross at not having a man near

her. The Drawing-room was a dreadful squash.

I have seen a good deal of the Kinnairds lately, we dine there to-

morrow and stay the evening. Georgiana is very pleased and looks well.

The Royal Institution is more the _ton_ than anything and Ladies

of all ages submit to a squeeze of an hundred people in a morning, to

hear lectures on the Human Understanding, Experimental Philosophy,

Painting, Music or Geology. We only attend a course of the latter--

don't shout at the name, it means the History of the Earth. You see

how wise I grow! Mr Eyre thinks all the ladies will be pedants, and

when you have been there, you will think so too. To see so large a

party, the majority ladies, not very handsome though all listening

with profound attention to the opinion of Descartes and Newton, some

taking notes and all looking quite scientific, is really ridiculous.

Mr Davy, [13] who lectures on Geology or the Chemical History of the

Earth, is very clever, his style is good, his matter interesting, and

to make use of an expression I heard a gentleman use, he certainly

writes on the subject _con amore_.

I hope you will like Sir Wm. Jones's life. I have not read it but have

heard it is very clever. My lectures at present are _Metastasio_,

and _St Simon's Memoirs_, the Bp. of London's lectures and Bigland's

_Letters on Ancient History_.

There is a little tale of Miss Edgeworth's which is much admired, "The

Modern Griselda," which you must read.

Of the names mentioned in this letter, that of Lord Petersham deserves

more than a passing notice. Among the members of the House of Stanhope, it

must first be remarked, there were to be found some notable exceptions to

the prevailing social type of that generation. Philip, Earl of

Chesterfield, for one, although he failed to keep up the traditions of his

famous predecessor in art and elegance, was never notorious for the

weaknesses of his day; and Charles, the 3rd Earl Stanhope, more violently

eschewed the foppishness of many of his contemporaries, devoting all his

attention to mechanical contrivances and scientific research. His

simplicity of life, however, was said to be the expression of his

Republican tendencies which he had inherited in a pronounced form from his

father, who had likewise left behind him the reputation of having been a

magnificent patron of learning. In fact, in order to emphasize his

democratic principles, so shabby had been the attire of the second Earl

Stanhope, that on one occasion he had actually been stopped by a new door-

keeper as he was about to enter the House of Lords. "Now then, honest man,

go back!" quoth this vigilant guardian of the sacred precincts; "you can

have no business in such a place, honest man!" And it was only with

considerable difficulty that the eccentric peer had asserted his right to

admittance among his fellows, whose honesty was enhanced by a more elegant

exterior.

In marked contrast, therefore, to these other members of the family, it

was in the Harrington branch that the foibles of the _beau monde_ were

cultivated with intention.

Charles, 3rd Earl of Harrington, born the same year as Charles, 3rd Earl

Stanhope, had married Jane, daughter and heiress of Sir John Fleming, Bt,

who proved no unworthy successor to her celebrated predecessor

immortalised by George Selwyn for vivacity and abnormal conversational

powers. [14] The drawing-room of this later Lady Harrington was recognised

as a great social centre where her friends could meet, if not actually

without invitation, at least at a shortness of notice which marked the

informality of the entertainment and lent to it a subtle charm. The

hostess, whose energy was unbounded, would go out in the morning and pay

about thirty calls, leaving at each house an invitation bidding her

friends to assemble at Harrington House that same evening.

She would then walk up Bond Street at the hour at which the fashionable

young men of the day were likely to be abroad, and would dart from one

side of the road to the other as she spied a suitable object for her

purpose. A circle of friends assembled thus three or four times a week,

resulted in the formation of a recognised clique, the delightful

informality of which was much appreciated by her young relations from

Grosvenor Square, and the _entrée_ into which was much envied by those who

were admitted only to the larger and more stately parties reserved for the

less favoured.

Nor were Lady Harrington's impromptu evening assemblies less celebrated

than her perpetual tea-drinkings at Harrington House. The superior quality

of this expensive beverage in which the family of Stanhope indulged there,

and the frequency with which Lady Harrington presented it to her visitors

at all hours of the day, gave rise to the saying that where you saw a

Stanhope, there you saw a tea-pot. A story current in town was that when

her son, General Lincoln Stanhope, returned home after a prolonged absence

in India, he found the family party precisely as he had left them many

years before, seated in the long gallery sipping their favourite

refreshment. On his entry, his father looked up from this absorbing

occupation, and, with a restraint indicative of the highest breeding, gave

voice to the characteristic greeting--"Hullo! Linky, my dear boy, you are

just in time for a cup of tea!"

Such a home was the very atmosphere in which to develop a fashionable man

of the period; and the eldest son of the House, Charles. Lord Petersham,

did not discredit his surroundings. Tall, handsome, and faultlessly clad,

he was one of the most celebrated dandies of his day. Decidedly affected

in his manners, he spoke with a slight lisp; and since he was said to

recall the pictures of Henri IV., he endeavoured to accentuate this

likeness by cultivating a pointed beard. He never went out till six in the

evening, and one of his hobbies indoors was the strenuous manufacture of a

particular sort of blacking which, he always maintained, once perfected,

would surpass every other. His sitting-room emphasized his eccentricity.

One side of it represented the family _penchant_, being covered with

shelves upon which were placed canisters containing the most expensive and

perfect kinds of tea. On the other, in beautiful jars, reposed an equally

choice and varied assortment of snuffs. Lord Petersham's snuff-boxes and

his canes were alike celebrated; indeed, his collection of the former was

said to be the finest in England, and he was reported to have a fresh box

for every day in the year. Thus Gronow relates that once when a light

Sevres box which he was using, was admired, Lord Petersham responded with

a gentle lisp--"Yes, it is a nice summer box--but would certainly be

inappropriate for winter wear!"

Caricatures of the period represent the heir to the Earldom of Harrington

clad in light trousers and a brown coat, seated upon a brown prancing

horse. One of his whims, indeed, was to affect everything brown in hue--

brown steeds, brown liveries, brown carriages, brown harness and brown

attire. This was attributed to the fact of his having been in love with a

fair widow of the name of Brown, whose charms he thus endeavoured to

immortalise; but whatever the truth of this rumour, it is evident from the

letter of Marianne Stanhope, that at the age of twenty-five he honoured

with his devoted attention a lady whose personal attractions and unamiable

disposition afforded a fund of entertainment to his relations living next

door to her in Grosvenor Square. And this sidelight on the character of

the dandy gives pause to criticism. How much, perhaps, of the eccentricity

for which Lord Petersham was remarkable, like that of the celebrated Lady

Hester Stanhope, may be attributed to the buffetings of a secret fate?

Yet, this man who, with exceptional abilities and exceptional opportunity

for exercising those abilities, could contentedly fill his empty days with

the manufacture of blacking, or pass an entire night, as Gronow relates

him to have done, playing battledore and shuttlecock for a wager with Ball

Hughes, was, in much, a typical product of his generation. His mannerisms

were accepted by his contemporaries with a forbearance which bordered on

admiration, and, however childish his peculiarities, he remained

unalterably popular. Nor were the other members of his family less

appreciated for their good-nature and amiability.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _March 19th, 1805._

I shall employ my Pen in sending you an account of last night's

gaiety--the first really gay night Marianne has had.

We began our evening at a concert at Mrs Methuen's, from thence we

proceeded to a very fine Assembly at the Ladies' Townshends, and about

twelve arrived at the Duchess of Bolton's, where we found them

tripping on the light fantastick toe with great spirit. Marianne found

herself near Lady A. Stanhope, [15] who was extremely attentive to

her, & her first partner introduced to her by Lady Harrington was Mr

Mercer. After supper she danced a Reel, and afterwards two dances with

Mr Dashwood, & then two with Mr Cooke of the Guards. I need not, after

this account of the ball say she was well amused. There were a great

many men & very young ones, not too fine to dance. Lord Alvanley [16]

is not amongst the smartest. Hay Drummond amused me, for _at five in

the morning_, he asked me if I had a daughter there!--I was in bed

by 1/2 after five.

Marianne is quite well this morning and very well disposed to go to

Almack's if your father does not object. On Thursday we go to another

ball at Lady Ledespenser's.

We have now delightful weather, soft rain yesterday; therefore I

expect a pull in the Sociable will be delightful to-day & do us all

good after our night's raking.

The Duchess of Bolton, [17] who was a cousin of Walter Stanhope, had been

a widow since 1794, when the dukedom became extinct on the death of her

husband. The latter, well known during the lifetime of his elder brother

as the eccentric Lord Henry Paulet, was believed to have supplied Smollet

with his character of Captain Whiffle in _Roderick Random_. For many years

he had resided at Bolton--formerly Baltimore--House, a quaintly

constructed, solitary mansion, standing on the outskirts of London amid

rural scenery, and encircled by a fine garden. Celebrated for its

hospitality in those the last days of its splendour, Bolton House had

opened its portals nightly to the guests who drove down from town to take

part in the festivities there, amongst the most frequent of whom had been

Walter Stanhope and his young wife. The duchess, however, subsequent to

her husband's death, had heard with dismay of a projected transformation

in her surroundings. The erection of new buildings in the neighbourhood

was predicted--houses which would blot out the rural scenery and for ever

destroy the privacy of her country home. And although this dreaded

innovation did not actually come to pass till 1801, long before the first

stone of Russell Square had been laid, the duchess had sold her threatened

mansion to Lord Loughborough, a friend of Walter Stanhope, and had

established herself in a new home but four doors from the house of the

latter, No. 32 Grosvenor Square.

Settled thus in the heart of London, her love of entertaining remained

undiminished, and beneath her hospitable roof the House of Stanhope, in

its various branches, continued to assemble as of yore. There Lady

Harrington still figured as one of the most constant guests, ever ready to

do a kindly action to any of her young relations whom she encountered. Mr

Mercer, whom she presented to Marianne Stanhope at the party on March

18th, was, as she was well aware, a man greatly in request in society, and

to whom an introduction was eagerly coveted on account of his exceptional

talent for music. Gifted with a remarkably fine voice, he sang duets in

company with a friend, in Greek, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and English.

"Mercer's voice and both their tastes are exquisite," relates Lord

Glenbervie at this date. "They accompany themselves, Mercer on the

Pianoforte, Gill on a Spanish guitar, which he has had made under his own

directions in London. Their foreign airs and words they have chiefly

picked up recently from ballad-singers in the streets."

Marianne Stanhope was therefore fortunate in securing this acquaintance,

as she was in having for a partner "Mr Cooke of the Guards," better known

in London society as "Kangaroo Cooke," for many years private aide-de-camp

and secretary to the Duke of York, and of whom Gronow relates that, "He

was in the best society and always attracted attention by his dandified

mode of dress." Still more, besides frequenting all the _Ton_ parties in

London at night, during the day he was invariably to be seen somewhere

between the barracks of the Horse Guards and the premises of Weston the

tailor in Bond Street, an ultra-fashionable promenade, which he paced and

re-paced, thus satisfactorily exhibiting the beauty of his clothes and

encountering the most select members of his acquaintance.

The curious nickname which clung to this dandy through life is usually

ascribed to a quaint resemblance noticeable in him to the Australian

quadruped after which he was called; but others attributed it rather to

the leaps and bounds by which he advanced socially, though on account of

his connections and the exquisite perfection of his dress this could not

be considered surprising. The fact that he bore such a name was well known

to him, and only on one occasion did it cause him any annoyance. Once,

when dining on board the flag-ship off Lisbon with Admiral Galton, he was

much startled by his host suddenly springing up and shouting out a

mysterious order, the terms of which seemed like a veiled insult. "Make

signal," thundered the Admiral, "for the _Kangaroo_ to get under way!" For

one instant the dismayed beau feared that this was a nautical form of

dismissal due to some offence of which he had unwittingly been guilty; but

his neighbour at table relieved his fears by explaining that the Admiral

was merely directing the immediate departure of one of the vessels of his

squadron, which, by a strange coincidence, bore the same name as his

honoured guest.

But a yet more celebrated leader of fashion mentioned by Mrs Stanhope as

being present at the ball given by the Duchess of Bolton was Lord

Alvanley. One of the accepted dandies in the same category as Lord

Petersham, the Duke of Argyle, Lords Foley and Worcester, Beau Brummell

and his great friend, Henry Pierrepont, Lord Alvanley had served with

distinction in the army, and further enjoyed the reputation of being one

of the wittiest men in Europe. Short and somewhat stout, with a small nose

and florid cheeks usually adorned with a lavish sprinkling of snuff, like

his rival Lord Petersham, he cultivated a lisp which accentuated the

humour of his utterances. He also adopted much the same method of

enhancing his value by indulging in certain peculiarities which, however

inconvenient to his fellows, appear to have been accepted by them with

surprising amiability. For instance, being fond of reading in bed, when he

at length felt sleep overpowering him, he would extinguish his candle by

the novel method of popping it alight under his bolster, or flinging it

into the middle of the room and taking a shot at it with his pillow--but

if the shot was unsuccessful, with a heavy sigh he left it to take its

chance. So well known, indeed, was this little habit of Lord Alvanley,

that hostesses who were anxious not to have their houses set on fire at

midnight would depute a servant to watch in a neighbouring apartment till

his lordship composed himself to sleep, a precaution which was invariably

adopted by Mrs Stanhope when he paid his annual visit to Cannon Hall.

However, despite such minor failings, Lord Alvanley enjoyed a popularity

seldom surpassed. To his other recommendations was added that of being a

celebrated _gourmet_, and the excellence was proverbial of the little

dinners which he gave in his house in Park Street, St James's, to which

never more than eight friends were bidden, and at which there was an

apricot tart on the sideboard all the year round. Moreover, although like

Brummell and Sheridan, many a _bon mot_ was fathered upon him to which he

had never given utterance, yet his reputation as a wit was well deserved,

and at a date when both the dandies and the fine ladies prided themselves

upon their undisguised insolence, Lord Alvanley remained a shining example

of good-nature, so that, save, perhaps, in one instance recorded in this

book, his wit never offended. Likewise, only once, it is said, did he

exhibit reluctance in consenting to oblige anyone who requested from him a

favour, on which occasion he conveyed his refusal in a singularly

characteristic manner. Some friends were anxious to get up a

representation of _Ivanhoe_, and begged Lord Alvanley to take the part of

Isaac. "That I fear is impossible," he replied. "Why so?" urged his

friends, "since you are so clever at doing different characters." "Ah,

but--" objected Lord Alvanley, "in all my life I have never been able to

_do_ a Jew!"

In truth, with the House of Israel his extravagance had made him painfully

familiar; nevertheless, as mentioned by Lord Broughton, on one occasion he

made his peccadilloes in this respect the subject of another jest. "Is

there any chance," he asked with assumed pathos, "of the ten tribes of

Israel being recovered? For I have exhausted the other two!"

* * * * *

It was three months after the ball at Bolton House, which had been

preceded by a concert at Mrs Methuen's that Mrs Stanhope mentions

attending another entertainment given by the latter hostess, to which she

went shortly after an evening of painful excitement.

_Tuesday, June 18th, 1805._

You would read in the papers of the riot at the Opera House. So

complete and mischievous a one I never before saw, or ever wish to see

again. I saw part of the stage pulled up and thrown into the Pitt, and

when the scene was thrown down, it was only wonderful people were not

killed, as the stage was full. Notwithstanding the damage was said to

amount from £900 to £1200, we are to have an Opera to-night.

It was said the House of Peers intended to, object to the Commons

prosecuting one of their House, but I have not heard anything more of

it--so I suppose it will pass over.

It formed the great topick of conversation at the Methuen's ball where

we were till five this morning--fine, but dull--the best supper I

ever saw.

The Opera House, at the date of this occurrence, was usually a brilliant

and attractive scene. The accommodation was divided into seats in the

gallery, boxes and pit. The latter, where many of the _élite_ were seated,

was separated from the stage by the orchestra only, which then consisted

of less than half the number of performers of which it would be composed

to-day. There were, consequently, no stalls, but a passage led from the

entrance to the front seats, known as Fop's Alley from the dandies who

lounged and promenaded there, partly to see and partly to be seen by the

ladies with whom the house was filled.

The dress of these exquisites was ruled by a punctilious etiquette, and

their knee-breeches, lace ruffles, diamond buckles, and _chapeaux bras_

were subject to the strictest regulations and to every fluctuation of the

prevailing mode. Their gold-handled spy-glasses were impartially directed

towards the stars upon the stage or to the belles in the neighbouring

boxes, where, from the grand tier to the roof, was a dazzling display of

beauty and of fashion. Their excursions to the Green Room were likewise

interspersed with visits to those amongst the audience to whose boxes they

had the entree; and as they murmured platitudes to their fair

acquaintance, they traced languidly the locality of yet other friends whom

they could visit, whose names were inserted upon the paper fans with which

each lady was provided, and on which was printed a diagram of the boxes

and a list of their owners throughout the great building.

But on this momentous night the very atmosphere of the place was

transformed. At the first token of the coming storm, many of the

frightened beaux hurriedly vacated their beloved promenade, while certain

peaceable members of the audience also endeavoured to escape from the

building. But the majority remained, brazenly instigating or prolonging

the disgraceful scene which followed. The cause of the sudden riot was

afterwards related personally by Michael Kelly, the then celebrated actor

and stage manager.

On account of the length of the arias and ballets, and the impossibility

of being able to get the lady-singers ready to begin in time, the operas

seldom finished till after twelve o'clock on Saturdays. The Bishop of

London had therefore sent to inform Kelly that if the curtain did not drop

before midnight, the licence should be taken away and the house shut up.

Against this fiat there was no appeal, and for two or three weeks running,

Kelly was obliged, on Saturday night, to order the closing of the

performance in the midst of an interesting scene in the ballet. On these

two or three occasions this was submitted to with unexpected good-humour

by the subscribers and the general public, but such a state of affairs

could not long continue.

"On Saturday, the 15th of June (Oh! fatal night!)," Kelly relates, "the

demon of discord appeared in all his terrors in this hitherto undisturbed

region of harmony. The curtain fell before twelve o'clock, just as

Deshayes and Parisot were dancing a popular _pas de deux_. This was the

signal for the sports to begin: a universal outcry of `Raise the curtain!

Finish the ballet!' resounded from all parts of the House; hissing,

hooting, yelling, (in which most of the ladies of quality joined)

commenced.

"The ballet master, D'Egville, was called for, and asked 'Why he allowed

the curtain to drop before the conclusion of the ballet?' He affirmed that

he had directions from me to do so. I was then called upon the stage, and

received a volley of hisses, yellings, etc. I stood it all, like brick and

mortar; but at last, thinking to appease them, I said the truth was that

an order had been received from the Bishop of London to conclude the

performance before midnight. Some person from the third tier of the boxes

who appeared to be a principal spokesman called out--'You know, Kelly,

that you are telling a lie.' I turned round very coolly and looking up at

the box from whence the lie came, I said, 'You are at a very convenient

distance; come down on the stage and use that language again, if you

dare!'

"This appeal was received by the audience with a loud burst of applause,

and the universal cry of 'Bravo, Kelly: well replied!--turn him out! Turn

the fellow out of the boxes!' The gentleman left the box, but did not

think proper to make his appearance on the stage. This was a lucky turn as

regarded myself, but did not appease the rioters; for finding their

mandate for drawing up the curtain and finishing the ballet was not

obeyed, they threw all the chairs out of the boxes into the Pitt, tore up

the benches, broke the chandeliers, jumped into the orchestra, smashed the

pianoforte, and continued their valourous exploits by breaking all the

instruments of the poor unoffending performers. Having achieved deeds so

worthy of a polished nation, and imagining no more mischief could be done,

they quitted the scene of their despoliation with shouts of victory."

There was, however, a finale to the drama which the rioters did not

expect. Mr Goold, a lawyer and great friend of Kelly, identified some of

the ringleaders and brought actions against them for damages which cost

them many hundreds of pounds. The lustres, scenes and musical instruments

which had been destroyed alone were estimated at £1500. And the

prosecutions were only withdrawn on the culprits undertaking to apologise

for their conduct, as well as to recoup all who had suffered through their

misbehaviour. Meanwhile, many persons were frightened from attending the

Opera for fear of a repetition of such scenes, and the rival attraction of

the performances given by the young Roscius prospered in proportion.

This infant prodigy, who was born in 1791, first appeared on the stage at

the age of eleven, and for over five years personated the most difficult

characters before enraptured audiences, earning from fifty to seventy-five

guineas per night, apart from benefits, so that he really made from £4000

to £5000 a year.

In 1805, the House of Commons adjourned in a body to witness his

performance of _Hamlet_. Wherever he appeared an excited mob instantly

gathered; ladies vied with each other in the endeavour to kiss his hand,

and at the hour when he was expected at the Play House a larger crowd

assembled than ever collected to see the king. "He and Bonaparte now

divide the world," wrote Sir William Knightly at this date; "This is, I

believe, the first instance since the creation, of a child so much under

age, getting such an income by any ability. I think he is very excellent,

his gracefulness is unparalleled and the violence of the desire to see him

either on or off the stage is like a madness in the people."

In the autumn of 1805, Roscius went a tour in the Provinces; in August of

that year he was in the North, and Mr Smith, the Vicar of Newcastle

(formerly tutor to the sons of Walter Stanhope) wrote to Mrs Stanhope an

account of the prodigy's reception there:--

_August 19th_.

The Young Roscius is engaged here for three nights, and makes his

_début_ this evening in the play of "Douglas"; places are as yet

allowed to be taken only for the first four nights of his performance,

and so great is the expectation of Newcastle, that if the boxes had

held double the number of spectators, all the seats would have been

taken.

But whatever impression the young actor made on the other inhabitants of

Newcastle, the verdict pronounced by the critical Mr Smith is very

modified praise:--

For Mrs Stanhope's comfort and the credit and taste of the people of

Newcastle, I add that Master Betty has had a very good Benefit,

considering the thinness of the Town. I should conjecture the house

amounted to about £95; and admitting that he mouths a good deal, is

indistinct in his lower tones, and does not pronounce very accurately,

I was not displeased with his performance of Warwick in the play "Earl

of Warwick."

[Illustration: MASTER WILLIAM HENRY WEST BETTY, "THE YOUNG ROSCIUS" _From

an engraving by J. Ward after J. Northcote._]

Despite this far from enthusiastic verdict, great was the excitement of

the Stanhope family to hear that the next county to be visited by Roscius

was Yorkshire, whither they usually returned before Christmas. Ere that

date, however, their thoughts were much occupied by a double tragedy, the

death within a month of their friends, Lord and Lady Kinnaird. [18]

_November 2nd, 1805._

I sent you word of the truly deplorable situation of the two poor

Kinnairds; within one month deprived of both parents, and all their

brothers in Yeomanry. When the last accounts were received, the

present Lord Kinnaird was at Vienna. Lady K. did not, as I sent you

word, die in her carriage, tho' in it when she was seized. Lord K. was

dining at the Ordinary at Perth races and was seized at dinner, the

Uvula descending into the Windpipe. He recovered sufficiently to

return into the room, but did not survive many days.

Lord Primrose [19] from whom the whole detail came, sent us also an

account of his gaieties, he and his father had been a tour in Scotland

and had not neglected to visit at Drummond Castle with which he was

enchanted, which he could not well fail being, as the lady of the

Castle [20] is a passionate admirer of it, and takes great pleasure in

it and manages much about the Estate.

We have at last concluded Roscoe's elaborate work, the Life of Leo X,

and I do not think I shall ever go through the whole again. The

Italian wars are tiresome and to me always most uninteresting. I

neither like Leo's principles nor those of his biographer. Parts I

shall certainly read again. The style is elegant, and he is an able

apologist. I certainly should recommend parts of the work to you; it

will be an amusement to you at Christmas.

The comment of Mrs Stanhope, as a staunch Tory, upon the famous _Life of

Leo X._, which was then attracting much attention, affords an amusing

contrast to the extravagant praise bestowed upon the work by the Whigs of

the day. Shortly after she had finished its perusal she must have returned

with her family to Yorkshire, where a fresh excitement awaited her.

"The Gallery at Bretton," she writes, "is to be painted, as well as the

staircase. The Architect says, he has worked there six months already. We

are going over to see the result of his labours."

Bretton Park, which was then undergoing such complete renovation, is

situated about a couple of miles from Cannon Hall, and its owner at this

date afforded endless food for discussion both in Yorkshire and London.

In a previous volume, [21] reference has been made to the celebrated Mrs

Beaumont, or, as she was universally called by her generation, Madame

Beaumont. The natural daughter of Sir Thomas Blackett of Bretton, she had

been made his heiress, and had married Colonel Beaumont, M.P. for York.

Although Mrs Stanhope and many others then living could remember her as a

village girl riding to Penistone every market day to sell butter and eggs,

Mrs Beaumont successfully ignored any such unpleasant reminiscences on the

part of those acquainted with her early life, and continued to dominate a

situation to which, thus heavily handicapped, she might well have

succumbed.

By dint of an unassailable belief in her wealth and importance, she held

her own with the county families, whose slights she ignored or repaid with

interest, and whom she alternately flouted and patronised. At once a

source of irritation and of amusement to her neighbours, this was

particularly so in the case of the family at Cannon Hall, whose property

adjoined her own and who were perpetually annoyed by her interference and

impertinence. There was unfortunately no boundary line between the

estates, so Mrs Beaumont used unhesitatingly to inform strangers that all

the land from the walls of Bretton to those of Cannon Hall was hers; while

on one occasion, when a dispute arose between herself and Mr Stanhope

respecting a certain tree, she settled the question in a characteristic

manner by causing this to be cut down in the night.

The letters of the younger Stanhopes were full of anecdotes of, or

complaints against their aggressive neighbour. "You can have no idea what

petty differences my father and Mrs Beaumont have about boundaries and

rights, which Madam Graspall claims in everything," wrote Edward Stanhope

on one occasion. "She warned us all not to shoot _anywhere_ on her ground

or Manors, also from Mr Bosville's, and she at once sent Mr Bird to shoot

on my father's land. However, we warned _him_ off! "But although the

sportsman with the inappropriate name met with a warm reception from the

younger branches of the House of Stanhope, Edward adds, "My mother never

will take part in these differences but chuses to call and dine. However,

as she was thus civil, this year Madam has chosen only to leave cards

without inquiring whether we were at home, and has now sent out cards for

a party and left us out!" None the less, although later in life, as we

shall see, the family at Bretton were cleverly satirised by Marianne

Stanhope, a show of friendship was maintained between the two families,

which, in the case of the younger generation was very genuine, for the

daughters of Madame Beaumont were the antithesis of their parent and were

simple and charming.

Yet Mrs Beaumont was undoubtedly one of the most curious characters of her

generation, in that, as stated, her self-assurance enabled her to tilt

successfully against the strong social prejudices of her day and to

sustain an all but impossible position with undoubted success. While

Yorkshire and London rang with tales of her effrontery, the imperturbable

lady, instead of perceiving snubs, dealt them, and in the height of her

triumphant career enjoyed the wrath of the amazed recipients. Meanwhile,

although many of the stories related of her were genuine, a few were

undoubtedly apocryphal, among which must be classed the following, very

generally believed in the West Riding a century ago.

It was said that being much addicted to gambling and proud of the

immensity of the wagers which she dared to risk, Madame Beaumont on one

occasion staked the entire Bretton estate on a game of chance. She lost;

and her opponent, being apparently as sporting as herself, dared her to

win it back by riding through Bretton Park and village astride on a

jackass with her face to the tail The idea of the haughty and pompous lady

undertaking such a penance must have seemed actually incredible, but

Madame Beaumont was not readily daunted. To the unbounded surprise of her

fellow-gamester she accomplished the feat and thus reinstated herself in

all her former wealth and grandeur.

In Yorkshire, she invariably drove about the country in a carriage drawn

by four beautiful black horses on which were seated postilions in velvet

jockey-caps. She owned an extraordinary number of carriages, and directly

news reached her that any visitor of importance was being entertained at

Cannon Hall, she would order out her finest equipage and drive over in

full state with the intention of enticing away the guest whose rank

attracted her. As usual, no rebuffs discouraged her-she failed to perceive

them. In London, she strove with equal determination to admit no one to

her parties who was not the possessor of a title--commoners, however well

born, were received by her with a scarcely concealed insolence. The big

yellow coach in which she and her daughters drove about town was a

familiar sight, making its triumphal progress through the most fashionable

streets, or drawn up by the Park railings that its occupants might

converse with the _élite_ among the loungers who thronged around it. For

those who scoffed at Madame Beaumont courted her diligently on account of

the excellence of her entertainments, while her luxury and the lavish

nature of her expenditure formed their favourite topic of jest and gossip.

Apart from her boundless hospitality to those whom she considered

sufficiently important to be honoured by it, the sums which she spent on

the house and stables at Bretton were said to have been enormous; and it

was doubtless with considerable curiosity that the family at Cannon Hall,

on their return to Yorkshire, hurried over to inspect the alterations

which their neighbour was effecting.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

CANNON HALL, _December 4th, 1805._

We drove to Bretton this morning. We walked all over the gardens and

the House. The number of people is enough to distract one Architect.

Improvers, Agents, etc., etc., without end. Much is done, and still

much remains to be done. Madame B. says she shall quite rejoice to

leave the place. The plants appear in great order and are very

valuable. The Collection is extremely large, but at present the plants

are so very small that to the ignorant they appear of little value--

which we know is impossible to be the case.

Thanks for the account of your studies; as for mine, I cannot give a

very favourable report of them. Hume's _Henry 8th_, Warton on Pope,

_Cowper's Letters_, and _The Idler_, are the books I have at present

in hand; but I have not much leisure. We are at present alone, and

with my family round me, I do not wish for company. It is not a bustle

of company I _like_, for I do not like the Society of the Country--it

is morning, noon, and night.

Roscius is now performing at Sheffield--I should like to see him

there!

Life in the country at this date was apparently more exhausting than life

in London. No moment of the day was sacred from the encroachments of

visitors. Morning calls were the fashion, and it was held to be impolite

to refuse admission to friends who, after a long drive over bad roads, not

only expected the offer of some substantial refreshment, but in view of

the fatigue they had undergone and their desire that they should be

sufficiently recovered before undertaking the return journey, were apt to

outstay their welcome. Of a neighbour, however, who resided beyond the

distance practicable for a morning call, and with whom Marianne Stanhope

had apparently been staying at this date, she gives a more enthusiastic

description. Mr Fawkes of Farnley was the son of her father's old friend

and neighbour at Horsforth, in the days of his youth, Walter Hawkesworth,

[22] who took the name of Fawkes on inheriting the property of Farnley

under the will of a cousin. He was succeeded, in 1792, by this son, Walter

Ramsden Fawkes, who, in 1806, became Member for York, and later, as his

father had been before him, High Sheriff for the county. This younger Mr

Fawkes was a man of exceptional talent, who is best remembered by

posterity as having been one of the earliest and most munificent patrons

of J. M. W. Turner, but who was better known to his contemporaries for his

remarkable oratory. Mr Stanhope relates of him that once at a meeting

which was convened in Yorkshire to discuss the Peace of Amiens, he made a

speech so brilliant that the reporters declared themselves unable to take

it down, so completely were they carried away by its extraordinary

eloquence and beauty of language.

_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

_December 4th, 1805._

You cannot think how charmed I was with Mr Fawkes when we were at

Farnley, he is so full of information and talent. He told us two

stories which pleased me so much that I will endeavour to relate

them--both facts.

About ten years ago a friend of his was riding thro' a long and gloomy

wood in one of the inland counties. As he came to the most intricate

part, suddenly his horse made a dead pause, pricked up his ears,

snorted, and when spurred, refused to proceed, his eyes all the time

upon one spot on the ground. On looking towards this place, conceive

the gentleman's horror at beholding a woman's body weltering in blood

and a dog licking the wounds. The traveller stood for some minutes

petrified with horror, his eyes rivetted on the body, when all at once

the dog, perceiving him, set off full speed thro' the thickest part of

the wood.

He was resolved to pursue the animal, and instantly spurring his

horse, he followed it through most intricate and unfrequented roads

for about ten miles, when he saw it enter a miserable house in a

little village. The traveller put up his horse, and entering the same

house, desired they would bring him something to drink. There were

three ill-looking fellows sitting round a table, under which the dog

had lain down. The traveller's object was now to find out to whom the

dog belonged, he tried every means, in vain, for about an hour, when,

seizing hold of the poker he, under some trivial pretext, gave the dog

a violent blow on the head, upon which one of the men with an oath

asked him why he did this. The gentleman with much presence of mind,

turned the poker promptly against the man who asked the question, and

having overpowered him in a pretended quarrel, discovered in his

pocket a bag of gold. The rest I do not know, but the man was hanged

for the murder in Oxfordshire or Warwickshire about ten years ago. Is

it not a curious story?

Mr Fawkes thinks it would be a fine subject for a picture--the awful

gloominess of the wood, the dead body, the dog licking the wounds, the

horror of the horse, and the man's countenance as he sat contemplating

the scene--he thinks might be wonderfully portrayed on canvas.

His other story is of a different cast. You have doubtless heard of

Edwards the great bookseller. He has quitted his shop in Town, and

gone to reside at his native place, Halifax. He is a great miser, but

being a man of talent, often visits Mr Fawkes. One day he arrived upon

such a miserable hired horse that they resolved to play him a trick.

Accordingly, after dinner the Steward came in, with a solemn face,

stating that instead of killing a horse that was meant for the dogs,

they had shot Mr Edwards's; that it was half eat before they found out

the mistake. Edwards was in a dreadful pucker; but at last, having

condoled with him, they told him that the only difference between his

deceased horse & the one of Mr Fawkes's which they had meant to kill,

was that Mr Fawkes's horse had not a white spot on its forehead, & his

legs were not white, but that by _painting them_ it would look

just the same, and that the people at the livery stable would never

find out the mistake. Edwards was highly delighted with this plan,

and, would you believe it, he was mean enough to hope by this means to

cheat the man. You may picture what fun it was to Mr Fawkes and his

servants to see him ride home on his _own_ hired horse all bedaubed

with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the

Livery Stables has never found out the trick _we_ have put on him!"

How they will all quiz him when finally they tell him the truth!!

When shall you come to Yorkshire? You will find Frances grown quite a

beauty and Philip an adept at _l'art militaire_. I am glad you

were so pleased with the young Beaumonts. Their sister rode here the

other day, she is a very nice girl and nearly pretty.

Mr and the Miss Abbotts left us yesterday, after a week's visit They

are very musical, but rather too Irish for our taste. To give you some

idea of them, they talk of people being _beasts and puking whelps,

and brutes_. They frequently _blest their souls and bodies_, and

"_talked their fill_" which was not a "_few_." Surely this cannot be

elegant, even in Ireland. Have you any Hibernian friends who could

inform you on this subject? Adieu, breakfast waits. All here send

their love.

These Hibernian friends were apparently not the only guests whose

peculiarities occasioned the Stanhope family some mild surprise. The

handsome Bishop of Carlisle [23] and his wife, Lady Anne Vernon, were at

this date frequently at Cannon Hall, and both of them and of their ten

sons various anecdotes are related. Mr Stanhope, indeed, as Member for

Carlisle, had long been intimate with the popular prelate, and used to

tell with what unstinted hospitality Dr Vernon was wont to receive his

countless visitors at the Palace on public days, also what a picturesque

sight he then invariably presented in his full-bottomed, snow-white wig

and bright, purple coat. But the good bishop, though extremely stately and

impressive of demeanour, was gifted with a keen sense of humour and could

enjoy a spice of frivolity when he could indulge in it without detracting

from his dignity. In 1807 he was appointed to the Archbishopric of York,

and was fond of retailing how a groom belonging to his old friend, Sir

James Graham, [24] got news of the event and rode hard to Netherby to take

his master the first tidings. Bursting into the dining-room where a large

party of guests were assembled, the man exultingly shouted out

the Information which he was desperately afraid someone else might have

anticipated--"Sir Jams! Sir Jams! The Bushopp has got his situation!" The

sense of humour cherished by Dr Vernon seems to have been inherited by his

sons in a different guise. In two undated letters Marianne relates to her

brother:--

Here is an anecdote of your friend, the sailor, Mr Vernon, [25] who

has got some prize money. He was walking, I believe, a few days since

with a gentleman in the streets when they met two men who spoke to him

civilly and to whom he returned a very short answer. His companion

inquired who they were. He said--"Two men who came over in the ship

with me." "Then why were you so cold in your manner to them?" asked

his friend. "Why, my dear fellow, because they were convicts returned

from transportation!" was Vernon's answer.

_Undated._

Your ball appears to have been very gay, but you never named your

opinion of Miss Monckton. [26] I assure you her sisters at Harrogate

were quite belles, the gentlemen made Charades on them. I must close

my letter with a story of Mr Vernon, [27] told me by a gentleman we

met at Sir Francis Wood's.

At one of the Lichfield balls, he came in so late that everybody

inquired the reason. He said he had been waiting for his tailor while

he was sewing the buttons on his etceteras. Each of these buttons

contained the picture of a French beauty, and he had the tailor in his

room while his hair was being dressed in order to tell him which to

place _nearest to his heart_.

In the course of the evening he told a lady a wondrous story, and upon

her looking surprised, he said vehemently--"Upon my honour, Madam, it

is true!"--adding gently--"When I say 'Upon my honour' Madam, _never

believe me_."

Adieu, and at least believe me, Your affectionate sister, M. A. S. S.

Mr George Vernon, indeed, appears to have been of a somewhat

impressionable temperament, for a few years later his sister-in-law, Lady

Granville, writing from Trentham to announce her departure for Texel,

remarks, "I must take Mr Vernon away to flirt with my beauties there. It

will not be dangerous for Lady Harriet, and Corise bears a charmed life.

_He will be proud beyond measure and fancy both are in love with him._"

Yet with the dawning of 1806, the mention made by the Stanhopes of these

friends comes in sad contrast to the lively tales respecting them in which

they were wont to indulge.

As January drew to a close Walter Stanhope received an intimation that the

illness of William Pitt was likely to have a fatal termination. He

hastened up to town, and was in time to take a last farewell of his

friend. [28] His family followed more leisurely, and on the 27th, from

Grosvenor Square, Mrs Stanhope wrote:--

I cannot say how shocked I was with the melancholy intelligence of

Edward Vernon's death, and of the dangerous illness of George. I hear

it was the scarlet fever.

On the 30th she adds:--

This morning I had particular pleasure in reading the favourable

report you sent your father of George Vernon. I now trust he will be

restored to his afflicted parents, and great as is their loss they

will have much cause for thankfulness to Providence when they reflect

how near they were losing both their valuable sons. I hear that the

Bishop and Lady Anne are wonderfully composed.

But the sinister note with which the year had dawned was unexpectedly

accentuated. In February she writes:--

What a moment is the present! Every hour brings report of death. In

addition to our great National losses is now the death of Lord

Cornwallis--a man who was a blessing and ornament to his country.

Awful and critical is the present period. Woronzow, the Russian

Minister, is likewise dead. He is brother to the Woronzow who is

Ambassador here. [29]

In our Peerage there are also great changes, Lord Coventry, Lord

Somers, and it is said, Lord Uxbridge, are _all_ dead.

_Friday._

It is strange there is not a word mentioned of Lord Uxbridge's death

in to-day's paper. The Ministry is still unsettled. Lord Moira is

expected in Town to-day. You will be glad to hear Addington is

certainly better, and that the family entertain hopes of his recovery.

Pray inform Glyn I saw Lady and Miss Glyn to-day, the latter in great

beauty, just returned from hearing Dr Crotch [30] lecture on Musick at

the Institution, where they attend as assiduously as ever.

_Saturday._

Lo! Lord Coventry is come to life again! I wish it were possible the

same could happen to Lord Cornwallis, but alas, that cannot be! Who

will succeed him must yet remain a secret.

Mrs Beaumont was with us last night. Col. Beaumont had in the morning

inquired whether Gloucester House was to be sold, as provided they

could renew the lease, they would like to have it.

Egremont House is to be sold on the 13th. My opinion is they will have

that. Why not both?

What think you of Sydney Smith lecturing to small audiences? Such is

popular favour. He may thank Westminster for the neglect he now meets

with.

I am reading a book I think you would be amused with. Turner's History

of the Anglo Saxons. It contains much to amuse an Antiquarian, and I

consider you as having a little taste that way. Lady Glyn, who is

with us, is studying Juvenal. Marianne has just lifted her eyes from

Euclid to desire her love to you. Anne is employed at her Harp.

Meanwhile, the family had resumed the placid routine of their usual life,

of which, in the next letter, Marianne furnishes her brother with a

graphic account.

_February 14th, 1806._

Mamma must, I am sure, have informed you of our various proceedings,

in her numerous letters to you, and therefore I will not torment you

with a repetition. Our life since we came to London has passed in its

usual routine of _faisant bien des riens_; arranging the teaching

geniuses, making the usual purchases and visiting the usual set;

walking in Hyde Park, and watching the people in the Square. This

morning, we have Mr Roussin for the third time, have taken a short

turn in the Park, and called on Mrs M. Marriott, and at present Anne

is rehearsing to Myer on the harp, who is all astonishment at the

progress she has made. We dine and stay the evening at the Dowager

Lady Glyn's.

Anne relishes London vastly, and hitherto the little going out she has

had agrees with her. The Opera is her delight. Papa took William

there, and I never saw a child so happy. He enjoys going out

prodigiously.

Are you not outrageous at the manner in which Mr Singleton, [31] son-

in-law to the great man who died for his country, was turned out? I

think it is really a disgrace to the Nation. I should have thought

every connection of my Lord Cornwallis would have been distinguished

with honours, instead of which he is turned out of Office as soon as

the account arrived of his Father-in-Law's death.

The papers have indeed been in a most bloody humour, they have

unjustly killed Lord Coventry, Lord Uxbridge, Lord Harrowby, and it

was astonishingly reported that Lord Melville had destroyed himself,

when he was quite well. It really was curious to hear people inquiring

in the most melancholy tone, what was the cause of such a Lord's

death, and the next person announcing merrily that he was perfectly

well! Lord Kinnaird is expected home daily with the transports.

We heard the other day that the Princesses had received a letter from

the Duchess of Wurtemburg [32] since she had seen the Empress of

France. Upon entering, the Duchess said she felt something like

_effroi_, which Madame Bonaparte took for _Froid_ and she threw over

her shoulders a most beautiful shawl she had been wearing herself. The

Emperor was very polite and never named England or the English. He

brought a most superb _présent de noces_ for the Princess of

Wurtemburg who is going to be married.

I wish also to tell you a story I heard of Erskine. He was dining one

evening with a large party at Carlton House. The conversation turned

upon Sir Robert Calder's sentence. [33] Erskine said, to set a pack of

yellow Admirals who had never seen active service to judge a brave and

distinguished Officer was horrible. "They might as well," said he,

"_set a parcel of Attorney's clerks to judge Erskine_!" Is not

this _Chancellor Ego_?--This was just before he was Chancellor.

His wife died a short time ago, and his daughter wrote word to a

friend that had her father known how soon her mother would die, he

would not have behaved better to her! They must all be mad, I think.

Thomas Erskine, the third son of the 10th Earl of Buchan, was, in 1806,

appointed Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain and elevated to the

Peerage the same year by the title of Baron Erskine. Brilliant, eloquent

and witty, from his habit of invariably talking about himself and his

concerns, he was given the name of Chancellor Ego. Owing to his being of

opposite politics, the Stanhopes were disposed to view him somewhat

disparagingly, and owned, indeed, but slight acquaintance with him till

years afterwards when they met him at Holkham. It was on the occasion of a

dinner-party in London, however, that Lord Erskine once told John Stanhope

the following story, and which the latter used to recount as an instance

of the Chancellor's genuine kindliness of heart.

"In the days of my youth", Lord Erskine related, "I arrived in Edinburgh

one morning after a lengthy absence from Scotland, feeling delighted at

the prospect of re-visiting my old haunts and looking up my old friends. I

went first to a bookseller's shop which I was fond of visiting, and as I

was leaving it, to my surprise and pleasure I encountered an old butler

who had been for many years in my father's service. I noticed, however, to

my regret, that the old man looked greatly changed. He was pale, worn and

shadowy as a ghost. Moreover, when I greeted him genially he showed little

excitement at the unexpected encounter. 'I came to meet your honour,' he

said, very gravely, 'I want to solicit your interference with my Lord to

recover a sum of money due to me which the steward at the last settlement

would not pay.'

"Struck both by his manner and his unaccountable knowledge of my

movements, I decided to question him further respecting the cause of his

evident distress. Stepping back into the shop, therefore, I invited him to

follow me, explaining that there we could discuss the matter privately.

When, however, I turned round to hear what he had to tell me, I found that

he was gone, nor, on returning to the door, could I see him anywhere in

the street.

"Unable to account for his abrupt departure, and anxious to help him if it

lay in my power, I recalled that his wife had a little shop in the town,

and I succeeded in tracing my way thither. Judge of my astonishment on

finding the old woman in widow's mourning, and on learning from her that

her husband had been dead for some months! Still more was I startled upon

hearing that on his death-bed he had repeatedly told her that my father's

steward had wronged him of some money, but that when Master Tom returned

he would see her righted. Needless to say, as speedily as possible I

accomplished the old man's dying wish which had been so strangely brought

to my knowledge."

The next mention of Chancellor Ego which occurs in Mrs Stanhope's

correspondence is not so complimentary:--

_June 3rd, 1806._

Your sisters are now well, and propose being very gay. To-morrow, in

the morning, we attend the Drawingroom, after which your father dines

at what is called Mr Pitt's Dinner, & where the attendance is expected

to be very large. In the evening, I am to have a few friends, amongst

them Lady C. Wortley and Mr Mercer, who sing together most

beautifully; after which I shall go to Mr Hope's, the finest house in

London, with respect to taste and _vertu_.

We have now fine weather. You would delight in Kensington Gardens, or

perhaps you would prefer joining the impertinent Loungers who sit on

Horseback, too lazy to join the walkers. The political world is at

present in a strange situation. Should Lord Melville be acquitted he

will probably take an active part in Indian affairs. There is a

canvass against him, but I trust British Peers are not to be

influenced.

I hope our _Dancing Chancellor_ will act properly as far as he is

concerned, but I believe he is now referred to the House of Peers. If

the intelligence has not yet reached you, you will wonder at the

expression "Dancing Chancellor." Know then that at Sheridan's ball the

Lord High Chancellor of England [34] danced with Miss Drummond after

having dined and sat too long with a party where was the Prime

Minister, [35] the Chancellor of the Exchequer [36] and a greater

Personage than any. They contrived to set Somerset House on fire

_twice_, and, after dancing, the head of the Law amused himself

with rowing on the Thames.--So much for the Rulers of this Land!

Thomas Hope of Deepdene, Surrey, and Duchess Street, Portland Place, who

is mentioned in the above letter, was a member of an eminent commercial

family, of Scottish descent, generally known as the Hopes of Amsterdam.

Having inherited an immense fortune at the age of eighteen, he became an

early patron of literature and the arts. Flaxman owed much to his support,

Thorwaldsen and Chantrey to his recognition of their genius early in life.

Crazy also about architecture, Mr Hope travelled all over the world,

studying famous buildings and collecting, meanwhile, priceless treasures

in pictures, statues, and furniture, so that on his return he

reconstructed his home in London, and replenished it with beautiful

possessions. In 1805 he published a handsome volume on Household

Furniture, illustrated by many drawings of the fine specimens in his own

house. He afterwards wrote other works, but is most celebrated as the

writer of a romance, _Anastasius_, the authorship of which was at one time

attributed to Byron, and of a scientific work, _The Origin and Prospects

of Man_, which may be considered the parent of the well-known _Vestiges of

Creation_, and which formed the basis of one of Carlyle's most remarkable

essays.

In 1806, he was, however, still looked upon as a mere superficial

dilettante, though, on account of the _objets d'art_ which he owned,

everyone was eager to gain access to his house. This desire was

accentuated with regard to the party which he gave that year, it being the

first for which he had issued invitations since his marriage, in the

previous April, with Louisa, the youngest daughter of the Right Rev. Lord

Decies, Archbishop of Tuam.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

_June 6th, 1806._

Had you been here on the Birthday night, you would have pronounced us

of the Wronghead Family, for we had nothing but _contretemps_ from the

moment we set out for the Drawingroom till the next day rose upon us.

At three we set out in wind and rain for St James's, & drove down

Grosvenor Street; but as there was a string of carriages from Oxford

Street, to get in was impossible. We therefore turned about and tried

Dover Street, but there we were not permitted to go. At last, after

much whipping and much delay, we were admitted into the string in

Albemarle Street, and in process of time reached St James's safely and

proceeded as far as the Guard Room.--Further, we never arrived! All

the people who came out of the Drawingroom looked expiring, and begged

we would not attempt to go in, as they were almost dead, and many had

fainted. Very soon we found the Queen had taken herself off, not

having spoken to above one third of the Company. Notwithstanding that

we had only our labour for our trouble, we were there till half past

seven before we could get our carriage.

In the evening I expected Mr Mercer and Lady C. Wortley to sing, and

the Eyres. All came but Mr Mercer, the songster,--another

disappointment! They stayed with me till half past eleven, when we set

out for Mr T. Hope's rout, but after waiting in the street _till

near one_, we found to get in was impossible. Therefore very

reluctantly we turned about and came home. Did you ever hear of such

disappointments? However, we are all quite well, which probably would

not have been the case had we done all we intended.

The Wit at the Drawingroom was to call it the _levée en masse_.

London does not abound in wit. The only things of the sort I have

heard are what has been said about Mrs Fox's Ball. The first is given

to Fox himself who was asked what it was like, and referred the

inquirer to the 22nd Chapter of the First Book of Samuel at the second

verse, [37] where is to be found a very just description of it, tho'

probably you would not have thought to have looked at your Bible for

an account of Mrs Fox's Ball. The other was a _bon mot_ of your

friend, Lyttleton [38] who said, "There was all the world, but little

of his wife!"

Last night I was at Mrs Law's, a very pleasant Assembly. Osborne

Markham [39] was flirting with his intended, Lady Mary Thynne, a

pretty-looking woman.

Mr Lyttleton, whose _bon mot_ respecting Mrs Fox's ball so pleased Mrs

Stanhope, was a constant source of amusement to her and her daughters.

Earlier that same year, on March 4th, she had written:--

I suppose you saw the address which Mr Lyttleton made to the

Freeholders of Worcestershire? It was very short & I think

comprehended in these words:--"_Be assured that the Hon. William

Henry Lyttleton will offer himself at the next county Meeting; if the

Freeholders will be true to their interest & to the welfare of the

country._"

This short address was posted in the corner of the newspaper. Now you

must know that his father knows nothing about his offering himself;

and this was printed in the corner of the newspaper that his sister

might cut it out before his father saw it! I understand that he has

the majority on the Poll at present & that he made a speech of above

two hours in length.

In an undated letter she subsequently relates:--

Have you heard the latest story of our friend Lyttleton? It appears

that at some large party he was seated at the card table next to Mrs

Beaumont who expressed herself very dissatisfied with the smallness of

the stakes. "In the great houses which I frequent," she explained

grandly to Lyttleton, "we constantly play for _paper_." "Madam,"

said Lyttleton in a solemn whisper, "In the little houses which

_I_ frequent, we play for note paper."

Meanwhile another event had been arranged to take place on that Birthday

night which for Mrs Stanhope proved so unfortunate, and had been announced

by her so early as May 30th previously:--

On the Birthday, all the friends of Mr Pitt have agreed to dine

together instead of on _his_ birthday, which is just past. The

first idea rose from the Opposition wishing to dine together on the

4th, but many objected. They then determined to celebrate Mr Pitt's

birthday on that day. Your father means to be there.

"Pitt dinners," as they were subsequently termed, forthwith became an

annual institution, and were held in all parts of the United Kingdom. John

Stanhope, who, in 1806, was staying in Edinburgh, attended one in that

city, and eight days later was invited to be present at another public

banquet designed to be commemorative of a very different event.

Throughout the months of May and June, public attention had been absorbed

by the famous trial of Lord Melville. So early as May 6th, Mrs Stanhope

had written delightedly:--"You will be glad to hear that the cross-

examination of Mr Trotter went in fayour of Lord Melville who looked

perfectly composed the whole time." But not till the 12th did the end

arrive.

_June 13th, 1806._

Your sisters both attended the trial and had the gratification of

hearing Lord Melville acquitted. The Prince had the good sense not to

vote. The Court was as full as possible & when the two youngest Peers

voted on the first charge & said Guilty, there was something like a

hiss from the House of Commons. I am glad it is over & I hope the

country will not be put to the expense of any more trials of the same

kind for many years. The Princes went and shook Lord Melville by the

hand as soon as it was over.

Thus it was that eight days after the Pitt dinner, Edinburgh felt itself

called upon to give another banquet, designed to celebrate the joyful

event of Lord Melville's acquittal. It was likewise proposed to illuminate

the city, but the Solicitor-General (Chief Magistrate in the absence of

the Lord Advocate) prohibited such a demonstration. He was, in

consequence, nicknamed, "The Extinguisher General," and the friends of

Lord Melville, to the number of five hundred, consoled themselves by

singing a song written by Walter Stanhope for the occasion, and entitled,

"A Health to Lord Melville." Each of the eight verses of which it is

composed proposes a toast that was staunchly drunk by all present; but

perhaps those in honour of the volunteers and of the luckless Princess of

Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, are the most significant.

"Since here we are set in array round the table,

Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall,

Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able

How innocence triumphed, and Pride got a fall;

But push round the claret,

Come, Stewards, don't spare it;

With rapture you'll drink to the toasts that I give.

Here, Boys,

Off with it merrily,

Melville for ever and long may he live!

What _were_ the Whigs doing, when, boldly pursuing,

Pitt banished Rebellion, gave treason a sting?

Why, they swore on their honour, for Arthur O'Connor

And fought hard for Despard, 'gainst Country & King!

Well then, we knew, Boys,

Pitt and Melville were true Boys,

And tempest was raised by the friends of Reform.

Ah, woe!

Weep for his memory;

Low lies the Pilot that weathered the storm. [40]

* * * * *

They would turn us adrift, tho', rely, Sir, upon it,

Our own faithful Chronicles warrant us that

The free Mountaineer, and his bonny brown bonnet

Have oft gone as far as the Regular's hat.

We laugh at their taunting,

For all we are wanting

Is licence our life for our country to give;

Off with it merrily,

Horse, Foot and Artillery,

Each loyal Volunteer--long may he live!

* * * * *

And then our Revenue, Lord knows how they viewed it,

While each petty Statesman talked lofty and big,

And the Beer tax was weak as if Windham had brewed it,

And the Pig Iron Duty a shame to a pig;

In vain is their boasting,

Too surely there's wanting

What judgment, experience and steadiness give;

Come, Boys,

Drink about merrily,

Health to sage Melville, and long may he live!

Our King too,--our Princess--I dare not say more, Sir,

May Providence watch them with mercy and might;

While there's one Scottish arm that can wag a day more, Sir,

They shall ne'er want a friend to stand up for their right.

Be d--d he that dare not,

For my part I'll spare not

To beauty afflicted a tribute to give!

Fill it up steadily,

Drink it off readily,

Here's to the Princess and long may she live!

And since we must not set Auld Reekie [41] in glory,

And make her brown visage as light as her heart,

Till each man illumine his own upper storey

Nor _Law_ trash nor Lawyer shall force us to part.

In Grenville and Spencer

And some few good men, Sir,

High talents and honour slight difference forgive,

But the Brewer we'll hoax;

Tally ho! to the Fox;

And drink Melville for ever as long as we live!"