CHAPTER II

1805-1810

LETTERS OF AN EXILE

To a man far distant from the memorable scene of Lord Melville's trial,

the news of the verdict, sent by Mrs Stanhope, must have caused peculiar

satisfaction.

Among her numerous correspondents at this date, probably few had been more

frequently in her thoughts during the past two years than her kinsman,

Cuthbert Collingwood. From her earliest days, indeed, he had occupied a

certain prominence in her horizon. Her mother, Winifred Collingwood, had

belonged to another branch of the Northumberland family which owned a

common ancestor with that of the afterwards famous Admiral, [1] and this

tie had been strengthened rather than diminished throughout the passing of

generations by the propinquity of the two branches.

In the commencement of his naval career, Cuthbert Collingwood, on board

the _Lennox_, had attracted the hearty approbation of Mrs Stanhope's other

relation, Admiral Roddam, [2] the grand old veteran who had been in the

service about thirty-seven years before his young neighbour from

Northumberland had become his midshipman. In 1787 he won as warm an

appreciation from her husband when he stayed at Cannon Hall and first made

the acquaintance of Walter Stanhope, who then formed for him a lifelong

friendship. During the all-too-brief period when Collingwood was on shore,

there occur entries in Stanhope's Journal recording many a quiet rubber of

whist played with the man whose harsh fate was to render such moments of

happy social intercourse a precious recollection through long, lonely

years. Returned to his post, Captain Collingwood's thoughts clung to that

family circle he had left-to the man who basked in the happiness of a home

life from which he, personally, was debarred. Year by year Collingwood

kept his kinsman Stanhope in touch with all his movements. Year by year,

Stanhope and his wife responded, supplying the absent seaman with news of

the chief events which were happening in the political world at home. And

the letters from Collingwood, with their stern grip of a strenuous life,

with their deep underlying tragedy of a profound loneliness, afford a

curious contrast to the shallow utterances of other correspondents. Over

the intervening miles of ocean, from that isolated soul on guard, they

reached the family in Grosvenor Square, bearing, so it seemed, something

of the freshness and the force of the wind-rocked brine which they had

traversed. Into that restless routine of London life, they carried the

echo of a distant clash of arms, the mutterings of a brooding storm. They

told how the sea-dogs upon the alert were playing a desperate game of

tactics with their country's foe, the outcome of which none could foretell

and the chances of which few dared to contemplate. And in the minds of

those to whom they were addressed they awoke an answering apprehension,

which entered into the heart of their home-life, for one of that circle,

little William Stanhope, was shortly to join his great kinsman at sea and

to play his small part in the fierce ocean drama which was going forward.

_Captain Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope_.

_"Dreadnought" off_ CADIZ, _July 10th, 1805._

I shall have great pleasure in taking your young sailor into my care,

whenever you chuse he should come--and you may assure yourself that I

will be as regardful of everything that relates to him as you yourself

could be. Considering how uncertain my situation is or where I may be

at any particular period, had I known your intention in March, I

should have recommended that he embarked then, and made his first

essay in a warm country and far from home....

When I sailed from England I had under my command a fine fleet, but

the change of circumstances since that has both altered my destination

and reduced my force. I am now blocking up the ports here. On my

arrival I found the Spaniards on the point of sailing, waiting only

for the Carthagena Squadron to join them, and _they_ were actually at

sea, in their way down, but recalled by a dispatch boat on our

appearance off the coast. We never know whether we go too fast or too

slow--had I been a few days later, we should probably have met them at

sea with their ten sail, and made a good day of it.

And he proceeds to append a comment on the news of Lord Melville's

impeachment which had just reached him from Mrs Stanhope.

Oh! how I lament the fall of Lord Melville! But I never can consent to

rank him amongst the herd of peculators who prey upon the publick. He

has been negligent in the economy and management of his office--he has

paid too little attention to the management of his own money affairs.

Had he been avaricious and greedy of wealth how many years has he been

in official situations wherein he might have enriched himself--and is

yet as poor as poverty, for I have it from good authority that his

patent of Nobility was several months in office before he could raise

£2000 to pay the fees of it, and Melville Castle must have been sold

if his son had not taken it.

Then the virulence with which he has been pursued from all quarters--

not merely submitting his case to the calm deliberations of

Parliament, or the lawful decisions of Courts of Justice, but made a

subject for Pot house discussion, where the snobby meetings of half-

drunk mechanicks have been convened to pass judgment on a man whose

whole life has been devoted to his country's service, and whose

conduct has been unimpeached till now. It is disgraceful to the

justice of the country, for it matters little what may be the decision

of a Court hereafter, when a man is already condemned in the publick

opinion. Those to whom Lord Melville was before indifferent and those

who blame the negligence of his office, have acquired a sort of

respect for his misfortunes, in being the object of such a factious

hue & cry.

I was very sorry to hear Mr Collingwood [3] had been so indifferent in

his health last spring, but I hope the warm weather will be of service

to him--the last I heard from his home he was better, I beg my best

and kindest regards to Mrs Stanhope & all your family and wishing you

& them health and every possible happiness.

I am, dear Sir,

Your faithful & most humble servant,

CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD.

_The Same._

_Sept 23rd._

It is a long time since I have heard from England.... I have here a

very laborious and a very anxious time. You will have heard from my

wife, perhaps the narrow escape I have had from being cut off by the

combined fleet. At that time I had only three ships with me and a

frigate--they had 36 sail, and had they managed their affairs with the

least ingenuity, I should have found it a very difficult thing to have

fought my way through them, but we made good use of their want of

skill and after seeing them safe into Port, we continued on our

Station to blockade the town and prevent all commerce.

I hope the Admiralty will give me credit for maintaining my station in

the neighbourhood of so powerfull a fleet, for I never quitted them

for a day, though I had but four ships; but now that I am reinforced

by the squadron under Sir R. Calder, I have a fine fleet of 26 ships

of line and some small frigates; and hope every good--and with God's

blessing with me will do a good day's work for my country, whenever

they give me an opportunity. That done, I shall be glad to retire to

my home & enjoy the comforts of my family, for my strength fails, and

the mind being on the full stretch, sinks and needs relief.

I have a gentleman from Newcastle for my Captain, but he is a man of

no talent as a sea-officer and of little assistance to me.

How glad I shall be to get to my garden again at Morpeth and quitting

the foe, see for the rest of my life only friends about me.

Ever through the thunder of cannon or the stress of a watch which ceased

neither day nor night, through the threatenings of death or the

allurements of fame, one thought was paramount in Collingwood's mind. A

yearning for a peaceful garden he had left behind--to him a veritable

garden of Paradise--for the innocent prattle of his children, the sweet

companionship of his wife. A dream of reunion tormented and sustained him.

"Whenever I think how I am to be happy again my thoughts carry me back to

Morpeth," he wrote. Incapable of a dramatic appeal to sympathy, his

letters to Stanhope, in their strong self-repression, breathe a longing

the more profound. For that Paradise of his dreams Collingwood would have

joyfully bartered fame, emolument, all that the world could offer, had not

duty claimed from him a prolonged sacrifice of all which he held dear.

Whether, if he could have looked on through the few remaining years of his

life and have foreseen the end of that longing and those dreams, his weary

spirit could still have borne the burden laid upon it, none may say. But

buoyed up by that ever-present hope he faced the strain of his eternal

watching with an unflinching courage, which may have been occasionally

strengthened by a recollection which visited him, and the remarkable

circumstances of which cannot be ignored.

For the week before the war had broken out, Collingwood, in the peace of

that distant Northumberland home, had been elated by a vision which

contained for him a strange element of great promise. In his sleep he had

seen with extraordinary vividness the English Fleet in battle array; the

details of their position were clear to him, and, later, he beheld an

engagement in progress the incidents of which were extraordinarily

realistic. Finally, the glory of a great victory came upon him, to fill

his waking moments with delight and haunt his recollection. So minute, so

circumstantial had been the particulars of the dream, that, profoundly

impressed at the time, he had related them in full detail to his wife. In

much imaginative, Collingwood was not without the vein of superstition

which seems inseparable from his profession, and he had the simple faith

of a child. He believed in the ultimate fulfilment of that vision and the

thought pursued him.

Meanwhile, his letter to Stanhope of September 23rd, reached its

destination at a moment of increased national suspense. Napoleon's

elaborately planned ruse to entice Nelson to the West Indies had succeeded

only too well. And while Nelson sought his decoy Villeneuve off Barbadoes,

the French Admiral, as pre-arranged, was hastening back to effect, in the

absence of his dupe, the release of the French Fleet blockaded by

Cornwallis. But luck and wit saved England. Nelson chanced upon a ship

which had seen the returning enemy; he succeeded in warning the Admiralty

in time; Villeneuve, intercepted by Calder, suffered an ignominious

defeat, and Napoleon consummated his own disaster by the tactlessness of

his wrath against his unfortunate admiral who had thus succumbed to a

force inferior in numbers. Villeneuve, stung by the bitter taunt of

cowardice, rashly left Cadiz to fight Nelson--a manoeuvre which, at best,

could little advance the cause of the Emperor, which, as the event proved,

courted a catastrophe out of all proportion to any possible gain, and

which was undertaken by the luckless Frenchman for no other end save that

of disproving the imputation of cowardice under which he smarted.

Whether in the placing of the ships at the Battle of Trafalgar that vision

of Collingwood played any part, history will never know--whether it must

be regarded by the curious as in itself prophetic, or merely as a chance

occurrence, the suggestion of which was by chance adopted. Yet it is

obvious that the relation between this remarkable dream and its fulfilment

can scarcely be viewed merely as an interesting coincidence. The inference

is too strong that in any consultation between Collingwood and Nelson with

regard to the order of battle the recollection of the scheme of attack

which had so impressed the former must--even if unconsciously--have

coloured the advice given by him to Nelson. Moreover such reflections give

rise to a further curious speculation. To Nelson posterity is wont to

ascribe the entire merit of the order of battle on that memorable day; he,

it is held, was the active genius who conceived the plan of action,

Collingwood was the acquiescer, a passive though able coadjutor. Yet

Collingwood himself, the most modest of men and the least likely to make

an erroneous statement with regard to such a question of fact, expressly

asserts the contrary. "In this affair," he says, "Nelson did nothing

without my counsel, _we made our line of battle together_ and concerted

the attack." [4] On this point he also insists, in writing to Stanhope, to

whom, as to his wife, he incidentally recalled the circumstances of his

having foreseen the battle in a dream at Morpeth the week before the war

broke out.

Throughout this period, in England, news was awaited with increasing

anxiety. On October 31st, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son John:--

The Papers are now quite alarming. I fear it is up with the Austrians

for the Russians cannot now join them. This horrid Bonaparte is a

scourge to the whole world. It is wonderful with what enthusiasm he

seems to inspire his men. They go where he likes and accomplish all

his plans.

Your father has written again to Admiral Collingwood to inform him

that if he does not return home, which, as he has changed his flag

from the Dreadnought, is not very probable, that he will send William

to him in the spring. Admiral Roddam, tho' he prefers a frigate,

approves of his going with Admiral C. as he is both a good man & an

excellent sailor, & will scrupulously perform that which he promises

to undertake.

_Nov. 2nd, 1805._

Not only Glyn, but all of us must shake with the horrid German

intelligence. I have little faith in the hope the papers hold out that

we may yet hear of a victory gained by the united Armies of Russia and

Austria--a few days must relieve us from our present state of

uncertainty--though I fear not of anxiety. How thankful I am that I

have no near connection going on the cruel expedition at this time.

A few days, and the great news came, with its conflicting elements of

glory and of grief.

_Walter Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

My Dear John,

It is impossible to begin on this day any letter to any person without

most joyfully and most thankfully celebrating the glorious victory of

Lord Nelson. I cannot say that my triumph is so much alloyed as that

of many others seems to be and yet I trust I have as grateful a mind

and as high an admiration for Military renown as another man. No, it

is that I think that Nelson's glorious death is more to be envied than

lamented, and that to die wept by the land we perished for is what he

himself would have wished.

Would to God my little William had been on board Collingwood's ship on

that glorious day, whatever might have been the risque!

_The Same to the Vicar of Newcastle._

Although the death of Nelson is in my judgment more to be envied than

lamented, yet England secured by the loss of his life ought to feel,

bewail & reward it as far as posthumous honours and benefits to his

family and general Regret can do it. The late Victory affords peculiar

satisfaction to me from the brilliant Part that Admiral Collingwood

has had in it & the exquisitely good account he has given of it in his

Dispatches.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

CANNON HALL, _November 9th, 1805._

Your father said he should write you a long letter this morning.... No

longer have we cause to talk and grieve about the Austrians, we may

now talk and rejoice at our glorious, and at the moment, unexpected

victory. What a day it was! but in the midst of our rejoicings we must

pause to shed a tear over the Hero who fell, though as every Hero must

wish to fall. Admiral Collingwood's dispatches do him honour, he at

all times writes well and this was a subject to draw out all his

powers and show the Feeling and Goodness of his Heart. Your father

wishes William had been with him. I am satisfied as it is!

_The Same._

_November 14th, 1805._

Your letter my dear John, arrived on Sunday, after mine was sealed,

and as the carriage was at the door to take us to church, I had not

time to open it, to add my thanks for your letter of Congratulations

on our great and glorious Victory. What has followed since, at any

other time would have been considered great, at all times must be

thought gallant.

Yesterday letters from Barnsley, reporting the capture of the

Rochefort Squadron, were so firmly believed that the Bells were

ringing.

The tears of the Nation must be shed over the brave Nelson, but his

death was that of a Hero, and such he truly was. The Dispatches do

Admiral Collingwood great honor, and his bravery is already rewarded

with a peerage. I had a letter from his wife to-day, who says he wrote

in the greatest grief for his friend. She had not heard since the

Dispatches were sent, when the Fleet was in a miserable state, she, of

course, under great anxiety. The Euryalus has, I hope, brought further

accounts. Probably the funeral of Lord Nelson will be Publick--what a

thrilling sight it will be. Surely some mark of honour will be

bestowed upon his Widow. At present his Brother's wife has place of

her, and she has not been mentioned.

_Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._

I have made a vow not to name Lord Nelson or the Victory or Victories

in any of my letters, but postscripts are excluded. Every letter Mamma

has had has been full of nothing else; if care is not taken, it will

be like the invasion, a constant topick when you have nothing to say.

--I think it is a great proof of genius to have written a letter

without naming the event. What say you to Lord Collingwood? I would

rather have his patent of nobility than the longest pedigree in the

kingdom. I should glory more in his title than in the Duke of

Norfolk's.

Mamma had a letter from Lady Collingwood to-day, still very anxious

for his safety, as she had heard nothing since the Victory, and his

ship was then much disabled. He had written to her Lord Nelson's death

was a most severe blow to him, for he was his greatest friend. I

almost wish dear William had been with him.

_November 20th., 1805._

FARNELY.

We begin to be impatient for more news. Think of poor Lady

Collingwood--she was in a shop in Newcastle when the Mail arrived

covered with ribbands, but the coachman with a black hat-band. He

immediately declared the great victory, but that Lord Nelson and all

the Admirals were killed. She immediately fainted. When she heard from

Lord Collingwood first he wrote in the greatest grief for his friend,

and said the fleet was in a miserable state. Perhaps that may bring

him home.

Are you not pleased with his being created a Peer in so handsome a

manner. Why has not Lady Nelson some honour conferred upon her? Surely

the Widow of our Hero ought not to be so neglected.

Yesterday we drank to the immortal memory of our Hero. Mr Fawkes has

got a very fine print of him.

The clock strikes ten which announces breakfast, therefore adieu, my

dear John.

The wish expressed in the last letter that more tidings would arrive

respecting the great event which had taken place, was speedily gratified.

A letter written by Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker on November 1st, was

sent _via_ Stanhope for his perusal, and he preserved a copy of it.

_Lord Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker._

_November 1st., 1805._

You will have seen from the public accounts that we have fought a

great battle, and had it not been for the fall of our noble friend who

was indeed the glory of England and the admiration of all who saw him

in battle, your pleasure would have been perfect.... It was a severe

action, no dodging or manoeuvres. They formed their line with nicety

and waited our attack with composure. They did not give a gun until we

were close to them & we began first. Our ships were fought with a

degree of gallantry which would have warmed your heart. Everybody

exerted themselves and a glorious day they made of it, people who

cannot comprehend how complicated an affair a battle is at sea and

judge of an officer's conduct by the number of sufferers in his ship,

often do him a wrong, and though there will appear great difference in

the loss of men, all did admirably well; and the conclusion was good

beyond description, eighteen hulks of the enemy lying amongst the

British fleet without a stick standing, and the French Achilles

burning.--But we were close to the rocks of Trafalgar [5] & when I

made the signal for anchoring, many ships had their cable shot & not

an anchor ready.

Providence did for us what no human effort could have done, the wind

shifted a few points and we drifted off the land. The next day bad

weather began and with great difficulty we got our captured ships

towed off the land. The second, Gravina, who is wounded, made an

effort to cut off some of the ships with a squadron of 9 ships with

which he retired. In the night the gale increased and two of his

ships, the "_Mayo_" of 100 guns and "_Indomitable_" of 80 were

dismasted. The "_Mayo_" anchored amongst our hulks and surrendered;

the "_Indomitable_" lost on the shore and I am told that every soul

perished. Among such numbers it is difficult to ascertain what we have

done, but I believe the truth is 23 sail of the line fell into our

hands of which three got in again in the gale of wind....

The storm being violent and many of our own ships in most perilous

situations, I found it necessary to order the captures,--all without

masts, some without rudders & many half full of water--to be

destroyed, except such as were in better plight, for my object was

their ruin & not what might be made of them. As this filled our ships

with prisoners and the wounded in a miserable condition, I sent a flag

to the Marquis of Solana [6] to offer him his wounded men, which was

received with every demonstration of joy and gratitude, & two French

Frigates & a Brigg were sent out for them. In return, he offered me

his Hospitals & the security of Spanish honour that our wounded should

have every care & every comfort that Spain could afford, so you see,

my dear Sir, though we fight them, we are upon very good terms.

But what most astonished them was our keeping the sea after such an

action, with our injured masts and crippled ships, which I did the

longer to let them see that no efforts of theirs could drive a British

Squadron from its station.

This letter is of exceptional interest since it throws fresh light on a

matter which has now afforded food for controversy for over a century.

Nelson's dying injunctions had been that the fleet was to anchor. Owing,

it was contended, to Collingwood having failed promptly to carry out these

instructions of the master mind, many prizes were lost. James, who in his

_Naval History_ is severe in his criticism of Collingwood's error of

judgment in this particular, has further pointed out that four ships which

did anchor on the evening of the engagement weathered the gale

successfully. This letter of Collingwood gives his reasons for his course

of action. It proves that although when he did give the order to anchor

its execution was impracticable, yet that he had strong reason for

destroying a number of the captured ships, which were all but worthless as

prizes. His assertion, "My object was their ruin and not what might be

made of them," bears out the verdict of Lord St Vincent, quoted by Lord

Eldon, that "Collingwood's conduct after the Battle of Trafalgar in

destroying under difficult circumstances the defeated fleet was above all

praise"; while the conclusion of Collingwood's letter contains a sentiment

at which few will cavil.

From Mrs Stanhope's Uncle, Edward Collingwood, in Northumberland, there

was subsequently forwarded to her a letter written by Collingwood in the

first glory of victory and the first bitterness of his grief for Nelson's

death.

My dear friend received his mortal wound about the middle of the

fight, and sent an officer to tell me that he should see me no more.

His loss was the greatest grief to me. There is nothing like him for

gallantry and conduct in battle. It was not a foolish passion for

fighting, for he was the most gentle of human creatures, and often

lamented the cruel necessity of it; but it was a principle of duty,

which all men owed their country in defence of their laws and liberty.

He valued his life only as it enabled him to do good, and would not

preserve it by any act he thought unworthy. He wore four stars upon

his breast and could not be prevailed to put on a plain coat, scorning

what he thought a shabby precaution: but that perhaps cost him his

life, for his dress made him the general mark.

He is gone, and I shall lament him as long as I live.

To Walter Stanhope he wrote:--

_Queen, March 6th., 1806._

I thank you and Mrs Stanhope most sincerely for your kind

congratulations on the success of the Fleet, and the high honour his

Majesty has been graciously pleased to confer on me in testimony of

his approbation, which I am sure will be very gratifying to all my

friends, and that you will enjoy it as much as any of them.

I have indeed had a severe loss in the death of my excellent friend

Lord Nelson. Since the year 73 we have been on terms of the greatest

intimacy--chance has thrown us very much together in service and on

many occasions we have acted in concert--there is scarce a Naval

subject that has not been the subject of our discussion, so that all

his opinions were familiar to me; and so firmly founded in principles

of honour, of justice, of attachment to his country, at the same time

so entirely divested of everything interesting to himself, that it was

impossible to consider him but with admiration. He liked fame and was

open to flattery so that people sometimes got about him who were

unworthy of him. He is a loss to his country that cannot easily be

replaced.

Thus in a few words, the very reticence of which enhances their

significance, did Collingwood sum up the greatness and the weakness of

Nelson. Gifted, brilliant, faulty by reason of his emotional temperament,

strong by reason of his enthusiasm--his all-enthralling sense of duty,

Nelson flashed like a meteor across the ken of his generation to vanish

in a haze of glory. He died at the psychological moment--his life,

according to this account, the sacrifice to a dazzling folly. And the

man whom he loved--the man whose sterling worth is swamped by Nelson's

more vivid personality, was left to battle on alone through the weary

years. The intoxication of victory did not blind Collingwood to the

colossal task which yet lay before him. To Stanhope he wrote with

undiminished anxiety:--

The idea that the Victory we gained has so entirely reduced the

enemy's fleet that no danger is now to be apprehended from them, ought

not to be encouraged. On the contrary, I believe they will make up for

their loss by extraordinary exertion. You see they have immediately

sent all their fleet to sea, and clean as they are from Port, they can

avoid an encounter when they are not very superior. The ships that I

have here are many of them the dullest in the British fleet, so that I

have little chance of getting near them until they come with double

our number, and when they do, I shall do the best with them I can.

Whatever their project is, it must be interrupted--defeated if

possible. Bonaparte seems determined to have the whole of the

Mediterranean, islands and all. Whenever he is prepared to take

possession he knows how to make a quarrel with the Court of Madrid.

A few months later he wrote:--

I have a laborious and anxious life and little time to write even to

my wife. The only comfort I have here is good health and the

consciousness that I am doing the best I can for my country--and a

good deal I believe we shall have to do before we can establish a

happy and secure peace--for I believe in the heart of the Tyrant

enmity is so deeply rooted towards England, that it will only be

extinguished with his natural life. I consider the contest with him

but in its infancy--our independence as a people is at stake. Wisdom

in our councils and fortitude in the field was never so necessary to

us, and I trust neither will be found wanting.

In every quarter the power of France is increasing,--here the

Spaniards are but his Puppets, his mandates come to Cadiz as they go

to Brest. His birthday is kept as that of their Sovereign, the French

flag is worn upon the Governor's house, upon rejoicing days, with that

of the Spanish. In Italy they hoist it upon the same staff as that of

the Pope--it will not be long before the Pope's is worn out with the

contentions of its bad neighbourhood. Sir Sidney Smith is doing what

he can to rouse the Calabrians to resistance--he gives them money and

the mob follow his officers--but the people of property have

universally attached themselves to the French-not from liking them--

but in the hope that in the end they may be left with the rag of their

fortunes.

At Cadiz they are making great progress in their equipment of a fleet,

they have 12 sail of the line ready for sea, two more well advanced in

their fitting,--I have 9, which I consider to be equal to beating

them, but whenever we meet I would do more-_not a shadow of one

should be left upon the face of the waters_. They will be cautious

whenever they come--and my ships sail but ill in general.

I heard from Lady Collingwood that she had the pleasure of visiting

you when in town.

And then comes a more personal note:--

I am totally at a loss about the obtaining my patent--from what

office does it issue and about what sum is the amount of the fees? I

suppose I shall be ruined by them. I will be much obliged to you for

any information you can give me on these subjects--that I may not, by

delaying to do what is proper, seem negligent of this high honour of

which I am (I hope) justly proud. Sir Isaac Heard sent me the form of

a letter which it was necessary to write to the Duke of Norfolk or

Hereditary Earl Marshal, for his Grace's patent to Garter, to grant me

supporters of armorial bearings appropriate. I suppose he will let me

know when that is done.

I hope you will forgive me, my dear Sir, for mentioning this subject

to you, but from my total ignorance of everything relating to it, I am

afraid of neglecting something which I ought to do.

Stanhope furnished his friend with all necessary information, and on the

following December 4th, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son--

Lord Collingwood proves himself worthy of the great charge reposed in

him. Mr Stanhope says he thinks next to Pitt's his is the greatest

trust. His property must be small. He married a Miss Blackett whose

father was brother to the late Sir Edward and is Uncle to the present

Sir William Blackett, a man of large fortune in Northumberland. He has

two daughters, the eldest must be nearly fourteen. I had this morning

a long account from my uncle of a ball given by Lady Collingwood at

Newcastle, where 450 people sat down to supper. Unfortunately the

Mayor instead of giving Lord Collingwood's health, gave _The Memory

of Lord Nelson_, with a solemn dirge, which so affected Lady

Collingwood that she fainted, and was obliged to leave the room. She

had not heard from Lord Collingwood for some time which made it the

more affecting.

It was on December 23rd, that Nelson's body preserved in spirits arrived

at Greenwich, and forthwith the favourite toast in Yorkshire was one

perhaps peculiarly characteristic of the county, "Here's to the Hero who

died for his country and came home in spirits!" On January 9th, his

funeral took place at St Paul's Cathedral, and Stanhope, who attended it,

must have felt a tightening of the throat as he realised how soon his

small son was to face dangers such as had occasioned the death of the

gallant man whom all England mourned. Moreover, Lord Collingwood had

encouraged few delusions with regard to his own capability of aiding the

career of the future midshipman. "If Parents were to see how many of their

chicks go to ruin from being sent too early abroad they would not be so

anxious about it," he wrote on one occasion, while on another he pointed

out--"I need not say how glad I shall be to take all the care of William I

can, and do him all the service in my power, but it is rather late in my

day to be very useful to him as I shall be seeking to retire about the

time he is launching into the world." Still more did he emphasise his

inability to obtain promotion for those for whom he might have most

desired it. On one occasion when Stanhope enclosed a letter from his

friend Sir James Graham begging for the advancement of a young lieutenant,

Collingwood replied, "I would gladly show every attention in my power to

any friend of yours, but I have _no opportunity of advancing any officer

beyond a midshipman sometimes_"; and four years after the Battle of

Trafalgar he explained that he had still "some of the Lieutenants who were

with me in action a few years since and no prospect of providing for them

--I have little here but constant labour."

But what he could do in the way of protecting and befriending his little

kinsman he was eager to accomplish, and his letters show how much anxious

thought he devoted to the subject.

_Admiral Lord Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope._

_January 20th, 1806._

I shall be very glad to see your son William, and will take good care

of him, and give him the best introduction to this service that I can.

I hope he has got on a little in mathematicks, because I have not a

school master now in my ship--I had, but he got hurt in the

_Sovereign_ and went home. Lord Barham tells me a ship is to be

sent out to me soon--William might come out conveniently in her....

With respect to his equipment, do not burden him with baggage--if he

takes care of it, it is but a miserable occupation, and if he does not

it will be lost. Therefore, to keep him clean and above want is

enough; a comfortable bed, that his health requires; two or three Blue

jackets and waistcoats; his Navigation books that he has been taught

from--whether it is Robinson's Elements, or Hamilton's Moore; a

quadrant and a case of instruments. For his reading, you will give him

such books as you think proper and are least voluminous--a history of

England--of Rome--and Greece, with voyages or abridgment of them--but

his baggage must be _light_--for the moment he enters a ship he

must have no personal cares--all that relates to himself must be

secondary--or nothing.

With respect to his supply of money or anything else, when he comes to

me, he shall want for nothing. I will take care he is sufficiently

provided and whatever expenses he has, I will tell you that you may

repay me.

You would be delighted at the glorious fight we have had. Had but my

friends Lord Nelson & Duff lived through it, I should have been happy

indeed. Lord Nelson was well known and universally lamented; Duff had

all the qualities that adorn a great and good man but was less known.

He commanded the Mess, and stuck to me in the day's battle as I hope

my son would have done--it was however a great day, yet I feel we have

much more to do--the French are venturing out with their squadrons and

they must be crushed. The powerful armies that are opposed to them on

the continent will, I hope, do their part well, but I cannot say I

have a very high opinion of Austrian armies & Austrian generals; their

military education is good, but they yet seem to want that good &

independent spirit that should animate a soldier--they are all money-

making and _will_ trade--and a soldier that makes wealth his

object will sell an army whenever he can get a good price for it.

I have received letters from Mr Collingwood and Admiral Roddam and am

exceedingly happy to hear they were then in good health. The Admiral

by this time has taken up his quarters at Skillingworth.

I am rather upon the rack just now. Duckworth went after the French

Squadron that I had intelligence of near Teneriffe. I am afraid the

Frenchman has duped him, and by throwing false intelligence in his way

has sent him to the West Indies--or I ought to have seen him again

before this; but Sir John Duckworth who is a well-judging man ought

not to have been so deceived as to suppose that a squadron which had

been three or four months at sea were on their way to the West Indies

--but I do not despair of catching them yet, even without him.

Napoleon then believed that he had successfully duped Collingwood in this

manner; "Mon opinion est que Collingwood est parti et est allé aux Grandes

Indes," he wrote at this date, only to discover later that his enemy had

never been deceived.

Meanwhile Stanhope was devoting all his attention to a matter which he had

much at heart. So far Collingwood's great services to his country had been

rewarded with the barren honour of a peerage which had made an unwelcome

claim upon his slender means, and with regard to which his one petition

had been refused--that since he had no son to succeed him the title should

descend to one of his daughters. Stanhope was therefore anxious to procure

for Lord Collingwood a more substantial award in the form of an annuity

which might benefit his family. On February 11th 1806, Mrs Stanhope wrote

to her son--

News I have none for you to-day, further than that your Father is

delighted with having had it in his power to be of use to Lord

Collingwood. His Pension was granted for three generations in the Male

line; now, as he has no son nor ever likely to have any, it was really

only rewarding him for his own life. At the Duchess of Gordon's, where

your Father was last night, he saw Sheridan and Lord Castlereagh [7]

and he mentioned that if half was settled upon his widow and the other

half on his daughters after his death, it would be a real advantage to

him, which both said should be done, if he would attend the House to-

day. Most probably he will propose it in the House [8] and the

intelligence will be conveyed by William. I think I sent you word we

had heard from Lord Collingwood--the date the 20th., of January,

therefore I imagine he must have been off Cadiz.

Yet even this suggestion to reward the man to whom England owed so much

met with considerable opposition. "Lord Collingwood's Annuity Bill came on

again on Monday," wrote Mrs Stanhope on February 28th. "Your Father still

hopes it will be settled on Lady Collingwood and her daughters, tho' Lord

H. Petty does not approve of the change, Lord Castlereagh and Mr Sheridan

are both of your Father's opinion."

Stanhope, however, carried his point and earned the gratitude of the

family of the absent Admiral. It is true that when the news first reached

Collingwood of the discussion relating to his pension which had taken

place in the House, he was deeply wounded. Some of the speeches seemed to

him to imply that the representation of the slender state of his finances

had been made with his concurrence, and he felt, as he told his wife, that

he had been held up in the House as an object of compassion. "If I had a

favour to ask," he wrote emphatically, "money would be the last thing I

should require from an impoverished country. I have motives for my conduct

which I would not give in exchange for a thousand pensions." But when he

heard of Stanhope's amendment of the original proposition, and that Lady

Collingwood and his daughters would now profit by the thoughtfulness of

his kinsman, he wrote an acknowledgment of such efforts on his behalf with

a sincere gratitude in which pride still mingled.

I am much obliged to you Sir for your kindness in taking so much

trouble about my pension--it is a subject I had not thought of myself

--as my family are amply provided for I left the bounty of the King to

take its course, but this is so much in addition and I am very much

obliged for your consideration of what perhaps I should not have

thought of.

By a strange coincidence, at the very moment when the question of this

annuity was before the House, Collingwood and Stanhope may be said to have

benefited jointly by a legacy from a common kinsman. Edward Collingwood,

Mrs Stanhope's uncle before referred to, expired in February 1806, leaving

his estate of Chirton to Lord Collingwood and his estate of Dissington to

his niece Mrs Stanhope in trust for her third son. The Admiral, however,

expressed little satisfaction in the acquisition of his new property. "I

am sorry the possessor of it is gone," he wrote with his usual warmth of

heart, "for I have lost a friend who I believe sincerely loved me, and

have got an estate which I could have done very well without. I am told

poor Admiral Roddam laments him very much and I love him the more for it."

Much correspondence forthwith ensued between Collingwood and Stanhope with

respect to the distribution of the portion of the furniture and

personalties which had been bequeathed to Stanhope and which he was

anxious to place at the disposal of Lady Collingwood, who, nevertheless,

declined the offer. "Lady Collingwood informed me of your kind attention

to her," wrote Collingwood, gratefully, on hearing of it, "but I think she

judged right, considering the uncertainty at what time I should come to

live there, ... besides, if I should have a son to succeed me, I should

probably rebuild the house, and the present furniture would not be

suitable to the new one. But," he adds again, feelingly, "the subject of

it must become more indifferent to me than it now is before I can

determine anything about it: it never engages my attention but in sorrow.

I lost more real happiness in the death of my friend, whom I esteemed and

reverenced, than his estate can make me amends for--its greatest value to

me is that it is _his_ bequest."

Likewise with regard to Stanhope's proposition of leaving "the moiety of

the books at Chirton which by the will of Mr Collingwood were devised to

the possessor of Dissington," Collingwood decided--"I think in this, as in

every other respect, his will should be literally complied with and

nothing left to future arrangement." He therefore requested his brother-

in-law, Mr Blackett, to choose "some learned and competent gentleman" who

was to act for him in conjunction with any person Stanhope saw fit to

appoint, to make a just division between them "in all the branches of

learning and science and with respect to value." Referring to the fine

classical volumes in the library, he pointed out that this would be a

simple matter, as most of these had duplicates or triplicates, but "God

knows," he exclaimed, "whether any of my family may want any of them! To

me the English authors are valuable and whether I shall ever see any of

them is doubtful."

The amicable discussion with regard to this matter was still in progress

while little William journeyed out to join his kinsman. A month after

Nelson's funeral, Stanhope was taking the preliminary steps for his son's

departure. "I brought William home to be measured," he wrote on February

9th, "and sent him back yesterday in very good spirits. His mind certainly

appears to open very much and he is a good little fellow. At times he is

low and said the other day how odd he should feel to be entirely with

strangers."

On February 26th, the embryo sailor set forth on his perilous adventures,

followed by the thoughts of his family, whose tender solicitude brings

very near that parting of a century ago. "I long to hear how the dear

little midshipman bears his departure," writes one of his brothers, "How

very pretty he will look in his uniform!" and the first details of the

little lad's arrival on board ship, of his quaint sayings and doings, and

how manfully he bore his separation from the last member of his family

circle have been faithfully preserved. But he soon pronounced a favourable

verdict on his new profession--"I like being on bord a ship very much, but

today it has bean a very ruf see," he wrote on March 10th, with a fine

discrimination of the advantages and disadvantages of a nautical career;

while, anxious to prove that he was now become a man of the world, who

could appreciate the exigencies of a situation which had been occupying

the attention of the public, he observes with sudden irrelevance--"What a

sad afair this seems, this deth of Mr Pit!"

Early in April, Collingwood wrote to announce the arrival of his new

midshipman, whom he describes as "a fine sensible boy with great powers of

observation," and William wrote, as he continued to write, gratefully and

enthusiastically of his treatment by Collingwood, whom he explains is "the

kindest and best man who ever lived." Thenceforward every item of

information respecting his son was sent by Collingwood to Stanhope, who in

return retailed to Collingwood everything which he could glean respecting

Lady Collingwood and her daughters. The latter came to London in May, with

a view to completing their education, and both they and their mother seem

to have turned to Stanhope and his family in every perplexity in life. "I

am greatly obliged to you for your account of my daughters," wrote

Collingwood, in a letter which shows how minutely he was kept informed of

every detail relating to them, even to their little tricks of speech and

manner. "I am not impatient for their going in to the North. I hope they

have lost much of their provincial dialect."

And still, at any mention of his home or of those dearest to him, there

breaks involuntarily into his correspondence that longing, which would not

be repressed, for a sorely needed respite from labour and for the balm of

reunion with those he loved. There were, perhaps, few people to whom he

ventured to unburden himself as simply and spontaneously as he did to

Stanhope, a man linked to him by the tie of kinship, yet not so closely as

to make any such self-revelation on his part a possible selfishness. Thus

it is that this hitherto unpublished batch of his correspondence betrays

ever more and more, with a pathos of which the writer was obviously

unconscious, how the strain of watching and of loneliness was undermining

an indomitable brain and soul.

Collingwood's existence, indeed, alternated between an eternal racking

anxiety and a monotony before which the imagination sinks appalled.

"Between days and nights I am almost wore out," he wrote briefly to

Stanhope on April 29th, 1806, "but I do not mean to quit my station while

I have health"; and on September 26th of that same year, after writing an

account of the situation in which he finds himself, he exclaims abruptly,

"It is the dullest life that can be conceived and nothing but the utmost

patience can endure it!" During long months of blockading, dawn after dawn

arose to reveal to his weary gaze the same boundless expanse of rocking

ocean, which he had well-nigh learnt to hate; the same restricted space of

deck to traverse; the same routine of action to contemplate; the same type

of food further to nauseate a reluctant appetite; the same complete lack

of mental and physical relaxation, which is, in itself, almost an

essential to sanity. Thus, soon, to the tension of that perpetual

guardianship was added the haunting dread that an existence which was

undermining his health might also impair his mental faculties, and this at

a time when he was aware that one false step, one error in strategy, and

ignominy might be his portion or the liberties of England herself be the

sacrifice.

In a diary [9] in which, during the last years of his life, he entered

memoranda, ostensibly from which to compile his dispatches, there is

conveyed more eloquently than by any laboured insistence the ceaseless

fret of his guardianship and the impracticability which he experienced of

sifting the truth or falsehood of the information on which his line of

conduct was dependent. Incessantly do its pages recall, with elaborate

care, the details of reported engagements and of reported manoeuvres of

the enemy, supplied from some apparently unimpeachable source, and

incessantly are such memoranda revoked emphatically by a later entry.

Once, after retailing minutely the details of an assault undertaken by the

Portuguese and Spaniards against the French--which he was informed had

continued for six days and during which about 8000 of the former and 6000

of the latter had been killed--and subsequent to which all the inhabitants

of Elvas had been put to the sword by the French--he appends with

pardonable irritation--"_Not a word of this true--the whole a fabrication

for the amusement of country gentlemen and ladies._" Meanwhile he was

confronted by the knowledge that those who were most ready to criticise

his decisions, had least comprehension of the difficulties with which he

had to contend.

On May 15th, 1807, Mrs Stanhope writes:--

I have had letters from Lord Collingwood and William of so late a date

as the 29th of April. Lord C. writes out of Spirits, the recent great

losses have hurt him and the failure at Constantinople, tho' no blame

attached to him. He sent out one third more force than the Government

considered necessary and they were at the Dardanelles when they were

supposed to be with him; but the defences of Constantinople, both

natural and of art, were little known, the Castles as strong as Cannon

can make them and of that particular kind the Turks use and from which

they fire balls of granite or marble;--those would not go far, but

they do very well for a passage which is so narrow their object cannot

be far of. One which passed through the _Windsor Castle_ weighed

800 pounds. He thinks there will be an active campaign in Italy--

Sicily their object.

On December 19th, Marianne Stanhope retailed--

Papa has this instant received a most delightful account from Lord

Collingwood of William, everything that is satisfactory. He says

everything that we could wish both of his health, disposition and

capacity, the letter is dated October 13th, off Sicily. He mentions

his hopes of being able to catch the French if they come to Sicily,

but the difficulty will be, from the extent of the coast they will

come from all quarters. He said that the Sicilians finding that we

take the part of the Court who are most completely detested will make

for relief from any quarter. The Turks, he says, detest the Russians,

and lament much the misunderstanding with us, but are completely in

the power of the French past all relief. The Buenos Ayres expedition,

he says, he always blamed, and that it turned out exactly as he

predicted, and that we are most completely detested by the people who

formerly respected us.

On August 13th, 1808, off Cadiz, Collingwood learnt that the French

General, Dupont, and some officers who had capitulated, had been brought

to Port St Mary, for their better security to be embarked on board a

Spanish Man-o'-war. The mob, however, attacked and wounded Dupont before

he could be got on board, and on August 26th Collingwood relates to Mrs

Stanhope:--

The Mob of Port Santa Maria seized on Dupont's baggage, for the

Generals and Juntas may make Conventions as they please, but the

People is the only _real Power_ at the present moment, and they

will observe as much of them as they like. On breaking open the Trunks

they were found to be filled with plunder--Church Plate mostly--but

everything that was gold or silver was acceptable. I went to see it

yesterday at the Custom House, and an immense quantity of it there

was--from a silver Toy to the Crown of Thorns which they had torn from

the head of Jesus Christ. I heard at first that the mob had been

raised against the French by the black servant of a Frenchman having

part of the robe of a Bishop for his dress, but this was not the case.

The black man had the Bishop's Cross hung with a chain of gold round

his neck--it was of large amethysts and diamonds worth about 2000

pounds.

Dupont was so very silly as to write to the Governor complaining of

the people who had _robbed_ him, saying that he felt sensibly for

the honour of Spain and desired that his "property" might be returned

to him. He had nothing but those trunks of plundered silver!

Collingwood's own reception by the Spanish people afforded a remarkable

instance of the estimation in which he was held and the extraordinary

recognition of his integrity even by a lawless, unreasoning mob. John

Stanhope, some years afterwards, recorded:--

"When, at an earlier period of the war, our expedition under the command

of General Spencer appeared off Cadiz, there prevailed so great a jealousy

against the English Army that the authorities refused to allow them to

land.

"Such, however, was not the case with Lord Collingwood when he appeared

with his fleet.

"He was received by high and low with the greatest enthusiasm. A publick

fête was given to him, and my brother William who accompanied him on shore

described the scene as one of the most striking sights he ever witnessed.

One only feeling seemed to pervade the immense crowd of all ranks

assembled to receive the Admiral, the desire of showing their respect and

admiration for his character. What a triumph for one who, in the hour of

victory, had succeeded to the command of a fleet that had annihilated the

Spanish Navy, and since that time had been constantly blockading their

coasts! But what must have been Lord Collingwood's feelings _when the only

pledge required before they permitted an English force to land in a place

of so much importance, was his word of honour!_ They felt in him a

confidence which they denied to our Government."

But in the midst of a situation so unique, Collingwood ignored the

unparalleled homage paid to him, to revert persistently to each item of

news respecting his distant home. The splendid fetes of which he formed

the central figure, the adulation of an entire nation, find no mention in

his letters to Stanhope, and are of less account to him than the most

trivial circumstance regarding his family or his native county, on which

his thoughts dwell tenderly, lingeringly. From Cadiz, in August, he

laments the tidings conveyed to him by Stanhope of the death, at the age

of eighty-nine, of his former Commander and neighbour, in Northumberland,

Admiral Roddam.

Poor Admiral Roddam! I have indeed mourned his death, because I lost

in him a kind friend who had always taken a sincere interest in my

welfare; but he was become too infirm to enjoy comfort, and then to

die is a blessing. I am glad he left your son his estate, but it was

want of knowing the world if he thought of improving the Property by

keeping him out of it so long.

For little William, on attaining the age of twenty-five, was to succeed to

the estate of Collingwood's former Commander, and this must, if possible,

have strengthened the link between the Admiral and the midshipman in whose

progress he took a profound interest. Collingwood's own character is

perhaps never more clearly portrayed than in his criticism of the little

lad who had been committed to his care. "Of William," he wrote to

Stanhope, in 1808, "everything I have to say is good--and such as must

give you and Mrs Stanhope much satisfaction. He is the best-tempered boy

that can be--has a superior understanding, which makes everything easy to

him. He is very inquisitive in what relates to his duty, and comprehends

it with a facility which few boys do, at this time I believe he has more

knowledge than many twice his standing. He is never engaged in disputes,

and this not from a milkiness and yielding to others, but he seems

superior to contention, and leaves a blockhead to enjoy his own nonsense."

In December of the same year he reiterates, "Your son always gives me

satisfaction. He behaves well and always like a gentleman and I endeavour

to instil in him a contempt for what is trifling and unworthy. When I come

home I will leave him in a frigate and I hope I may soon, for I grow very

weak and languid."

It was to be regretted that while evincing to the utmost his own contempt

for what was "trifling and unworthy," it was impracticable for Collingwood

to follow the example of his small midshipman and contentedly "leave a

blockhead to his own nonsense." The realisation was torment to him that

the very conditions of his service were dictated by those who had only a

partial conception of his requirements, that his representations--his

advice--were alike incessantly ignored, yet, none the less, that his

tactics would subsequently be criticised pitilessly by men incapable of

appreciating the difficulties with which he had been beset at the time of

action. "I have lately had a most anxious and vexatious life," he wrote on

May 16th, 1808, "since the Rochefort ships came into the Mediteranean and

joined the Toulon, I have been in constant pursuit of them, but with bad

intelligence and never knowing whether I was going right or not." Yet

though compelled to act thus blindly, in that torturing uncertainty, the

eyes of the world were upon him, and men, wise in the cognisance of after-

events, would unhesitatingly judge him in the light of that knowledge.

More than once in his letters to Mrs Stanhope did the pent up bitterness

of this recognition find vent. On May 16th, 1807, he wrote:--

I am sorry to see Mr Pole's speech about the Rochefort Squadron and

Sir R. Strachan, insinuating that he was well provided with

everything--and that had he been in the station that it was expected

he should have held, they could not have escaped. The fact is they

came here destitute of everything, one of his ships had not 20 tons of

water, and none of them were in a condition to follow the enemy to a

distant point. Those insinuations, though they advance nothing

positive, are disgusting--the season of the year and the situation of

the fleet on such an errand were sufficient reasons. Let your

Politicians beware how they sour the minds of such men--men whose

lives are devoted to their country. If ever they accomplish that, your

State would not be worth half-a-crown.

And again, in December of that same year, on discovering that he,

personally, had been the subject of brutal slander, his indignation burst

forth:--

_December 29th, 1808._

I have just seen in the newspapers what I conceive to be exceedingly

mischievous, and to officers who are bearing the brunt and severities

of war, is exceedingly disgusting, when the whole nation is clamorous

against the convention of Lisbon and the treaty which Sir Chas. Cotton

made with the Russian Admiral about the ships, it is stated that _I_

had made a proposition of the same kind to the Russian Commander at

Trieste which had been rejected. There is not a syllable of truth in

it. _I_ have had no correspondence with Russia, nor anything happened

that could have given rise to such a conjecture. It must therefore be

sheer mischief. There are such diabolical spirits, who, incapable of

good, cannot rest inactive but fester the world with their malignant

humours.

And meanwhile the ardent patriotism of Collingwood was deeply wounded by

the attitude of the politicians of his native land.

OCEAN, OFF TOULON, _May 16th, 1808._

The contentions in Parliament are disgraceful to our country and have

more to do with its reduction than Bonaparte has. They grieve my

heart; when all the energy and wisdom of the Nation is required to

defend us against such a Power as never appeared in Europe before--the

contest seems to be who shall hold the most lucrative office. I abhor

that kind of determined opposition; if the Ministers have not that

experience it were to be wished they had, they the more need support

and assistance. We have resources to stand our ground firmly, until

this storm is over--but it depends on the use we make of our means,

whether we shall or not.

It would appear to me good policy to make and preserve peace with all

the nations who have the smallest pretention to independence--we

should shut our eyes to many things which during the regular

Governments in Europe would deserve to be scrutinised--the laws and

rules of former times are not suited to the present--a man cannot

build a Palace during the convulsions of an earthquake, and I

sincerely hope our differences with America will be accommodated--if

favourable terms we can grant them. Are not _we_ constantly in

storms obliged to take in our topsail?--and even sometimes limit

ourselves to no sail at all? But our ship is saved by it and when the

storm is over we out with them again, and so should the State do.

The truth was that, in much, Collingwood was a more able diplomatist than

the men by whose authority he was circumscribed. His letters to Stanhope

prove that he was a more apt tactician and had a profounder grasp of the

political situation of his day than he has been credited with by

posterity. Again and again, does he foretell that a particular line of

action will be fraught with a particular result, or show how his

representations had been ignored until, too late, events had proved their

accuracy. Again and again, in some apparently trivial situation which he

had the insight to recognise was big with import, did his tactfulness

avert catastrophe which a lesser man would have hastened. "I have always

found that kind language and strong ships have a very powerful effect in

conciliating the people," he says in one letter to Stanhope, with dry

humour. And meanwhile the incompetency of many of those with whom he had

to work in alliance was a further source of trial to him. Only too

shrewdly did he recognise wherein lay the efficiency of Napoleon and the

incapacity of his opponents.

_October 7th, 1809._

Should the Austrians make their peace, which I am convinced they must,

the next object of Bonaparte will be Turkey, and probably the

Austrians be engaged to assist him in the reduction of it. All the

south part of Europe seems as if within his grasp the moment peace is

signed with Austria; he has long been intriguing with those countries,

sometimes with the Government, in other places with the people against

their Government; the arts, the dissimulations with which those

intrigues are conducted, avail him more than even the rapidity of his

armies--all the people he employs are equal to the task assigned them;

while in Austria and Spain, the operations are often directed by men

who, from Court favour, have got situations they are totally unfit

for. Catalonia has suffered much from this cause and everything has

gone wrong in Istria and Dalmatia, because there there was wanted a

man capable of conducting the war. It is true they have been removed,

but not until everything was lost by their want of skill.

And yet pitted against "such a Power as never appeared in Europe before,"

with the need of every faculty upon the alert, Collingwood was haunted

ever more and more by the dread that his increasing bodily weakness must

engender mental incapacity. A sinister note crept into his correspondence

and so early as August 26th, 1808, he wrote:--

_August 26th, 1808._

I have been lately unwell. I grow weak, and the fatigue and anxiety of

mind I suffer has worn me down to a shadow. I do not think I can go on

much longer, and intend, whenever I feel my strength less, to request

that I may be allowed to come to England. I have mentioned this to

Lord Mulgrave, but have not to the Admiralty Board.

Yet, determined not to abandon his duty, over a year later he was still at

his post.

"_Ville de Paris,_" PORT MAHON, _December 18th, 1809._

The truth is that I am so unremittingly occupied, that my life is

rather a drudgery than a service. I have an anxious mind from nature

and cannot leave to any what is possible for me to do myself. Now my

health is suffering very much, which is attributed to the sedentary

life I lead, and it may well be to the vexation my mind suffers when

anything goes counter. But when I _do_ come home, I hope I shall

not be thought to flinch, for I have worn out all the officers and all

the ships, two or three times over, since I left England.

Within a fortnight he wrote again:--

_December 29th._

I have no desire to shrink from a duty which I owe to my country, but

my declining health--the constant anxiety of my mind and fatigue of my

body--made me desire to have a little respite, and I asked to be

relieved from my command--a request which the Ministers seem to have

no disposition to grant to me, but if his lordship knew me personally

and was sufficiently acquainted with my sentiments he would know that

my request was not made without good reason. The service here requires

the most energetic mind and robust body--they cannot be hoped for in

an invalid, whose infirmities proceed from too long and unremitted

exertion of powers, but feeble at first.

Meanwhile, in Grosvenor Square, every item of news respecting the

intentions of Lord Collingwood was eagerly looked for, since on these were

dependent the movements of little William Stanhope. In the autumn of 1809

Mrs Stanhope wrote:--

William writes word that his height is 5 ft. 4 in., very fair for a

Stanhope of his age. What an affectionate creature he is, and how I

should delight in seeing him. I do not like the account he gives of

Lord Collingwood's health. If the French fleet would but come out and

he beat them, I doubt not he would then return immediately.

And on the 6th December she mentions an event which served to accentuate

the sadness of that protracted absence:--

Lord Collingwood has actually a daughter grown up. She has made her

appearance in Newcastle, very shy and distressed.

_February 27th, 1810._

We came to Town, Sunday Se'nnight. Since then Captain Waldegrave, who

was eleven months in the ship with William, and Dr Gray who was his

shipmate two years and like a Father to him, have both dined with us

and agree in their favourable accounts. He is quite well and

breakfasts every day with Lord Collingwood, with whom he also dines

three times a week, and he teaches William himself. Your father said--

"I fear he is a Pet!" To which Waldegrave answered--"It can never do

anyone harm to be Pet to Lord Collingwood!" As soon as the weather is

warm I suppose Lord C. will come back, in his last letter he said he

should leave William in a Frigate, but Dr Gray is inclined to think he

would bring him home. All the reports respecting the Toulon Fleet

being out, will, I hear, prove false.

On March 20th Mrs Stanhope wrote--"It is said that Sir C. Cotton is going

out immediately to take Lord Collingwood's command, for that he wrote word

if they did not supersede him quickly he should supersede himself. I fear

his health is very bad." Not till April, however, did this intelligence

receive confirmation--"At last Sir C. Cotton has sailed, so that, by the

end of June, Lord Collingwood may be back, having given up the command to

Sir C. Cotton. He was better the last account. Captain Waldegrave dines

here to-day, you would be exceedingly pleased with him, for his manners

are agreeable and his intelligence great."

Little did Mrs Stanhope, as she penned the reference to her dinner-party,

foresee the conditions under which this was destined to take place. Still

less did the authorities who were sending out that belated relief to the

wearied Admiral, or the family who now so joyously pictured his return,

dream how that service had been already superseded or in what guise that

return would take place. Weeks before, at Cadiz, the last act of a

prolonged tragedy had been performed. Still firmly refusing to forsake his

post till a competent successor had been appointed, Collingwood did not

surrender his command to Rear Admiral Martin till March 3rd, when a

complete collapse of strength made this imperative. Two days subsequently

were lost in the vain endeavour to leave port in the teeth of a contrary

wind, but on March 6th, the _Ville de Paris_ succeeded in setting sail for

England.

The day of days in Collingwood's life had at last arrived--that day to

which he had looked forward throughout the weary years, when, his task

honourably concluded, he could know that every beat of the waves was

bearing him towards home and his loved ones. Yet as, prostrated with

weakness, he lay in his cabin, listening to the familiar fret of the

waters, he understood that the burden had been borne too long, the

promised relief had come too late.

With the same dauntless courage with which he had faced existence he now

accepted the knowledge that this day--the thought of which had sustained

him through loneliness and battle and tempest--was to prove the day of his

death. History indeed presents few events of an irony more profound. At

sunset on March 6th, Collingwood set sail for England; at sunset on the

7th, he lay dead, and that fortitude with which he met a fate, the

harshness of which must have cruelly enhanced his bodily anguish, presents

to all time a sublime ending to a sublime career.

Meanwhile in England those whom he had loved continued to count the

lessening days to his return and to plan with tender solicitude every

means for cherishing and restoring the enfeebled frame which they fondly

believed needed but care and happiness to endow it with renewed health.

Little as they recked of the burden which the waves were, in truth,

bringing them, the knowledge, when it arrived, came with a blow which

stunned. In the first announcement of the news, the very terseness of the

communication seems to recreate more vividly the intense feeling which the

writer knew required no insistence.

On April 17th, 1810, Stanhope wrote briefly to the Vicar of Newcastle:--

GROSVENOR SQUARE.

DEAR SMITH,

You are the fittest person I know at Newcastle to execute with

propriety a most painful & most melancholy office. I have only this

moment been apprised of the loss both the public and the Collingwood

family have sustained, and am so shocked with the intelligence that I

can hardly write legibly. I enclose the letter. I am sure you will

communicate it with all delicacy & due Preparation to Lady Collingwood

& Mr and the Miss Collingwoods. Mrs Stanhope will endeavour to see

Miss Collingwood to-morrow. Pray assure them of my readiness to be of

every assistance to them in my power.

Of the manner in which the news arrived, Mrs Stanhope furnishes more

details.

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _April 23rd, 1810._

MY DEAR JOHN,

"I little thought when I wrote to you on Tuesday last that I should,

before that post went out, hear the afflicting intelligence of the

death of our great and valuable Friend, Lord Collingwood, whose loss

is a publick calamity. But I will enter into particulars.

"Just after I went out at three, a second post arrived from Captain

Thomas, desiring your father to communicate the dreadful tidings to

poor Lady Collingwood. It was five when we received the letter; your

father immediately enclosed the letter to the Vicar, to desire he

would break it to the family, and I wrote to the Mistress of the

School to acquaint the second girl. She wished to see no one or I

should have called the next day. Mr Reay heard of the event before we

did and recollecting that the Papers at Newcastle were delivered an

hour before the letters, wisely sent off an Express; therefore I trust

there was time for her to be somewhat prepared for the worst.

"With respect to ourselves, I need not tell you how shocked we were,

and unfortunately, we had not only a large party to dinner that night,

but some people in the evening. Amongst those who dined with us was

Captain Waldegrave, who had not heard of it till he came here, and I

never saw anyone so distressed, for Lord Collingwood had been a Father

to him as well as to William; and he is one of the most pleasing young

men I ever met with. Two days afterwards he brought here Mr Brown, the

flag-lieutenant of the _Ville de Paris_, who gave me many interesting

particulars, and spoke highly of William.

Your father has seen Lord Mulgrave twice, and it is settled that a

monument at the Publick expence shall be executed for Lord

Collingwood. He cannot have a publick funeral, but they wish the

family to bury him at St Paul's near Lord Nelson, which your father is

this day to write to propose, and I think it impossible Lady

Collingwood can have any objection, in which case it will be attended

by the Lords of the Admiralty & his own private friends. The Body is

now at Greenwich, for it arrived at Portsmouth as soon as the letters

announcing his death. He died like a hero, and when that character is

added, as it was in him, to the Christian, it is great indeed.

On the same date Mr Stanhope wrote to his son--"I saw Lord Mulgrave the

night before last, who desired I would inform Lady Collingwood and the

family that it was meant to move in the House for a monument for Lord

Collingwood in St Paul's, next to Nelson's. Of course the Body, which has

arrived in the Thames, will be deposited in that Church, and the funeral

must be splendid without ostentation--at the expense of the executors, or

rather of the family." It was not, however, till May 8th that Mrs Stanhope

was enabled to furnish her son with full details of the manner in which

the intended ceremony was to be performed.

GROSVENOR SQUARE, _May 8th., 1810._

I can tell you what Lord C.'s funeral is to be. It is to take place on

Friday at St Paul's. Mr C. and one of his sisters are in town. He is

anxious that it should be proper & your father has been his adviser,

but he was determined that it should be as private as possible, as

Lord Collingwood's wish on that subject was strongly expressed in his

Will.

The Body is now at Greenwich where the Hearse & ten mourning Coaches

will go. The company are to assemble at a room on the other side of

Blackfriars Bridge, where betwixt 20 & 30 are to get into the mourning

coaches, & their own are to follow, but no others. The company are, as

far as I can recollect, besides the ten relations & connections, the

first Lords of the Admiralty who have been in power since he had the

Command--Gray, Mulgrave, T. Grenville; Ld St Vincent declined on

account of health; the Chancellor & Sir Walter Scott; Admirals Ld

Radstock & Harvey, Capt Waldegrave, Purvis, Irvyn Brown, Haywood--

perhaps others; Doctors Gray & Fullerton, Sir M. Ridley & Mr Reay.

Government mean to vote him a national monument to be placed near Lord

Nelson & the Body will be placed as near his as it can be. You will be

glad to hear that there is a picture painted about a year & a half ago

which Waldegrave will get for Mr C. I therefore hope there will be a

print of him. His loss will be felt every day more & more. They say he

saved to the country more than any Admiral did before, in repairs of

the fleet; and to that country his life has been sacrificed.

A reference to Lord Collingwood written by the recipient of this letter,

John Stanhope, although it presents no new reflection upon his career, is

not without a peculiar interest in that it was a contemporary comment and

one of unstudied pathos.

Lord Collingwood, [he wrote in 1810] has sacrificed his life to his

country and to the full as much as has done his friend and commander

Lord Nelson. But Nelson's death was glorious; he fell in the hour of

victory amidst a nation's tears. Poor Collingwood resigned his life to

his country, because she required his services; he yielded himself as

a victim to a painful disease, solely occasioned by his incessant and

anxious attention to his duties, when he knew from his physician that

his existence might be spared if he were allowed to return to the

quiet of domestic life. Must not his mind have sometimes recurred to

his home; to his two daughters, now grown to the age of womanhood, but

whom he remembered only as little children; so long had he been

estranged from his country! Must he not have felt how delightfully he

could spend his old age in the society of his family, at his own house

at Chirton, the ancient possession of his ancestors, which had been

left to him by my uncle, and in the enjoyment of a large fortune,

which he had gained during his professional career! What a contrast

did the reverse of the picture show! A lingering disease, a certain

death. He repeatedly represented the state of his health to the

Admiralty, but in vain; his country demanded his services; he gave her

his life; and without even the consolation of thinking that the

sacrifice he was making would be appreciated. "If Lord Mulgrave knew

me," said he in one of his letters to my father, "he would know that I

did not complain without sufficient cause."

It was thus that Collingwood came home--that the long exile ended and the

tired frame attained to rest. On May 11th, he was laid by the side of

Nelson in St Paul's, and the comrades of Trafalgar were re-united in a

last repose. The ceremony on this occasion exhibited none of the pomp and

circumstance which attended the obsequies of the hero of Trafalgar. In

harmony with the wishes and the character of the dead man, so simple was

it that the papers emphasise in surprise that "not even the choir service

is to be sung on the occasion." And this, possibly, constitutes the sole

particular in which England endeavoured to fulfil any desire of the man

who had laid down his life in her service. His earnest request that the

peerage which had been bestowed upon him might descend to his daughter,

his pathetic representation that but for the unremitting nature of that

service he would presumably have had a son to succeed him, were callously

ignored. There were obvious reasons why Nelson's dying bequest to the

nation of the woman he had loved remained unregarded, there was none that

that of Collingwood should not have been granted and his barren honours

thus made sweet to him. But his generation mourned him with idle tears,

and succeeding generations have, possibly, done him scanty justice. Yet

one, a master-mind in English Literature, has raised an eternal testimony

to his worth--"Another true knight errant of those days," proclaims

Thackeray, "was Cuthbert Collingwood, and I think, since Heaven made

gentlemen, there is no record of a better one than that. Of brighter

deeds, I grant you, we may read performed by others; but where of a

nobler, kinder, more beautiful life of duty, of a gentler, truer heart?

Beyond dazzle of success and blaze of genius, I fancy shining a hundred

and a hundred times higher the sublime purity of Collingwood's gentle

glory. His heroism stirs British hearts when we recall it. His love and

goodness and piety make one thrill with happy emotion.... There are no

words to tell what the heart feels in reading the simple phrases of such a

hero. Here is victory and courage, but love sublimer and superior."

Nevertheless there is, in truth, little which appeals to the imagination

of posterity in the story of that drab martyrdom. Moreover Collingwood is

judged, not individually but by comparison. For ever he is obscured by the

more dazzling vision of Nelson. It weighs little in his favour that,

devoid of the vanity and the weakness which made of the latter a lesser

man even though a greater genius, Collingwood, throughout his life,

exhibited a nobility of soul which was never marred by one self-seeking

thought, one mean word, one base action. That very fact militates against

him. Collingwood had no dramatic instinct, and in the great issues of life

he never played to the gallery; he has not even attached to his memory, as

has Nelson, the glamour of a baffling and arresting intrigue. And there

remains eternally to his disfavour that he did not die at the

psychological moment. Whether he was, as some recent researches might lead

us to believe, a greater strategist than Nelson, as he was undoubtedly a

man of stronger principles and more disinterested motives, of wider

education and of profounder political insight, it is not our province here

to inquire. On his column in Trafalgar Square, to all time, Nelson stands

aloft surveying the generations who do him homage; far away, on the shores

of Tynemouth, a solitary figure of Collingwood, not erected till 1845,

gazes out across the ocean of his exile. It is as though the loneliness

which tortured that great soul in life haunts him beyond the grave, as the

adulation which was balm to Nelson's soul remains his portion to all

eternity. There might even be imagined an unconscious irony in the last

reference to Collingwood which occurs in the Stanhope correspondence,

wherein Mrs Stanhope, after the first horror which the news of her

kinsman's death had evoked, sums up thus the immediate effect of that

event upon her family life:--

_May 10th._

London is very gay now.... To give you some idea how we go on, I will

mention some of our engagements. To-night Opera; tomorrow, concerts at

Mrs Boehms and Lady Castlereagh's; Thursday, Dow. Lady Glyn, Lady de

Crespygny musick, and Lady Westmorland's; Saturday, Opera; 23rd., 24th

and 26th Balls. On Friday, of course, there are cards, but I shall not

go out on account of its being the funeral of our justly-lamented

friend.