Much culture shows itself in the families of Suffolk. I often thought it
was owing to the vicinity of Cambridge, which is not more than a drive
of thirty miles from Bury. This remark applies to many of the resident
gentry, and notably to two sons of Sir Henry Bunbury: to his eldest, Sir
C. F. Bunbury, the late baronet and a distinguished botanist, who was
only debarred from a Fellowship of Trinity by his being an heir to an
estate and title; an honour which his next brother, Sir Edward, received,
and who sustained his reputation in becoming the most learned ancient
geographer of the day.
Sir Henry, a lieutenant-general, was a man not to be readily forgotten.
He had a sound judgment, was a constant reader of books, old and new, a
clear-headed critic of art productions, and he held temperate opinions
on national affairs; in fact, he encouraged the repeal of the corn laws,
though at Barton and Mildenhall the owner of over fifteen thousand acres
of land. He was the son of a famous man, the greatest of caricaturists,
Henry Bunbury, whose initials of H. B. were adopted by one who came later
and who reaped fame on the bold impersonation.
Henry Bunbury was the friend of Sir Joshua, and there are several
Reynoldses at Barton Hall; one of priceless value, a full-length
portraiture of Lady Sarah Lennox as Venus sacrificing to the Graces—a
lady destined to perform a notable part in life.
It was said that her beauty was the exciting cause of her sovereign’s
madness, for it was well-known that she smote him to the quick; but she
was fated to a higher lot, though her path to it was thorny.
Lady Sarah Lennox was married to Sir Charles Bunbury, the uncle of Sir
Henry, a man in whose life the world can take no interest, for he was
simply of the horse-racing class, the least admirable of shrewd, clever
men.
One may imagine the kind of character Sir Charles was when it is told
that he grew tired of his lovely wife! She was finally divorced from so
unworthy a partner, and retired to Ireland, in the bitterness of her
heart.
After a lapse of several years, Lady Sarah met with a Colonel Napier, who
belonged to the historical family of that name, and she married him. From
that date her better destiny began. She became a mother, but of such a
family! Of her five sons, three were Peninsula heroes, with the friendly
eye of Wellington always upon them. Sir Charles Napier, the first general
of his day; Sir William, the historian of the Peninsular War; and Sir
George, a brave, good man, who was governor of the Cape.
Another son of this great lady was a barrister, and a fifth was a
post-captain.
But to one, the only daughter, the sister in so bright a galaxy, one may
readily credit the charm that attached to her! To complete the romance,
she became the second wife of Sir Henry Bunbury, coming to Barton Hall,
to find her beautiful mother’s image there, where it had remained over
the great library mantelpiece, sacrificing to the Graces still.
Barton was a comfortable home, and Providence, to make perfection joyous,
bestowed on Lady Bunbury a niece whose countenance was the daylight,
whose voice was the music of all around. This was Cecilia Napier, the
only living child of Sir George. She inherited the beauty and grace of
Lady Sarah, whose portraiture by Reynolds was hers also. The family of
Sir Henry came of a first marriage, but he loved the adopted one of his
second wife as his own. This lovely girl became the wife of his third
son, Henry, a colonel in the army.
One would almost think that Providence was the near relation of some
families—it appoints them to such pleasant places, makes them so welcome
upon earth, lets them want for nothing. So it was apparently at Barton
Hall, on which the divine patronage was very generously bestowed.
As we learnt at school, _Natura beatis omnibus esse dedit_. Still, as a
physician would say, this is only the predisposing cause; exciting causes
must follow. And here Providence steps in, with the patronage of a prime
minister, which is not, in appearance, dealt out disinterestedly; but
there is not enough for all.
Sir Henry, on account of his conciliatory manners, was selected after the
war to communicate to General Bonaparte his pending sentence of lifelong
exile. Sir Hudson Lowe might perhaps have been as well appointed to the
task, for the ex-emperor simply burst out into a torrent of abuse and
rage, which not all the persuasiveness of the baronet could soften.
Sir Henry began military life at the battle of Maida, under General
Stuart, and wrote an account of it in pamphlet form, but I think not
for general circulation. He also similarly described his interview
with Napoleon. It gave a fuller account of what passed than appears in
Sir Walter Scott’s work, which was borrowed from it by Sir Henry’s
permission.
Sir George Napier I knew very well; he was sometimes at Barton. Sir
Charles I saw only once, and was charmed by the gentle and unpretending
manner of the man who had performed such marvels of valour. When last
in India, at the conquest of Scinde, he contracted a dysentery, which
afterwards returned and proved fatal. He annexed Scinde, in violation
of the orders from home. Lady Bunbury told me she had heard, but could
not vouch for the truth of it, that in his despatch to the Government he
announced what he had done in one apologetic word—_peccavi_.
It was said that the moral influence enjoyed over the troops by this
great soldier even exceeded that of his command as general.
It may be interesting to note that Sir Henry’s successor, the late
Charles Fox Bunbury, married a daughter of Leonard Horner, a sister of
Lady Lyell. They lived at the old mansion at Mildenhall.
I knew Sir Charles Lyell in 1839, when I was the bearer to him of some
fossils; and I met him with Lady Lyell and her sisters in 1853, when I
delivered a lecture to a select company in the house.