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!"
