  1808-1810 ON DITS FROM GROSVENOR SQUARE AND CANNON HALLMarianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. GROSVENOR SQUARE, Jan 27th, 1808. Poor Philip went to school to-day, to the great regret of all the party, for he is a general favourite. Such a lively little monkey I never saw. On Sunday Roast Beef and Plum Pudding [1] dined with us, and were entertaining as usual, also Orator Milnes, who was quite fascinating, the first time I ever saw him so! He is perfectly different with his town face to what he appears in Yorkshire. Yesterday we had a pleasant dinnette. In the evening Lady Glyn arrived bien triste, and Mrs Beaumont all magnificence for Lady Castlereagh's. We were much surprised to find Count Holmar [2] in town, but we have had the mystery explained. He took the Princes back to their own country, and then came back here on account of his love for Miss Gifford, Lady Lansdowne's daughter by her first husband. [3] She is pretty and clever, without much fortune, but Lord Lansdowne has taken a fancy to her, has settled Southampton Castle upon her, and having no child of his own, intends making her an heiress. The young lady does not like the Count much, but her friends wish it, so there are delicacies and difficulties enough for a novel of the first order. He spent three months there this autumn, and certainly as far as a pale cheek, sunk eyes, and slender form can prove anything, he is either hopelessly consumptive or in love. So much for him! Mrs Beaumont is quite on her high horse. 'Tis said he has asked Another story is that he has had the offer of a Swedish order, fees My father has become acquainted with Mrs Knox, and is much charmed We were at the Opera on Saturday. Fuller of men I never saw it; the Marianne Stanhope, later, thus describes this room at the Opera where the audience assembled on leaving, and where each lady who was unattended by a cavalier of her own family, strove anxiously to escape the crowning ignominy of not having a beau to "hand her to her carriage." Then came the pleasures of the crush-room, that most singular of all Young ladies by the dozens were to be seen freezing, with shawls off one shoulder, trying to inveigle some man, by means of sweet words or sweeter looks, to hand them to their carriages; the unfortunate mammas behind them, looking worn out in the service, ready to expire with the cold and bustle, sinking on the sofa opposite to the fireplace to await their turn with what patience they might. [4] And after enlarging upon the various methods by which the representatives of the haut ton strove likewise to secure the satisfaction of "hearing their names proclaimed by each passer-by," she exclaims—"Say! ye frequenters of the Opera round-room, if these are not its chiefest pleasures?" Meanwhile the flirtations which were wont to beguile this tedious hour invariably attracted much attention. January 29th, 1808. I have heard some news respecting the little Viscount which surprises me—that he is to marry the second Miss Bouverie as soon as she is presented. [5] That the eldest was cruel & moreover that he always preferred the second, though he has never given the slightest hint & did not go near her at the Opera, not even in the crush-room. He is gone to Bath, probably to avoid the talk & gossip of London till it is publickly declared. February 22nd, 1808. On Monday we were charmed at Drury Lane with Mrs Jordan in "Three weeks after Marriage." I admire her so much I could forgive the Duke of Clarence anything. On Friday, we had a dinner party at Mrs Glyn's—hum-drum enough. The next night we had a dinner here, at which we had George Hampson, who is now one of our great flirts; he has been much in Edinburgh and likes nothing better than Scotch dancing. The dear Prims [Primroses] dine here À l'ordinaire. I met the Viscount in the Park with his love, and he went again in the evening, but I wonder they don't dine together of a Sunday. She is a nice little girl, very genteel and pleasing, but no beauty like her sister, who is all-conquering this year. At Court the other day she had a trimming and headdress of her own composition, all pheasant's feathers, the plumage of two-and-thirty. As for poor little Frankey [Frank Primrose] as Mary Lowther says, all the Roast Beef and Plum Pudding will produce nothing. Miss de Visme [6] has not yet arrived. She has made great havoc among the Staffordshire beaux. Your old Square Flame, Miss Calcraft [7] is in a few months to come out a raging belle. She is amazingly admired by the few who have seen her. London is pronounced dullissimo, so pray continue to amuse yourself in Edinburgh, which by your account must be the gayest and pleasantest place in the world. We are much obliged to the Duchess of Gordon for giving you so happy an opportunity of announcing the beautiful, or extraordinary presents we may expect to receive—perhaps Scotch husbands—who knows! Pray don't be dilatory. Miss Glyn is smarter, gayer, and a greater flirt than ever. A last attempt—may it succeed! Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. February 26th, 1808. Yesterday I had the pleasure of your gay, wild epistle. You remind me of the French prisoner who was asked how he spent his time. He answered—"We breakfast, then dance; dine, dance again; sup—encore la danse!" This I begin to suspect is a Scotch life, and very good for bile, provided the dinners are such as the prisoner partook of. You seem to be the happiest of the happy and the gayest of the gay. Peter was quite shocked you had not mentioned Walter Scott. Have you ever met with him? Great expectations are formed of his poem. Campbell and Rogers are both going to publish poems. March 11th, 1808. I believe I have not written to you since your sisters were at the Argyle Rooms, [8] which they liked extremely, but where they had small opportunity of exhibiting their new steps. There was first an Operetta, then a supper, and afterwards an attempt at a dance; but the stupid English voted it not ton, and there were only about fifteen couples who ventured to defy this opinion—Marianne and Mr Macdonald one of them. Anne remained a spectator. As the dancing did not seem to be approved, Mr Greville said, for the future there should be none except upon ball nights. March 16th, 1808. We were at the Opera on Saturday and at the Argyle Rooms on Monday. At the latter place we had only a concert and supper—thin and I thought dull. The men are always in the house and have little time for anything but politicks. The King is, I understand, quite provoked with the Opposition, and says that their present method of proceeding is different to any that has ever been in his reign. They depend upon wearing out the Constitutions of the Ministers. Your father told Lord Castlereagh he was certain it was all owing to his pale face and therefore he ought to put on a little rouge. The Lords sending back the Bill on the orders of Council had given great spirits to the Opposition. The dullness of London is beyond anything I have ever known. The only Your friend Mr Macdonald did us the honour to remember us at the Mr Macdonald, who was unfortunate in having made so little impression upon Mrs Stanhope's daughters, was Archibald, third son of Alexander, Baron Macdonald of Sleat, called "Lord of the Isles." He was a great friend of John Stanhope, who, in 1806, had accompanied him on a canvassing tour through the Hebrides when such an expedition was fraught with discomfort and even danger, so little had civilization penetrated to that wild region since the days of Dr Johnson's famous tour seventy years previously. Failing in his canvass, Archibald Macdonald subsequently made another attempt to obtain a seat in Parliament, of which he sent the following account to the former companion of his efforts:— Archibald Macdonald to John Spencer-Stanhope. METHVEN CASTLE, May 26th, 1808. My Dear Stanhope, You will have heard by this time that I have been half way to the North Pole (Kirkwall in the Orkneys) in quest of a seat in Par., and perhaps you will also have heard that I did not find it. However, I left no stone unturned in my researches—Philosopher's stone excepted—and only came back from my transportation four days ago, not a little happy to find myself at Methven again, for such a country I never beheld. Starvation reigns there with pinching sway, as both my nose and my stomach very soon informed me, for the one was nipped into a sort of beetroot colour by the North Winds, and the other was forced thro' a course of Salt Fish and Whiskey, for the hard season had laid an embargo on animal food, etc., and this you will say was pinching fare for a candidate from the land of plenty! Posts, only once a week, were irregular. I must not forget to mention that I went to Orkney in the King's Cutter (The Royal George), and scarcely had we landed at Kirkwall than accounts were brought of a French privateer being within sight. Away went the Royal George, and, in 10 hours after, returned to her moorings with the Passepartout of 16 guns and 63 men from Dunkirk. The French Captain, Vanglieme, was my guest to Leith, and a most extraordinary genius he was, full of life and spirits, not in the least downcast at his misfortunes. He had a most excellent little band of music on board, which amused us all the way home; he is now on his Parole at Peebles. His behaviour to some English Captains that he had taken was so generous that they came forward to sign a certificate in his behalf to be presented by me to the Commander-in-Chief, everything that can be done for him I hope will be done—generosity for generosity. I perceive a very beautiful place to be sold in ye papers, Park Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. The Princess of Wales danced all night at Burlington House with Lord Ebrington…. Mrs Bankes's rout was as full and as good as even she could wish, so many men scarcely ever seen at any Assembly, & in every respect it was good. The only disappointment was that the night would not permit of the world going into the Garden, tho' it was lighted & the Pandear Band played. Before we came away they were beginning to dance, but to that music I do not think it could be kept up with spirit. We left dancing also at Lady Neave's, & had thoughts of returning there, but Mrs Bankes's was too pleasant to allow of our attempting to get away,—no easy thing if we had wished it, for I really believe there must have been near 2,000 people there. A most desperate flirtation between Miss Glyn & Mr Archibald Grey. How To-day and to-morrow we dine fourteen. Your father was at the House Mrs Bankes, the wife of the M.P. for Corfe Castle, [9] presumably gave this successful party for her two daughters, one of whom Lord Broughton, writing a few years later, describes as "lively and entertaining, very lovely and very clever, but a little odd." This latter characteristic appears to have been shared by her father, for various stories of his absent-mindedness have survived, and one mentioned by the same correspondent was often subsequently quoted with peculiar zest by his large circle of acquaintance. When Chantrey was thinking of a design for Satan, Mr Bankes, in the presence of a grave and learned assembly, volunteered the following unexpected recommendation: "My dear Chantrey, you had better choose some part of Satan's history and so make your task more easy—take, for instance, his conflict with sin and death!" The shout of laughter with which this unsolicited advice was received completely mystified Mr Bankes, who, for some time could not be persuaded that he had made any inappropriate suggestion. Nevertheless both he and his wife enjoyed exceptional popularity, and their parties were appreciated far more than the next entertainment referred to by Mrs Stanhope:— June 20th. Lady Dartmouth gives a breakfast at Blackheath this morning, the heat and dust will be dreadful. To-night we expect to be amused at the Argyle Rooms, as those who choose may go in masks. Lady Harrington goes nowhere, and the Marquis almost lives here. Meanwhile the news from the continent was again calculated to arrest the attention of the most frivolous amongst the gay world of London. Events were assuming a more threatening aspect. The long-protracted Peninsular war had begun; but Sir Arthur Wellesley, dispatched to the relief of Portugal, three weeks after landing defeated Junot in a decisive victory at Roliga, on August 17th, 1808. Had he then pushed on, as it was said he wished to do, the whole French army must have surrendered; but his superior officers, Sir Harry Burrard and Sir Hugh Dalrymple, who landed on the two succeeding days, forbade all pursuit, and, it was asserted, obliged Wellesley to sign with them the pitiful Convention of Cintra, which allowed the French army to evacuate Portugal unharmed, and to be carried on British ships back to France. Junot admitted frankly that his men would have capitulated had they been pursued but two miles by the English, and so great was the indignation roused in England by the news of this fiasco, that the three generals demanded and obtained a court- martial. All were acquitted; but Wellesley, who had denounced the Convention vehemently before the Court, was instantly employed again, an honour which was denied to his superior officers. Hence the refrain, which became a favourite at the time. Sir Arthur and Sir Harry, Sir Harry and Sir Hew, Some years afterwards, with regard to this famous occurrence, John I regret that I did not at the time dwell at a greater length upon the That Sir Arthur Wellesley was fortunate in throwing the blame from his own shoulders on to his superiors in command, there can be little doubt, as notwithstanding the assertion of his friends, it is not possible to consider the signature of such a man in the situation that he then held, as a mere matter of official duty. If a General is superseded in his command in the hour of victory he does not become a mere aide-de-camp or secretary to the officer by whom he has been superseded. In conducting a negociation, he stands rather in the position of an ambassador, who, though he may not have full power himself, is still held to be mainly responsible for the treaty that he signs. If Sir Arthur only signed the Convention officially, he ought, for the sake of his own character, at once to have remonstrated openly against all the terms of which he disapproved and which tarnished the splendour of his victory. The obvious conclusion to be drawn from his signature of the Convention was that, the opportunity of following up the victory having been lost, the surrender of Lisbon and the evacuation of the whole of Portugal by the French troops were advantages too great to be rejected and left to the uncertain decision of arms. But whatever may have been his private opinion, he was fortunate to rise superior to the disgrace which fell upon his commanding officers, probably because the victory of Vimiera must have served to open the eyes of our Government to the folly of submitting a man of his abilities to the command of Generals higher in rank but far inferior in military experience. It can but appear singular that a General should be superseded in his command in the very moment of battle, and that, before his successor had time to grasp the reins of power, the latter should in turn be himself succeeded, by yet another commander! It affords an extraordinary instance either of indecision or of intrigue in the Cabinet!… Suffice it to say that this Triumvirate produced as a monument to their glory the Convention of Cintra! Following upon this event, Sir John Moore took command of the British troops in Portugal, and advanced into Spain to relieve the Spaniards. "There was," relates John Stanhope, "at this period no man in the army whose character stood higher than that of Sir John Moore. He was a man of the finest principles and of the most undaunted courage; by those under his command he was adored. In the hour of battle he had the most perfect self-possession and confidence both in his troops and in himself, which alone was sufficient to ensure success. Though not a fortunate general, he was esteemed one of the most able in the British service, and it gives me pleasure to add, that I have since heard French officers who served against him give the highest testimony in favour of his military conduct. But his political opinions, which were hostile to Government, added to the difficulty of his situation, and that circumstance undoubtedly weighed upon his mind…. It is to this very susceptibility, this want of moral courage and readiness to sacrifice his own reputation to the cause in which he was engaged, that his misfortunes are principally to be attributed." The story of Moore's advance into Spain, as John Stanhope points out, "undoubtedly betrays, both on his part and on that of the Government, a most lamentable ignorance of the real state of that country. Because they heard of Spanish armies in the field, they idly supposed that these were armies in the accepted sense of the word and not a mere collection of peasants, undisciplined and chiefly unarmed, officered by men as ignorant of their profession as themselves and commanded by a General yet more incompetent.—And with armies so composed they actually sent a British force to co-operate! … Sir John Moore had not been long in Spain before he discovered the mistake that had been committed and the danger of his situation; he saw at once that the course he ought to adopt was to retreat upon Portugal, fall back upon his resources and rely entirely upon his own judgment." The story of his dilemma, and of how he was forced to act against his convictions, is well known to posterity. After dwelling at length upon the aspects of the situation, John Stanhope concludes: He made a rapid march on Madrid and was on the point of attacking Soult when he learnt, by an intercepted dispatch, that Bonaparte was marching against him in person and that he was in immediate danger of being surrounded. The consequence was his famous retreat. As to the manner in which that was conducted, I have heard a French General, who was employed in the actual army by which Moore was pursued, speak of his enemy's tactics with boundless admiration. But perhaps the highest praise which can be accorded to it is that the pursuit, in the first instance, was conducted by Bonaparte in person, and subsequently by Soult and Ney under his express directions, and yet that Sir John Moore succeeded in effecting his escape without once being entraÎnÉ, and crowned his efforts by the victory of Corunna—a victory which, sealed as it was with his own blood, ought to wash out the memory of any errors which he may have committed. [10] Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. RAMSGATE, January 27th, 1809. You will have experienced the greatest grief for the loss of our gallant defender, Sir John Moore—a great blow to this country. But while deploring his death, we must not forget to glory in what our brave troops performed, tho' 'tis grievous to think how many lives have been lost, and what the remaining army have gone through, without lamenting that this almost unexampled victory will be of so little use. Last night this place was thrown into surprise and confusion by the arrival of one or two Transports with part of the 52nd, and of two or three other Regiments. The poor men were obliged to pass the night in the Transports as they could not come on shore till the orders came from Canterbury. Your father went last night to see some of them. He found a Serjeant who said they had no assistance from the Spaniards, but the accounts are so various I do not like to give too ready credit to what I hear, tho' I hear there is not the patriotism amongst them one should suppose. Lady Lilford, [11] that beauty en masse (who is here with two daughters ill out of the four she has with her) was made very happy last night by the arrival of her Son who was in the 52nd, & of whom she had not been able to hear anything. We have put on a black ribbon for Major Stanhope, son to Lord The Knoxs will have been in great anxiety, for they have a son in the The excitement occasioned by news of the victory of Corunna and the lamentable death of Sir John Moore had scarcely abated when the attention of the public was arrested by a cause cÉlÈbre which occasioned an unprecedented commotion. The Duke of York, Commander-in-Chief, had for three years had a liaison with Mrs Mary Anne Clarke, a woman of humble origin, but great powers of fascination. It was at length discovered that she had been selling commissions in the army for extortionate sums and sinecures in almost every department of State, so that men of all classes, by her intervention, had procured places and privileges as a matter of favouritism or of merchandise. So much was this the case, that a footman whom she liked was given a commission in the Army, and a clergyman, for substantial payment, had secured the honour of preaching before the King. On January 27th, 1809, Colonel Wardle, M.P. for Okehampton, brought forward a motion of inquiry in the House, charging the Commander-in-Chief, not only with having been a party to such practices, but of actually participating in the proceeds. Instead of this inquiry taking place, as he had intended, before a secret Committee, so great was the belief in the Duke's innocence, that it was decided to give the investigation all the publicity possible, and that the witnesses should be examined before the whole House. This was singularly unfortunate, as the consequent scandal was great. On February 14th, 1809, Mrs Stanhope wrote:— The House sat till three this morning examining Mrs Clarke, who your father says is a lively, clever woman. End as it will, it must be disgraceful to the Duke of York. The King is much hurt at it. Except the floods, that is the only subject of conversation. During the progress of the inquiry, Mrs Clarke appeared daily at the bar of the House exquisitely dressed, witty, impudent, and answering the attacks of the cross-examiners with a cleverness and fund of smart repartee which completely foiled them. On March 8th, Mrs Stanhope wrote again:— It is very extraordinary that the day should arrive and Colonel Wardle never have signified what his Motion is to be. Tierney wrote to him the day before yesterday, to which the answer was that he should not be at the House, and referred him to Lord Folkstone who did not appear till the Debate was begun; therefore all is conjecture. This conduct on the part of Mr Wardle will be in favour of the Duke, who I doubt not will be honourably acquitted. Mr Burrell says, what a fuss they make about the Duke's having what every man in Office must have—a clerk. Mr Stephens, brother-in-law to Wilberforce, made a speech of four hours on the Commission business. For three he commanded attention. It will be published. Although the verdict eventually given declared charitably that the Duke was exonerated from the charge of personal corruption, it was evident that he had been guilty of culpable neglect of his duty, that he had signed papers presented to him without troubling to read them, and had agreed to every arrangement made by Mrs Clarke, although knowing that she was making a traffic of such commissions. The Duke, in consequence, was forced to resign his Commandership, although in 1811, he was, to the indignation of many people, reinstated in it by his brother, the Prince Regent. Ere that date, however, another topic of conversation had been provided for the social world. February 25th, 1809. We are very quiet. To-night, we go to the Opera, and on Wednesday, another dance at Mrs Knox's and voilÀ tout. Your father was at the House till four, but I cannot give you any account of the Debate, as our thoughts have been engaged by the fire at Drury Lane. The whole fabrick burned down in a very short time. Fortunately, as it is Lent, the Theatre was not open. It took fire during the rehearsal, and even some of the stalls are down. Charles has been there this morning and says there was only one life lost. It is the fifth theatre I remember being burnt. Canning was speaking when the account reached the House. The Debate was immediately interrupted, and it was proposed to adjourn, but Sheridan requested they would not postpone it for him, and it went on. Knox, with his good-humour, asked Anne if he was not to have a ticket in my box, but she told him, as he could not want one at present, he should have one from the beginning of April. Your father and Lord James [13] go to the Speaker's to-night. We are grown very good and walk in Hyde Park every day. From Ramsgate, I hear that the place is full of poor Irish soldiers who are dying fast. I fear the mortality has been so great since the return of the Army that it will increase the loss of men largely. The destruction of Drury Lane was rendered yet more tragic by the conditions under which the news of such a startling disaster reached those who were most affected by it. "On the 24th of February," Michael Kelly relates, "Mr Richard Wilson gave a dinner to the principal actors and officers of Drury Lane Theatre, at his house in Lincoln's Inn Fields. All was mirth and glee; it was about 11 o'clock when Mr Wilson rose and drank 'Prosperity and Success to Drury Lane Theatre.' We filled a bumper to the toast; and at the very moment when we were raising the glasses to our lips, repeating 'Success to Drury Lane Theatre' in rushed the younger Miss Wilson and screamed out, 'Drury Lane Theatre is in flames!' We ran into the Square and saw the dreadful sight. The fire raged with such fury that it perfectly illuminated Lincoln's Inn Fields with the brightness of day. We proceeded to the scene of destruction. Messrs Peake and Dunn, the Treasurers, dashed up the stairs, at the hazard of their lives, to the iron Chest in which papers of the greatest consequence were deposited. With the aid of two intrepid firemen they succeeded in getting the Chest into the street—little else was saved. "I had not only the poignant grief of beholding the magnificent structure burning with merciless fury, but of knowing that all the scores of operas which I had composed for the Theatre, the labour of years, were then consuming. It was an appalling sight! And, with a heavy heart I walked home to Pall Mall. At the door I found my servant waiting for me, who told me that two gentlemen had just called, and, finding I was not at home had said, 'Tell your master when he comes home, that Drury Lane is now in flames, and that the Opera House shall go next.' I made every effort to trace these obliging personages, but never heard anything more of them. "Mr Sheridan was in the House of Commons when the dreadful event was made known, and the Debate was one in which he was taking a prominent part. In compliment to his feelings, it was moved that the House should adjourn. "Mr Sheridan said that he gratefully appreciated such a mark of attention, but he would not allow an adjournment, for 'Public duty ought to precede all private interest,' and with Roman fortitude he remained at his post while his Play House was burning." [14] Sheridan, indeed, in the midst of such a misfortune, showed a nobility and disinterestedness which did him infinite credit. Forgetful of self, he begged the whole Theatrical Company to stand by each other, even at personal loss, till the Theatre could be rebuilt, pointing out that while the superior actors would have little difficulty in getting other engagements, the inferior ones were in far other case. "Let us," he urged, "make the general good our sole consideration. Elect yourselves into a Committee and keep in remembrance even the poor sweepers of the stage, who, with their children, must starve if not protected by your fostering care." Although the cause of the disaster was never ascertained, a general impression prevailed that the Theatre had not been set on fire by accident, and the mysterious message left at the house of the unhappy manager seemed to confirm this suspicion. A report was also current that the Prince of Wales had some time previously received an anonymous letter telling him that all the principal public buildings should be burnt down one after the other. Innumerable fires, indeed, occurred, and many people were afraid of attending the Opera, since it was rumoured that a train of gunpowder had been found under it. Hence, doubtless, the "good-humoured" request of Mr Knox for a seat at the post of danger; and shortly afterwards another mention of him occurs. He had attended a Drawing-room held by the Queen, which had proved unusually crowded, owing to the sympathy that all were anxious to show for the Royal family on the acquittal of the Duke of York. GROSVENOR SQUARE, March, 1809. Knox was presented yesterday, and his Mamma takes him to introduce to all her acquaintances, which he does not like. Her last ball was much too full, she might have opened her whole house, therefore, there was no good dancing till just before supper, when the Musick was sent away, to the sore annoyance of Anne, who was just beginning the dance with Mr Fraser. The Knoxs say that Charlotte Bouverie is a painted thing, but Archy was charmed with her, and her dancing. He has given up talking of home, both he and Lord James dine here again, the 11th, with the Primroses and Mr Knox, Lady Milton, Lord Euston, and some others. The Drawingroom was very full yesterday, and I believe the Queen spoke to everybody; she thinks there are times to be civil. I was surprised at Court to hear Knox say he thought it was everybody's duty to go to Court yesterday, as he supposed Queens would feel like other Mothers. I was delighted to hear so loyal a speech from one of that house, for though his father and his uncle are in possession of a place of £10,000 a year, I do not believe they are disposed that way. Miss Shuckburgh [15] was presented yesterday, and as she has a borough, Knox thought she might be worth looking at, but the Borough and Twelve Thousand a year must be thought of, by any one disposed to think of her. The Beaumonts are to be at Cheltenham on Monday, the Colonel is much better, a very large Blister has roused his senses. [16] March 22nd. You must put on a black coat for the Duchess of Bolton who died yesterday. [17] March 30th, 1809. Your brother Philip is by the kindness of the Duke of Montrose, the Master of the Horse, appointed Page to His Majesty. We are ordering him his smart uniform, sword, etc., for him to go to Court in, to kiss the King and Queen's hand, the week after next. Marianne is busy learning to make shoes. Archy was so pleased that he has begun. The Shoemaker says he does very well, but he thinks Lord James [Murray] understands better. The Master is a Scotchman. What think you of Princess Charlotte learning the trade? It rather discomposes me, as it is not an amusement for a Queen of England. A novel occupation was absorbing the attention of the fashionable world. The craze for making shoes suddenly obsessed Society. Shoemakers unexpectedly found themselves the most favoured of mortals. Lessons in their art were demanded on all sides and at all costs. They were so busy teaching it, they had little time to practise it. Men and women alike would forego engagements while they strove to perfect themselves in the new hobby; and the lady who, at balls, could boast that her feet had been shod by her own fair hands was an object of envy to all the less talented. [18] The Stanhopes threw themselves with avidity into the new pastime, and still in existence are the little cards which they had printed in jest announcing that this new profession was "Carried on at Cannon Hall and Grosvenor Square." Mrs Stanhope apparently viewed the occupation with equanimity, save when it became the recreation of Royalty. Nevertheless it seems occasionally to have interfered seriously with her arrangements. That same month she writes:— I have not seen Archy of some days, but I think I shall this morning as I have sent an Opera ticket for either him or Lord James yesterday, and they neither of them appeared. They are so busy learning to make shoes that they can think of nothing else, and all engagements are forgotten. The new opera last night was excellent. The Chasse of Henri Quatre when we had Viva, Viva, Nostro Re, there was universal applause, and it was with spirit encored. The dancing excellent. Miss Gaylon does not dance after Saturday, as she is to marry a Mr Murray, a clergyman. Knox is gone to Ireland; I believe heartily glad to get from his I must conclude with an extract from the papers:— "A few days ago was married by special license, at St George's Church, The enclosed paragraph I send you, because the lady is my laundry- maid, and is at this moment at the wash-tub. She chose to marry a day or two before I came to Town, to the rare annoyance of my footman, Robert, as there had long been an attachment between them, though she is old enough for his mother. She has now announced her decision to the fashionable world. Meanwhile the visit to Ireland does not seem to have been altogether happy for Mr Knox. Various letters speak of his serious illness, and the multiplicity of the remedies resorted to in his aid rivalled those employed on behalf of Lady Elizabeth Lowther. On June 11th a certain Mr Maconochie, a Scotch friend of John Stanhope, wrote from Edinburgh:— We had fine fun at Pitt's dinner. Lord Melville made a very good speech; we had good singing too. I went to the evening Collation on the King's Birthday where there was about 1,000 people, and the immortal memory of Mr Pitt drunk with three times three. The Whigs, I can assure you, are quite down in Scotland. By the way when I speak of Whigs, you have alarmed me very much about poor Knox. What is his complaint? You have never told me, you only say he is in great danger—no wonder, poor fellow, with six physicians attending him. Later, Mr Maconochie furnished John Stanhope with news of another common friend. I was in Edinburgh on Wednesday last. Mrs Playfair has got three or four youths from the South, among whom is the aimable Lord John Russell [19] I suppose he intends to honour the speculative with his presence as Mrs Playfair told me she hoped I would not vote against him. I certainly shall not, as I think any thing of the appearance of a gentleman will be of invaluable service. You must observe in the newspapers that old Sir William Douglas [20] is dead, and I am very sorry to say that owing to the negligence and delay of Frank Walker's papa, our friend William does not succeed nearly to what his Uncle intended, nor does he indeed get anything till after his father's death. The state of the Case is this:—Sir William met his agent, Mr Walker, at Harrogate, this summer, and he then desired him to make out a settlement for him by which he left everything he should die possessed of to William. Mr Walker recommended him to delay it till he should get to Scotland that he might execute it formally. To this Sir William agreed. On his getting to London, however, he found himself so very unwell that he wrote to Mr Walker to say that he had no time to lose. Mr Walker, none the less, still delayed, and did not send the Deeds for above a fortnight, and Sir William had died two days before they reached Town. By the Will which is valid, and which was executed so long ago as the year 1790, his whole fortune is to be divided between three brothers, William's Papa, Mr Douglas (Sir James Shaw's partner), and one in America. The American one is since dead, leaving an only daughter, and there is a great question whether or not she will be entitled to anything. But let the worst come to the worst, our friend will have the Castle Douglas estate entire, about £7,000 per annum, besides his father's estate of Orchardton, £5,000 a year more. This he will in a great measure owe to his uncle, Mr Douglas's, kindness, who says that as far as possible, the unexecuted Deed shall be complied with. In the meantime, you see, he would have nothing till his father's death. But I have since heard that the old Boy is going to reside at Castle Douglas is no doubt disappointed, as he has lost above £150,000 From such an event as the disposal of a fortune of four hundred thousand, the thoughts of Mrs Stanhope were again distracted by the news in the political world. A letter from Archibald Macdonald, dated July 23rd, 1809, echoes the current gossip respecting Lord Wellesley, afterwards Viceroy of Ireland, of whose movements with regard to the Continental campaign no one could speak with certainty. "Is he gone to Spain or not?" questioned Mr Macdonald. "I have heard it very confidently asserted that he is not going, and that all his gout, etc., is merely affected to prevent his being sent. In short, that he has changed all his plans and did not venture to stir one step. On the other hand, it is said, that he is become nearly quite imbecile." Meanwhile, although Sir Arthur Wellesley had obtained victories at Oporto and at Talavera, having been unsupported by the Spaniards he was obliged to retreat; and following on this, an expedition sent out by the British Government to Walcheren under Lord Chatham proved a terrible failure. The mutual recriminations of Canning and Castlereagh led to their resignation and resulted in a duel which took place between them on September 9th, and of which Archibald Macdonald writes:— When we were at Glasgow Circuit the Lord Advocate shewed me Lord Lord Melville intended to have gone to England in the beginning of the In October Perceval succeeded the Duke of Portland as Prime Minister, First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, while Lord Wellesley became Minister for Foreign Affairs. A rumour meanwhile reached the Stanhopes with regard to their young friend Mr Pemberton Milnes which roused their curiosity. What say you in the South to the Administration? Will it be possible for them to go on? 'Tis strongly reported here that Milnes refused being Chancellor of the Exchequer. True it is that a King's Messenger was sent to him, and I believe that something which he declined was offered to him, but surely not that great office. I live in dread of the United Talents being called in! Lord Wellesley and Lord Melville might enable them to go on, but without them they will never do. I am still willing to hope that Peace is not signed and that Bonaparte may be ill. The true story of the offer which was made to Pemberton Milnes was afterwards thus recorded by John Stanhope:— Soon after he left Cambridge, Milnes made a bet of £300 to £500 with Robert Pemberton Milnes to Walter Spencer-Stanhope. October 23rd, 1809. My Dear Sir, As I feel as strongly as I can the kind expressions of friendship that we have interchanged, and as I flatter myself on this occasion you may find an interest in what perhaps may be thought a leading event in my life, I sit down to send you a line informing you of my having reached London, having received a letter from Perceval which would have made it personally disrespectful to him had I declined coming. On my arrival here, and after he had submitted in great detail the history of the Cabinet discussions, he closed by no less an offer than saying he had the King's orders to propose to me the situation either of Chancellor of the Exchequer or Secretary of War,—the latter without a seat in the Cabinet, if I wished to lessen the responsibility. This was on Saturday, and I have employed the interval, not in reviewing the grounds upon which he stands as Prime Minister, which really on the first statement satisfied me there was no alternative, but in duly weighing my own situation and taking my measure (as it were) for my fitness for the Office. The result of my reflections has been to decline both offers. In so doing, you may imagine I had no ordinary feelings of personal vanity to contend with, nor a common self-satisfaction in thinking that the proposal had been made me. At the same time, dazzling as the place of a high Cabinet situation might have been, I do conscientiously assure you that I looked to my country more than to myself, and differing from Perceval in thinking that its interests would well be entrusted in my hands, I have answered decisively that I thought there were others who would conduct them better. I believe that he proposes offering the Chancellorship of the In all this business, however well or ill determined on my part, you will be glad to hear that I think Perceval's case quite a triumphant one, and such as, when well stated to Parliament, will meet with sure support. I write in the greatest hurry. I am, dear Sir, ROB. P. MILNES.The tradition of this famous bet has long been related and disputed. The incident was one of national importance, for it was the refusal of Mr Milnes to accept this brilliant offer pressed upon him by Perceval which gave Lord Palmerston admission into the Ministry, and started him on a career which finally led him to the Premiership. Lord Palmerston's Maiden Speech in the House was made in reply to one by Mr Milnes. In Mrs Milnes's Diary, there is given the following account of the reception of the offer by her husband:— One morning when we were at breakfast a King's Messenger drove up in a post-chaise-and-four with a despatch from Mr Perceval, offering Mr Milnes the choice of a seat in the Cabinet, either as Chancellor of the Exchequer or Secretary of War. Mr Milnes immediately said "Oh no! I will not accept either. With my temperament I should be dead in a year." I knelt and entreated that he should, and represented that it might be an advantage to our little boy, please God he lived, but all was to no purpose, and he went up to London to decline the most flattering and distinguished compliment ever known to have been paid to so young a man. [21] Immediately after Christmas, as was their custom, the Stanhopes returned to London, and 1810 found them once more resuming their life in Grosvenor Square. Mrs Spencer-Stanhope. February 27th, 1810. London is not yet gay. Of Politicks, whether the present Ministers can stand seems doubtful. Lord Chatham in his examination throws blame on the Navy; his having presented a paper to the King without any communication with the other Ministers, has made sad work. The business in the House is every day, and all day, and all night. I have not seen any of your friends yet. Miss Acklom is not yet come. Sir T. Gascoigne [23] and Sir C. Turner [24] both dead, the former has Sir C. Turner, his house, stud, and plate at Newmarket to his groom Honoria Blake has married Captain Cadogan—amiable and poor. Lord and March 20th, 1810. There are more girls of high fashion just come out than has been known London, I never knew so dull…. I hear of no matches, the flirtations March 27th, 1810. Ministers have much to do this week. The Walcheren Debate came on We have sent to Mr Knox for the numbers, he came home at one, and he There was a very interesting debate the other day on a statute, precluding all men who have written on hire for newspapers from becoming Members of Lincoln's Inn. A lawyer present described a case in which a young man of the highest expectations, most distinguished education, might be driven by necessity to accept of such an offer for existence. After enlarging with great feeling on such a case, he concluded by saying he had not described an imaginary situation, but his own, thirty years before. The applause of the House was excessive. I wish you may meet with the speech for it was very interesting. Sir F. Burdett has published a letter to say that the House of Commons have no right to imprison Gale Jones. [25] There is to be a debate upon it. I fear his conduct will do much mischief. His letter is addressed to his Constituents. Pole Carew got drunk at Oxford and made such a riot he was sent to the [Illustration: SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, BT., M P. From an engraving by Wm. Sharp, after a picture by J. Northcote, R.A. Painted while Sir Francis was a prisoner in the Tower.] April, 1810. Yesterday early I went into the Park to see between 4,000 & 5,000 Cavalry pass in Review before the Commander-in-Chief. The sight was highly gratifying, the morning beautiful, & as they entered from the Kensington Barracks & went down the Ride, all the carriages went up the drive, several open carriages and a large concourse of people both on foot & horseback. It was well-timed, as this morning there is to be a Meeting of the Electors of Westminster in Westminster Hall to address, I believe, the Commons for having deprived them of one of their Members, but the sight of the army yesterday will, I doubt not, keep all quiet. Sir F. Burdett is going to Law with the Speaker on the illegality of his Warrant. Thursday, the Foot Troops are all to be reviewed in the Park, the number about 17,000. Major Gibbs and his Regiment are on guard in the Square…. Since Sir F. Burdett was safe in the Tower the town has been perfectly quiet & all parties in the House join to condemn his conduct. May 10th. This year there is quite a new Ball set. Mrs Beaumont's was the best of the year—a child's Ball from 8 to 10, and then a grown-up one, two suppers, magnificently done, never too full, nor too hot. I had a few people before, only 14 or 15 women and plenty of men. They danced to the Pianoforte. I invited Lady Eleanora Dundas. [26] Our visiting arose from an odd mistake. She called here and believed herself at Lady Dalkeith's. I, somewhat surprised at her invasion, of course, as in politeness bound, returned her visit—at which she must have been much astonished, being still unaware she had called on me. When she came to return my return-visit, she was not a little shocked and surprised to discover where she had actually been when she supposed herself to be calling upon Lady Dalkeith! Archy says La Belle [27] is to marry the son of Picture Davis, at whose house they are, and who has bought Lord Leicester's house. London is very gay now. Mrs Knox has contributed more to its gaiety than anybody yet. Last night she had another excellent dance downstairs in two rooms. I was there till five, Esther (Acklom) with me, the little Lord still perseveres, but I am told it will not do. Archy has got a capital house, elegantly furnished, in Connaught May 22nd, 1810. To-day all the world are wishing it may continue fair, as Lady The last week has not been gay, we have had nothing but dinners and Lord James Murray was married on Saturday, [28] and this day at twelve To-day Esther goes to the Breakfast, to the Opera to-night with us, Towards the close of 1810 the mental affliction under which George III. had so long suffered became more pronounced, and was declared by his physicians to be incurable. In the February following, the Bill was passed by which the Prince of Wales became King in all but name; and forthwith, in the worst possible taste, he determined to celebrate the inauguration of his regency by a fÊte at Carlton House, which should surpass all previous entertainments given by him in its unrivalled magnificence. The selfishness which prompted such callous indifference to the condition of his father was accentuated by the fact that he fixed upon the date of the old King's birthday as an appropriate anniversary on which to hold this public rejoicing at the incapacity of the unfortunate monarch; while the occasion was rendered still more memorable by the fact that from this great festivity, not only was the Princess of Wales perforce excluded and Mrs Fitzherbert, by a studied slight on his part, prevented from attending, but even the unoffending Princess Charlotte, now verging on womanhood and panting to taste that gladness of youth of which she had known so little, was denied participation in the gaiety for which she ardently longed. None the less, all other members of the world of fashion went to the entertainment, which proved one of surpassing brilliancy. The night was fine, and the company, which began arriving soon after nine o'clock, stayed till the small hours of the following morning. The walks adjacent to the Palace were enclosed and converted into temporary rooms, glittering with lights and festooned with flowers. The supper took place at two o'clock in the morning in an exquisite grotto of rare exotics, and along the centre of the table, which was 200 feet long, a river of pure water flowed from a beautiful fountain at its head. Gold and silver fish disported themselves in its limpid waters, while along its banks were ranged cool green moss and aquatic flowers. In contrast with this scene of simulated sylvan beauty, the daily papers relate with awe, if with some lack of humour, that "the gold and silver plate used at the fÊte amounted to seven tons. Nearly a wagon load of it belonged to the late Sir W. Pulteney and was borrowed for the occasion." In the midst of this astonishing display, surrounded by his most favoured friends and waited on by sixty servitors, sat the Regent, resplendent in his finest clothes and swelling in the plenitude of his new importance. To him it mattered nothing that his daughter was breaking her heart in the dullness of Windsor, that his wife was chafing in her seclusion at Blackheath, or that the woman who loved him knew herself publicly humiliated by his attitude towards her; yet the condemnation meted out freely to his conduct, even by those who accepted his hospitality, finds no echo in the correspondence of Mrs Stanhope, who with tireless energy attended the royal fÊte previous to starting on the long journey to Cannon Hall. CANNON HALL, July 1st, 1811. The day before I left Town I attended the most magnificent fÊte I ever We did not get home till 1/2 past 5 & started on our journey to Unfortunately, this well-intentioned decision on the part of the Prince Regent was attended with a dire result. "The condescension of the Prince," relate the papers, "in extending the permission to view, for three days longer, the arrangements for the late fÊte at Carlton House, has nearly been attended with fatal consequences. Wednesday being the last day of the public being admitted, many persons took their station at the gates so early as seven o'clock. By twelve the line of carriages reached down St James's Street, as far as Piccadilly, and the crowd of pedestrians halfway up the Haymarket. At three o'clock the crowd had so much increased, that the Guards were forced to give way; several ladies were unfortunately thrown down and trampled upon; and we regret to learn that some were seriously hurt, among whom were Miss Shum of Bedford Square, and a young lady, daughter of a gentleman at the British Museum. Another young lady presented a shocking spectacle; she had been trodden on till her face was quite black from strangulation, and every part of her body bruised to such a degree as to leave little hopes of her recovery." "I hear," wrote Mrs Stanhope from her safe retreat in Yorkshire, "that no one knew what to do nor how to disperse the people. At last, the Dukes of Kent and Cumberland ordered ladders to be brought, and, climbing up on to the wall of the court-yard, they personally announced loudly that the Prince Regent had given orders that the house should be shut up and no more people admitted. There were numbers wounded, however, before the immense crowd could get away. What a mercy Esther Acklom did not go, as I know that she intended doing!" Esther Acklom, to whom constant reference is made in the correspondence of Mrs Stanhope, was the only daughter and heiress of Richard Acklom, Esq., of Wiseton Hall, Nottinghamshire. She was much sought after in society on account of her reputed wealth; and although stout and somewhat plain in appearance, she was a decided flirt, and extremely fond of amusement. Partly owing to the fact that her mother was in delicate health, partly to the proximity of her father's house in Lower Grosvenor Street to that of Mr Stanhope, she was the constant associate of the young Stanhopes, and attended many balls and routs chaperoned by their mother. There was, indeed, much to recommend her companionship. Clever, well-read, lively in manner and witty in conversation, she was invariably agreeable, despite the fact that her speech was apt to be too frank and her determination too unswerving to render her universally popular. Of her extraordinary decision of character, indeed, her life furnishes more than one striking instance, and an illustration of this may be given, which occurred when she was but fifteen years of age. She was then journeying abroad with her parents, when, in common with some other English travellers, they were detained at Vienna on its capture by Napoleon. The danger was imminent. Once plunged into a foreign prison, it was impossible to say when or by what means they might escape thence. In such a dilemma none knew what to do or to advise; but Esther Acklom was equal to the occasion. Hearing that the military commandant was Marshal Mortier, who had been known to her family in England, she took her maid, and went off to interview him. She found the great man seated in the Hotel de Ville, surrounded by a large staff, listening to the complaints of the burghers and administering justice. She presented her petition, but he scarcely glanced at it, and roughly bade her to stand aside till others had been attended to who were of more importance. Her maid, terrified at his manner, implored her young mistress to come away, but Esther, nothing daunted, stood her ground. She had shrewdly observed that an aide-de-camp of the Emperor was by the side of the marshal, and concluding that this fact might account for his manner, she patiently awaited the turn of events. Nor was she wrong. In course of time the aide-de-camp departed, and the commandant then politely inquired in what he could serve her. She explained, and, evidently struck by her courage, he further asked in the kindest manner how many passes she required. Again she had presence of mind to perceive the drift of his question, and to see that he was anxious, if she so desired, to aid her friends as well as herself. She boldly answered, three, in the hope of serving two English families of her father's acquaintance. To her delight, the passes were at once handed to her, and within a few hours the three carriages were hastening from Vienna. Even then her adventures were not at an end. An English family, who had failed in securing a pass, decided, as a forlorn hope, to follow in the wake of the other carriages on the chance that, in the confusion of so many vehicles leaving the city, they might effect their departure under cover of the passports of their friends. As was to be expected the attempt failed. The Official on guard allowed the three carriages with passes to drive through the gates, but the fourth was at once arrested and ordered to return. Vainly did its frightened occupants entreat and expostulate, the man was obdurate, and they had given up all for lost, when the clever girl who had secured the safety of the rest of the party came to their rescue. Thrusting her head out of the carriage in which she was seated, Esther looked back at them with well assumed anger. "Why on earth don't you go back to your hotel and fetch your pass," she cried impatiently, "instead of giving all this trouble? It is absurd! We will, of course, wait here till your return!" So convincing was her indignation, and so complete her assurance, that the Official was deceived. The fourth carriage received permission to pass the barrier, and the fugitives hastened to make good their escape, showering blessings on the young girl whose coolness and presence of mind had saved them. A character of so much individuality and resource doubtless appealed strongly to the young Stanhopes, and Esther, besides being their constant companion in London, was often their guest at Cannon Hall. Between the years 1810-1811, mention is made of an incident which occurred during one of these visits, and which in a striking manner serves to emphasise the gulf between a past and a present century. An advertisement had been issued in Wakefield announcing that, on a given day, a man would fly from the Tower of the Parish Church to the Bowling- green in Southgate. Much local interest had been roused by this statement and wagers had been made upon the practicability or impracticability of the attempt. The Stanhopes had no thought of attending this performance, but they happened to be driving in the neighbourhood with Esther Acklom on the day appointed, and their lively guest, with her usual wilfulness, insisted that they should make their coach pause near the Church in order that she might witness the occurrence. |
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