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 present 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 levee 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!"



CHAPTER II

1805-1810

LETTERS OF AN EXILE

To a man far distant from the memorable scene of Lord Melville's trial, the news of the verdict, sent by Mrs Stanhope, must have caused peculiar satisfaction.

Among her numerous correspondents at this date, probably few had been more frequently in her thoughts during the past two years than her kinsman, Cuthbert Collingwood. From her earliest days, indeed, he had occupied a certain prominence in her horizon. Her mother, Winifred Collingwood, had belonged to another branch of the Northumberland family which owned a common ancestor with that of the afterwards famous Admiral, [1] and this tie had been strengthened rather than diminished throughout the passing of generations by the propinquity of the two branches.

In the commencement of his naval career, Cuthbert Collingwood, on board the Lennox, had attracted the hearty approbation of Mrs Stanhope's other relation, Admiral Roddam, [2] the grand old veteran who had been in the service about thirty-seven years before his young neighbour from Northumberland had become his midshipman. In 1787 he won as warm an appreciation from her husband when he stayed at Cannon Hall and first made the acquaintance of Walter Stanhope, who then formed for him a lifelong friendship. During the all-too-brief period when Collingwood was on shore, there occur entries in Stanhope's Journal recording many a quiet rubber of whist played with the man whose harsh fate was to render such moments of happy social intercourse a precious recollection through long, lonely years. Returned to his post, Captain Collingwood's thoughts clung to that family circle he had left-to the man who basked in the happiness of a home life from which he, personally, was debarred. Year by year Collingwood kept his kinsman Stanhope in touch with all his movements. Year by year, Stanhope and his wife responded, supplying the absent seaman with news of the chief events which were happening in the political world at home. And the letters from Collingwood, with their stern grip of a strenuous life, with their deep underlying tragedy of a profound loneliness, afford a curious contrast to the shallow utterances of other correspondents. Over the intervening miles of ocean, from that isolated soul on guard, they reached the family in Grosvenor Square, bearing, so it seemed, something of the freshness and the force of the wind-rocked brine which they had traversed. Into that restless routine of London life, they carried the echo of a distant clash of arms, the mutterings of a brooding storm. They told how the sea-dogs upon the alert were playing a desperate game of tactics with their country's foe, the outcome of which none could foretell and the chances of which few dared to contemplate. And in the minds of those to whom they were addressed they awoke an answering apprehension, which entered into the heart of their home-life, for one of that circle, little William Stanhope, was shortly to join his great kinsman at sea and to play his small part in the fierce ocean drama which was going forward.

Captain Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope. "Dreadnought" off CADIZ, July 10th, 1805.

I shall have great pleasure in taking your young sailor into my care, whenever you chuse he should come—and you may assure yourself that I will be as regardful of everything that relates to him as you yourself could be. Considering how uncertain my situation is or where I may be at any particular period, had I known your intention in March, I should have recommended that he embarked then, and made his first essay in a warm country and far from home....

When I sailed from England I had under my command a fine fleet, but the change of circumstances since that has both altered my destination and reduced my force. I am now blocking up the ports here. On my arrival I found the Spaniards on the point of sailing, waiting only for the Carthagena Squadron to join them, and they were actually at sea, in their way down, but recalled by a dispatch boat on our appearance off the coast. We never know whether we go too fast or too slow—had I been a few days later, we should probably have met them at sea with their ten sail, and made a good day of it.

And he proceeds to append a comment on the news of Lord Melville's impeachment which had just reached him from Mrs Stanhope.

Oh! how I lament the fall of Lord Melville! But I never can consent to rank him amongst the herd of peculators who prey upon the publick. He has been negligent in the economy and management of his office—he has paid too little attention to the management of his own money affairs. Had he been avaricious and greedy of wealth how many years has he been in official situations wherein he might have enriched himself—and is yet as poor as poverty, for I have it from good authority that his patent of Nobility was several months in office before he could raise L2000 to pay the fees of it, and Melville Castle must have been sold if his son had not taken it.

Then the virulence with which he has been pursued from all quarters— not merely submitting his case to the calm deliberations of Parliament, or the lawful decisions of Courts of Justice, but made a subject for Pot house discussion, where the snobby meetings of half- drunk mechanicks have been convened to pass judgment on a man whose whole life has been devoted to his country's service, and whose conduct has been unimpeached till now. It is disgraceful to the justice of the country, for it matters little what may be the decision of a Court hereafter, when a man is already condemned in the publick opinion. Those to whom Lord Melville was before indifferent and those who blame the negligence of his office, have acquired a sort of respect for his misfortunes, in being the object of such a factious hue & cry.

I was very sorry to hear Mr Collingwood [3] had been so indifferent in his health last spring, but I hope the warm weather will be of service to him—the last I heard from his home he was better, I beg my best and kindest regards to Mrs Stanhope & all your family and wishing you & them health and every possible happiness.

I am, dear Sir, Your faithful & most humble servant, CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD.

The Same. Sept 23rd.

It is a long time since I have heard from England.... I have here a very laborious and a very anxious time. You will have heard from my wife, perhaps the narrow escape I have had from being cut off by the combined fleet. At that time I had only three ships with me and a frigate—they had 36 sail, and had they managed their affairs with the least ingenuity, I should have found it a very difficult thing to have fought my way through them, but we made good use of their want of skill and after seeing them safe into Port, we continued on our Station to blockade the town and prevent all commerce.

I hope the Admiralty will give me credit for maintaining my station in the neighbourhood of so powerfull a fleet, for I never quitted them for a day, though I had but four ships; but now that I am reinforced by the squadron under Sir R. Calder, I have a fine fleet of 26 ships of line and some small frigates; and hope every good—and with God's blessing with me will do a good day's work for my country, whenever they give me an opportunity. That done, I shall be glad to retire to my home & enjoy the comforts of my family, for my strength fails, and the mind being on the full stretch, sinks and needs relief.

I have a gentleman from Newcastle for my Captain, but he is a man of no talent as a sea-officer and of little assistance to me.

How glad I shall be to get to my garden again at Morpeth and quitting the foe, see for the rest of my life only friends about me.

Ever through the thunder of cannon or the stress of a watch which ceased neither day nor night, through the threatenings of death or the allurements of fame, one thought was paramount in Collingwood's mind. A yearning for a peaceful garden he had left behind—to him a veritable garden of Paradise—for the innocent prattle of his children, the sweet companionship of his wife. A dream of reunion tormented and sustained him. "Whenever I think how I am to be happy again my thoughts carry me back to Morpeth," he wrote. Incapable of a dramatic appeal to sympathy, his letters to Stanhope, in their strong self-repression, breathe a longing the more profound. For that Paradise of his dreams Collingwood would have joyfully bartered fame, emolument, all that the world could offer, had not duty claimed from him a prolonged sacrifice of all which he held dear. Whether, if he could have looked on through the few remaining years of his life and have foreseen the end of that longing and those dreams, his weary spirit could still have borne the burden laid upon it, none may say. But buoyed up by that ever-present hope he faced the strain of his eternal watching with an unflinching courage, which may have been occasionally strengthened by a recollection which visited him, and the remarkable circumstances of which cannot be ignored.

For the week before the war had broken out, Collingwood, in the peace of that distant Northumberland home, had been elated by a vision which contained for him a strange element of great promise. In his sleep he had seen with extraordinary vividness the English Fleet in battle array; the details of their position were clear to him, and, later, he beheld an engagement in progress the incidents of which were extraordinarily realistic. Finally, the glory of a great victory came upon him, to fill his waking moments with delight and haunt his recollection. So minute, so circumstantial had been the particulars of the dream, that, profoundly impressed at the time, he had related them in full detail to his wife. In much imaginative, Collingwood was not without the vein of superstition which seems inseparable from his profession, and he had the simple faith of a child. He believed in the ultimate fulfilment of that vision and the thought pursued him.

Meanwhile, his letter to Stanhope of September 23rd, reached its destination at a moment of increased national suspense. Napoleon's elaborately planned ruse to entice Nelson to the West Indies had succeeded only too well. And while Nelson sought his decoy Villeneuve off Barbadoes, the French Admiral, as pre-arranged, was hastening back to effect, in the absence of his dupe, the release of the French Fleet blockaded by Cornwallis. But luck and wit saved England. Nelson chanced upon a ship which had seen the returning enemy; he succeeded in warning the Admiralty in time; Villeneuve, intercepted by Calder, suffered an ignominious defeat, and Napoleon consummated his own disaster by the tactlessness of his wrath against his unfortunate admiral who had thus succumbed to a force inferior in numbers. Villeneuve, stung by the bitter taunt of cowardice, rashly left Cadiz to fight Nelson—a manoeuvre which, at best, could little advance the cause of the Emperor, which, as the event proved, courted a catastrophe out of all proportion to any possible gain, and which was undertaken by the luckless Frenchman for no other end save that of disproving the imputation of cowardice under which he smarted.

Whether in the placing of the ships at the Battle of Trafalgar that vision of Collingwood played any part, history will never know—whether it must be regarded by the curious as in itself prophetic, or merely as a chance occurrence, the suggestion of which was by chance adopted. Yet it is obvious that the relation between this remarkable dream and its fulfilment can scarcely be viewed merely as an interesting coincidence. The inference is too strong that in any consultation between Collingwood and Nelson with regard to the order of battle the recollection of the scheme of attack which had so impressed the former must—even if unconsciously—have coloured the advice given by him to Nelson. Moreover such reflections give rise to a further curious speculation. To Nelson posterity is wont to ascribe the entire merit of the order of battle on that memorable day; he, it is held, was the active genius who conceived the plan of action, Collingwood was the acquiescer, a passive though able coadjutor. Yet Collingwood himself, the most modest of men and the least likely to make an erroneous statement with regard to such a question of fact, expressly asserts the contrary. "In this affair," he says, "Nelson did nothing without my counsel, we made our line of battle together and concerted the attack." [4] On this point he also insists, in writing to Stanhope, to whom, as to his wife, he incidentally recalled the circumstances of his having foreseen the battle in a dream at Morpeth the week before the war broke out.

Throughout this period, in England, news was awaited with increasing anxiety. On October 31st, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son John:—

The Papers are now quite alarming. I fear it is up with the Austrians for the Russians cannot now join them. This horrid Bonaparte is a scourge to the whole world. It is wonderful with what enthusiasm he seems to inspire his men. They go where he likes and accomplish all his plans.

Your father has written again to Admiral Collingwood to inform him that if he does not return home, which, as he has changed his flag from the Dreadnought, is not very probable, that he will send William to him in the spring. Admiral Roddam, tho' he prefers a frigate, approves of his going with Admiral C. as he is both a good man & an excellent sailor, & will scrupulously perform that which he promises to undertake.

Nov. 2nd, 1805.

Not only Glyn, but all of us must shake with the horrid German intelligence. I have little faith in the hope the papers hold out that we may yet hear of a victory gained by the united Armies of Russia and Austria—a few days must relieve us from our present state of uncertainty—though I fear not of anxiety. How thankful I am that I have no near connection going on the cruel expedition at this time.

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

Walter Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope.

My Dear John,

It is impossible to begin on this day any letter to any person without most joyfully and most thankfully celebrating the glorious victory of Lord Nelson. I cannot say that my triumph is so much alloyed as that of many others seems to be and yet I trust I have as grateful a mind and as high an admiration for Military renown as another man. No, it is that I think that Nelson's glorious death is more to be envied than lamented, and that to die wept by the land we perished for is what he himself would have wished.

Would to God my little William had been on board Collingwood's ship on that glorious day, whatever might have been the risque!

The Same to the Vicar of Newcastle.

Although the death of Nelson is in my judgment more to be envied than lamented, yet England secured by the loss of his life ought to feel, bewail & reward it as far as posthumous honours and benefits to his family and general Regret can do it. The late Victory affords peculiar satisfaction to me from the brilliant Part that Admiral Collingwood has had in it & the exquisitely good account he has given of it in his Dispatches.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. CANNON HALL, November 9th, 1805.

Your father said he should write you a long letter this morning.... No longer have we cause to talk and grieve about the Austrians, we may now talk and rejoice at our glorious, and at the moment, unexpected victory. What a day it was! but in the midst of our rejoicings we must pause to shed a tear over the Hero who fell, though as every Hero must wish to fall. Admiral Collingwood's dispatches do him honour, he at all times writes well and this was a subject to draw out all his powers and show the Feeling and Goodness of his Heart. Your father wishes William had been with him. I am satisfied as it is!

The Same. November 14th, 1805.

Your letter my dear John, arrived on Sunday, after mine was sealed, and as the carriage was at the door to take us to church, I had not time to open it, to add my thanks for your letter of Congratulations on our great and glorious Victory. What has followed since, at any other time would have been considered great, at all times must be thought gallant.

Yesterday letters from Barnsley, reporting the capture of the Rochefort Squadron, were so firmly believed that the Bells were ringing.

The tears of the Nation must be shed over the brave Nelson, but his death was that of a Hero, and such he truly was. The Dispatches do Admiral Collingwood great honor, and his bravery is already rewarded with a peerage. I had a letter from his wife to-day, who says he wrote in the greatest grief for his friend. She had not heard since the Dispatches were sent, when the Fleet was in a miserable state, she, of course, under great anxiety. The Euryalus has, I hope, brought further accounts. Probably the funeral of Lord Nelson will be Publick—what a thrilling sight it will be. Surely some mark of honour will be bestowed upon his Widow. At present his Brother's wife has place of her, and she has not been mentioned.

Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope.

I have made a vow not to name Lord Nelson or the Victory or Victories in any of my letters, but postscripts are excluded. Every letter Mamma has had has been full of nothing else; if care is not taken, it will be like the invasion, a constant topick when you have nothing to say. —I think it is a great proof of genius to have written a letter without naming the event. What say you to Lord Collingwood? I would rather have his patent of nobility than the longest pedigree in the kingdom. I should glory more in his title than in the Duke of Norfolk's.

Mamma had a letter from Lady Collingwood to-day, still very anxious for his safety, as she had heard nothing since the Victory, and his ship was then much disabled. He had written to her Lord Nelson's death was a most severe blow to him, for he was his greatest friend. I almost wish dear William had been with him.

November 20th., 1805. FARNELY.

We begin to be impatient for more news. Think of poor Lady Collingwood—she was in a shop in Newcastle when the Mail arrived covered with ribbands, but the coachman with a black hat-band. He immediately declared the great victory, but that Lord Nelson and all the Admirals were killed. She immediately fainted. When she heard from Lord Collingwood first he wrote in the greatest grief for his friend, and said the fleet was in a miserable state. Perhaps that may bring him home.

Are you not pleased with his being created a Peer in so handsome a manner. Why has not Lady Nelson some honour conferred upon her? Surely the Widow of our Hero ought not to be so neglected.

Yesterday we drank to the immortal memory of our Hero. Mr Fawkes has got a very fine print of him.

The clock strikes ten which announces breakfast, therefore adieu, my dear John.

The wish expressed in the last letter that more tidings would arrive respecting the great event which had taken place, was speedily gratified. A letter written by Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker on November 1st, was sent via Stanhope for his perusal, and he preserved a copy of it.

Lord Collingwood to Sir Peter Parker. November 1st., 1805.

You will have seen from the public accounts that we have fought a great battle, and had it not been for the fall of our noble friend who was indeed the glory of England and the admiration of all who saw him in battle, your pleasure would have been perfect.... It was a severe action, no dodging or manoeuvres. They formed their line with nicety and waited our attack with composure. They did not give a gun until we were close to them & we began first. Our ships were fought with a degree of gallantry which would have warmed your heart. Everybody exerted themselves and a glorious day they made of it, people who cannot comprehend how complicated an affair a battle is at sea and judge of an officer's conduct by the number of sufferers in his ship, often do him a wrong, and though there will appear great difference in the loss of men, all did admirably well; and the conclusion was good beyond description, eighteen hulks of the enemy lying amongst the British fleet without a stick standing, and the French Achilles burning.—But we were close to the rocks of Trafalgar [5] & when I made the signal for anchoring, many ships had their cable shot & not an anchor ready.

Providence did for us what no human effort could have done, the wind shifted a few points and we drifted off the land. The next day bad weather began and with great difficulty we got our captured ships towed off the land. The second, Gravina, who is wounded, made an effort to cut off some of the ships with a squadron of 9 ships with which he retired. In the night the gale increased and two of his ships, the "Mayo" of 100 guns and "Indomitable" of 80 were dismasted. The "Mayo" anchored amongst our hulks and surrendered; the "Indomitable" lost on the shore and I am told that every soul perished. Among such numbers it is difficult to ascertain what we have done, but I believe the truth is 23 sail of the line fell into our hands of which three got in again in the gale of wind....

The storm being violent and many of our own ships in most perilous situations, I found it necessary to order the captures,—all without masts, some without rudders & many half full of water—to be destroyed, except such as were in better plight, for my object was their ruin & not what might be made of them. As this filled our ships with prisoners and the wounded in a miserable condition, I sent a flag to the Marquis of Solana [6] to offer him his wounded men, which was received with every demonstration of joy and gratitude, & two French Frigates & a Brigg were sent out for them. In return, he offered me his Hospitals & the security of Spanish honour that our wounded should have every care & every comfort that Spain could afford, so you see, my dear Sir, though we fight them, we are upon very good terms.

But what most astonished them was our keeping the sea after such an action, with our injured masts and crippled ships, which I did the longer to let them see that no efforts of theirs could drive a British Squadron from its station.

This letter is of exceptional interest since it throws fresh light on a matter which has now afforded food for controversy for over a century. Nelson's dying injunctions had been that the fleet was to anchor. Owing, it was contended, to Collingwood having failed promptly to carry out these instructions of the master mind, many prizes were lost. James, who in his Naval History is severe in his criticism of Collingwood's error of judgment in this particular, has further pointed out that four ships which did anchor on the evening of the engagement weathered the gale successfully. This letter of Collingwood gives his reasons for his course of action. It proves that although when he did give the order to anchor its execution was impracticable, yet that he had strong reason for destroying a number of the captured ships, which were all but worthless as prizes. His assertion, "My object was their ruin and not what might be made of them," bears out the verdict of Lord St Vincent, quoted by Lord Eldon, that "Collingwood's conduct after the Battle of Trafalgar in destroying under difficult circumstances the defeated fleet was above all praise"; while the conclusion of Collingwood's letter contains a sentiment at which few will cavil.

From Mrs Stanhope's Uncle, Edward Collingwood, in Northumberland, there was subsequently forwarded to her a letter written by Collingwood in the first glory of victory and the first bitterness of his grief for Nelson's death.

My dear friend received his mortal wound about the middle of the fight, and sent an officer to tell me that he should see me no more.

His loss was the greatest grief to me. There is nothing like him for gallantry and conduct in battle. It was not a foolish passion for fighting, for he was the most gentle of human creatures, and often lamented the cruel necessity of it; but it was a principle of duty, which all men owed their country in defence of their laws and liberty. He valued his life only as it enabled him to do good, and would not preserve it by any act he thought unworthy. He wore four stars upon his breast and could not be prevailed to put on a plain coat, scorning what he thought a shabby precaution: but that perhaps cost him his life, for his dress made him the general mark.

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

To Walter Stanhope he wrote:—

Queen, March 6th., 1806.

I thank you and Mrs Stanhope most sincerely for your kind congratulations on the success of the Fleet, and the high honour his Majesty has been graciously pleased to confer on me in testimony of his approbation, which I am sure will be very gratifying to all my friends, and that you will enjoy it as much as any of them.

I have indeed had a severe loss in the death of my excellent friend Lord Nelson. Since the year 73 we have been on terms of the greatest intimacy—chance has thrown us very much together in service and on many occasions we have acted in concert—there is scarce a Naval subject that has not been the subject of our discussion, so that all his opinions were familiar to me; and so firmly founded in principles of honour, of justice, of attachment to his country, at the same time so entirely divested of everything interesting to himself, that it was impossible to consider him but with admiration. He liked fame and was open to flattery so that people sometimes got about him who were unworthy of him. He is a loss to his country that cannot easily be replaced.

Thus in a few words, the very reticence of which enhances their significance, did Collingwood sum up the greatness and the weakness of Nelson. Gifted, brilliant, faulty by reason of his emotional temperament, strong by reason of his enthusiasm—his all-enthralling sense of duty, Nelson flashed like a meteor across the ken of his generation to vanish in a haze of glory. He died at the psychological moment—his life, according to this account, the sacrifice to a dazzling folly. And the man whom he loved—the man whose sterling worth is swamped by Nelson's more vivid personality, was left to battle on alone through the weary years. The intoxication of victory did not blind Collingwood to the colossal task which yet lay before him. To Stanhope he wrote with undiminished anxiety:—

The idea that the Victory we gained has so entirely reduced the enemy's fleet that no danger is now to be apprehended from them, ought not to be encouraged. On the contrary, I believe they will make up for their loss by extraordinary exertion. You see they have immediately sent all their fleet to sea, and clean as they are from Port, they can avoid an encounter when they are not very superior. The ships that I have here are many of them the dullest in the British fleet, so that I have little chance of getting near them until they come with double our number, and when they do, I shall do the best with them I can. Whatever their project is, it must be interrupted—defeated if possible. Bonaparte seems determined to have the whole of the Mediterranean, islands and all. Whenever he is prepared to take possession he knows how to make a quarrel with the Court of Madrid.

A few months later he wrote:—

I have a laborious and anxious life and little time to write even to my wife. The only comfort I have here is good health and the consciousness that I am doing the best I can for my country—and a good deal I believe we shall have to do before we can establish a happy and secure peace—for I believe in the heart of the Tyrant enmity is so deeply rooted towards England, that it will only be extinguished with his natural life. I consider the contest with him but in its infancy—our independence as a people is at stake. Wisdom in our councils and fortitude in the field was never so necessary to us, and I trust neither will be found wanting.

In every quarter the power of France is increasing,—here the Spaniards are but his Puppets, his mandates come to Cadiz as they go to Brest. His birthday is kept as that of their Sovereign, the French flag is worn upon the Governor's house, upon rejoicing days, with that of the Spanish. In Italy they hoist it upon the same staff as that of the Pope—it will not be long before the Pope's is worn out with the contentions of its bad neighbourhood. Sir Sidney Smith is doing what he can to rouse the Calabrians to resistance—he gives them money and the mob follow his officers—but the people of property have universally attached themselves to the French-not from liking them— but in the hope that in the end they may be left with the rag of their fortunes.

At Cadiz they are making great progress in their equipment of a fleet, they have 12 sail of the line ready for sea, two more well advanced in their fitting,—I have 9, which I consider to be equal to beating them, but whenever we meet I would do more-not a shadow of one should be left upon the face of the waters. They will be cautious whenever they come—and my ships sail but ill in general.

I heard from Lady Collingwood that she had the pleasure of visiting you when in town.

And then comes a more personal note:—

I am totally at a loss about the obtaining my patent—from what office does it issue and about what sum is the amount of the fees? I suppose I shall be ruined by them. I will be much obliged to you for any information you can give me on these subjects—that I may not, by delaying to do what is proper, seem negligent of this high honour of which I am (I hope) justly proud. Sir Isaac Heard sent me the form of a letter which it was necessary to write to the Duke of Norfolk or Hereditary Earl Marshal, for his Grace's patent to Garter, to grant me supporters of armorial bearings appropriate. I suppose he will let me know when that is done.

I hope you will forgive me, my dear Sir, for mentioning this subject to you, but from my total ignorance of everything relating to it, I am afraid of neglecting something which I ought to do.

Stanhope furnished his friend with all necessary information, and on the following December 4th, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son—

Lord Collingwood proves himself worthy of the great charge reposed in him. Mr Stanhope says he thinks next to Pitt's his is the greatest trust. His property must be small. He married a Miss Blackett whose father was brother to the late Sir Edward and is Uncle to the present Sir William Blackett, a man of large fortune in Northumberland. He has two daughters, the eldest must be nearly fourteen. I had this morning a long account from my uncle of a ball given by Lady Collingwood at Newcastle, where 450 people sat down to supper. Unfortunately the Mayor instead of giving Lord Collingwood's health, gave The Memory of Lord Nelson, with a solemn dirge, which so affected Lady Collingwood that she fainted, and was obliged to leave the room. She had not heard from Lord Collingwood for some time which made it the more affecting.

It was on December 23rd, that Nelson's body preserved in spirits arrived at Greenwich, and forthwith the favourite toast in Yorkshire was one perhaps peculiarly characteristic of the county, "Here's to the Hero who died for his country and came home in spirits!" On January 9th, his funeral took place at St Paul's Cathedral, and Stanhope, who attended it, must have felt a tightening of the throat as he realised how soon his small son was to face dangers such as had occasioned the death of the gallant man whom all England mourned. Moreover, Lord Collingwood had encouraged few delusions with regard to his own capability of aiding the career of the future midshipman. "If Parents were to see how many of their chicks go to ruin from being sent too early abroad they would not be so anxious about it," he wrote on one occasion, while on another he pointed out—"I need not say how glad I shall be to take all the care of William I can, and do him all the service in my power, but it is rather late in my day to be very useful to him as I shall be seeking to retire about the time he is launching into the world." Still more did he emphasise his inability to obtain promotion for those for whom he might have most desired it. On one occasion when Stanhope enclosed a letter from his friend Sir James Graham begging for the advancement of a young lieutenant, Collingwood replied, "I would gladly show every attention in my power to any friend of yours, but I have no opportunity of advancing any officer beyond a midshipman sometimes"; and four years after the Battle of Trafalgar he explained that he had still "some of the Lieutenants who were with me in action a few years since and no prospect of providing for them —I have little here but constant labour."

But what he could do in the way of protecting and befriending his little kinsman he was eager to accomplish, and his letters show how much anxious thought he devoted to the subject.

Admiral Lord Collingwood to Walter Spencer-Stanhope. January 20th, 1806.

I shall be very glad to see your son William, and will take good care of him, and give him the best introduction to this service that I can. I hope he has got on a little in mathematicks, because I have not a school master now in my ship—I had, but he got hurt in the Sovereign and went home. Lord Barham tells me a ship is to be sent out to me soon—William might come out conveniently in her....

With respect to his equipment, do not burden him with baggage—if he takes care of it, it is but a miserable occupation, and if he does not it will be lost. Therefore, to keep him clean and above want is enough; a comfortable bed, that his health requires; two or three Blue jackets and waistcoats; his Navigation books that he has been taught from—whether it is Robinson's Elements, or Hamilton's Moore; a quadrant and a case of instruments. For his reading, you will give him such books as you think proper and are least voluminous—a history of England—of Rome—and Greece, with voyages or abridgment of them—but his baggage must be light—for the moment he enters a ship he must have no personal cares—all that relates to himself must be secondary—or nothing.

With respect to his supply of money or anything else, when he comes to me, he shall want for nothing. I will take care he is sufficiently provided and whatever expenses he has, I will tell you that you may repay me.

You would be delighted at the glorious fight we have had. Had but my friends Lord Nelson & Duff lived through it, I should have been happy indeed. Lord Nelson was well known and universally lamented; Duff had all the qualities that adorn a great and good man but was less known. He commanded the Mess, and stuck to me in the day's battle as I hope my son would have done—it was however a great day, yet I feel we have much more to do—the French are venturing out with their squadrons and they must be crushed. The powerful armies that are opposed to them on the continent will, I hope, do their part well, but I cannot say I have a very high opinion of Austrian armies & Austrian generals; their military education is good, but they yet seem to want that good & independent spirit that should animate a soldier—they are all money- making and will trade—and a soldier that makes wealth his object will sell an army whenever he can get a good price for it.

I have received letters from Mr Collingwood and Admiral Roddam and am exceedingly happy to hear they were then in good health. The Admiral by this time has taken up his quarters at Skillingworth.

I am rather upon the rack just now. Duckworth went after the French Squadron that I had intelligence of near Teneriffe. I am afraid the Frenchman has duped him, and by throwing false intelligence in his way has sent him to the West Indies—or I ought to have seen him again before this; but Sir John Duckworth who is a well-judging man ought not to have been so deceived as to suppose that a squadron which had been three or four months at sea were on their way to the West Indies —but I do not despair of catching them yet, even without him.

Napoleon then believed that he had successfully duped Collingwood in this manner; "Mon opinion est que Collingwood est parti et est alle aux Grandes Indes," he wrote at this date, only to discover later that his enemy had never been deceived.

Meanwhile Stanhope was devoting all his attention to a matter which he had much at heart. So far Collingwood's great services to his country had been rewarded with the barren honour of a peerage which had made an unwelcome claim upon his slender means, and with regard to which his one petition had been refused—that since he had no son to succeed him the title should descend to one of his daughters. Stanhope was therefore anxious to procure for Lord Collingwood a more substantial award in the form of an annuity which might benefit his family. On February 11th 1806, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son—

News I have none for you to-day, further than that your Father is delighted with having had it in his power to be of use to Lord Collingwood. His Pension was granted for three generations in the Male line; now, as he has no son nor ever likely to have any, it was really only rewarding him for his own life. At the Duchess of Gordon's, where your Father was last night, he saw Sheridan and Lord Castlereagh [7] and he mentioned that if half was settled upon his widow and the other half on his daughters after his death, it would be a real advantage to him, which both said should be done, if he would attend the House to- day. Most probably he will propose it in the House [8] and the intelligence will be conveyed by William. I think I sent you word we had heard from Lord Collingwood—the date the 20th., of January, therefore I imagine he must have been off Cadiz.

Yet even this suggestion to reward the man to whom England owed so much met with considerable opposition. "Lord Collingwood's Annuity Bill came on again on Monday," wrote Mrs Stanhope on February 28th. "Your Father still hopes it will be settled on Lady Collingwood and her daughters, tho' Lord H. Petty does not approve of the change, Lord Castlereagh and Mr Sheridan are both of your Father's opinion."

Stanhope, however, carried his point and earned the gratitude of the family of the absent Admiral. It is true that when the news first reached Collingwood of the discussion relating to his pension which had taken place in the House, he was deeply wounded. Some of the speeches seemed to him to imply that the representation of the slender state of his finances had been made with his concurrence, and he felt, as he told his wife, that he had been held up in the House as an object of compassion. "If I had a favour to ask," he wrote emphatically, "money would be the last thing I should require from an impoverished country. I have motives for my conduct which I would not give in exchange for a thousand pensions." But when he heard of Stanhope's amendment of the original proposition, and that Lady Collingwood and his daughters would now profit by the thoughtfulness of his kinsman, he wrote an acknowledgment of such efforts on his behalf with a sincere gratitude in which pride still mingled.

I am much obliged to you Sir for your kindness in taking so much trouble about my pension—it is a subject I had not thought of myself —as my family are amply provided for I left the bounty of the King to take its course, but this is so much in addition and I am very much obliged for your consideration of what perhaps I should not have thought of.

By a strange coincidence, at the very moment when the question of this annuity was before the House, Collingwood and Stanhope may be said to have benefited jointly by a legacy from a common kinsman. Edward Collingwood, Mrs Stanhope's uncle before referred to, expired in February 1806, leaving his estate of Chirton to Lord Collingwood and his estate of Dissington to his niece Mrs Stanhope in trust for her third son. The Admiral, however, expressed little satisfaction in the acquisition of his new property. "I am sorry the possessor of it is gone," he wrote with his usual warmth of heart, "for I have lost a friend who I believe sincerely loved me, and have got an estate which I could have done very well without. I am told poor Admiral Roddam laments him very much and I love him the more for it." Much correspondence forthwith ensued between Collingwood and Stanhope with respect to the distribution of the portion of the furniture and personalties which had been bequeathed to Stanhope and which he was anxious to place at the disposal of Lady Collingwood, who, nevertheless, declined the offer. "Lady Collingwood informed me of your kind attention to her," wrote Collingwood, gratefully, on hearing of it, "but I think she judged right, considering the uncertainty at what time I should come to live there, ... besides, if I should have a son to succeed me, I should probably rebuild the house, and the present furniture would not be suitable to the new one. But," he adds again, feelingly, "the subject of it must become more indifferent to me than it now is before I can determine anything about it: it never engages my attention but in sorrow. I lost more real happiness in the death of my friend, whom I esteemed and reverenced, than his estate can make me amends for—its greatest value to me is that it is his bequest."

Likewise with regard to Stanhope's proposition of leaving "the moiety of the books at Chirton which by the will of Mr Collingwood were devised to the possessor of Dissington," Collingwood decided—"I think in this, as in every other respect, his will should be literally complied with and nothing left to future arrangement." He therefore requested his brother- in-law, Mr Blackett, to choose "some learned and competent gentleman" who was to act for him in conjunction with any person Stanhope saw fit to appoint, to make a just division between them "in all the branches of learning and science and with respect to value." Referring to the fine classical volumes in the library, he pointed out that this would be a simple matter, as most of these had duplicates or triplicates, but "God knows," he exclaimed, "whether any of my family may want any of them! To me the English authors are valuable and whether I shall ever see any of them is doubtful."

The amicable discussion with regard to this matter was still in progress while little William journeyed out to join his kinsman. A month after Nelson's funeral, Stanhope was taking the preliminary steps for his son's departure. "I brought William home to be measured," he wrote on February 9th, "and sent him back yesterday in very good spirits. His mind certainly appears to open very much and he is a good little fellow. At times he is low and said the other day how odd he should feel to be entirely with strangers."

On February 26th, the embryo sailor set forth on his perilous adventures, followed by the thoughts of his family, whose tender solicitude brings very near that parting of a century ago. "I long to hear how the dear little midshipman bears his departure," writes one of his brothers, "How very pretty he will look in his uniform!" and the first details of the little lad's arrival on board ship, of his quaint sayings and doings, and how manfully he bore his separation from the last member of his family circle have been faithfully preserved. But he soon pronounced a favourable verdict on his new profession—"I like being on bord a ship very much, but today it has bean a very ruf see," he wrote on March 10th, with a fine discrimination of the advantages and disadvantages of a nautical career; while, anxious to prove that he was now become a man of the world, who could appreciate the exigencies of a situation which had been occupying the attention of the public, he observes with sudden irrelevance—"What a sad afair this seems, this deth of Mr Pit!"

Early in April, Collingwood wrote to announce the arrival of his new midshipman, whom he describes as "a fine sensible boy with great powers of observation," and William wrote, as he continued to write, gratefully and enthusiastically of his treatment by Collingwood, whom he explains is "the kindest and best man who ever lived." Thenceforward every item of information respecting his son was sent by Collingwood to Stanhope, who in return retailed to Collingwood everything which he could glean respecting Lady Collingwood and her daughters. The latter came to London in May, with a view to completing their education, and both they and their mother seem to have turned to Stanhope and his family in every perplexity in life. "I am greatly obliged to you for your account of my daughters," wrote Collingwood, in a letter which shows how minutely he was kept informed of every detail relating to them, even to their little tricks of speech and manner. "I am not impatient for their going in to the North. I hope they have lost much of their provincial dialect."

And still, at any mention of his home or of those dearest to him, there breaks involuntarily into his correspondence that longing, which would not be repressed, for a sorely needed respite from labour and for the balm of reunion with those he loved. There were, perhaps, few people to whom he ventured to unburden himself as simply and spontaneously as he did to Stanhope, a man linked to him by the tie of kinship, yet not so closely as to make any such self-revelation on his part a possible selfishness. Thus it is that this hitherto unpublished batch of his correspondence betrays ever more and more, with a pathos of which the writer was obviously unconscious, how the strain of watching and of loneliness was undermining an indomitable brain and soul.

Collingwood's existence, indeed, alternated between an eternal racking anxiety and a monotony before which the imagination sinks appalled. "Between days and nights I am almost wore out," he wrote briefly to Stanhope on April 29th, 1806, "but I do not mean to quit my station while I have health"; and on September 26th of that same year, after writing an account of the situation in which he finds himself, he exclaims abruptly, "It is the dullest life that can be conceived and nothing but the utmost patience can endure it!" During long months of blockading, dawn after dawn arose to reveal to his weary gaze the same boundless expanse of rocking ocean, which he had well-nigh learnt to hate; the same restricted space of deck to traverse; the same routine of action to contemplate; the same type of food further to nauseate a reluctant appetite; the same complete lack of mental and physical relaxation, which is, in itself, almost an essential to sanity. Thus, soon, to the tension of that perpetual guardianship was added the haunting dread that an existence which was undermining his health might also impair his mental faculties, and this at a time when he was aware that one false step, one error in strategy, and ignominy might be his portion or the liberties of England herself be the sacrifice.

In a diary [9] in which, during the last years of his life, he entered memoranda, ostensibly from which to compile his dispatches, there is conveyed more eloquently than by any laboured insistence the ceaseless fret of his guardianship and the impracticability which he experienced of sifting the truth or falsehood of the information on which his line of conduct was dependent. Incessantly do its pages recall, with elaborate care, the details of reported engagements and of reported manoeuvres of the enemy, supplied from some apparently unimpeachable source, and incessantly are such memoranda revoked emphatically by a later entry. Once, after retailing minutely the details of an assault undertaken by the Portuguese and Spaniards against the French—which he was informed had continued for six days and during which about 8000 of the former and 6000 of the latter had been killed—and subsequent to which all the inhabitants of Elvas had been put to the sword by the French—he appends with pardonable irritation—"Not a word of this true—the whole a fabrication for the amusement of country gentlemen and ladies." Meanwhile he was confronted by the knowledge that those who were most ready to criticise his decisions, had least comprehension of the difficulties with which he had to contend.

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

I have had letters from Lord Collingwood and William of so late a date as the 29th of April. Lord C. writes out of Spirits, the recent great losses have hurt him and the failure at Constantinople, tho' no blame attached to him. He sent out one third more force than the Government considered necessary and they were at the Dardanelles when they were supposed to be with him; but the defences of Constantinople, both natural and of art, were little known, the Castles as strong as Cannon can make them and of that particular kind the Turks use and from which they fire balls of granite or marble;—those would not go far, but they do very well for a passage which is so narrow their object cannot be far of. One which passed through the Windsor Castle weighed 800 pounds. He thinks there will be an active campaign in Italy— Sicily their object.

On December 19th, Marianne Stanhope retailed—

Papa has this instant received a most delightful account from Lord Collingwood of William, everything that is satisfactory. He says everything that we could wish both of his health, disposition and capacity, the letter is dated October 13th, off Sicily. He mentions his hopes of being able to catch the French if they come to Sicily, but the difficulty will be, from the extent of the coast they will come from all quarters. He said that the Sicilians finding that we take the part of the Court who are most completely detested will make for relief from any quarter. The Turks, he says, detest the Russians, and lament much the misunderstanding with us, but are completely in the power of the French past all relief. The Buenos Ayres expedition, he says, he always blamed, and that it turned out exactly as he predicted, and that we are most completely detested by the people who formerly respected us.

On August 13th, 1808, off Cadiz, Collingwood learnt that the French General, Dupont, and some officers who had capitulated, had been brought to Port St Mary, for their better security to be embarked on board a Spanish Man-o'-war. The mob, however, attacked and wounded Dupont before he could be got on board, and on August 26th Collingwood relates to Mrs Stanhope:—

The Mob of Port Santa Maria seized on Dupont's baggage, for the Generals and Juntas may make Conventions as they please, but the People is the only real Power at the present moment, and they will observe as much of them as they like. On breaking open the Trunks they were found to be filled with plunder—Church Plate mostly—but everything that was gold or silver was acceptable. I went to see it yesterday at the Custom House, and an immense quantity of it there was—from a silver Toy to the Crown of Thorns which they had torn from the head of Jesus Christ. I heard at first that the mob had been raised against the French by the black servant of a Frenchman having part of the robe of a Bishop for his dress, but this was not the case. The black man had the Bishop's Cross hung with a chain of gold round his neck—it was of large amethysts and diamonds worth about 2000 pounds.

Dupont was so very silly as to write to the Governor complaining of the people who had robbed him, saying that he felt sensibly for the honour of Spain and desired that his "property" might be returned to him. He had nothing but those trunks of plundered silver!

Collingwood's own reception by the Spanish people afforded a remarkable instance of the estimation in which he was held and the extraordinary recognition of his integrity even by a lawless, unreasoning mob. John Stanhope, some years afterwards, recorded:—

"When, at an earlier period of the war, our expedition under the command of General Spencer appeared off Cadiz, there prevailed so great a jealousy against the English Army that the authorities refused to allow them to land.

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

"He was received by high and low with the greatest enthusiasm. A publick fete was given to him, and my brother William who accompanied him on shore described the scene as one of the most striking sights he ever witnessed. One only feeling seemed to pervade the immense crowd of all ranks assembled to receive the Admiral, the desire of showing their respect and admiration for his character. What a triumph for one who, in the hour of victory, had succeeded to the command of a fleet that had annihilated the Spanish Navy, and since that time had been constantly blockading their coasts! But what must have been Lord Collingwood's feelings when the only pledge required before they permitted an English force to land in a place of so much importance, was his word of honour! They felt in him a confidence which they denied to our Government."

But in the midst of a situation so unique, Collingwood ignored the unparalleled homage paid to him, to revert persistently to each item of news respecting his distant home. The splendid fetes of which he formed the central figure, the adulation of an entire nation, find no mention in his letters to Stanhope, and are of less account to him than the most trivial circumstance regarding his family or his native county, on which his thoughts dwell tenderly, lingeringly. From Cadiz, in August, he laments the tidings conveyed to him by Stanhope of the death, at the age of eighty-nine, of his former Commander and neighbour, in Northumberland, Admiral Roddam.

Poor Admiral Roddam! I have indeed mourned his death, because I lost in him a kind friend who had always taken a sincere interest in my welfare; but he was become too infirm to enjoy comfort, and then to die is a blessing. I am glad he left your son his estate, but it was want of knowing the world if he thought of improving the Property by keeping him out of it so long.

For little William, on attaining the age of twenty-five, was to succeed to the estate of Collingwood's former Commander, and this must, if possible, have strengthened the link between the Admiral and the midshipman in whose progress he took a profound interest. Collingwood's own character is perhaps never more clearly portrayed than in his criticism of the little lad who had been committed to his care. "Of William," he wrote to Stanhope, in 1808, "everything I have to say is good—and such as must give you and Mrs Stanhope much satisfaction. He is the best-tempered boy that can be—has a superior understanding, which makes everything easy to him. He is very inquisitive in what relates to his duty, and comprehends it with a facility which few boys do, at this time I believe he has more knowledge than many twice his standing. He is never engaged in disputes, and this not from a milkiness and yielding to others, but he seems superior to contention, and leaves a blockhead to enjoy his own nonsense." In December of the same year he reiterates, "Your son always gives me satisfaction. He behaves well and always like a gentleman and I endeavour to instil in him a contempt for what is trifling and unworthy. When I come home I will leave him in a frigate and I hope I may soon, for I grow very weak and languid."

It was to be regretted that while evincing to the utmost his own contempt for what was "trifling and unworthy," it was impracticable for Collingwood to follow the example of his small midshipman and contentedly "leave a blockhead to his own nonsense." The realisation was torment to him that the very conditions of his service were dictated by those who had only a partial conception of his requirements, that his representations—his advice—were alike incessantly ignored, yet, none the less, that his tactics would subsequently be criticised pitilessly by men incapable of appreciating the difficulties with which he had been beset at the time of action. "I have lately had a most anxious and vexatious life," he wrote on May 16th, 1808, "since the Rochefort ships came into the Mediteranean and joined the Toulon, I have been in constant pursuit of them, but with bad intelligence and never knowing whether I was going right or not." Yet though compelled to act thus blindly, in that torturing uncertainty, the eyes of the world were upon him, and men, wise in the cognisance of after- events, would unhesitatingly judge him in the light of that knowledge.

More than once in his letters to Mrs Stanhope did the pent up bitterness of this recognition find vent. On May 16th, 1807, he wrote:—

I am sorry to see Mr Pole's speech about the Rochefort Squadron and Sir R. Strachan, insinuating that he was well provided with everything—and that had he been in the station that it was expected he should have held, they could not have escaped. The fact is they came here destitute of everything, one of his ships had not 20 tons of water, and none of them were in a condition to follow the enemy to a distant point. Those insinuations, though they advance nothing positive, are disgusting—the season of the year and the situation of the fleet on such an errand were sufficient reasons. Let your Politicians beware how they sour the minds of such men—men whose lives are devoted to their country. If ever they accomplish that, your State would not be worth half-a-crown.

And again, in December of that same year, on discovering that he, personally, had been the subject of brutal slander, his indignation burst forth:—

December 29th, 1808.

I have just seen in the newspapers what I conceive to be exceedingly mischievous, and to officers who are bearing the brunt and severities of war, is exceedingly disgusting, when the whole nation is clamorous against the convention of Lisbon and the treaty which Sir Chas. Cotton made with the Russian Admiral about the ships, it is stated that I had made a proposition of the same kind to the Russian Commander at Trieste which had been rejected. There is not a syllable of truth in it. I have had no correspondence with Russia, nor anything happened that could have given rise to such a conjecture. It must therefore be sheer mischief. There are such diabolical spirits, who, incapable of good, cannot rest inactive but fester the world with their malignant humours.

And meanwhile the ardent patriotism of Collingwood was deeply wounded by the attitude of the politicians of his native land.

OCEAN, OFF TOULON, May 16th, 1808.

The contentions in Parliament are disgraceful to our country and have more to do with its reduction than Bonaparte has. They grieve my heart; when all the energy and wisdom of the Nation is required to defend us against such a Power as never appeared in Europe before—the contest seems to be who shall hold the most lucrative office. I abhor that kind of determined opposition; if the Ministers have not that experience it were to be wished they had, they the more need support and assistance. We have resources to stand our ground firmly, until this storm is over—but it depends on the use we make of our means, whether we shall or not.

It would appear to me good policy to make and preserve peace with all the nations who have the smallest pretention to independence—we should shut our eyes to many things which during the regular Governments in Europe would deserve to be scrutinised—the laws and rules of former times are not suited to the present—a man cannot build a Palace during the convulsions of an earthquake, and I sincerely hope our differences with America will be accommodated—if favourable terms we can grant them. Are not we constantly in storms obliged to take in our topsail?—and even sometimes limit ourselves to no sail at all? But our ship is saved by it and when the storm is over we out with them again, and so should the State do.

The truth was that, in much, Collingwood was a more able diplomatist than the men by whose authority he was circumscribed. His letters to Stanhope prove that he was a more apt tactician and had a profounder grasp of the political situation of his day than he has been credited with by posterity. Again and again, does he foretell that a particular line of action will be fraught with a particular result, or show how his representations had been ignored until, too late, events had proved their accuracy. Again and again, in some apparently trivial situation which he had the insight to recognise was big with import, did his tactfulness avert catastrophe which a lesser man would have hastened. "I have always found that kind language and strong ships have a very powerful effect in conciliating the people," he says in one letter to Stanhope, with dry humour. And meanwhile the incompetency of many of those with whom he had to work in alliance was a further source of trial to him. Only too shrewdly did he recognise wherein lay the efficiency of Napoleon and the incapacity of his opponents.

October 7th, 1809.

Should the Austrians make their peace, which I am convinced they must, the next object of Bonaparte will be Turkey, and probably the Austrians be engaged to assist him in the reduction of it. All the south part of Europe seems as if within his grasp the moment peace is signed with Austria; he has long been intriguing with those countries, sometimes with the Government, in other places with the people against their Government; the arts, the dissimulations with which those intrigues are conducted, avail him more than even the rapidity of his armies—all the people he employs are equal to the task assigned them; while in Austria and Spain, the operations are often directed by men who, from Court favour, have got situations they are totally unfit for. Catalonia has suffered much from this cause and everything has gone wrong in Istria and Dalmatia, because there there was wanted a man capable of conducting the war. It is true they have been removed, but not until everything was lost by their want of skill.

And yet pitted against "such a Power as never appeared in Europe before," with the need of every faculty upon the alert, Collingwood was haunted ever more and more by the dread that his increasing bodily weakness must engender mental incapacity. A sinister note crept into his correspondence and so early as August 26th, 1808, he wrote:—

August 26th, 1808.

I have been lately unwell. I grow weak, and the fatigue and anxiety of mind I suffer has worn me down to a shadow. I do not think I can go on much longer, and intend, whenever I feel my strength less, to request that I may be allowed to come to England. I have mentioned this to Lord Mulgrave, but have not to the Admiralty Board.

Yet, determined not to abandon his duty, over a year later he was still at his post.

"Ville de Paris," PORT MAHON, December 18th, 1809.

The truth is that I am so unremittingly occupied, that my life is rather a drudgery than a service. I have an anxious mind from nature and cannot leave to any what is possible for me to do myself. Now my health is suffering very much, which is attributed to the sedentary life I lead, and it may well be to the vexation my mind suffers when anything goes counter. But when I do come home, I hope I shall not be thought to flinch, for I have worn out all the officers and all the ships, two or three times over, since I left England.

Within a fortnight he wrote again:—

December 29th.

I have no desire to shrink from a duty which I owe to my country, but my declining health—the constant anxiety of my mind and fatigue of my body—made me desire to have a little respite, and I asked to be relieved from my command—a request which the Ministers seem to have no disposition to grant to me, but if his lordship knew me personally and was sufficiently acquainted with my sentiments he would know that my request was not made without good reason. The service here requires the most energetic mind and robust body—they cannot be hoped for in an invalid, whose infirmities proceed from too long and unremitted exertion of powers, but feeble at first.

Meanwhile, in Grosvenor Square, every item of news respecting the intentions of Lord Collingwood was eagerly looked for, since on these were dependent the movements of little William Stanhope. In the autumn of 1809 Mrs Stanhope wrote:—

William writes word that his height is 5 ft. 4 in., very fair for a Stanhope of his age. What an affectionate creature he is, and how I should delight in seeing him. I do not like the account he gives of Lord Collingwood's health. If the French fleet would but come out and he beat them, I doubt not he would then return immediately.

And on the 6th December she mentions an event which served to accentuate the sadness of that protracted absence:—

Lord Collingwood has actually a daughter grown up. She has made her appearance in Newcastle, very shy and distressed.

February 27th, 1810.

We came to Town, Sunday Se'nnight. Since then Captain Waldegrave, who was eleven months in the ship with William, and Dr Gray who was his shipmate two years and like a Father to him, have both dined with us and agree in their favourable accounts. He is quite well and breakfasts every day with Lord Collingwood, with whom he also dines three times a week, and he teaches William himself. Your father said— "I fear he is a Pet!" To which Waldegrave answered—"It can never do anyone harm to be Pet to Lord Collingwood!" As soon as the weather is warm I suppose Lord C. will come back, in his last letter he said he should leave William in a Frigate, but Dr Gray is inclined to think he would bring him home. All the reports respecting the Toulon Fleet being out, will, I hear, prove false.

On March 20th Mrs Stanhope wrote—"It is said that Sir C. Cotton is going out immediately to take Lord Collingwood's command, for that he wrote word if they did not supersede him quickly he should supersede himself. I fear his health is very bad." Not till April, however, did this intelligence receive confirmation—"At last Sir C. Cotton has sailed, so that, by the end of June, Lord Collingwood may be back, having given up the command to Sir C. Cotton. He was better the last account. Captain Waldegrave dines here to-day, you would be exceedingly pleased with him, for his manners are agreeable and his intelligence great."

Little did Mrs Stanhope, as she penned the reference to her dinner-party, foresee the conditions under which this was destined to take place. Still less did the authorities who were sending out that belated relief to the wearied Admiral, or the family who now so joyously pictured his return, dream how that service had been already superseded or in what guise that return would take place. Weeks before, at Cadiz, the last act of a prolonged tragedy had been performed. Still firmly refusing to forsake his post till a competent successor had been appointed, Collingwood did not surrender his command to Rear Admiral Martin till March 3rd, when a complete collapse of strength made this imperative. Two days subsequently were lost in the vain endeavour to leave port in the teeth of a contrary wind, but on March 6th, the Ville de Paris succeeded in setting sail for England.