"Directly the Princess heard that we were at Naples she invited us to her masquerade. My friend Maxwell was going in a Turkish dress which he had brought with him from that country, therefore I thought I might as well adopt a costume of the same land, and chose that of a black slave. The ball began by fireworks which were let off in a little Island immediately in front of the Palace in which we were assembled. I had been assured that the Commandant had declared that as he had a considerable quantity of gunpowder in the Fortress, he could not allow anything of the sort without an express order from the King, as the danger would be considerable. None the less, out of deference to the wishes of the Princess, the order appears to have been given. The ball which followed was brilliant, the dances were magnificent, and the King and Queen took part in almost every dance. She is an extremely pretty woman. The King, to my amusement, changed his dress frequently in the course of the evening. In the middle of the proceedings a little cabinet was thrown open, in which was disclosed a bust of Murat with the Inscription Joachim 1er Roi de Naples. I met the Princess of Wales coming out of the cabinet, and was informed that when the door was first opened she was stationed near the bust, and in a theatrical manner placed a crown upon its head.

"To all this magnificent entertainment there was no supper!

"A few days afterwards, to my dismay, I received an intimation from the Duc di Gallo that the King wished me to be presented.... On New Year's Day, at the appointed time, I accordingly repaired to the Salon destined for the Corps Diplomatique. I there found many people assembled, and a table set out with a good breakfast, coffee, tea, all sorts of wine and liqueurs. We were at length ushered into the Presence Chamber and formed a circle round the King.

"I had been far from pleased with Murat's manners at the Princess of Wales's ball, but he now certainly played the part of a Monarch like a consummate actor. The former Inn-keeper's son was dressed magnificently in a Spanish costume. He walked round the circle, and when he came to me he exclaimed, as if aside, 'Ah, un beau nom!' He asked me whence I came and whether I intended to remain long in Naples; upon my answering the latter question in the negative he said, 'J'en suis fache!'

"As soon as our audience was terminated we were ushered into the Chapel where all the nobility of the Court, both male and female, were assembled. Each seemed to vie with the other in splendour of dress. The music was immeasurably fine; but this theatrically magnificent assembly in a Chapel seemed much like a mockery of Religion. Murat, however, who was in a very conspicuous place, acted his part very well. His little boy stood near him and he found out the different parts of the service in the child's prayer- book. As soon as the mass was over the Duc di Gallo placed us in a room which opened into that in which the King received the ladies of the Court, so that, by standing near the door, we could see the whole of the ceremony. The Queen was absent as she had caught cold at the Princess of Wales's ball. The ladies, in consequence, only passed with a side step and solemn demeanour, making en passant a low, deferential bow to the King. But I was extremely amused at their manner directly this was over. As soon as they arrived within a short distance of our door, their solemn and respectful countenances relaxed into a smile of mockery, their side swimming steps into a run, and they all appeared as changed as if they had been touched by a magician's wand. I could not refrain from laughing at them as I read in their altered demeanour the distastefulness of the ceremony through which they had just passed."

Later, Stanhope received, through the Princess of Wales, invitations to various other balls; and finally he was the recipient of a letter from Lord Sligo inviting him to become a subscriber to a ball which it was proposed to give in honour, jointly, of the Princess and of the King and Queen. Stanhope, in common with several of the English, refused to take part in a measure which the latter considered their own Government would not approve, as England had not recognised the Sovereignty of Murat. At a dance, however, that same evening, the Princess, who had previously taken no notice of Lord Granville who was present, came up to him as he stood near Stanhope and informed him that she was exceedingly anxious there should not appear to be any division among the English on this occasion, and that therefore she wished him to subscribe. Lord Granville answered that if it was her wish he should certainly consent to do so. She thereupon proceeded to attack Stanhope's other friend, Maxwell, but the latter stood firm, flatly refusing to consent to a proceeding of which he disapproved. On this the Princess, greatly indignant, turned her back on him and walked off, exclaiming emphatically, "No more dinners at my house, Mr Maxwell!"

Before the disputed ball took place, Stanhope and his brother had journeyed on to Rome. On the road thither they again ran great danger from robbers; indeed, at the first town in the Pope's dominions, where they were obliged to submit their baggage to the examination of the custom house officials, a soldier informed them that he had orders not to let an Englishman pass without an efficient guard, and he begged them, to their astonishment, to take an escort of fifty-two men.

"We, however," Stanhope relates, "passed the next stage safely without seeing any robbers, but we were informed that our danger was not yet over, as we had to pass near a wood which was one of their regular haunts. We saw nothing to alarm us in this wood, but, shortly after, we were startled by seeing two men lying in the middle of the road, swimming in blood. We learnt that these were two robbers whom the gendarmes had been conveying to Turin, when a rescue was attempted. The gendarmes immediately shot these men and pursued the others. This had happened only a quarter of an hour before we passed."

In Rome Stanhope wrote, "I frequently meet Lucien Bonaparte. We have also some excellent English society—the Duke of Bedford, Lords Holland and Cawdor, Sir H. Davy, Mrs Rawdon, etc., and most of them give parties, so that I could sometimes fancy myself in London, I see so many London faces."

At Milan he was shown how the French soldiers had playfully made the fresco of "The Last Supper," by Leonardo da Vinci, the butt of their bullets; and at Turin he was struck by the strange sight in the Museum of a black man in puris naturalibus. He had been a favourite servant of the King of Sardinia, who had left nothing undone to cure him of the disorder from which he suffered; but having failed in this endeavour, he had the deceased nigger stuffed and affectionately preserved thus!

The travellers next crossed the Mont Cenis by walking up the mountain and sledging down the other side. And now, at length, they again approached Paris. With strangely mingled feelings, not unmixed with a sense of premonition, did John Stanhope once more draw near the scene of his former captivity. A transformation had taken place in the surroundings which he knew so well; Napoleon was now himself a prisoner in the hands of his enemies, and Louis XVIII. was seated upon the throne of his ancestors. But Stanhope was not long in discovering that the metamorphosis was far more apparent than actual. The eleven months' Sovereignty of Louis had not served to render the monarchy secure, and the spirit of Napoleon brooded like an unseen presence over the land which it still dominated.

"During the period of my rapid journey," writes Stanhope, "I lost no time in ascertaining the feelings of the people with respect to the Bourbons and to all the extraordinary changes which had taken place since I left. We had an officer in the coach who told us that if Bonaparte were to appear, almost all the privates would join him, and I found that disaffection prevailed universally through that part of France. Even boys, who were running along the side of the coach begging, and who cried Vive le Roi! after having begged in vain for some time, ran off crying Vive l'Empereur! This was a degree of licence very different to what I had been accustomed to see in France in the days of Napoleon's iron rule and tyrannical system of espionage. The impression produced in my mind by what I heard and saw was that, if I had formed a just estimate of Bonaparte's character, he would soon be in France and at Paris!"

The latter was not a comforting conviction, and, ere long, Stanhope learnt that plots were undoubtedly on foot to bring such an event to pass, "A regiment of the old Guards marched into some town, and, addressing the young Guards quartered there, said, 'Our cry is Vive l'Empereur! What is yours?' 'Vive le Roi!' was the answer. 'Well, then, we must fight it out; but as we are of the Vieille Guarde we will give you choice of weapons.' 'No,' replied the others, 'we will neither cry Vive l'Empereur nor accept your challenge.' Such a reception was not what the conspirators expected; in consequence, the plot failed, the old Guards returned to their quarters, and the Generals concerned in the business attempted to escape. Some succeeded, but others were taken. Louis XVIII., however, did not dare to put them to death.

"But that a conspiracy preceded and signalised Napoleon's return there can be little doubt, and the violet was the emblem of the conspirators. Frederick Douglas [5] told me that before Napoleon's return he was at the Duchesse de Bassano's when the subject of flowers became the topic of conversation. The Duchesse exclaimed, 'Pour moi, j'aime la violette!' A general smile appeared on the countenances of all present, and Douglas saw that there was some joke or secret that he did not understand. That secret became sufficiently clear afterwards." [6]

Meanwhile, upon Stanhope's arrival in Paris, he called upon several of his former friends; but the following morning, to his dismay, he was seized with a return of the fever which had attacked him in Greece. His brother had left him to return home by another route, and he thus found himself alone, stricken with a severe illness which "was no longer ague, but a violent fever, scarcely, if at all, intermittent." He at once sent for the doctor, who provided him with a good nurse; but he explains, "My situation may be better imagined than described when I say that the first intelligence which greeted me in my helpless and suffering condition was that Bonaparte had landed in France. At the very time that we were passing through the south of France, he was but a short distance from us!

"I never for one moment doubted the result of his return. My old nurse, who took the greatest care of me, amused me with her abject terror, while, in order to reassure me, 'Il ne viendra pas!' was the burden of her song.

"Even from my bed of sickness I became aware that an extraordinary change had taken place in the feelings of the Parisians. The impression produced on my mind on my return to France had been that by far the greater majority of the people were decided Bonapartists. But the moment that Napoleon's return became a probable event, there was a complete transformation in the opinions of the people. They became enthusiastic in the cause of the Bourbons. Hitherto they had laughed at and despised them; but Napoleon they hated and feared. Although at a distance they might pity and almost love him, when near present he was only an object of terror. The remembrance of the past came back vividly to their minds. They recognised, too, that in his adversity they had betrayed and forsaken him; now the day of his triumph or retribution was possibly approaching.

"Numerous battalions were formed in Paris, and the greatest zeal shown by the great mass of the inhabitants in the Royal cause. The army, however, which had marched to Lyons to oppose the Emperor, joined his standard, and the only hope of the King lay in the new army which had been hastily collected. Would the troops fight, or would they desert to the Emperor, was now the question on everybody's lips. Upon this the issue rested.

"My impression was that though, of course, all the old troops were devoted to Napoleon, the feeling of the army in his favour was very far from universal. Many felt that they could not in honour, or indeed without the guilt of perjury, forsake the White Standard which they were sworn to defend, in order to join the ranks of their adversaries. They recognised that, by whatever species of pretext it was glossed over, still desertion remained the foulest blot upon a soldier's honour. But, on the other hand, they felt no interest in the Royal cause, and a natural repugnance to shed the blood of their fellow-countrymen. They were, in fact, entirely indisposed to spill French blood for either of the rival Sovereigns, and were prepared to remain quiet spectators of the scene. Could the King but once have succeeded in making them fire on the Imperialists he might have had a chance, and doubtless a skilful General might have succeeded se faire maitre d'occasion.

"But Bonaparte had hazarded his all upon this venture—he had counted upon the feeling of the armies of France. And the dramatic instinct by which he had made himself master of so many situations in the past was now again called to his aid. He took care to have it circulated that his troops would not fire upon Frenchmen. He even gave out that his soldiers had no cartridges. This put the Royalists in an unexpected dilemma.... 'How can we fire in cold blood upon men who will not fire upon us?' was the universal problem in the Royal army. And while they debated this question, Napoleon eventually passed through their lines as if he had been an unconcerned spectator.

"Meanwhile, my situation was a singular one. Returning from my pilgrimage where I had been to earn my liberty, here was I again in Paris, hopelessly confined to my bed, with the prospect of being again taken prisoner as an Englishman. My earnest entreaty to the doctor was to patch me up in any way so as to enable me to effect my retreat from Paris, for I foresaw that there would be such a stampede as Napoleon approached the city that it would be impossible to procure post-horses.... After having been confined to my bed for a week I was at last enabled to put on my clothes. Fortified with some strong bouillon, which my nurse gave me instead of beef-tea, and getting into a hackney coach, I went off to procure myself some necessaries for the journey. The scene I saw was an extraordinary one; everyone seemed in a hurry, hastening somewhere. Crowds of English were leaving the city, some frightened out of their wits, others in perfect unconcern. One dandy I even heard say, 'Well, I would rather be a prisoner in Paris than at liberty in England,' and I longed to give him a letter of recommendation to my old quarters at Verdun."

Nor was Stanhope a moment too soon. With the greatest difficulty and only at an exorbitant price was he able to get horses and the promise of a voiturier who eventually sent his wife as driver in his place, being probably himself a suspected person who could not leave the city. At the last moment a message arrived from Mr Boyd, the banker, begging that he and his family might share Stanhope's flight. Such an offer to an enfeebled invalid was most acceptable, and accordingly Stanhope eventually left Paris in company with the banker, his wife and their two daughters. The scene as they went defied description; troops were marching, drums sounding, flags flying, crowds were collected in the streets with no particular object, and fugitives were vainly endeavouring to make way over the bridge where carriages were locked in a block which threatened disaster to their occupants. Nevertheless, Madame la voituriere, who, Stanhope explains, was not only dressed up to enact the part she had undertaken, but was "not of the mildest or most peaceable temper," forced a way through the melee with such success that, in due course, she deposited her travellers in safety at Brussels whither they were bound; when, to their extreme amusement, her task accomplished, she speedily "transformed herself into a Parisian elegante!"

And even as they reached safety, into the city which they had left, Napoleon entered. By then the stampede of fugitives was ended, "and," writes John Stanhope, "I was informed that upon Bonaparte's arrival, a melancholy stillness seemed to pervade the streets. A few feeble cries of Vive l'Empereur were raised, but only by his immediate partisans; for the most part the Parisians, as though uncertain of their feelings, maintained a morose and depressed silence."

And in the midst of that brooding stillness, Napoleon entered upon the last phase of his greatness, his brief Reign of a Hundred Days.



CHAPTER VII

LETTERS FROM ENGLAND AND FRANCE

1811-1821

Throughout the period when John Stanhope was experiencing so many and varied adventures abroad, life in the home which he had left flowed on with less of note to mark the flight of time. But at the very date when he had been enduring the miseries of a prolonged detention in France, the former companion of his travels, Tom Knox, had been undergoing a misadventure of a different type, in which the family in Grosvenor Square took a peculiar interest. His first action on arriving in London had been to hasten to see Mrs Stanhope in order to take her the latest news of her son. Dining with her on this occasion he made the acquaintance of Miss Acklom. The young lady exhibited a great interest in the traveller, of whose adventures she had heard repeatedly from her friends, the Stanhopes, and he finding her a sympathetic listener, the mutual attraction rapidly increased, with the result that, at a concert at Lady Jersey's in June, 1811, he proposed to her, and was accepted. The engagement, however, was not a happy one. Mr Acklom demanded far larger settlements than Mr Knox was in a position to agree to; and in December of the same year all idea of the marriage was abandoned. Tom Knox returned to Miss Acklom her picture which she had bestowed upon him, and she sent back to him the portrait and presents which he had given her; while neither of them appear to have regretted regaining their freedom.

Full particulars of this episode in his friend's life were dispatched to John Stanhope at Verdun; indeed, no sooner had Mrs Stanhope at last ascertained the fate of her absent son than she and her family strove diligently to lighten his exile by any available relays of news from his native land. And in strange contrast to the adventures of the young detenu must have seemed those letters which reached him, descriptive of that far-away family life in England, and conjuring up pictures of the home and the faces which he might never see again.

Mrs Spencer Stanhope to John Spencer Stanhope. 1812.

Your sisters are all well. They are, as usual, very busy acquiring knowledge. They are learning Spanish, Italian, French & German, also the harp and the flute. At this moment Marianne is studying Euclid, Anne & Frances are at the Pianoforte, Isabella is drawing & Maria is occupied with her French.

Hugh grows very stout & bold; Isabella, I never saw better, Frances is a prodigiously tall girl & very clever. Maria is always the same good- natured little Fairy.

From Cannon Hall Marianne wrote later:—

The Drawing-room and the Brown Room look beautiful in their new state, and you cannot think how elegant all our company appear at this important moment. Anne and the gay Cupid [Philip Stanhope] are enjoying all the agonies of a game of chess. The Glyns [1] are staying with us, and Tom [2] is fitting himself for Prime Minister by assiduously studying the papers. Lady Glyn and Mamma are enjoying a light supper; Sir Dicky puts in notes of interrogation and comments upon the passing scene with great effect. Papa is grunting, groaning and snoring in the library—the result of twenty brace of moor-grouse. The younger members of the family are, I suppose, enjoying delicious slumbers at Westminster, for the clock has just struck eleven, and I must to bed!

From Southampton, then a fashionable and gay resort, where he was staying with a private tutor, Charles Stanhope likewise wrote to his distant brother.

SOUTHAMPTON, November 5th, 1812.

I dined the other day with the Fitzhughs who live near here, and was much disappointed at not meeting Mrs Siddons who is always with them. She is not liked by the people about here, she is so very graciosissima pomposissima. If she goes to any party she immediately usurps the sofa, monopolising it most infamously with her most corpulent latitude; and to those people who conceive themselves most her intimates, she bows like a Queen, with a slight inclination from her shoulders, never deigning to move from her seat, nor even in the slightest degree to bend her formal body. This, of course, cannot but disgust, tho' Mrs Fitzhugh doats on her. [3] When she acted here Mrs F. waited on her as a maid, and when she came off the stage, after having died most naturally, Mrs F. begged her to go to bed, and was worked up to hystericks wanting repeated assurances that she was not in reality dead. Was there ever anything so absurd or foolish?

I was at Gaunts, Sir Dicky Carr Glyn's. It is a pretty place and a well-arranged house in the inside, but the exterior is completely a la Citoyen. A square, formal house with an inclined, slated roof.

I was amused at Sir D.'s upholding his prerogative. Lady Glyn was for folding doors from the drawing-room to the library. Sir D. was against them. The argument ran high. Sir D. then said, "Well, my dear, you may have your folding doors and your new fashions, but let me have the old. None of your new, flimsy introductions for me, I will still be the old, worthy Alderman & English Gentleman!" Thought I— Bravo Sir Dicky!

Encouraged by his own eloquence, he further insisted on his point, and now, lo! there are big folding doors with a single small door close to them!

It strikes a person unacquainted with the circumstances as though Dicky, with true Aldermanic foresight, intending to enlarge his paunch with Turtle, etc., etc., etc., and conceiving that he would soon be incapable of passing thro' the narrow door, had thus provided for his increase of latitude.

It puts me in mind of an epigram by Jekyll. [4] A canal was cut here at great expense (at the time when everybody was embarking their fortunes in that kind of speculation); it ran parallel with the great river. Everybody contributed to it, and bought shares in it. They did not perceive the folly of the undertaking till the Canal was finished. In short, it was never used, and everybody was bitten. The epigram ran thus:—

Southampton's wise sons thought their river so large Tho' 'twould carry a ship, 'twould not carry a barge; So they wisely determined to cut by its side A stinking canal where small vessels might glide; Like the man who contriving a hole in his wall, To admit his two cats, one great and one small, When a great hole was cut for the first to go through Would a little hole have for the little cat too! */

I have learnt to take snuff among other fashionable acquirements, a custom which, of course, you have learnt and will be able to keep me in countenance....

I must tell you an anecdote of Philip which I think will amuse you. At one of the Levees being left alone—(that is a bull tho')—with the Prince, the Duke of York and Lord Yarmouth, they wished to have some fun with him, and among other things asked him how he liked being at Court. But he, not being yet used to address Royalty, was at a loss in the selection of his words, till at last two very applicable terms presented themselves to him. But then he was again at a loss which was the most genteelerest. Finally he decided in favour of both— Toll-Loll and Pretty Bobbish, and so replied to the Royal inquiry—of course it set them in a roar!



Southampton, whence this letter was written, owed its fame, as Charles Stanhope explains subsequently, to the fact of its being then a resort for all persons who had been bitten by mad dogs. The salt water was supposed to assist in warding off an attack of hydrophobia, and doubtless many suffering from terror of this complaint were saved by such a belief. But the very circumstances which rendered the town popular, contributed to make it expensive, and Charles gives an illustration of this. Once, when his sister Frances was staying there, she required some slight medical attendance for a cold. "She sent," he mentions, "for Dr Middleton, who is a very gentle, insinuating old gentleman. He has been here three times since Tuesday, three guineas a time, so it is rather dear being ill in this place."

Curiously enough, this extravagant medical attendance was not infrequently called into requisition by the marvellous acting of Mrs Siddons, the wife of a former theatrical wig-maker. Her superb impersonation of the characters she represented stirred her audience to an extent which appears incredible, and the hysterical condition of Mrs Fitzhugh, described by Charles Stanhope, was a more common result of her genius than he seems to have been aware of. It is on record that she constantly made men weep and women faint by the realism of her performance; while in 1783, when the Royal Family went in state to see her play Isabella in the Fatal Marriage, so extraordinary was her genius that the actors who took part with her were completely over-mastered by their emotion, and even the stolid King, in his richly-decorated box, sobbed unrestrainedly in sight of all present, till Queen Charlotte, annoyed at such weakness, turned her back upon the stage and loudly declared that such a lifelike exhibition was "too disagreeable to look at." Off the stage, however, the personality of Mrs Siddons was transformed. A handsome woman, though of ponderous build, her conversation was singularly dull, and she spoke in a slow, sententious manner as though declaiming a set speech, which peculiarity gave rise to many ludicrous stories respecting her.

Charles Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. CHRIST CHURCH, November 1812.

I have bought a beautiful little wax medallion of Lord Chesterfield in a frame which I wish I could show you.

I went out sky-larking with Elcho yesterday who asked much after you. Mr Belli went up for his degree yesterday, and was excessively annoyed at the examining masters calling him Mr Belly of Christ Church, till Lloyd set them right. We had a terrible row on Monday. It was a general illumination here with a bonfire, etc. The Gownsmen gave the first provocation and we had a most desperate battle-royal. Several men were hurt and about to have been rusticated, among which is Lord Kintore, an ex-college nobleman.

CANTLEY, Undated.

Col. Anson [5] was here on Saturday and I was surprised to see so unsmart a person turning out a-shooting from such a host of Dandies, so late in the day as two o'clock. He killed, however, more than had been killed by any individual hitherto, thirty-eight brace; but the keeper says he never saw a good shot shoot so abominably; he had two guns, and if he fired one off, he fired away one and a half lb. of powder. The keeper was knocked up in loading his gun and trotting after him.

I presented Lord Chesterfield with the medallion of his father that I bought at Cosway's sale, which was most thankfully received.

LONDON, Thursday, February 4th, 1813.

Marianne and my Mother went to attend the Drawing Room, being the Queen's nominal Birthday. I then took a long walk, first to Tottenham Court Road to see the preparations for the Regent's Park, then to Bond St. and St James's St. to see the Equipages, etc. It seemed a very full Drawing Room and some magnificent Equipages, among which the Duchess of Montrose's was the finest. It consisted of 12 servants in most superb liveries, and three sedans, in one of which was the Duchess, and, in the two others, two of her daughters, Lady Charlotte and Lady Lucy, both very pretty. I returned home at a quarter to six, and my mother was not then come home. At last she arrived, complaining much of the intolerable squeeze which had never been surpassed but by the first Drawing Room after the King's recovery. Mrs Beaumont came to us in the evening.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. February 20th, 1813.

Mrs Beaumont has just presented Diana, who is, as you may believe, very happy. The sons have taken their Degrees.

Lord Kinnaird has contrived to get into such difficulties that his House, Pictures, and everything are to be sold. I went over the House yesterday and felt every step as if the ghost of his father could not fail to appear. There never was a fortune tumbled down in such a moment. The Pictures and Bronzes very fine. There is one of the best of Titian's Pictures; but though fine, I do not think it is a pleasing collection.

I heard an amusing story the other day against Douglas Kinnaird. [6] As you know, he is a wonderful linguist, but Werry, who is now secretary to Lord Cathcart, is yet finer. The latter boasts that he met Douglas at a dinner-party in London once, and, for a wager, entered the lists against him, and beat him in every language in Europe. But Werry admits that, in order to accomplish this, he never ceased talking from the moment he sat down till eleven o'clock at night! He says he felt—"Si je crache, je perds!"

I sent you a letter from Knox, he has dined here once, but he is now a very bad neighbour. The Ackloms are in Lower Grosvenor Street. Esther looks well, but is grown thin, the death of her father in a moment was a great shock to her. Everything was settled for her marriage, which is delayed till she is out of black gloves. I see a great deal of Mr Maddocks who has shown them great attention. It is said that she has L10,000 a year.

Esther Acklom had not been long in filling the place vacated by Mr Knox. In 1813 she again became engaged, this time to Mr J. Maddocks, who was said to possess an income of L4,000 per annum. The same year, however, her father died suddenly, leaving her L10,000 a year and all his goods, while to his wife he left an annual income of L16,000. Miss Acklom, therefore, not only found herself a substantial heiress, but with the prospect of inheriting a yet larger fortune from her mother. A friend, Mrs Calvert, writing at this date, shrewdly remarks—"It is now supposed that Esther will jilt Mr Maddocks," but Mrs Stanhope does not seem to have anticipated this result, when, on March 3rd, she wrote various items of news to her son:—

Walter Scott has published a new book called "Rokeby," dedicated to Mr Morritt. It is not so much admired as his others, though more than it was at first. His works are always the more admired the more they are read. Your old acquaintance, Mr Inglis, has balls frequently, ending at Twelve. All Lord Kinnaird's pictures, wines, and house, are selling. His youngest brother has been at the point of death at Edinburgh, but is recovering.

I went in Mr Maddocks Tilbury [7] yesterday; (you see my love for a gig still continues). Esther says she would not have trusted herself with him. They are not to be married till she is out of black gloves.

But alas! for Mr Maddocks; ere the "black gloves" were discarded, Esther had fulfilled the prophecy of Mrs Calvert. She broke off her engagement; scrupulously, however, refunding to Mr Maddocks every penny which he had spent upon her. This second instance on her part of jilting a fiance confirmed many people in the belief of her heartlessness; but the reason which probably determined her action on this latter occasion was that she had already met the one man, who, she recognised, could enchain her fickle affections for all time.

Meanwhile, on March 13th, Mrs Stanhope wrote to her son:—

We are all now in sable for the Duchess of Brunswick who was sister to the King and Mother to the Princess of Wales.

April 19th.

Bonaparte seems to be making a great effort & I should hope the last, for the spirit of the Germans seems at length to be roused. I trust in God they will not be too eager to show their teeth before they can bite—to use an old proverb.

The Russians are a glorious people. Two Cossacks are now here, & they invite great curiosity. Yesterday being Sunday, thousands & thousands were in the Park to see one of them ride, and in Kensington Gardens they cheered him.

The winter of 1813 was one long to be remembered in England. Christmas day was exceptionally beautiful, fine and clear, but the day following a frost set in and continued without interruption till the month of April. All inland navigation ceased, and nearly all the song-birds perished. The Thames was frozen, and a great Fair was held upon it, when oxen were roasted, while on the Tweed there was an ice-fete at which fifty gentlemen sat down to dinner. When at last the frost broke, the country presented a curious and a wonderful sight; enormous masses of ice accumulated and were carried down the river, while vessels which had been moored to the banks were lifted up bodily by the overwhelming force of the torrent and, later, left stranded far away in the neighbouring fields.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to Charles Spencer-Stanhope. February 28th, 1814.

We have had the most severe winter I ever remember—the whole Kingdom was rendered impassible from the deepness of the snow & the streets in London were in a state I never heard of their being in before.

I heard from your brothers from Ulm, etc. The country they had travelled through was beautiful, but the roads horrible; they were upset once. At Munich they saw the Crown Prince at a ball & at Stuttgart John waited upon the Queen of Wurtemburg who received him most graciously and inquired after us all. It is said that she is in a bad state of health & is coming to England.

At the Hague they dined with the Prince of Orange, the report is that in June he is to be married to the Princess Charlotte of Wales.

The Allies have met with some checks, notwithstanding it is said they are going on well.

The attention of the whole civilised world was centred on the events happening in France. In March came intelligence of the victory of the Allies which enabled them to occupy Paris. "I shall never forget," writes Charles Stanhope, "the sensation it made in London. For a week past we hardly understood the operations of the armies, when at last despatches were received from the height of Montmartre. Everyone seemed drunk with the news." This was followed by that of the abdication of Napoleon on April 5th, 1814. All Europe went mad with joy, and, within a month, Louis XVIII. had entered his capital as King. In the June following it was arranged that the Allies should visit England, but while preparations for the consequent rejoicings were in progress, Mrs Stanhope and her family attended a festivity which they regarded with almost greater interest.

At the date at which Esther Acklom had jilted Mr Maddocks, she had been introduced to Lord Althorp [8] the eldest son of Earl Spencer, who had at once attracted her. Known for so long to his friends and fellow politicians as "Honest Jack" he was possessed of as marked an individuality as her own. Although unable to lay claim either to good looks, depth of knowledge, or polish of manners, yet the charm of his personality, his unalterable amiability, and the curious fascination of the smile which readily suffused his countenance, exercised an irresistible attraction upon all who came within his influence. In his public life, indeed, what genius might have failed to accomplish in his favour, the profound sincerity of his character amply achieved. Other men might be noted for tricks of State-craft—for impassioned oratory, for shrewd Diplomacy, for powers of organisation; to Jack Althorp alone was it given to owe his fame primarily to unswerving uprightness and the moral rectitude which was reverenced alike by friends and foes.

Not only accuracy to a penny in accounts committed to his charge, but absolute sincerity in the small things of life, as in the great, amounted to a mania with him. Occasionally, for instance, someone might remark casually to him that the day was fine, and the result of this unconsidered platitude was calculated to provoke a smile. For before risking a possibly untruthful assent, Honest Jack would turn to the window and reflectively scan the heavens, then, after consideration, would deliver himself of a cautious verdict. "Well," he would pronounce guardedly, "I don't know that you can actually say that it is a fine day, because you see that it is early yet, and there are clouds about; but it is a pleasant morning and I hope will prove a fine day." And the supreme simplicity of the rejoinder, coupled with the complete unconsciousness of the speaker that there was anything unusual in his attitude, at once erased any savour of sententiousness.

It was to such a man that fickle, wayward Esther gave her heart, only to find that, slow of perception and indifferent to her charm, Honest Jack did not return her love. But the girl who had remained undaunted by the stern Marshal of Napoleon was not to be thwarted in this, the dearest wish of her life. Her habitual determination came to her aid. Since Jack Althorp would not propose to her, she proposed to him; and such an unusual proceeding was fraught with happy consequences, for, on April 14th, 1814, she became his wife, and entered upon a union of unmixed happiness for both.

"She was the one woman with whom I never felt shy," explained Lord Althorp, with some reason; and it may be added, that his devotion after marriage amply compensated for his lack of ardour before. For her sake he settled down in the old home of her ancestors, Wiseton Hall, and expended; L10,000 in making the unprepossessing house habitable; every wish and whim of hers he lived but to gratify, and so complete was his confidence in her, that during his absence she was deputed to read all his letters, at her judgment destroying what was unimportant or reserving what required attention. "It would not do for ladies to write him love letters!" she used to remark laughingly.

Her former friends, the Stanhopes, often stayed with her at Wiseton subsequent to her marriage, and rejoiced to see her happiness; but its untimely ending, which greatly distressed them, may be related here.

On June 11th, 1818, Lady Althorp, after much suffering, gave birth to a still-born son, and two days later, after a period of delirium, she expired. It was supposed that the fate of Princess Charlotte, who had died under similar circumstances in the previous November, had weighed upon her mind, and claimed her as yet another of the many victims whose fate was influenced by that of the unfortunate Princess. However that may be, her husband, who had attended her devotedly to the last, was inconsolable at her loss. "When he had deposited her remains in their last resting-place," relates his biographer, "he seemed as if left without an object on earth. Shrinking even from the affectionate attentions of his family, he went at once to Wiseton, where he passed several months in complete retirement ... his grief was too deeply seated to be otherwise than lasting; and for many years its poignancy remained unabated."

To one person only did he turn in his bitter grief—to the mother of his dead wife; an unprepossessing woman, who had never shown him any kindness, but who now became to him the first object of his care, out of the love which he had borne her daughter. He wrote to Mrs Acklom every day, showed her the utmost attention, and exhibited for her the most devoted affection, which she, ere long, returned. Meanwhile, the rooms that had been occupied by the wife he had so loved were never altered from the day when she left him; upon his finger he always wore her ring, and wherever he went he took with him the pillow upon which her head had last rested.

* * * * *

Long, however, ere this sad ending to a happy romance, during the summer which followed the marriage of Lady Althorp, the Allies visited London amid frantic demonstrations of rejoicing from the people who, too prematurely, concluded that the final downfall of Bonaparte was at last accomplished.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to Charles Spencer-Stanhope. GROSVENOR SQUARE, May 25th, 1814.

Next month is Philip's month of waiting, when he will probably have much gaiety, and from having to attend the Regent will see the Allied Sovereigns to advantage—they have been expected some time, but it is now said will not arrive till the middle of next month, when Fetes and various gaieties are expected. The Prince of Orange and Prince Paul of Wurtemburg are here.

Lady Collingwood has let her house in Town and stays at Newcastle with her father, who is very aged. I noticed that it was William's old ship which conveyed Bonaparte to his new Government, where I should think he must feel very odd. I cannot help wishing he had been removed to a greater distance, as I doubt not he will still try to do mischief, for he has an able, active, and wicked mind. What changes have taken place within the last three months! They appear to me like a dream.

Tom Knox is come home. He says had not John been in such haste to get on he would have gone on with him.

So full was London that it was impossible to find accommodation for all the distinguished visitors, and the Stanhopes' friend, Lord James Murray, put his house in Great Cumberland Place at the disposal of Count Platoff, and twelve attendant Cossacks. The latter now became a familiar sight and ceased to create a sensation when they rode abroad; indeed, shortly, their departure was eagerly looked forward to, so uncivilised was their behaviour.

In Lord James's house they refused to use the sumptuous bedrooms prepared for them, but preferred to sleep herded together in the hall or on the staircase, while the damage which they did was incalculable.

June 8th, 1814.

Philip is now at home, as this is his month of waiting, which is fortunate for him, as he will have an opportunity of seeing well all the great people now here. London was yesterday like a fair, for the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia arrived and every house from Hyde Park Corner to Westminster Bridge was as full as possible, the windows crowded, the streets stopped with carriages, the Park and streets full of foot people, and all the Kent Road the same, who were every one disappointed—as the great people came incog., and no one knew when they arrived. The Emperor, however, showed himself at the Balcony and was much cheered.

When Blucher went to Carlton House the Mob broke in, and the Prime Minister invested him with the Garter in the midst of them all, which pleased John Bull much, for I believe they think more of the General than of the Emperor.

Philip rides every day in St James's Park; at nine, he goes to the stables at Carlton House and there he finds a riding-master—a very pleasant part of his duty riding is. Great Fetes are talked of, but there seems a doubt whether the Emperor will stay for them, as he means to travel and see the country.

From Oxford, Charles Stanhope wrote:—

The Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia and his sons, Blucher, Platoff, the Prince of Wurtemburg and an infinitude of great men who have flocked to this country, about the middle of the summer term accompanied the Prince Regent to Oxford where they were received and feted in the most magnificent style.

The scene in the theatre was particularly fine, the Prince Regent enthroned with the Emperor of Russia on his right and the King of Prussia on his left. The Heroes of the War receiving the encomiums of the peaceful Sons of Science! Blucher seemed particularly happy. A most magnificent entertainment was provided for them at the Radcliffe Library, where old Blucher got hopelessly tipsy, and was found afterwards strolling about the College by himself, totally incapable of finding his way back to his lodgings!

I must explain that he was lodged at the Sub-Dean's in Ch. Ch., and tho' a Royal carriage was sent to convey him to the Radcliffe, he preferred walking, escorted by the Gown, for one of which bodyguard I volunteered myself.

The third day the Emperor and King of Prussia quitted the University, but the Prince Regent and Blucher remained and dined in Ch. Ch. Hall. I must recount an anecdote of the Prince whose peculiar grace and elegance of manner shone in its best lustre during the whole visit. Blucher's health being drunk, he returned thanks in German, but addressed himself rather to the Prince than to the University or Ch. Ch. in particular. The Prince, perceiving the indecorum of this, at once rose and announced that so excellent a speech should not be lost upon the greater part of the company, who could not be expected to understand German, and that, therefore, in the absence of a better interpreter, he would volunteer for that office himself, however incompetent he might be. He then delivered an extremely neat and tactful address of thanks to the University and especially to that College where Blucher and himself had been so hospitably entertained.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope. GROSVENOR SQUARE, June 20th, 1814.

This is a day of bustle and confusion in London, as it is the last day the Emperor remains here.

Philip, at eight, set off for Carlton House in his uniform, as he is to attend the Regent to a Review in Hyde Park at ten, at which hour we go to Mr Macdonald's to see it. Afterwards he will attend the Prince to the House of Lords, and at Night to a great Ball which the Members of White's Club give to the Royals. To-morrow they all go to Portsmouth where a Naval Review is expected, tho' it has been said that it cannot take place owing to many of the Ships having been sent for the Russian troops which are to pass thro' this country on their way home. From Portsmouth the Emperor and the Duchess of Oldenburg go away. The King of Prussia I understand remains some time longer.

Ever since the Crowned Heads arrived, London has been mad, & as full again as ever I knew it. Where all the people are lodged I cannot imagine. The streets are full day and night watching the Royals, who see everything and therefore are always upon the move.

The King of Prussia walked quietly into St George's Church yesterday and asked for the Duke of Devonshire's pew. They have all been at Oxford where the Prince was with them and was received with great applause.

Since I began my letter I have been some hours at Mrs Macdonald's to see a Review in the Park where the Regent and the Crowned Heads attended. The day is beautiful and the scene was very fine, for there were thousands of spectators on foot, as horses and carriages were not admitted into the Park. I was not near enough to distinguish Philip & he has not yet returned....

I have been interrupted again. Philip is to go with the Prince to- morrow to Portsmouth which he likes the idea of extremely. He has been much entertained with the duty of to-day....

After all, the Regent did not go to the House of Lords and the Emperor does not leave London to-day, therefore Philip will have a little rest after the fatigues of yesterday, for he did not get home from the ball till between five and six, and is now asleep.

To console London for the termination of such a round of dissipation, on July 1st White's Club gave a magnificent masquerade at Burlington House in honour of the Duke of Wellington, to which the Stanhopes went with their friends, the Kinnairds. Nearly two thousand persons were accommodated in the temporary room which was erected for supper, and the costumes were remarkable for their magnificence, save possibly that of Byron, who was clad, sombrely but effectively, in the dark flowing robes of a monk. A guest of gayer, if less dignified appearance, was Sir Lumley Skeffington, who, as usual, encountered the ill-fortune which seemed to dog his footsteps, for his red Guard's coat was mischievously torn from his shoulders by crazy Lady Caroline Lamb. [9] who hid it and left the discomforted beau in his waistcoat in the centre of the ballroom.

Eight months after these festivities, news arrived in London that on March 1st, 1815, Napoleon had once more landed in France, followed by the intelligence that on March 20th he had entered Paris. In June the Campaign of Waterloo began by the defeat of Blucher at Ligny, where John Stanhope had so long resided. But on the 18th of the same month, "The fops of Piccadilly became the heroes of Waterloo," and that famous victory decided for all time the fate of the Conqueror of Europe. Four days later he again abdicated, and on July 15th he surrendered himself to the English.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. July 28th.

What great and surprising events have happened in little more than a month. The Battle of Waterloo was one of the bravest & greatest ever fought, & has decided the fate of Europe, therefore though we must lament the many gallant men who fell on that dreadful day, yet not a life was lost in vain, & when we consider what the blood would have been had the Campaign continued, we must look upon the loss as small.

The surrender of Bonaparte is such an unexpected event, that I can scarcely yet credit it, for I never supposed he would have lived to have become a Prisoner. What will be done with him? Thank Heaven we can now confidently look forward to Peace.

Private events, however, distracted the attention and gave employment to the pen of Mrs Stanhope during the year which followed. The health of her husband was gradually declining. He was under the necessity of renouncing his seat in Parliament, where he had respectively represented Haslemere, Carlisle and Hull during a space of nearly forty years. Deprived of the work which for so long a period had completely absorbed his thoughts and energies, his spirits flagged. The vivacity, the wit for which he had been noted deserted him and he sank gradually into a mental lethargy which, as his malady increased, at times almost amounted to torpor, but alternated with a restlessness and irritation of the nerves very distressing to witness. In order to divert his attention from the life with which he could no longer mingle, it was decided that novelty of scene might have a beneficial result. His family therefore proceeded to travel, but that the liveliness of his daughters was undiminished and their taste for society as keen, appears by a letter written by Marianne from Tunbridge Wells to her brother John in Yorkshire.

TUNBRIDGE WELLS, October 2nd, 1816.

We do not think that your Doncaster Belles sounded very captivating. I think I could have shown you at one glance a better show on the Pantiles yesterday—the beauties who turned out with a bright gleam after a horrid morning. To begin with the greatest, Miss Eden looked magnificent, and is pronounced very agreeable. With her was Lord Auckland's sister, extremely pretty and elegant, quite a Lucile, then Miss Bruce, smart, with well made boots, and Miss Anstruther who, perhaps, would be least thought of and attract the most. After leaving there I met the Douglases—Miss D. looking as if her blood did not circulate and Caroline as if she wished to be civil but found it inconvenient....

Should you have to write to Murray, tell him to send to Grosvenor Square the second part of "Childe Harold," and also the new novel by the "Author of Waverley."

In the ensuing year Frances Stanhope was taken to Court by her mother. Tall, graceful, and with a dazzling complexion, her beauty was singularly striking, and she used to relate that when she was presented to the Regent, H.R.H., who always distinguished between the pretty debutantes and the plain, graciously honoured her by bestowing upon her two resounding kisses on each cheek. Not long after this auspicious entry into society, however, her mother decided that a couple of years spent on the Continent might be equally advantageous to the health of Walter Stanhope and to the education of his children. The family therefore migrated to Paris, where everything at this date was in a curious state of transition. With Napoleon far away at St Helena, Louis XVIII. was firmly established on the Throne of his ancestors, and France was endeavouring to recover something of her pristine gaiety. Sir Charles Stuart was now Ambassador at the French Court; many English were in Paris, and like a fresh act of a Play wherein the various dramatis personae, moved by a common impulse, translate themselves en masse to a fresh locality, so the Stanhopes appear, in the midst of their new surroundings, to have found themselves encircled by their former friends.

Marianne Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. 35 RUE DE LA MADELEINE, February 7th, 1818.

I will not lose the opportunity of sending you a letter by Lady Crompton, who goes to England in two days.

Mrs Beaumont, her two daughters and Wentworth are here, very grand and gay, talking of giving two grand balls; she is of course the first everywhere.

Mamma, Frances, Isabella and Edward were at Sir C. Stuart's Costume Ball, which was a most beautiful sight, and the whole thing went off with great eclat. Frances went as a Paysanne de Mola, near Naples; her dress was a short petticoat, trimmed with green and gold, a green apron, and black, green and gold bodice, and a roll of the same colours round her head. It was very becoming to her and she looked very grand. In Paris she is known everywhere as la belle Anglaise. Isabella was a most airy Coquette, in blue and silver, with a cap of little bells on one side, and long tresses of hair plaited with blue— she really looked beautiful. It is the dress of Belle et Bonne in some Play. Mamma and Edward were both in blue dominoes.

Last night we were at an enormous ball at M. Clarmont's, one of Lafitte's houses; the heat exceeded anything I ever felt. It was said 1200 people were asked, of all kinds and degrees. It was very disagreeable.

Mamma is thinking of giving a dance and is at the moment writing the invitations, but the day is not yet fixed.

The Duke of Wellington gives a Concert to-night, and it is said two costume balls. Yesterday we had some of the fooleries of the Carnival which the weather prevented on Sunday and Monday. Masks paraded the streets, the windows were full of heads, and all the people from one end of Paris to the other drawn in procession along the Boulevards and the Rue St Honore.

PARIS, March 31st, 1818.

I hear nothing of the man taken up for shooting at the Duke, if it is true that one has been secured. Poor Bacon was taken up by 5 Gens d'Arms at nine in the morning and after a secret examination sent to the Conciergerie. It was conjectured he was concerned with a Banker who went off—but instead of that being true, the Banker absconded with all his money! Sir C. Stuart means to make a fuss about it, for no one is safe if taken up and confined only on suspicion.

The King on one of the most stormy days we have had took three people out to prevent their voting for the Recruiting Bill. However, they contrived to get back in time, by which means it was carried by four. He was angry—they said they did it as a point of duty to him.

Lady Mansfield's Ball was fine—but too many women in proportion to the men, and many of the latter old. A great many French. I only saw one Lady out of each family. Many, many young ladies sat out. All the ton French ladies danced the whole night. Lady M. hoped she should see you, tho' she forgot to invite you.

Lord Alvanley came to Paris a few days ago with his mistress. They refused him admittance at the Hotel de Londres, saying they had English families there, among others "the great Mrs Beaumont." He coolly replied that they need not mind her, for her fortune had been made by keeping a house of bad character; and so he got in! Did you ever hear of such scandalous impudence!

On behalf of Lord Alvanley, however, it may be added that about this date another story got abroad respecting him which redounds more to his credit. He and Lord Kinnaird were playing whist one evening, when, owing to some mistaken move in the game on the part of Lord Alvanley, Lord Kinnaird completely lost his self-control and abused his friend in the most violent manner. Lord Alvanley listened in silence to the torrent of denunciation, then, rising from the card table, observed very quietly, "Not being blessed with your Lordship's angelic temper, I shall retire for fear of losing mine!"

Moreover, Marianne Stanhope, about the same time, makes mention of an instance of Lord Alvanley's good-nature which came under her notice. It appears that one of his greatest friends was an Irish dandy who, for long, went by the nickname of "King Allen" on account of his having achieved a unique position in the world of fashion. This monarch of the beau monde spent his days, as did others of his class, exhibiting his faultless clothes in fashionable resorts; and so wedded was he to this existence that he could seldom be persuaded to quit London even for the benefit of his health.

Once, however, Lord Alvanley found his friend moping at the sea-side, a prey to profound depression, and spending sleepless nights tossing on his couch, unable to account to his own satisfaction either for his insomnia or his melancholia. With the intuition of a kindred soul Lord Alvanley at once probed the root of the dandy's complaint. He recognised that it was impossible for such a man to exist apart from the bustle and noise of the great city to which he was accustomed, and faute de mieux, Lord Alvanley invented a remedy. At his own expense, he engaged a hackney coachman who undertook to rattle his vehicle up and down past King Allen's lodgings till the early dawn, and another man who agreed to shout the hours throughout the night in the strident tones of a London watchman. The ruse was successful. Whether other persons living in the neighbourhood were equally pleased, history does not relate, but the melancholy dandy, deluded into a belief that he was back once more in his favourite haunts, slumbered peacefully, and was in time restored in perfect health to the scenes of his former triumph.

Indeed, "Lord Alvanley," wrote Lady Granville at a later date, "was quite charming. Le meilleur enfant, which does not mean homme, but I cannot persuade myself that he is much altered and that he will end by being a very good, as he is a most captivating, person. Such cleverness, si fin, si simple, without one grain of effort. What a receipt for being, as he is, quite charming!"

Moreover, if the tale be true of the affront which he is said to have offered to Mrs Beaumont, the great lady had manifold compensations. Mrs Stanhope relates:—

The Prince de Bauffremont [10] proposed a la francaise to Mrs Beaumont for one of her daughters, but she, not understanding the style, took it to herself, and answered with great dignity that she was extremely sorry she was not in a situation to be able to accept it!

While in Paris, the Stanhopes had a sad encounter with a former friend, which was curiously typical of existence in the gay city at that date. When Charles Stanhope was at Southampton he had there made the acquaintance of a charming old bachelor, Mr Hibbert. The latter showed him many kindnesses, and, in return, was invited to Cannon Hall for some shooting. John Stanhope records his subsequent history thus:—

"Poor Mr Hibbert! his was indeed a melancholy history. He lived near Southampton, an old bachelor, and then as happy a specimen of that race as I ever saw. He had been a very handsome man, but had unfortunately been bent almost double by a rheumatic fever; however, his face was still striking. He was full of taste and accomplishments, and apparently very well informed, clever and agreeable in society. He was not rich, but evidently possessed fortune enough to supply him with all the luxuries that in his single state he could require. When he visited Cannon Hall he was travelling in a very agreeable manner in his curricle with his own horses, the whole bien monte.

"Unfortunately he went to Paris when the Peace was signed, and he, who had never touched a card when in England, was persuaded to go to the Salon. He could not refrain from trying his luck, and from that moment he was never absent from the Salon when its dangerous doors were open. He was driven away from Paris by Napoleon's return; he went back there after the cent jours and lost every farthing that he possessed, ending his life as a miserable pensioner in the establishment—I believe within its walls."

Mr Hibbert's fate was indeed all too common at that date amongst those who once entered the dangerous doors of the Salon des Etrangers. This was an institution established for confirmed gamblers, and was kept by the celebrated Marquis de Livry, whose resemblance to the Regent was so remarkable that the latter sent Lord Fife over to Paris to ascertain if it could be so striking as report asserted. The Marquis did the honours of his club with a grace and courtesy for which he became renowned in Europe. He provided his clients with the most perfect cuisine and every possible luxury, while, on Sunday, those who had been most regular in their attendance, were rewarded by an invitation to his Villa near Paris, where ladies from the opera were welcomed to meet them, and the society was of the most doubtful description.

None, indeed, who found their way to the Salon issued thence unscathed, and its existence coloured the whole of Parisian society of that day. Fortunes were there staked and lost, many of the victims disappearing mysteriously, some having committed suicide, others, like Mr Hibbert, having become so deeply involved in debt that they could not leave the premises. Lord Thanet, for one, lost there a fortune of L50,000 a year, of which L120,000 was expended in a single night. When remonstrated with on his folly, and the probability pointed out to him that he had been cheated, he only exclaimed with the recklessness born of the fatal atmosphere of the place, "Well, I consider myself fortunate in not having lost twice that sum!"

Meanwhile Marianne and her sisters were observing the difference between the dandies of Almack's, whom they had deserted, and the beaux of French society with whom they were now to mingle. Later their conclusions were given to the world:—

Striking indeed is the difference between a true John Bull and a Continentalist in a ball-room. The first generally looks as if he could not help himself; he has adjourned to Almack's from the House of Lords, the House of Commons, or the Inns of Court; and business, with sad recollection, still pursues him at every step.... What excitation then will move his apathy? Why, that of vanity alone; a pretty woman must make love to him. And this is the best explanation that can be given why, in England, the women always make the first advances to the men; and if they did not, there would, I believe, be no love at all in the fashionable world.

But mark the Continentalist! how is he armed for conquest when he enters the ball-room?....

So accomplished a creature, so bewitching and bewitched must of course consider himself quite irresistible. Yet have all these Continentalists, and particularly the sons of France, the air of annihilating themselves before the fair; their obsequiousness and humility are unbounded: hence their rapid execution among the female sex. To be herself admired by an all-conquering Adonis, is so much more pleasing to a gay young woman than the having only to admire him.

Such is the difference between a French and an English dandy: the first is an impertinent, affected coxcomb, who makes love to every woman as a matter of course—it is his vocation. The second is a cold, contemptuous, conceited creature, intrenched in a double armour of selfishness, blase upon everything. [11]

Despite this scathing criticism, the Stanhopes do not appear to have lacked amusement in their new surroundings.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope. 35 RUE DE LA MADELEINE., Sunday, April 5th, 1818.

Little has occurred since I wrote to you last week except the Duke of Wellington's delightful and superb ball. We may consider ourselves fortunate in being invited, as the list was his own and he would not allow the aide-de-camps to interfere. Isabella, Frances, and myself arrived about eleven. The rooms were then full, and soon after arrived the Royal Family. The Duchess de Berri danced, but they all went away about twelve, as did numbers of the French. Everybody sat at supper, several rooms were open—round tables in all. The Duke retired soon after supper, and left Col. Fremantle to do the honours, which he did, first by doubling the champagne, then by making the ball go with spirit. We stayed till the last and did not get home till five. He sent permission to as many of the Officers as liked to come from Cambrai, and they readily obeyed the Command. I believe there were 300 of the Guards, almost everybody in uniform. Markham looked very antique in a full dressed brown coat.

We were at a ball at Lady Mansfield's on Tuesday, a very fine ball, all the ton French, but that did not make it gay. She had a fine sitting supper. I am sorry the English suppers are coming into fashion here.

Madame de Chabaunes had a French dance on Friday, plenty of dancing men, tho' we were at home before twelve.

Last night we heard Catalani, finer than ever; she goes soon, never to sing at the Opera again. [12] She was more superb in diamonds at the Duke's than anybody.

Mrs Beaumont goes on Saturday. She will astonish the weak minds of the English by an account of her triumphs in Paris. She desires we will contradict the report of her daughters' marriages; she takes them back, instead of leaving them Duchesses and Princesses!

Marianne Spencer-Stanhope. 35 RUE DE LA MADELEINE, Sunday, April 5th.

I will not lose the opportunity, my dear John, of sending you a few lines by Mr Hunter, who called this morning to tell us of his departure.

For the last ten days we have had complete March weather, a hot sun and very cold wind. We are just returned from a dusting in the Bois de Boulogne, where all the beau monde were assembled. Lord Burghersh escorting Lady Aldborough, who is going to England, Lady B. in the Duke's carriage. Mrs Beaumont and family, marvellous to relate, in a very shabby carriage. The girls are heart-broken at leaving Paris; "Madame" informed us she had had various offers, both for them and Wentworth, but so far neither Prince T. de B., nor E. de Beauvais. The former was engaged "to a fine French young lady," but as he was coming to London, and would of course be much with them, "the report would probably gain ground." She therefore hoped we would contradict it. She is greater than ever; I think London will not hold her; she has been laying out mints of money.

Isabella and Frances enjoyed the Duke of Wellington's ball much. I finished their gowns with the red roses for the occasion, and they looked particularly well. They stayed till five in the morning. Many of the Guards came from Cambray, and they found many friends of Philip's.

Yesterday we went to take leave of Catalani in the Nozze di Figaro. She sang delightfully. I think we missed you all more and more, and shall feel most happy when we have again a beau without walls. I think you will like the house at Versailles, but you have no idea how difficult we found it to meet with anything that would hold us.

My father's extreme anxiety to go to England has now a little abated; his general health and spirits are good, but he has a wonderful degree of irritation and restlessness about him. The alteration in his mind strikes me every day, his memory is so much altered, and his deafness is increased.

Towards the end of April Mrs Stanhope and her family moved to Versailles, and their account is not without interest of the appearance presented by that town after the strange transformations which it had witnessed.

VERSAILLES, April 30th, 1818.

We are now beginning to feel settled, our House is comfortable and the situation pretty, and, though in the town, we see only trees from our windows. It is certainly the dullest looking large town I ever saw, for the grass grows in some of the streets; but a place which formerly was so splendid & contained 80,000 inhabitants, & has not now above 20,000, must look neglected.

We have delivered our letters and seen some of the People, but they are very shy of the English, or rather Irish, for there are nothing else here; friendly, good sort of People, but not very genteel. The Caldwells are here only for a week, and Lady Hoste is at a considerable distance. The other people you do not know.

There is Mrs Beauman here, who is the "Beaumont" of the Place. She gave a Ball, took off her doors, hung her rooms with red and gold, and had her supper from Paris, at which there was nothing so vulgar as a roast chicken. Her husband lives at Paris and is in the Navy. She was a Miss Webber & rich. I have not seen her, nor am I anxious to cultivate the English here.

VERSAILLES, June 31st, 1818.

We have plenty of French society.... Philip wants Edward to take a Grande Chasse near Dresden, which he may have for thirty pounds a year, full of Boars, Staggs, Does, Black Cock, Capercailzie, Pheasants and Partridges innumerable. He writes an anecdote which I must give you:—An English merchant was hunting one day with the King of Saxony and, observing that the hounds were inferior, asked the Intendant if he thought the King would accept any English Dogs. "To be sure," replied the Intendant, and thought no more of it. About eight months after, the King received notice from a Merchant at Frankfort that a pack of hounds waited his orders there from England. The King was delighted and wrote to the Regent to pass a Service of Dresden China, duty free, to his generous friend; therefore the English Merchant was well rewarded for his attention.

We were last night at a ball at Lady Hales's [13] where we found them dancing at nine and left them dancing at two; such numbers of men I never saw anywhere, and yet one may walk about for hours and scarcely ever see one.

There is a very pretty Mrs FitzGerald here, her husband is related to Lord Ilchester, but our acquaintance among the English is very small and we have no wish to enlarge it.

VERSAILLES, February 9th, 1819.

The Evelyns who live in Lord Mansfield's house gave an excellent ball. Lady Allone invited, & the story is that Mrs Evelyn says this was on condition that she—Mrs Evelyn—left out all her own friends.

Mrs Poplim is the gayest of the gay with Balls and Proverbs, but the English society does not improve.

Undated.

Robert Glyn writes word that Mrs Beaumont sent to him at Genoa to complain of the extortion of some of the foreign Bankers; they had amongst them cheated her of thirty shillings, and she seemed to think the Glyns were answerable for this, which made the Sieur Robert rather indignant, particularly as it turned out that she had left the set of Bankers recommended by the Glyns and gone to those of whom they knew nothing. She has laid out about L500 on curiosities at Genoa.

Sophy [14] has certainly had a very good offer in Italy, some very rich Neopolitan Prince, un grand parti, but Madame refused him in grand style.

In the next letter Marianne describes an event which electrified all France. The Duc D'Avaray was an intimate friend of Louis XVIII. His granddaughter Rosalba, aged seventeen, was extraordinarily handsome and much sought after by many aspirants for her hand. Among these latter was a young Englishman, twenty-six years of age, Charles Shakerley, [15] who was a great friend of the Stanhopes. Indeed, it appears extremely probable that Mrs Stanhope was responsible for his introduction to the Due D'Avaray as she was indirectly responsible for what followed, since it was owing to her invitation that Madame Contibonne, whose presence might have averted what happened, was absent from her home on the eventful evening when Charles Shakerley took his fate into his hands.

February 25th, 1819.

I have secured the pen out of my mother's hand to announce the great event which at this moment occupies all at Versailles and all Paris, and probably will shortly occupy all the beau monde of France.

This great event is Shakerley's elopement with Mlle. D'Avaray, on Sunday the 21st.

William saw him either Saturday or Sunday at Paris, very disconsolate at having just been refused. He told him he was packing up, was just going to England for a week and then intended to depart for Petersburg, we supposed to take unto himself some Russian Belle. William came down in the Celerifere with Madame & Mlle. de Contibonne, who told him Mlle. D'Avaray was their particular friend, and they related all the history of the refusal. Mdlle. de Contibonne came here to dine with her mother, who was obliged to return, having company at Paris in the evening, one of her daughters remained at home, and with her Mdlle. D'Avaray dined. The latter was to walk home with her maid to dress for the party. Instead of going home she got into a Cabriolet with her maid, and drove to the barrier where Shakerley, with two carriages, was waiting. They went off to Ostend, the lady and her maid in one carriage, the gentleman and his valet in the other. At Ostend they set the telegraph to send word to the Duchesse D'Avaray where they were, and in return the Duc sent a permission de mariage.

On Sunday William gave them your's and Philip's direction, so perhaps you may see them.

Had he murdered three women, there could not be such an outcry; old and young, male and female, married and single, all unite in abuse of the poor lady. The French Dandies are in a rage that the prettiest girl in Paris should have run off with un Anglais. The English all are delighted, even the Mammas, which astonishes all the French, Mais cette nation d'Insulaires barbares a toujours insulte toutes les bien-connues.

I have sent you the general details, very likely not all true, but that he has run off is most certain. To me, he has married her, or means to do so; the very height and front of his offending hath this extent, no more.

To this information Mrs Stanhope added:—

What a scandal! In addition to what Anne has said, I must add what we have heard since. Before Mlle. D'Avaray went away, she went into Mile, de Contibonne's room, from which she made her way down the back stairs. They wondered she did not return, and when they looked for her, the bird was flown. I believe he was in the street waiting for her. It was certainly a bold step for a French girl, as the eloping, or as they call it being enlevee, is considered as everything that is shocking! I say you will give him away when they are married in England.

VERSAILLES, March 3rd, 1819.

Shakerley returned Thursday, was married at the Ambassador's Friday. The Duke of Gloucester [16] gave the Lady away & has taken Shakerley with him to England, & she is gone to her friends, as she cannot be married by the rights of the Church till the dispensation arrives, which it cannot do for 21 days. Therefore he is lost and she is not— what would you say to that? Report says her friends had fixed on another person whose name I forget, and that the Hotel was ready. You will probably see him and hear the truth.

Two days before the date of this letter, John Stanhope had encountered the delinquent in London. On March 1st, 1819, his diary records:—

It rained very hard. Met Shakerley in Bond Street. He had just arrived from Paris. After having in vain attempted to get the Duc D'Avaray's consent to marrying his granddaughter, he eloped with her. He had previously got a passport under Lord B.'s name and sent his carriage off on the road to Brussels. He got another under his own name, and on the road to Calais he took up Mlle. D'Avaray.

His cabriolet drove most furiously to the place where Lord B's carriage and four horses were waiting, thence going off at full speed.

The whole of Paris went after them, but by taking the only road where there was no telegraph, they completely outwitted the police. At last one of his pursuers found him on the other side of the frontiers and conveyed to them the intelligence that the Due would forgive them and consent to their marriage at the Ambassador's chapel.

Immediately after, Shakerley started for England in order to procure his father's consent, as that was necessary for their marriage according to the rites of the Catholic Church.

On March 30th, 1819, Mrs Stanhope adds the final word with regard to this episode:—

When Shakerley was married, rooms were prepared for them at the Duke D'Avaray's, which had not been opened for three years, but no "Faire parts" or "Visites de noces," and her friends say she will have a difficult part to act, as her being received will depend upon her future conduct. They are gone to Arras, where the Duke has the command, and will I suppose be in London in May.

Lady Hunloke and various other people are inquiring for houses here.

Mrs Evelyn carried off her daughter in a hurry, as all the men were after her.

It appears, however, that later the delinquents were honoured by some "faire parts" being sent out to their friends by their nearer relatives. Folded up with these old letters are two announcements, each printed on a large sheet of paper, one surmounted by a Cupid holding a blazing torch and supporting a large M.:—

Mr and Mme. SHAKERLEY out l'honneur de vous faire part du mariage de M. SHAKERLEY, leur fils, avec Mlle. D'AVARAY.

The other (on which a Cupid has just lit two hearts flaming on one altar) runs thus:—

Mr le Duc et Mme. la DUCHESSE D'AVARAY, M. le MARQUIS et Mme. la MARQUISE D'AVARAY ont l'honneur de vous faire part du Mariage de Mlle. D'AVARAY, leur petite fille et fille, avec M. SHAKERLEY.

Sad to relate, this romance had an untimely ending. Gronow states:—

"It was the only case I remember of a young French lady running away from her father's house, and the sensation created by such an extraordinary occurrence was very great. The marriage, as runaway marriages usually are, was a very unhappy one; and the quarrels of the ill-matched couple were so violent that the police had to interfere. Unfortunately, the fair lady having once eloped, thought she might try the same experiment a second time, and one cold winter's night she decamped from a ball at the Austrian Ambassador's with a black-haired Spanish Don, the Marquis d'Errara."

* * * * *

After this unprecedented Parisian excitement, the news from England which filtered through the post to the family in exile must have appeared lacking in interest. On March 25th, 1819, John Stanhope mentioned a little incident which has since become history. "Yesterday, I went to Almack's," he relates, "a tolerably full ball. Many people were shut out, as at twelve Lady Castlereagh ordered the doors to be closed. In the number were her Lord and Master, and the Duke of Wellington." From Brighton came news of another old friend, Mr Macdonald, who was under a course of treatment from "Mr Mahomet, the Oriental Vaporist, "during which he sent them a description of his surroundings, which might be written to-day.

16 NEW STEINE, BRIGHTON, August 7th, 1819.

What a multitude of people we have here, Jews, Haberdashers, and money-lenders without number, a sort of Marine Cheapside, Mr Solomons, Mrs Levis, and all the Miss Abrahams; in short, Hook Noses, Mosaical Whiskers and the whole tribe of Benjamin occupy every shop, every donkey-cart, and every seat in Box, Pit, and Gallery. I am very tired of them, and shall probably take flight at the end of the week to Worthing.

The Beaumonts no doubt are still travelling en suite in Scotland. I wonder how many darts and hearts have been fired and wounded amongst my too susceptible Countrymen! We shall see when they return. I suppose half the Country will follow them back into Yorkshire.

Later in the year, from the same town, another friend, Sir James Graham, [17] wrote:—

BRIGHTON, December 28th, 1819.

The Regent is in the best possible state of health and spirits, and moves to London and back frequently. He leaves to-day for a few days. The Pavilion Palace is not in a state to receive Company and therefore he sees very few. The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester have been here some time, and remain until the 5th or 6th of January, and this place is quite full of company-not a good house to be got. Lady Elizabeth Lowther has been here and is much better than usual.

Perhaps stirred by the letters received from their friends in England, the thoughts of the exiled family turned more and more towards their home, and Marianne wrote to her brother—

I shall be delighted to nationalise in old England. I think as much as mind is superior to body, so much is English society better than French-I mean that in which we live.... This is a dancing generation, I think people's wits live in their heels and they cultivate nothing else, though Mrs Poplim, who is now at the bottom of the precipice, tout a fait, gives Proverbs and Concerts.

Lady Morgan [18] is quite the light of Paris, people flock to her house as they would to a wild beast show. She has Talma, Mile. Georges, and all the other Lions, foreign and home-bred. She and the Rochefoucaulds are very thick—a great proof of their want of tact, for she is the most impudent pretender to literature I ever met with.

Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to Charles Spencer-Stanhope. December 12th, 1819.

Although I have written this morning till my hand is tired and my head confused, I cannot allow the remainder of this sheet to depart merely blank paper.... The French dance as if they feared they might not live to begin again after Lent. Lady Hales's ball was so full and hot that the dancing was not agreeable. There is a very pretty French girl there, a Paris Belle, and the first partie in France, Mlle. de Proneville; she is the only Peeress in her own right in France, and has a large fortune. I say, as our fortunes come here, she should marry into England. I see that Lord Mountmorris claims the title of Annesley; should he succeed, the little Belle here will lose her title, if not her fortune also, probably not all, as I believe her mother had a large one.

I hope by this time you have John in London. I wish you could persuade him to marry, though not to sacrifice family to fortune.

Almack's and the French Plays are to be the ton, and will it be advisable to apply soon? How is the Opera?

[Illustration: GEORGE III

Engraved by S. W. Reynolds, and Pubd. by His Majesty's Most Gracious Permission, February 24th, 1820.

When the ear heard him, then it blessed him, and when the eye saw him it gave witness of him.

He delivered the poor that cried, the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. Kindness, meekness, and comfort, were in his tongue; if there was any virtue, and if there was any praise, he thought of those things. His body is buried in peace, but his name liveth evermore.

To the British Nation this print of the FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE is most respectfully dedicated by Samuel M Reynolds.

PROOF

A print taken of George III when mad. The possession of Rowland Pickering, Esq.]

As shown by the last sentence, Mrs Stanhope was already thinking of securing her Opera box betimes in view of her approaching return to her native land. Ere she did so, however, an event occurred which terminated all thoughts of gaiety. On Sunday, January 30th, the Journal of John Stanhope records:—

Went to Portland St. Chapel. Observed that the Clergyman prayed—not for the Prince and Princess of Wales—but for the Royal Family in general. Called on Mrs Arthur Stanhope and learned that the King had died at half past eight the night before. Singular that the very day we had put on mourning for the Duke of Kent should be that on which the death of his father was announced. The Observer states that the King died without any appearance of pain and without a lucid interval. He had reigned fifty-nine years, three months and nine days. He was 81 years, 7 months, and 126 days old.

31st.

After breakfast, went down to Carlton House to see the Proclamation of King George IV. The King-at-Arms cut a ridiculous figure. The guns fired, the Proclamation was read, the Bands saluted, and some say the new King appeared at the window and was greeted with cheers, but it is since said that he did not appear and the cheers were in consequence of the Proclamation only. Many of the Princes were present.

February 24th, 1820.

Greeted with the intelligence of a fight that had taken place between the Radicals and the Bow St. Officers and a detachment of the Guards. It appeared that twenty-five of them, headed by Thistlewood, had formed a plot to attack the Ministers when dining at Lord Harrowby's. Two of them were to go there with red Boxes in lieu of dispatch Boxes. Whilst the porter was taking these pretended dispatches, one of them was to open the door to the remainder of the gang. They were to throw fire-balls into the Mall, and, in the midst of the confusion thus occasioned, to rush into the Dining-room and kill the Ministers.

Lord Harrowby had been warned by a person he met in the Park, and the dinner was accordingly postponed. The Conspirators, however, met in a small street (Cato Street) near Edgware Road. Mr Birnie, the Magistrate, directed the police officers to enter the house & secure them. The Guards, who were to second, entered unfortunately by the wing end of the street. The Police Officers ascended into the Hay Loft, where the Conspirators were assembled, by a ladder. They found about 25 in a room with candles & arms of various descriptions upon the table, and called them to surrender. Thistlewood made a thrust at Smithers with a long sword & the Officer immediately fell, crying out "Oh God!" The Conspirators then put the candles out with their swords and in the confusion many of them escaped. Fitzclarence in the meantime advanced at the head of the detachment of Guards. One of the Conspirators presented a pistol at him, but fortunately the Serjeant knocked it aside and received part of the contents in his coat sleeve. Another made a thrust at him, and that was also knocked aside. He then advanced at the head of the Guards into the room. He secured a man who again presented a pistol at him, but it missed fire, so that he had three narrow escapes. Nine of the Conspirators were taken, and Thistlewood, for whom a reward of a Thousand Pounds was offered, was taken during the course of the day in his bed. Saunders, in company with another Bow St. Officer, entered the room and threw himself on the bed. He said, "I have made no resistance. You could not have taken me otherwise!"

Thistlewood and four of his companions were hanged and then beheaded, but the horrid spectacle of their execution roused the public to demand the abolition of the punishment of decapitation, and they were the last persons who thus suffered in England.

But the country did not readily resume the more peaceful conditions which had been thus rudely disturbed, and it was to a land distracted by rioting as well as to a land of mourning that Mrs Stanhope and her family returned early in 1820, in order to prepare for the wedding of her son, Edward Collingwood. [19]

Manifold, indeed, were the changes which had occurred within the last few years. Not only had the long and chequered reign of George III. ended and the Regent at length grasped the power which he had so long coveted, but the subject of the succession was creating universal interest. Since 1817, the luckless Princess Charlotte had lain in her untimely grave with the still form of the babe which had cost her existence-mother and child in one dark tragedy bereft of the great destiny which was their heritage. And now in the nursery of Kensington Palace was a little fatherless girl of a year old on whom the hopes of England centred. But of the absent Queen of George IV. disparaging rumours were circulated, and while in the affections of her fickle husband it was said Lady Conyngham had supplanted Mrs Fitzherbert, Lady Hertford and Lady Jersey, whispers of a Royal divorce were in the air, and the threatened coming of Caroline was awaited with increasing anxiety.