Chapter I (2)

His other story is of a different cast. You have doubtless heard of
Edwards the great bookseller. He has quitted his shop in Town, and
gone to reside at his native place, Halifax. He is a great miser, but
being a man of talent, often visits Mr Fawkes. One day he arrived upon
such a miserable hired horse that they resolved to play him a trick.
Accordingly, after dinner the Steward came in, with a solemn face,
stating that instead of killing a horse that was meant for the dogs,
they had shot Mr Edwards's; that it was half eat before they found out
the mistake. Edwards was in a dreadful pucker; but at last, having
condoled with him, they told him that the only difference between his
deceased horse & the one of Mr Fawkes's which they had meant to kill,
was that Mr Fawkes's horse had not a white spot on its forehead, & his
legs were not white, but that by _painting them_ it would look
just the same, and that the people at the livery stable would never
find out the mistake. Edwards was highly delighted with this plan,
and, would you believe it, he was mean enough to hope by this means to
cheat the man. You may picture what fun it was to Mr Fawkes and his
servants to see him ride home on his _own_ hired horse all bedaubed
with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the
Livery Stables has never found out the trick _we_ have put on him!"
How they will all quiz him when finally they tell him the truth!!

When shall you come to Yorkshire? You will find Frances grown quite a
beauty and Philip an adept at _l'art militaire_. I am glad you
were so pleased with the young Beaumonts. Their sister rode here the
other day, she is a very nice girl and nearly pretty.

Mr and the Miss Abbotts left us yesterday, after a week's visit They
are very musical, but rather too Irish for our taste. To give you some
idea of them, they talk of people being _beasts and puking whelps,
and brutes_. They frequently _blest their souls and bodies_, and
"_talked their fill_" which was not a "_few_." Surely this cannot be
elegant, even in Ireland. Have you any Hibernian friends who could
inform you on this subject? Adieu, breakfast waits. All here send
their love.

These Hibernian friends were apparently not the only guests whose peculiarities occasioned the Stanhope family some mild surprise. The handsome Bishop of Carlisle [23] and his wife, Lady Anne Vernon, were at this date frequently at Cannon Hall, and both of them and of their ten sons various anecdotes are related. Mr Stanhope, indeed, as Member for Carlisle, had long been intimate with the popular prelate, and used to tell with what unstinted hospitality Dr Vernon was wont to receive his countless visitors at the Palace on public days, also what a picturesque sight he then invariably presented in his full-bottomed, snow-white wig and bright, purple coat. But the good bishop, though extremely stately and impressive of demeanour, was gifted with a keen sense of humour and could enjoy a spice of frivolity when he could indulge in it without detracting from his dignity. In 1807 he was appointed to the Archbishopric of York, and was fond of retailing how a groom belonging to his old friend, Sir James Graham, [24] got news of the event and rode hard to Netherby to take his master the first tidings. Bursting into the dining-room where a large party of guests were assembled, the man exultingly shouted out the Information which he was desperately afraid someone else might have anticipated--"Sir Jams! Sir Jams! The Bushopp has got his situation!" The sense of humour cherished by Dr Vernon seems to have been inherited by his sons in a different guise. In two undated letters Marianne relates to her brother:--

Here is an anecdote of your friend, the sailor, Mr Vernon, [25] who
has got some prize money. He was walking, I believe, a few days since
with a gentleman in the streets when they met two men who spoke to him
civilly and to whom he returned a very short answer. His companion
inquired who they were. He said--"Two men who came over in the ship
with me." "Then why were you so cold in your manner to them?" asked
his friend. "Why, my dear fellow, because they were convicts returned
from transportation!" was Vernon's answer.

_Undated._

Your ball appears to have been very gay, but you never named your
opinion of Miss Monckton. [26] I assure you her sisters at Harrogate
were quite belles, the gentlemen made Charades on them. I must close
my letter with a story of Mr Vernon, [27] told me by a gentleman we
met at Sir Francis Wood's.

At one of the Lichfield balls, he came in so late that everybody
inquired the reason. He said he had been waiting for his tailor while
he was sewing the buttons on his etceteras. Each of these buttons
contained the picture of a French beauty, and he had the tailor in his
room while his hair was being dressed in order to tell him which to
place _nearest to his heart_.

In the course of the evening he told a lady a wondrous story, and upon
her looking surprised, he said vehemently--"Upon my honour, Madam, it
is true!"--adding gently--"When I say 'Upon my honour' Madam, _never
believe me_."

Adieu, and at least believe me, Your affectionate sister, M. A. S. S.

Mr George Vernon, indeed, appears to have been of a somewhat impressionable temperament, for a few years later his sister-in-law, Lady Granville, writing from Trentham to announce her departure for Texel, remarks, "I must take Mr Vernon away to flirt with my beauties there. It will not be dangerous for Lady Harriet, and Corise bears a charmed life. _He will be proud beyond measure and fancy both are in love with him._" Yet with the dawning of 1806, the mention made by the Stanhopes of these friends comes in sad contrast to the lively tales respecting them in which they were wont to indulge.

As January drew to a close Walter Stanhope received an intimation that the illness of William Pitt was likely to have a fatal termination. He hastened up to town, and was in time to take a last farewell of his friend. [28] His family followed more leisurely, and on the 27th, from Grosvenor Square, Mrs Stanhope wrote:--

I cannot say how shocked I was with the melancholy intelligence of
Edward Vernon's death, and of the dangerous illness of George. I hear
it was the scarlet fever.

On the 30th she adds:--

This morning I had particular pleasure in reading the favourable
report you sent your father of George Vernon. I now trust he will be
restored to his afflicted parents, and great as is their loss they
will have much cause for thankfulness to Providence when they reflect
how near they were losing both their valuable sons. I hear that the
Bishop and Lady Anne are wonderfully composed.

But the sinister note with which the year had dawned was unexpectedly accentuated. In February she writes:--

What a moment is the present! Every hour brings report of death. In
addition to our great National losses is now the death of Lord
Cornwallis--a man who was a blessing and ornament to his country.
Awful and critical is the present period. Woronzow, the Russian
Minister, is likewise dead. He is brother to the Woronzow who is
Ambassador here. [29]

In our Peerage there are also great changes, Lord Coventry, Lord
Somers, and it is said, Lord Uxbridge, are _all_ dead.

_Friday._

It is strange there is not a word mentioned of Lord Uxbridge's death
in to-day's paper. The Ministry is still unsettled. Lord Moira is
expected in Town to-day. You will be glad to hear Addington is
certainly better, and that the family entertain hopes of his recovery.

Pray inform Glyn I saw Lady and Miss Glyn to-day, the latter in great
beauty, just returned from hearing Dr Crotch [30] lecture on Musick at
the Institution, where they attend as assiduously as ever.

_Saturday._

Lo! Lord Coventry is come to life again! I wish it were possible the
same could happen to Lord Cornwallis, but alas, that cannot be! Who
will succeed him must yet remain a secret.

Mrs Beaumont was with us last night. Col. Beaumont had in the morning
inquired whether Gloucester House was to be sold, as provided they
could renew the lease, they would like to have it.

Egremont House is to be sold on the 13th. My opinion is they will have
that. Why not both?

What think you of Sydney Smith lecturing to small audiences? Such is
popular favour. He may thank Westminster for the neglect he now meets
with.

I am reading a book I think you would be amused with. Turner's History
of the Anglo Saxons. It contains much to amuse an Antiquarian, and I
consider you as having a little taste that way. Lady Glyn, who is
with us, is studying Juvenal. Marianne has just lifted her eyes from
Euclid to desire her love to you. Anne is employed at her Harp.

Meanwhile, the family had resumed the placid routine of their usual life, of which, in the next letter, Marianne furnishes her brother with a graphic account.

_February 14th, 1806._

Mamma must, I am sure, have informed you of our various proceedings,
in her numerous letters to you, and therefore I will not torment you
with a repetition. Our life since we came to London has passed in its
usual routine of _faisant bien des riens_; arranging the teaching
geniuses, making the usual purchases and visiting the usual set;
walking in Hyde Park, and watching the people in the Square. This
morning, we have Mr Roussin for the third time, have taken a short
turn in the Park, and called on Mrs M. Marriott, and at present Anne
is rehearsing to Myer on the harp, who is all astonishment at the
progress she has made. We dine and stay the evening at the Dowager
Lady Glyn's.

Anne relishes London vastly, and hitherto the little going out she has
had agrees with her. The Opera is her delight. Papa took William
there, and I never saw a child so happy. He enjoys going out
prodigiously.

Are you not outrageous at the manner in which Mr Singleton, [31] son-
in-law to the great man who died for his country, was turned out? I
think it is really a disgrace to the Nation. I should have thought
every connection of my Lord Cornwallis would have been distinguished
with honours, instead of which he is turned out of Office as soon as
the account arrived of his Father-in-Law's death.

The papers have indeed been in a most bloody humour, they have
unjustly killed Lord Coventry, Lord Uxbridge, Lord Harrowby, and it
was astonishingly reported that Lord Melville had destroyed himself,
when he was quite well. It really was curious to hear people inquiring
in the most melancholy tone, what was the cause of such a Lord's
death, and the next person announcing merrily that he was perfectly
well! Lord Kinnaird is expected home daily with the transports.

We heard the other day that the Princesses had received a letter from
the Duchess of Wurtemburg [32] since she had seen the Empress of
France. Upon entering, the Duchess said she felt something like
_effroi_, which Madame Bonaparte took for _Froid_ and she threw over
her shoulders a most beautiful shawl she had been wearing herself. The
Emperor was very polite and never named England or the English. He
brought a most superb _présent de noces_ for the Princess of
Wurtemburg who is going to be married.

I wish also to tell you a story I heard of Erskine. He was dining one
evening with a large party at Carlton House. The conversation turned
upon Sir Robert Calder's sentence. [33] Erskine said, to set a pack of
yellow Admirals who had never seen active service to judge a brave and
distinguished Officer was horrible. "They might as well," said he,
"_set a parcel of Attorney's clerks to judge Erskine_!" Is not
this _Chancellor Ego_?--This was just before he was Chancellor.
His wife died a short time ago, and his daughter wrote word to a
friend that had her father known how soon her mother would die, he
would not have behaved better to her! They must all be mad, I think.

Thomas Erskine, the third son of the 10th Earl of Buchan, was, in 1806, appointed Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain and elevated to the Peerage the same year by the title of Baron Erskine. Brilliant, eloquent and witty, from his habit of invariably talking about himself and his concerns, he was given the name of Chancellor Ego. Owing to his being of opposite politics, the Stanhopes were disposed to view him somewhat disparagingly, and owned, indeed, but slight acquaintance with him till years afterwards when they met him at Holkham. It was on the occasion of a dinner-party in London, however, that Lord Erskine once told John Stanhope the following story, and which the latter used to recount as an instance of the Chancellor's genuine kindliness of heart.

"In the days of my youth", Lord Erskine related, "I arrived in Edinburgh one morning after a lengthy absence from Scotland, feeling delighted at the prospect of re-visiting my old haunts and looking up my old friends. I went first to a bookseller's shop which I was fond of visiting, and as I was leaving it, to my surprise and pleasure I encountered an old butler who had been for many years in my father's service. I noticed, however, to my regret, that the old man looked greatly changed. He was pale, worn and shadowy as a ghost. Moreover, when I greeted him genially he showed little excitement at the unexpected encounter. 'I came to meet your honour,' he said, very gravely, 'I want to solicit your interference with my Lord to recover a sum of money due to me which the steward at the last settlement would not pay.'

"Struck both by his manner and his unaccountable knowledge of my movements, I decided to question him further respecting the cause of his evident distress. Stepping back into the shop, therefore, I invited him to follow me, explaining that there we could discuss the matter privately. When, however, I turned round to hear what he had to tell me, I found that he was gone, nor, on returning to the door, could I see him anywhere in the street.

"Unable to account for his abrupt departure, and anxious to help him if it lay in my power, I recalled that his wife had a little shop in the town, and I succeeded in tracing my way thither. Judge of my astonishment on finding the old woman in widow's mourning, and on learning from her that her husband had been dead for some months! Still more was I startled upon hearing that on his death-bed he had repeatedly told her that my father's steward had wronged him of some money, but that when Master Tom returned he would see her righted. Needless to say, as speedily as possible I accomplished the old man's dying wish which had been so strangely brought to my knowledge."

The next mention of Chancellor Ego which occurs in Mrs Stanhope's correspondence is not so complimentary:--

_June 3rd, 1806._

Your sisters are now well, and propose being very gay. To-morrow, in
the morning, we attend the Drawingroom, after which your father dines
at what is called Mr Pitt's Dinner, & where the attendance is expected
to be very large. In the evening, I am to have a few friends, amongst
them Lady C. Wortley and Mr Mercer, who sing together most
beautifully; after which I shall go to Mr Hope's, the finest house in
London, with respect to taste and _vertu_.

We have now fine weather. You would delight in Kensington Gardens, or
perhaps you would prefer joining the impertinent Loungers who sit on
Horseback, too lazy to join the walkers. The political world is at
present in a strange situation. Should Lord Melville be acquitted he
will probably take an active part in Indian affairs. There is a
canvass against him, but I trust British Peers are not to be
influenced.

I hope our _Dancing Chancellor_ will act properly as far as he is
concerned, but I believe he is now referred to the House of Peers. If
the intelligence has not yet reached you, you will wonder at the
expression "Dancing Chancellor." Know then that at Sheridan's ball the
Lord High Chancellor of England [34] danced with Miss Drummond after
having dined and sat too long with a party where was the Prime
Minister, [35] the Chancellor of the Exchequer [36] and a greater
Personage than any. They contrived to set Somerset House on fire
_twice_, and, after dancing, the head of the Law amused himself
with rowing on the Thames.--So much for the Rulers of this Land!

Thomas Hope of Deepdene, Surrey, and Duchess Street, Portland Place, who is mentioned in the above letter, was a member of an eminent commercial family, of Scottish descent, generally known as the Hopes of Amsterdam. Having inherited an immense fortune at the age of eighteen, he became an early patron of literature and the arts. Flaxman owed much to his support, Thorwaldsen and Chantrey to his recognition of their genius early in life. Crazy also about architecture, Mr Hope travelled all over the world, studying famous buildings and collecting, meanwhile, priceless treasures in pictures, statues, and furniture, so that on his return he reconstructed his home in London, and replenished it with beautiful possessions. In 1805 he published a handsome volume on Household Furniture, illustrated by many drawings of the fine specimens in his own house. He afterwards wrote other works, but is most celebrated as the writer of a romance, _Anastasius_, the authorship of which was at one time attributed to Byron, and of a scientific work, _The Origin and Prospects of Man_, which may be considered the parent of the well-known _Vestiges of Creation_, and which formed the basis of one of Carlyle's most remarkable essays.

In 1806, he was, however, still looked upon as a mere superficial dilettante, though, on account of the _objets d'art_ which he owned, everyone was eager to gain access to his house. This desire was accentuated with regard to the party which he gave that year, it being the first for which he had issued invitations since his marriage, in the previous April, with Louisa, the youngest daughter of the Right Rev. Lord Decies, Archbishop of Tuam.

_Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to John Spencer-Stanhope._
_June 6th, 1806._

Had you been here on the Birthday night, you would have pronounced us
of the Wronghead Family, for we had nothing but _contretemps_ from the
moment we set out for the Drawingroom till the next day rose upon us.

At three we set out in wind and rain for St James's, & drove down
Grosvenor Street; but as there was a string of carriages from Oxford
Street, to get in was impossible. We therefore turned about and tried
Dover Street, but there we were not permitted to go. At last, after
much whipping and much delay, we were admitted into the string in
Albemarle Street, and in process of time reached St James's safely and
proceeded as far as the Guard Room.--Further, we never arrived! All
the people who came out of the Drawingroom looked expiring, and begged
we would not attempt to go in, as they were almost dead, and many had
fainted. Very soon we found the Queen had taken herself off, not
having spoken to above one third of the Company. Notwithstanding that
we had only our labour for our trouble, we were there till half past
seven before we could get our carriage.

In the evening I expected Mr Mercer and Lady C. Wortley to sing, and
the Eyres. All came but Mr Mercer, the songster,--another
disappointment! They stayed with me till half past eleven, when we set
out for Mr T. Hope's rout, but after waiting in the street _till
near one_, we found to get in was impossible. Therefore very
reluctantly we turned about and came home. Did you ever hear of such
disappointments? However, we are all quite well, which probably would
not have been the case had we done all we intended.

The Wit at the Drawingroom was to call it the _levée en masse_.
London does not abound in wit. The only things of the sort I have
heard are what has been said about Mrs Fox's Ball. The first is given
to Fox himself who was asked what it was like, and referred the
inquirer to the 22nd Chapter of the First Book of Samuel at the second
verse, [37] where is to be found a very just description of it, tho'
probably you would not have thought to have looked at your Bible for
an account of Mrs Fox's Ball. The other was a _bon mot_ of your
friend, Lyttleton [38] who said, "There was all the world, but little
of his wife!"

Last night I was at Mrs Law's, a very pleasant Assembly. Osborne
Markham [39] was flirting with his intended, Lady Mary Thynne, a
pretty-looking woman.

Mr Lyttleton, whose _bon mot_ respecting Mrs Fox's ball so pleased Mrs Stanhope, was a constant source of amusement to her and her daughters. Earlier that same year, on March 4th, she had written:--

I suppose you saw the address which Mr Lyttleton made to the
Freeholders of Worcestershire? It was very short & I think
comprehended in these words:--"_Be assured that the Hon. William
Henry Lyttleton will offer himself at the next county Meeting; if the
Freeholders will be true to their interest & to the welfare of the
country._"

This short address was posted in the corner of the newspaper. Now you
must know that his father knows nothing about his offering himself;
and this was printed in the corner of the newspaper that his sister
might cut it out before his father saw it! I understand that he has
the majority on the Poll at present & that he made a speech of above
two hours in length.

In an undated letter she subsequently relates:--

Have you heard the latest story of our friend Lyttleton? It appears
that at some large party he was seated at the card table next to Mrs
Beaumont who expressed herself very dissatisfied with the smallness of
the stakes. "In the great houses which I frequent," she explained
grandly to Lyttleton, "we constantly play for _paper_." "Madam,"
said Lyttleton in a solemn whisper, "In the little houses which
_I_ frequent, we play for note paper."

Meanwhile another event had been arranged to take place on that Birthday night which for Mrs Stanhope proved so unfortunate, and had been announced by her so early as May 30th previously:--

On the Birthday, all the friends of Mr Pitt have agreed to dine
together instead of on _his_ birthday, which is just past. The
first idea rose from the Opposition wishing to dine together on the
4th, but many objected. They then determined to celebrate Mr Pitt's
birthday on that day. Your father means to be there.

"Pitt dinners," as they were subsequently termed, forthwith became an annual institution, and were held in all parts of the United Kingdom. John Stanhope, who, in 1806, was staying in Edinburgh, attended one in that city, and eight days later was invited to be present at another public banquet designed to be commemorative of a very different event.

Throughout the months of May and June, public attention had been absorbed by the famous trial of Lord Melville. So early as May 6th, Mrs Stanhope had written delightedly:--"You will be glad to hear that the cross- examination of Mr Trotter went in fayour of Lord Melville who looked perfectly composed the whole time." But not till the 12th did the end arrive.

_June 13th, 1806._

Your sisters both attended the trial and had the gratification of
hearing Lord Melville acquitted. The Prince had the good sense not to
vote. The Court was as full as possible & when the two youngest Peers
voted on the first charge & said Guilty, there was something like a
hiss from the House of Commons. I am glad it is over & I hope the
country will not be put to the expense of any more trials of the same
kind for many years. The Princes went and shook Lord Melville by the
hand as soon as it was over.

Thus it was that eight days after the Pitt dinner, Edinburgh felt itself called upon to give another banquet, designed to celebrate the joyful event of Lord Melville's acquittal. It was likewise proposed to illuminate the city, but the Solicitor-General (Chief Magistrate in the absence of the Lord Advocate) prohibited such a demonstration. He was, in consequence, nicknamed, "The Extinguisher General," and the friends of Lord Melville, to the number of five hundred, consoled themselves by singing a song written by Walter Stanhope for the occasion, and entitled, "A Health to Lord Melville." Each of the eight verses of which it is composed proposes a toast that was staunchly drunk by all present; but perhaps those in honour of the volunteers and of the luckless Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, are the most significant.

"Since here we are set in array round the table,
Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall,
Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able
How innocence triumphed, and Pride got a fall;
But push round the claret,
Come, Stewards, don't spare it;
With rapture you'll drink to the toasts that I give.
Here, Boys,
Off with it merrily,
Melville for ever and long may he live!

What _were_ the Whigs doing, when, boldly pursuing,
Pitt banished Rebellion, gave treason a sting?
Why, they swore on their honour, for Arthur O'Connor
And fought hard for Despard, 'gainst Country & King!
Well then, we knew, Boys,
Pitt and Melville were true Boys,
And tempest was raised by the friends of Reform.
Ah, woe!
Weep for his memory;
Low lies the Pilot that weathered the storm. [40]

* * * * *

They would turn us adrift, tho', rely, Sir, upon it,
Our own faithful Chronicles warrant us that
The free Mountaineer, and his bonny brown bonnet
Have oft gone as far as the Regular's hat.
We laugh at their taunting,
For all we are wanting
Is licence our life for our country to give;
Off with it merrily,
Horse, Foot and Artillery,
Each loyal Volunteer--long may he live!

* * * * *

And then our Revenue, Lord knows how they viewed it,
While each petty Statesman talked lofty and big,
And the Beer tax was weak as if Windham had brewed it,
And the Pig Iron Duty a shame to a pig;
In vain is their boasting,
Too surely there's wanting
What judgment, experience and steadiness give;
Come, Boys,
Drink about merrily,
Health to sage Melville, and long may he live!

Our King too,--our Princess--I dare not say more, Sir,
May Providence watch them with mercy and might;
While there's one Scottish arm that can wag a day more, Sir,
They shall ne'er want a friend to stand up for their right.
Be d--d he that dare not,
For my part I'll spare not
To beauty afflicted a tribute to give!
Fill it up steadily,
Drink it off readily,
Here's to the Princess and long may she live!

And since we must not set Auld Reekie [41] in glory,
And make her brown visage as light as her heart,
Till each man illumine his own upper storey
Nor _Law_ trash nor Lawyer shall force us to part.
In Grenville and Spencer
And some few good men, Sir,
High talents and honour slight difference forgive,
But the Brewer we'll hoax;
Tally ho! to the Fox;
And drink Melville for ever as long as we live!"