Mr Fawkes thinks it would be a fine subject for a picture--the awful gloominess of the wood, the dead body, the dog licking the wounds, the horror of the horse, and the man"s countenance as he sat contemplating the scene--he thinks might be wonderfully portrayed on canvas.
His other story is of a different cast. You have doubtless heard of Edwards the great bookseller. He has quitted his shop in Town, and gone to reside at his native place, Halifax. He is a great miser, but being a man of talent, often visits Mr Fawkes. One day he arrived upon such a miserable hired horse that they resolved to play him a trick.
Accordingly, after dinner the Steward came in, with a solemn face, stating that instead of killing a horse that was meant for the dogs, they had shot Mr Edwards"s; that it was half eat before they found out the mistake. Edwards was in a dreadful pucker; but at last, having condoled with him, they told him that the only difference between his deceased horse & the one of Mr Fawkes"s which they had meant to kill, was that Mr Fawkes"s horse had not a white spot on its forehead, & his legs were not white, but that by _painting them_ it would look just the same, and that the people at the livery stable would never find out the mistake. Edwards was highly delighted with this plan, and, would you believe it, he was mean enough to hope by this means to cheat the man. You may picture what fun it was to Mr Fawkes and his servants to see him ride home on his _own_ hired horse all bedaubed with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the Livery Stables has never found out the trick _we_ have put on him!"
How they will all quiz him when finally they tell him the truth!!
When shall you come to Yorkshire? You will find Frances grown quite a beauty and Philip an adept at _l"art militaire_. I am glad you were so pleased with the young Beaumonts. Their sister rode here the other day, she is a very nice girl and nearly pretty.
Mr and the Miss Abbotts left us yesterday, after a week"s visit They are very musical, but rather too Irish for our taste. To give you some idea of them, they talk of people being _beasts and puking whelps, and brutes_. They frequently _blest their souls and bodies_, and "_talked their fill_" which was not a "_few_." Surely this cannot be elegant, even in Ireland. Have you any Hibernian friends who could inform you on this subject? Adieu, breakfast waits. All here send their love.
These Hibernian friends were apparently not the only guests whose peculiarities occasioned the Stanhope family some mild surprise. The handsome Bishop of Carlisle [23] and his wife, Lady Anne Vernon, were at this date frequently at Cannon Hall, and both of them and of their ten sons various anecdotes are related. Mr Stanhope, indeed, as Member for Carlisle, had long been intimate with the popular prelate, and used to tell with what unstinted hospitality Dr Vernon was wont to receive his countless visitors at the Palace on public days, also what a picturesque sight he then invariably presented in his full-bottomed, snow-white wig and bright, purple coat. But the good bishop, though extremely stately and impressive of demeanour, was gifted with a keen sense of humour and could enjoy a spice of frivolity when he could indulge in it without detracting from his dignity. In 1807 he was appointed to the Archbishopric of York, and was fond of retailing how a groom belonging to his old friend, Sir James Graham, [24] got news of the event and rode hard to Netherby to take his master the first tidings. Bursting into the dining-room where a large party of guests were a.s.sembled, the man exultingly shouted out the Information which he was desperately afraid someone else might have antic.i.p.ated--"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 a.s.sure 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 b.a.l.l.s, he came in so late that everybody inquired the reason. He said he had been waiting for his tailor while he was sewing the b.u.t.tons on his etceteras. Each of these b.u.t.tons 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 Amba.s.sador 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 Inst.i.tution, where they attend as a.s.siduously as ever.
_Sat.u.r.day._
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 repet.i.tion. Our life since we came to London has pa.s.sed 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 d.u.c.h.ess of Wurtemburg [32] since she had seen the Empress of France. Upon entering, the d.u.c.h.ess said she felt something like _effroi_, which Madame Bonaparte took for _Froid_ and she threw over her shoulders a most beautiful shawl she had been wearing herself. The Emperor was very polite and never named England or the English. He brought a most superb _present de noces_ for the Princess of Wurtemburg who is going to be married.
I wish also to tell you a story I heard of Erskine. He was dining one evening with a large party at Carlton House. The conversation turned upon Sir Robert Calder"s sentence. [33] Erskine said, to set a pack of yellow Admirals who had never seen active service to judge a brave and distinguished Officer was horrible. "They might as well," said he, "_set a parcel of Attorney"s clerks to judge Erskine_!" Is not this _Chancellor Ego_?--This was just before he was Chancellor.
His wife died a short time ago, and his daughter wrote word to a friend that had her father known how soon her mother would die, he would not have behaved better to her! They must all be mad, I think.
Thomas Erskine, the third son of the 10th Earl of Buchan, was, in 1806, appointed Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain and elevated to the Peerage the same year by the t.i.tle 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."