The Letter-Bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope Part 24

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 pa.s.sed."

Later, Stanhope received, through the Princess of Wales, invitations to various other b.a.l.l.s; 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 pa.s.s without an efficient guard, and he begged them, to their astonishment, to take an escort of fifty-two men.

"We, however," Stanhope relates, "pa.s.sed the next stage safely without seeing any robbers, but we were informed that our danger was not yet over, as we had to pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed."

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 b.u.t.t 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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 pa.s.s, "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 d.u.c.h.esse de Ba.s.sano's when the subject of flowers became the topic of conversation. The d.u.c.h.esse 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 pa.s.sing 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 rea.s.sure 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 ma.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 amus.e.m.e.nt, 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 a.s.siduously studying the papers. Lady Glyn and Mamma are enjoying a light supper; Sir d.i.c.ky puts in notes of interrogation and comments upon the pa.s.sing 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 lat.i.tude; 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 a.s.surances that she was not in _reality_ dead. Was there ever anything so absurd or foolish?

I was at Gaunts, Sir d.i.c.ky 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 d.i.c.ky!_

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 circ.u.mstances as though d.i.c.ky, with true Aldermanic foresight, intending to enlarge his paunch with Turtle, etc., etc., etc., and conceiving that he would soon be incapable of pa.s.sing thro' the narrow door, had thus provided for his increase of lat.i.tude.

It puts me in mind of an epigram by Jekyll. [4] A ca.n.a.l 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 Ca.n.a.l 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 ca.n.a.l 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!