Kenna's Kingdom: a Ramble Though Kingly Kensington
Brown, R. Weir
1881
CHAPTER XIV. HOLLAND HOUSE.
CHAPTER XIV. HOLLAND HOUSE.
WE have already had occasion to mention the name of Stephen Fox, second Lord Holland. As, however, we do not wish to speak of persons because they lived in , but rather of because celebrities resided there, we shall not have occasion to refer to Stephen again. This good-natured, whimsical, apoplectic second lord was succeeded by his son ard, who was only thirteen months old at the time of his father's death. Of Richard's political life little need be said. Like his uncle Charles, he was a staunch believer in Bonaparte, and like him, too, his sympathies were always on the side which he believed just or generous. The multitude of his pro | |
253 | tests against those measures of the House of Lords which he thought unjust or ungenerous, have caused Leigh Hunt to nickname him the " Protestant Peer." He dabbled in literature, and published some translations of Spanish comedies, in an age when a knowledge of Spanish was certainly a most unusual acquirement in a peer of the realm. He had, in fact, spent some considerable time in Spain and in Italy. In the latter country he met the future Lady Holland, then the wife of Sir Godfrey Webster. Lady Webster was divorced, and married to Lord Holland in . From henceforth, , restored and refitted, became the centre of the higher London intellectual society. To have the entree into that salon was more than a sufficient passport into any other. An invitation to was something to which the young author might look forward, as a modern Frenchman does to one of the Forty Chairs in the Academic Francaise. Never in England has a more brilliant literary circle been gathered together, and Sidney Smith, in one of his letters, declares " that five hundred travelled people assert that there is no such agreeable house in Europe as ." The dinner |
254 | parties there were of world- wide celebrity. Let us attempt to reproduce a faint image of one of them. It is a Saturday in the middle of ; the hour is seven-the dinner hour. It is thought a generally inconvenient one, and Talleyrand declared that it was adopted by Lady Holland, "pour gener tout le monde." The dining-room is a "fine long room, the wainscot of which is rich with gilded coronets, roses, and portcullises." On the right hand side, as the dinner party enters from the Crimson Drawing Room, the twilight still steals in from the large bay window, which commands a pleasing view of the garden. Opposite this window stands an oldfashioned sideboard, its shelves laden with glittering old family plate, salvers, tankards, and vases. A closet, filled with gay oriental china, and a huge looking-glass, form the most conspicuous breaks in the crimson damask-covered walls, which, indeed, are besides, largely hidden beneath portraits. Among these is a , another of old Stephen Fox, by Lely, and one of Stephen's wife, by Kneller. A handsome chandelier, with many brightly-burning candles, hangs from the starry ceiling. The guests |
255 | are seated. There is the Mistress of the house, imperious, fidgety, but a woman of " considerable talents and great literary acquirements," a woman who led the conversation, or who at least thought she did so. "The centurion did not keep his soldiers in better order than she keeps her guests." It is to one, "Go, and he goeth "; and to another, " Do this," and it is done. Ring the bell, Mr. ." Now, we have had enough of this-give us something else." "Lay down that screen, Lord Russell; you will spoil it." |
" When young she must have been a most beautiful woman. She still looks, however, as if she had been handsome, and shows in one respect great taste and sense. She does not rouge at all; and her costume is not youthful, so that she looks as well in the morning as in the evening. Her Ladyship, for an esprit fort, is the greatest coward. She is frightened out of her wits by thunder; has all the shutters closed, the curtains drawn, and orders candles in daylight, to keep out the lightning, or rather the appearance of the lightning. When choleraphobia was rampant, she was in a terrible taking about the cholera; refused to cat any ice, because somebody said that ice was | |
256 | bad for the cholera. She is frightened out of her wits by hearing a dog howl." |
Many, indeed, are the retorts which her Ladyship provokes, among occasional, as well as among her more intimate friends. "," a friend of Granville Penn's remarked to him, "is really a most pleasant place; and in Lord Holland's company you might imagine youself inside the house of Socrates." The reply is said to have closed the door of Holland House to Mr. Penn for ever. "It certainly always seemed so to me, for I often seemed to hear Xanthippe talking rather loud in the adjoining room." Ugo Foscolo was even more decided in his aversion to the wife of his friend, remarking that though he could go anywhere, even to the infernal regions, with his Lordship, he should be sorry to go to heaven with Lady Holland. | |
At the end of the table, occupying the place of the Master of the house, who is dining alone to-day on account of the gout, sits Allen. John Allen, a Scotchman, a physician, a writer on constitutional history, an Edinburgh reviewer, a man of a high character, warm, kind, and affectionate, and above all, Lady | |
257 | Holland's factotum, the keeper of her conscience, her very slave. He was a regular inmate of Holland House. "Allen, like the poor," says , " we have always with us." His position is not the most enviable, at least if liberty be a matter of envy. The imperious Lady Holland constantly ordered him about. "Mr. Allen, take a candle and show Mr. Craddock the picture of Buonaparte." During the dinner on this occasion, Allen happens to say that some newly-married friend has caught a Tartar. His mistress is " off into one of her tantrums" at once. "She a Tartar! Such a charming girl a Tartar! He is a very happy man, and your language is insufferable - insufferable, Mr. Allen." Lord Grey, the Premier, who is one of the party," has all the trouble in the world to appease her." Allen, in fact, was ordered about like a footman, and "treated like a Negro slave." " Mr. Allen, go into my drawingroom, and bring my reticule." "Mr. Allen, go and see what can be the matter, that they do not bring up the dinner." " Mr. Allen, there is not enough turtle soup for you; you must take gravy, or none." The remaining guests to-night are Lord Palmerston, Macau |
258 | lay, and Luttrell. , the historian, statesman, and especial favourite of Lady Holland; he sits at her right hand, and may be conversing with her on the English language, on which her Ladyship thinks herself a critic. Luttrell," a famous wit-the most popular of all professed wits-a man who has lived in the highest circles; a scholar, and no contemptible poet." Earl Grey, the Prime Minister; " a proud and majestic yet polite and affable person." |
The dinner passes off with a flow of conversation, of wit, of brilliancy, and of humour. Yet Lady Holland is not satisfied. The French cook happens to be ill. "The soup is too salt; the cutlets are not exactly comme il faut; and the pudding is hardly enough boiled." Dinner over, Lord Holland is wheeled in, in his arm chair; he, unlike his wife, is all " kindness, simplicity, and vivacity, a fine old gentleman, very gouty and good-natured. He is an open, sensible man; very lively, very intellectual; well read in politics and in the lighter literature both of ancient and modern times." adds, "He sets me more at ease than almost any person that I know, by a certain good-humoured way of contradicting that he | |
259 | has. He always begins by drawing down his shaggy eyebrows, making a face extremely like his uncle (Charles James Fox), wagging his head, and saying, 'Now, do you know, Mr. , I do not quite see that. How do you make it out ?"' On the present occasion he petitions "most piteously for a slice of melon, which his wife as steadily refuses," on account of his gout. Lord Grey intercedes, and is successful. Lord Holland thanks him, exclaiming, "Ah, Lord Grey, I wish you were always here; it is a fine thing to be Prime Minister." |
For the materials for the above sketch, we are indebted to one of the guests--whose letters at one period of his life abound with allusion to , and society. He was an especial favourite, both of Lord and Lady Holland. The latter, indeed, would, so seems to think, have been glad to "make a second Allen of him; but for this he was neither qualified nor inclined." To him she was all courtesy and kindness, and when he left for India, she became quite hysterical about his going; cried, raved, and called him dear dear . | |
The historian describes his first visit there; he went in a glass coach, and drove through the fine avenue of elms, to the great entrance, towards seven o'clock, in the month of . From that time he became a constant visitor, breakfasted there, dined, and paid Saturday to Monday visits. Here is his mock dramatical account, tossed off in a familiar letter to his sister, of a visit to breakfast there: | |
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There remain two persons conspicuous in the inner circle life at as yet unmentioned,Samuel Rogers the poet and banker, and Sidney Smith the wit. | |
Rogers was, indeed, the great oracle of the circle, and has left numerous traces of his presence there. | |
261 | |
In writing to Lady Holland, Rogers speaks of the pleasure he anticipates of finding himself " under the old roof that has sheltered so many foreign statesmen from Sully to Calonne, and so many foreign artists from Vandyke to Canova." | |
Whatever we may think of Rogers' poetry, Rogers himself was a pleasant companion, though "a most cynical observer of little traits of character." | |
He and Sidney Smith were two of the most celebrated conversationalists of the day, and gives us an amusing account of their behaviour when in society together. "They would not come into conflict. If one had possession of the company the other was silent, and as may be conceived the one who had possession of the company was always Sidney Smith, and the one who was silent was always Rogers. Sometimes, however, the company divided, and each of them had a small congregation." | |
Sidney Smith, clergyman, wit, and essayist, was almost as great an habituee of as Rogers, and many are the good things which he is recorded to have uttered there. | |
Sometimes, however, he got the worst of it, and on | |
262 | one occasion is said to have been beaten by the Prince Regent. A discussion taking place, as to who was the wickedest man that ever lived, Sydney remarked, " The Regent Orleans, and he was a Prince." "I should give the preference to his tutor, the Abbe Dubois, and he was a priest, Mr. Sidney," was the answer. This is certainly surprisingly good for the first gentleman in Europe. |
Sydney usually was a match, and more than a match for Lady Holland herself. Once she commanded him to ring the bell, "Oh, yes," he retorted, "and shall I sweep the room?" Other people, however, could sometimes reply as sharply. Her ladyship was accused of occasionally crowding her dinner table, and on one of these occasions turned to Luttrell, saying in her imperial decisive manner, "Luttrell, make room!" "It must certainly be made, for it does not exist," was his answer. Another time she asked Lord Alvanly his opinion of some cup made without claret or champagne, according to a receipt of her own. "Kensington nettles," was the verdict, a retort quite in her own style, as the following anecdote will show. Tom Moore the poet was about to pro | |
263 | duce a work on Sheridan, the chief merit of which was to be its vivacity. "This will be a dull book of yours, this Sheridan, I fear," was her rude and discouraging observation to him at the dinner table one day. |
The mention of Moore reminds us that he also has considerable claims to be considered a member of the inner circle. Moore mentions in one of his letters that he dined at shortly after the publication of his parody of the Prince's letter, when he was as yet unknown as its author, and was much flattered and embarrassed by the praises, the guesses, the curiosity of the guests concerning the work, none of them being in the secret except Lord Holland. When "Lalla Rookh" was published, Lord Holland, always sympathetic, praised the poem very warmly, and "my Lady" declared that, in spite of her objection to Eastern things, she must, some time or other, read it herself. Said she also hated Northern subjects, which Lord Holland remarked was unlucky, as the only long poem he had ever written was in that region. Nevertheless, Tom Moore seems to have entertained a better opinion of Lady Holland than did most of | |
264 | her guests. "There are some fine points about Lady Holland," he writes, "she is a warm and active friend, and I should think her capable of HIGH MINDEDNESS upon occasions." |
The inner circle list must be closed with the name of Sir James Mackintosh, a great lawyer and a great historian, who commenced a History of England, and one of , neither of which, unfortunately, did he bring to a conclusion. He was a brilliant conversationalist, full of information, and his historical writings have perhaps scarcely received the consideration to which they are entitled. | |
If the inner circle of friends at was dazzling, the outer circle of acquaintances was not less brilliant. In those salons almost all the celebrities of the age were visitors: statesmen, such as Fox, Grattan, Curran, Windham, Erskine, Lord John Russell, Lord Moira, and Lord Macartney; lawyers, such as Jeffries, Thurlow, Eldon, Brougham, Lyndhurst, Romilly, and Dumont; poets, represented by Byron, Moore, Rogers, and Campbell; Sheridan and Sidney Smith-choice wits of their day; authors such as Mackintosh, Washington Irving, and Sir | |
265 | Philip Francis; men of science such as Humphrey Davy and Count Rumford; distinguished foreigners, as Calonne, Lally Tollendal, Talleyrand, and Madame de Stael; actors, such as Bannister and Kemble; playwrights, such as Mark Lewis; medical men, as Dr. Parr; Georgiana, the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire. The list, in fact, is an almost inexhaustible one. |
But the host, the real keystone of this brilliant circle, was, as we have seen, an invalid, a martyr to the gout, and the time was coming when these pleasant literary reunions were to cease. His illness had indeed been a long and tedious one, and it had been uncomplainingly borne. Eight years before the end came, gives us the following sketch of a Sunday at , during which the historian was engaged in legitimate Sabbath employment, visiting the sick, for my lord was ill, and my ladyship thought herself so. | |
"He (Lord Holland) was during the greater part of the day in bed. For a few hours he lay on his sofa wrapped in flannels-very weak and languid-and though the torture of the gout was over, was still in | |
266 | pain; but he retained all his courage and all his sweetness of temper." |
" I told his sister that I did not think that he was suffering much. 'I hope not,' said she, 'but it is impossible to judge by what he says, for through the sharpest pain of the attack he never complains.' I admire him more, I think, than any man whom I know. He is only fifty-seven or fifty eight; he is precisely the man to whom health would be particularly valuable, for he has the keenest zest for those pleasures which health would enable him to enjoy. He is, however, an invalid and a cripple. He passes some weeks of every year in extreme torment, and when he is in the best health he can only limp a hundred yards in a day; yet he never says a cross word. The sight of him spreads good humour over the face of every one. His sister, as excellent an old maid as ever lived and the favourite of all the young people of her acquaintance, says that it is quite a pleasure to nurse him. She was reading" The Inheritance" to him as he lay in bed, and he enjoyed it amazingly. She is a famous reader, more eloquent and less theatrical than most famous readers, and therefore the fittest for the bedside of a sick man." | |
This was Miss Fox; "a woman," says one of her relations in describing her character, "in the best sense of the word. Such was the dear Aunty! Simplicity and purity of heart were hers; her very contact imparted goodness, her presence sunshine." She resided at Little , "a mansion isolated, countrified, and standing in a garden," in Nightingale Lane, which at one time was a public thoroughfare, but which has been replaced by Holland Lane. | |
In , the end came, and seldom has any man, not a celebrated statesman, nor a renowned author, nor a great general, nor a celebrity of any sort, been so widely lamented in literary circles. Sidney Smith wrote that it was a great loss, but " I have learned to live as a soldier does in war, expecting that on any one moment the best and the dearest may be killed before his eyes." "The void which Lord Holland left will never be filled," are the words of another friend, "a golden link with the genius of the last age, is broken and gone." 's essay on the character of Lord Holland is well known-too well known, for quotation we should have said-had not a recent writer on borrowed much of its | |
268 | matter second hand in apparent ignorance of the source: |
"The time is coming when, perhaps, a few old men, the last survivors of our generation will, in vain, seek amidst new streets and squares and railway stations, for the site of that dwelling which was in their youth the favourite resort of wits and beauties, of painters and poets, of scholars, philosophers and statesmen. They will remember the venerable and benignant countenance and the cordial voice of him who bade them welcome. They will remember that temper, which years of pain, of sickness, of lameness, of confinement, seemed only to make sweeter and sweeter, and that frank politeness which at once relieved all the embarrassment of the youngest and most timid writer or artist who found himself for the first time among ambassadors and earls. They will remember that constant flow of conversation, so natural, so animated, so various, so rich with observation and anecdote; that wit which never gave a wound; that exquisite mimicry which ennobled instead of degraded; that goodness of heart which appeared in every look and accent, and gave additional value to every talent and | |
269 | acquirement. They will remember, too, that he whose name they hold in reverence was not less distinguished by the inflexible uprightness of his political conduct than by his loving disposition and winning manners." |
But as wrote in his essays so he wrote in his private correspondence: "When he died a whole generation went to the grave with him. While he lived all the great orators and statesmen of the last generation were living too. What a store of historical information he carried away! But his kindness, generosity, and openness of heart, were more valuable than even his fine accomplishments." | |
In the wall facing the Kensington High Road there is a breach filled in with iron palings, which affords a view of a statue of Lord Holland in the grounds. On the iron work, above a fountain are inscribed the following verses:
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These, says , were the last lines he traced, and his friends will "have reason to feel similar joy | |
270 | if, in looking back on many troubled years, they cannot accuse themselves of having done anything unworthy of men who were distinguished by the friendship of Lord Holland." |