Kristine Hughes – Page 134 – Number One London

LORD ALVANLEY REVISITED

From The Letter-bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope, Volume 1

Marianne Spencer-Stanhope writing to John Spencer-Stanhope.

Paris, March, 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 oneLady 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 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, without one grain of effort. What a receipt for being, as he is, quite charming.”

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON TOUR: SLOANE SQUARE

During our upcoming sojourn in England, one of the neighborhoods Victoria and I will be staying near is Sloane Square, in Kensington. It’s not an area I’ve stayed in before, so I’m looking forward to exploring the area more fully this time over. While I’ll be arriving in London at 6 a.m., Victoria won’t be landing at Heathrow until 6 p.m., so I’ll be on my own for the better part of the day.

I think I’ll first stroll down the King’s Road and browse the shops on my way to Caffe Nero for that cup of coffee I’ve been anticipating for so long. Perhaps I’ll stop into the nearby Waterstone’s Books for a browse before retracing my steps to Royal Avenue, with it’s 19th century terraced houses, one of which was home to Bond, James Bond. This Avenue will bring me directly into Burton Court, a 14 acre green space that holds ancient trees and the Brigade of Guards cricket ground and backs directly onto Chelsea’s Royal Hospital.

The Royal Hospital is yet another of those places I’ve always meant to visit, but have never gotten around to seeing. And it’s yet another place with connections to the Duke of Wellington – will Victoria and I ever run out of people, places and things connected to the Duke of Wellington? More on that soon . . . . but for now we begin the Wellington connections to the Royal Hospital with his commission of that famous painting, The Chelsea Pensioners Reading the Waterloo Despatch, by artist David Wilke. You can read a prior post about the painting here.

A second Wellington connection is the Hospital’s Great Hall, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, where Wellington’s body lay in State in 1852. In addition, there’s a Museum that features military artifacts, including items associated with the Duke, as well as other uniforms, weapons, models, etc.

After the Royal Hospital Museum, I may just mosey down to nearby Ranelagh Gardens, another site I’ve been meaning to visit. It’s the site of the present day Chelsea Garden Shows and has been incorporated onto the Hospital’s estate.

Of course, the Ranelagh Gardens of the 18th and 19th century is long gone and the Rotunda, Chinese Pavillion and lantern lit lanes are no more, but how glorious would it be to tread on the same ground where dandies, powdered ladies and the haute ton once paraded on summer evenings?

Remember, by this time of day I’ll still have about six hours to fill before Victoria arrives at our hotel, so I may just head up to Piccadilly and take a London Walk. The Old Palace Quarter walk sounds like fun. Strange, is it not, that someone who leads tours and walks themselves should want to take someone else’s tour? I suppose we all like to be led round London and entertained with historic tales.

Afterwards, I plan to visit Hatchard’s bookshop. I reckon it will be about 4 p.m. by now and I’ll have a couple of hours to browse the books before returning to our hotel in order to meet Victoria. A quick wash and brush up for her before we toddle out for out first of many dinners together in England. And where, you ask, will we be dining? At the Duke of Wellington pub, of course. Or, as it’s more cheekily referred to – The Duke of Boots.

RIDE THE RETREAT – MONS TO THE MARNE

England has undertaken some fabulous events to mark the centenary of WWI. The BBC aired a program called World War One Centenary: As It Happened, the Tower of London is installing 888,246 ceramic poppies in the dry moat to commemorate the Allies who lost their lives in that battle and on August 4th Britain turned out it’s lights and lit candles to in an act of remembrance.

Anniversary events will continue throughout the year, but one of the largest undertakings has to be Ride the Retreat – Mons to the Marne.

To commemorate the opening actions of the British Army in the Great War, Ian Woodbridge and Dr David Kenyon are riding the retreat from Mons in Belgium to the River Marne in France for The Horse Trust and the Army Benevolent Fund. You can read about the Great Retreat here.

The ride will take place over two weeks covering over 200 miles in eleven separate stages and will visit all the major cavalry engagements coinciding with the 100th anniversaries of each event. They hope to help people experience the opening actions of the Great War and to explain the role of the cavalry during the great retreat conducted by the Cavalry Division of the British Expeditionary Force during late August and early September 1914.

For more information and regular updates, please visit and like the Retreat’s Facebook page.

The Horse Trust, one of the charities that will benefit from funds raised for the Ride, is the oldest horse charity in the world, founded in 1886 to help working horses in London.

From The Horse Trust website:

In 1877, English author Anna Sewell published a groundbreaking ‘autobiography’, the story of a working horse told through the horse’s own eyes. Black Beauty went on to sell over 50 million copies and become one of the best-selling books of all time. A few years later, a Miss Ann Lindo of North London

read Black Beauty and was inspired. A working horse had no rest in those days – their owners depended on the horse to earn money to feed their families. Horses pulled taxi cabs and delivery wagons until they dropped. Ann Lindo’s idea was to provide a place where sick and exhausted horses could rest and recover – lending in their place healthy animals so the owners could still earn a living.

he Home of Rest for Horses was founded on 10th May 1886. Horses were bought or donated as loan horses, and demand was immediately high. Miss Lindo saw her idea become a great success and attract prestigious supporters, but sadly died only five years later, at the age of just 52.

In 1900, London needed some 300,000 horses to keep it moving. Most of them, and most of our earliest patients – were the horses of cabmen. The others worked for traders like laundrymen, grocers or rag-and-bone men.

There were 11,000 horse-drawn cabs working London’s streets in 1900. An owner-driver would take the best care he could of the horse on which he depended, but some horses were rented by the day, and each driver would work the horse as hard as possible. A horse’s life was relentless, hard, hard work.

A steady stream of exhausted horses came to the Home for treatment. The charge for hiring a replacement was set at 25 shillings per week (about two days earnings). Feed for the rental horse was included, to make sure the hired animal was well-fed while out working.

An early object of the charity was to provide a home for “Old Favourites,” giving them in return for a remunerative charge a pleasant home and every comfort and attention during their declining years.”

In 1916 the charity temporarily stopped admitting Old Favourites due to the continued increase in price of forage during WWI. The cost of oats increased from 23s to 39s, and hay increased from £3 19s to £5 15s. Admissions were resumed in 1919 only to be suspended once more in 1943. The effects of rationing were so severe that Old Favourites could not be admitted again until 1951, 6 years after the end of WWII.

These Old Favourites included War Horses who’s Officers paid for them to enjoy a peaceful retirement when they returned from the battlefield. One such Old Favourite was Holly, a grey German charger captured in Italy at the end of the war. She was admitted after several years useful riding school work in this country. “The owner having stated that Holly was extremely nervous of explosions caused the Secretary and his wife to take turns at visiting the mare’s box on the fifth of November.”

Many horses like Holly were ‘sold down the chain’ being passed from owner to owner as they became older or were injured and their value declined. Sadly, some of these horses ended up being neglected or overworked as a result. A story that is still all too common today. For the lucky few a kind owner paid for them to enjoy a gentle retirement at The Home of Rest for Horses.

The First World War (1914-1918) saw millions of men and horses bogged down in horrific conditions in the muddy trenches of Belgium and Northern France. As Britain’s men were called away to war – including staff from The Home of Rest for Horses – and as shortages began to bite, The Home faced a threefold problem.

Demand rose for our services as healthier animals were requisitioned for the war effort, leaving only older and sicker horses to cope with regular work. The men working the horses – and indeed caring for them at The Home of Rest – were often older or less experienced, and prices rose dramatically as supplies grew scarce. On top of this, the demands of war pulled financial support in other directions.

In spite of all these difficulties, the War drove the charity to new heights. Annual donations were made to RSPCA appeals in support of Russian Army Horses. In 1914, the Committee made an inspired gift to the Army Veterinary Service of the first ever motorised horse ambulance. This proved so useful in moving injured horses from the battlefields for treatment that 13 more were procured and, by the end of the war, over 2 million horses had been successfully treated and returned to duty.

The War had a major impact on everyday life, making it harder to get supplies as labour grew scarce and transport more difficult.

At the end of the Great War we began taking in the first of our military veterans. The tradition continues to this day. With the generosity of our supporters we are able to provide a dignified retirement to some of the horses who have given so much for our country.

CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT SPONSORING ONE

OF THESE OLD FAVOURITES

LADY CASTLEREAGH'S ZOO

It is a well known fact that Frederica, Duchess of York, was a huge animal lover and that she kept many pets at her country home, Oatlands Park. In fact, on my last visit to England, I went to Oatlands to see her pet cemetery with my friend Hester Davenport. It was only recently, however, that I discovered that Lady Castlereagh also kept a private zoo. Here is what Mrs. Arbuthnot wrote:

September 4, 1820 – Returned to town, having first seen Lady Castlereagh’s establishment for animals. She has got an antelope, Kangaroos, Emeus, Ostriches and a tiger, which Lord Combermere brought from the West Indies for the Duke of Wellington and which the Duke gave to Lady C. It seemed very vicious and growled at us.

My great, good friend Susan Brown pointed me to the following passage, which she found on the Regency Reader:

Marked by several contemporaries to be devoted and quite in love, the marriage produced no children. Instead, Lady Castlereagh kept a menagerie of animals at their country home, Loring Hall in iron cages; contemporary George Berkeley said of her pets “ It seems a strange taste for a lady patroness at Almacks, and one of the most distinguished leaders of the beau monde, to attempt to rival Exeter Change in a small country residence…nevertheless at the gay fetes given by her during the season to her innumerable fashionable friends, no part of the entertainment was more popular than the exhibition of Lady Castlereagh’s pets.”

Berekley goes on to suggest that subordinates of Lord Castlereagh at the War Office tried to ingratiate themselves, while stationed abroad in India and Africa, by sending his lady wife a tiger (known to be bad-tempered), armadillo and other wild animals. She also had, as she told an American dinner companion, a mockingbird and flying squirrel–although the mockingbird would not sing. This discomfitted her, as she was wanting to procure a hummingbird from the US but was worried, once on English soil, that “it wouldn’t hum.”
Aside from her more exotic animals, Lady Castlereagh was adoring of her bull mastiffs, who were said to ride in the carriage beside her. It was one of these dogs that created a stir, when one bit Lord Castlereagh after he tried to intervene in a squabble.”

For a brief bio of Lady Castlereagh, I direct you to Wikipedia:

Amelia Anne Stewart, Marchioness of Londonderry (20 February 1772 – 12 February 1829), from 1794 until 1821 generally known as Emily Stewart, Lady Castlereagh, was the wife of the Georgian era Irish statesman Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, who from 1812 to 1822 was British Foreign Secretary and Leader of the House of Commons. Well-connected by birth to the aristocracy and wife of a prominent politician who was Britain’s leading diplomat during the close of the Napoleonic Wars, Lady Castlereagh was an influential member of Regency London‘s high society.

During the Regency of George IV, Lady Castlereagh, along with Lady Jersey, Dorothea Lieven, Lady Cowper, and others, was a Lady Patroness of Almack’s, one of the first and most exclusive mixed-gender social clubs in London. In their role as Patroness, they had great influence over the ton, determining social acceptance by designating who might receive “vouchers” (entrance tickets) to Almack’s, thereby setting and enforcing complex, unwritten social codes of the London social elite.

Credited with having introduced the quadrille to London, Lady Castlereagh is also remembered for having Almack’s doors closed, without exception, at eleven o’clock, even once turning away the Duke of Wellington. Her own parties were considered dull, and her manner was somewhat eccentric: guests described her conversation as an endless flow of trivial information delivered in an odd detached manner.

At their country home, Loring Hall, North Cray, Lady Castlereagh kept a private zoo, which featured antelopes, ostriches, kangaroos, and a notably bad-tempered tiger.

Do you know of any other sources that refer to Lady Castlereagh’s zoo? If so, please leave a comment or send an email – thank you!

ROGER EBERT'S LONDON

Recently, Victoria sent me the link to an article written by film critic Roger Ebert about the London he had known in the 1960’s. Like us, Ebert had loved London, spent much time there and was fortunate enough to have uncovered many of the City’s treasures – hotels lost in time, shops that sold bespoke goods, restaurants that were known for their specialty food and a host of the sort of characters who define London. What a treat this article is and now I’m sharing it with you. The only drawback to the piece is that most of the places and people Ebert wrote about are long gone. How I wish I’d been able to book a room at No. 22 Jermyn Street for our upcoming visit. Sigh.

Here’s the link to the article. Enjoy.

Author: Kristine Hughes