The Wellington Connection – Education

From the Duke of Wellington to Lady Shelley

Duke of Wellington by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1818

London, August 30, 1825.

“My Dear Lady Shelley,

. . . . . . As for John (1) you must impress upon his mind, first, that he is coming into the world at an age at which he who knows nothing will be nothing. If he does not chuse to study, therefore, he must make up his mind to be a hewer of wood and drawer of water to those who do. Secondly, he must understand that there is nothing learnt but by study and application. I study and apply, more, probably, than any man in England.

Thirdly, if he means to rise in the military profession—I don’t mean as high as I am, as that is very rare—he must be master of languages, of the mathematics, of military tactics of course, and of all the duties of an officer in all situations.

He will not be able to converse or write like a gentleman—much less to perform with credit to himself the duties on which he will be employed—unless he understands the classics; and by neglecting them, moreover, he will lose much gratification which the perusal of them will always afford him; and a great deal indeed of professional information and instruction.

He must be master of history and geography, and the laws of his country and of nations; these must be familiar to his mind if he means to perform the higher duties of his profession.

Impress all this upon his mind; and moreover tell him that there is nothing like never having an idle moment. If he has only one quarter of an hour to employ, it is better to employ it in some fixed pursuit of improvement of his mind, than to pass it in idleness or listlessness.

Ever, my dearest lady,
Yours most affectionately,
Wellington.

1 John Shelley, Lady Shelley’s eldest son, who subsequently joined the Royal Horseguards (Blue).

Royal Horse Guards, 1826

Woodford, September 18, 1825.

My Dear Lady Shelley,

. . . . In respect to my letter upon education, I don’t recollect what I wrote; and I cannot consent to have a copy taken, without first seeing it. You had better send it to me, therefore. Besides, the Tyrant (Mrs. Arbuthnot) says she has no notion of my writing a letter deserving of being copied without her seeing it; and she wishes to ascertain whether I have myself learnt all that I recommend to others to learn. There is no use in disputing about anything, so that you had better send the letter at once.

I will go to Maresfield as soon as I shall have it in my power, after hearing how the Parliament stands.

Believe me, my dearest lady,
Ever yours most affectionately,
Wellington

Postscript written by Mrs. Arbuthnot – “I have no notion of his finishing a letter in such a style; I will never allow that again.”

Gossip Between Lady Shelley and Mrs. Arbuthnot

Harriette, Mrs. Arbuthnot by Richard Cosway
copyright Artchives.com

Mrs. Arbuthnot to Lady Shelley

Woodford, Wednesday [no date].
“My Dear Lady Shelley,
What an age it is since I have written to you! but my house has been so full; and I have been so full of regret at not being in the north hearing all the speeches and witnessing all the applause with which the Duke was received everywhere. Lady Bathurst and Sir Henry Harding have written me long accounts of it, all which is lucky for the Duke (of Wellington), as I should (very unjustly) be in a fury with him, for he enters into no details. To be sure one could not expect him to plume himself on his success; and, as I have heard it from others, I am satisfied. They are all enchanted with him, and he has done everything quite right, as he always does. I have Lord and Lady Francis Gower here and Mr. Greville and Lady Charlotte. Do you not think Mr. Greville the most agreeable man you know? I do; he has so much gossip, and tells a story so well. He has just been saying, God forgive me! but I wish Canning had lived to undergo the mortification of this visit of the Duke’s to the north; it would have been a good lesson to him, and would have killed him.’ He is in very good humour, and bears with my small house with the greatest fortitude. I am quite sorry they are going, which they do tomorrow for Chatsworth. Lady Charlotte is grown fearfully old and wrinkled. Lord Westmorland comes here to-morrow and stays till Saturday, on which day we go to Drayton.

We go to Apethorpe (pictured above) on Wednesday next. How all the ladies seem to be increasing in these days of over-population; it is quite surprising, and Mrs. Griffiths is in despair, for I understand they all come together. Lady Jersey, you know, always publishes it immediately. I did not know the Duke had been so sly about his visit there, but I am greatly amused at your not daring to quiz him; I did not think you had been so shy! especially with him. Do you know any news of our wise Ministers? what they mean to do with Turkey and Portugal? Never was such a condition as they have placed us in, I think, but they may thank the master mind for that. Poor Lord Dudley must be at his wits’ end, I think, with these perpetual conferences and interviews that one reads of. Pray write and tell me the London news, for I hear none of the Newmarket news. I see Sir John has a match. Ever, my dear Lady Shelley,

“Yours very affly.,
“H. A.”
George Canning
August 10, 1827.
“My Dear Lady Shelley,
“Thank you for sending me an account of the Duke. I am very glad you think he looks well. He writes me word he is quite well again. I got both your letters the same day, as he did not frank your Monday one till Tuesday. Poor Mr. Canning! I daresay you will not agree with me, but I am really very sorry for him. In the first place I had much rather have had a fight with him next session, and beat him in that way, and secondly, I hate to have anybody die. I cannot feel rancour against the dead; and, fatally mischievous as he has been to us, I cannot help pitying him. He has suffered so horribly, mind as well as body! depend upon it his has been a bed of thorns; nothing can have been more humiliating and degrading than all he has endured in the last four months. He was the vainest man that ever lived, with the quickest and most irritable feelings, and I know he felt his position most acutely. I have quite longed to write to Planta, to enquire after him; but I have not, for I should very likely have been accused of hypocrisy. I only hope our newspapers will not abuse him, tho’ to be sure the abuse heaped upon us just now by the Times is quite laughable. One thing I do rather enjoy, and that is the consternation in which our rats must be, such as your friend Sir George Clerk, etc., etc., etc. I have no guess what will happen, but I do not expect the King will send for any of us now. It will be, to use his own words, poor man, a curious coincidence if he dies the same day as Queen Caroline! Metternich’s remark about our luck is certainly just; but how he made out that the new parliament in South America could have anything to do with the Berlin Decrees I don’t understand. I am delighted to hear Mr. Peel has taken Maresfield; he cannot fail to like it, and the joy of getting it off your hands will help to restore you. I have been reading ‘Falkland.’ I like it very much, all but the ghost. 1 don’t suppose it is very moral, but I think it is natural and well written. Have you read it? I have also read ‘Judge Jeffreys,’ which I don’t like at all, and think it very ill done; I have no patience with the author who apologises for such an inhuman beast. I am now reading General Foy, who puts me in a rage with his fulsome praise of French soldiers and their mildness and kindneartedness! I had a letter from the Duke of Rutland to-day. Lady C. Powlett had been there for a night; she went from here. I think I shall put her nose, and Mrs. Foxs’, out of joint in that quarter, and yours too; His Grace writes so very tenderly. I don’t know how I shall manage them in Derbyshire; I shall have to sing the old song ‘ How happy could I be with either, were t’other dear Duke but away’—but that would be a copy of my countenance; there is but one Duke worth thinking about in the world, in my opinion. But do not show up that I joke about the other; it is only to amuse you, and he is very goodnatured and kind to me, and I like him, and would not laugh about him on any account, but you know he has a sentimental way with him. I shall write to the Duke about Mr. L. Wellesley, for a madman is never to be despised. I hope nothing fresh has happened?
Ever, my dear Lady Shelley, Yours affly.,
“H. A.”

The Wellington Connection – Walmer Castle



Walmer Castle, Kent



 From The History of Walmer and Walmer Castle By Charles Robert Stebbing Elvin (1894)
The quiet unostentations life which the Duke of Wellington led at Walmer, has been familiarized to us by Earl Stanhope in his “Conversations.” But one trait must be briefly alluded to, namely, the Duke’s love for children, which was evinced in a characteristic manner. We are told by Lord Stanhope that, in the autumn of 1837, Wellington had staying with him at Walmer Castle, two little children of Lord and Lady Robert Grosvenor, a boy and girl, and these chicks having expressed a desire to receive letters through the post—it was before the days of the penny post—the Duke used to write to them every morning a letter containing good advice for the day, which was regularly delivered when the post came in. He used also constantly to play fooball with the little boy upon the ramparts.
It was in the October of this year that poor Haydon spent some days at the castle, having come down at the Duke’s request, to paint his portrait for certain gentlemen at Liverpool. Haydon relates in his Diary, how charmed he was with the Duke’s playfulness with “six dear healthy noisy children,” no less than with his unostentatious reverence at the parish church on Sunday.  . . . . It is further related of the Duke of Wellington, that he sometimes took out with him, in his walks, a number of sovereigns and half-sovereigns, each suspended from a red or blue ribbon, and that when he came upon a group of children, he would present them with one of these, either red or blue, according as they declared themselves when interrogated, to be for the army or navy. The Duke’s early habits are well known, and an old gentlemen still living, tells me that when he was a boy at Walmer, he and his school-fellows used frequently in the summer, to be taken down to the sea near Walmer Castle, at six o’clock in the morning, to bathe, and the Duke would often come on the beach and converse with them.
In addition to children, the Duke also entertained more mature guests at the Castle
The Duke of Wellington was repeatedly honoured with visits from Royalty, during his occupancy of Walmer Castle. Thus Earl Stanhope mentions in his Conversations his meeting Prince George of Cambridge (the present Duke) at dinner at Walmer Castle, on October 14th, 1833; and on October 17th, 1837, records a luncheon at the Castle to meet the Princess Augusta of Saxony.
From the same source, also, we learn that two years later the Duke of Cambridge (father of Prince George above-mentioned), and first Duke of Cambridge with the Duchess and Princess Augusta, spent five days at Walmer Castle, namely, from October 3rd to October 8th. And how they were entertained we are also informed. On the evening after their arrival, there was a dinner party of eighteen persons, followed by a concert, for which the Duke of Wellington had engaged several vocalists from London, and to which he invited most of the neighbours: another dinner given on the 6th Oct., was followed by a larger party still, and a concert in the evening: while on the last day of their sojourn, October 7th, a great public breakfast given by the Duke in their honour, at 2 p.m., was attended by from a hundred to a hundred and twenty persons, many of whom came from Ramsgate and Dover; and in the evening there was another concert and large party.

But the chief interest centres in the visits of our present beloved Queen, who first became acquainted with Walmer in 1835 ; in the autumn of which year, she being then the Princess Victoria and a girl of sixteen, paid a visit to the Duke of Wellington and lunched at the castle, with her mother, the Duchess of Kent, and the King and Queen of the Belgians.
Leopold, King of the Belgians
The following account of this visit has been preserved in a letter by the then Lady Burghersh to her husband :—” The King and Queen of the Belgians arrived exactly at 2 in the same carriage with the Dnchess of Kent and Princess Victoria. The Duke of Wellington and I went to meet them on the drawbridge, and brought them up the outside staircase to the ramparts (where nearly all the company were already assembled), the lower battery firing a salute. The scene was beautiful; the whole of the beach in front of the castle and the roads leading to Deal and to the village, were filled with people; all the colours hoisted at the different places along the coast and on the ships, of which, fortunately, there were quantities in the Downs. The only drawback was that we were disappointed of getting a band from Canterbury, so there was no music. After walking about the ramparts and speaking with the company, the King and Queen went with the Duke round the garden, but the Princess Victoria had a little cold; so I staid in the drawing room with her and the Duchess of Kent, and baby was brought in and behaved like a little angel, and was much admired. She was sent for again afterwards to see the Queen. As the crowd outside were eager to see Princess Victoria, I asked the Duchess of Kent if she thought she might come out for a moment to shew herself, and I fetched my ermine tippet for her, which she put on, and came out on the ramparts and was very much cheered.”
Seven years later we find her Majesty again at Walmer Castle; being no longer a girl, but a Queen and a mother. It was on the morning of Thursday, November 10th, 1842, that the Royal party, consisting of the Queen, Prince Albert, and th
eir two children, the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal, left Windsor Castle, accompanied by a distinguished suite, en route for Walmer Castle; where they arrived the same day escorted by a troop of the 7th Hussars, then quartered at Canterbury, and with a guard of honour furnished by the 51st Infantry. With the exception of the journey from Slough to Paddington, the whole distance was accomplished by road; Her Majesty being everywhere greeted with the most enthusiastic demonstrations of loyalty and esteem. On the outskirts of Upper Deal, the Royal Party were met by the Duke of Wellington, who afterwards rode on to receive Her Majesty and the Prince at Walmer Castle, which was then placed entirely at their disposal; the Duke proceeding to Dover to take up his quarters during the royal visit.
Although the accommodation at the castle was somewhat restricted, being much less in those days than at present, no effort was spared to ensure the comfort of the royal guests and their suite. Two of the principal rooms in the castle had been thrown into one, for the sleeping apartment of Her Majesty and the Prince; while the portion of the fortress appropriated for the royal nursery, consisted of four rooms in “the outworks or north tower,” with the windows facing in a northerly direction. Viscount Sydney, as the Lord in Waiting, and Lady Portman as the Lady in Waiting, as well as the Honble. C. A. Murray, Master of the Household, and others, occupied some other rooms; while the rest of the guests were accommodated in a large house about three quarters of a mile away.



The Launch of The Thunderer, 1831
Copyright Port Cities London



The inhabitants of the whole district seem to have vied with each other in their efforts to do honour to the royal visitors; the illuminations throughout the neighbourhood being most brilliant. And on the following morning, when the royal standard was hoisted on Walmer Castle, the Thunderer manned yards, and saluted Her Majesty with twenty-one guns. The royal party remained at the castle nearly a month; and it was while here that the Queen received by special messenger from Downing Street, the news of the recapture of Ghuznee and Cabul, and the rescue of the prisoners.

An incident took place during this visit, which displays, in a remarkable degree, the natural goodness of heart and kindliness of disposition, which have always been shewn by her Majesty in her intercourse with her people. The Queen and Prince Consort were one day walking on the shore in the direction of Kingsdown, when they were driven by a sudden shower to take refuge in an old boat-house, which, besides being a place for storing boat’s gear, served also as a dwelling for an aged boatman—Thomas Erridge—and his wife; who, although they failed to recognize their visitors, readily offered them such mean accommodation as the place afforded. The royal pair were soon provided with a seat, consisting of some spars placed upon empty water-casks and covered with a spare sail; and there they sat and conversed with their simple-minded hosts, until the shower ceased ; and the latter were afterwards rewarded for their rude, but kindly hospitality, with a pension, with which the Queen provided them for the rest of their days.
The last meeting between Prince Albert and the Duke of Wellington, took place at Walmer Castle, on a similar occasion to the last, and only two years later. It was on August 17th, 1852, a month before the Duke’s death: the royal squadron having anchored in the Downs for one night, with the Queen and the Prince Consort en route for Belgium, His Royal Highness landed in a small boat from the Victoria and Albert, and paid a visit to the castle, where he had a long conversation with the aged warrior and statesman.
Whilst the Duke took excellent care of his many guests, he seems to have been rather more lenient in his care of the Castle gardens –
The next considerable improvement to the (Castle) grounds was made by the Earl of Liverpool (Warden before Wellington), who added the two meadows— since thrown into one—with the express proviso that, in the event of the office of Lord Warden being ever abolished, they should revert to the representatives of his own family.
The Duke of Wellington did not improve the grounds: on the contrary, he seems to have allowed them to fall into a state that would very much shock the professional gardener. But then the Duke’s gardener was not a professional, but a veteran sergeant of the Peninsular Army, and a Waterloo man, named Townsend, who received his appointment to the post of gardener at Walmer Castle under the following peculiar circumstances. The story goes, that shortly after the Duke became Lord Warden, he received a letter from Sergeant Townsend, complaining that he had been discharged from the service without a pension: that thereupon he immediately replied, “Field Marshall the Duke of Wellington would be happy to see Sergeant Townsend at Apsley House -on Friday at noon “: that on the interview taking place, his Grace inquired, “Do you know anything about gardening?” and, on receiving a negative reply, added, “Then learn, learn, and come here this day fortnight at the same hour.” The sergeant withdrew, and when, in obedience to orders, he appeared the second time at Apsley House, was greeted with—”Take the place of gardener at Walmer Castle; and on replying, “But I know nothing about gardening,” was cut short by the Duke with “Nor do I, nor do I, take your place at once.”
HM Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother was Lord Warden for 24 years
 and spent many summers in residence at Walmer Castle.

The Wellington Connection – Bond, James Bond

In 1961, American oilman and Trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art Charles Wrightsman bought Goya’s “Portrait of the Duke of Wellington” for $392,000 from the Duke of Leeds and planned to take it stateside. Public outcry resulted in the painting being temporarily barred from export to the United States and  two months later, the UK purchased the work from Wrightsman with the financial support of the Wolfson Foundation and the government. It proudly hung in London’s National Gallery for a scant three weeks before being stolen, with the thief apparently having gotten both in and out through an open bathroom window.

Because the painting had so recently been the subject of public furor, it’s theft quickly made it a cultural icon. In the first James Bond film, released in 1962, Sean Connery can be seen walking down an elegant staircase in the lair of the villainous Dr No when he spots Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington and says, “So that’s where it went.”

Actually, no one knew where the painting had gone for several weeks, when finally a ransom note was delivered. The ransomer was able to identify marks visible only on the back of the painting, proving that it was in his possession. The ransomer, whose notes were theatrical and flamboyantly written, thought it outrageous that the British government would spend such a sum on a painting when retired British citizens had to pay to watch television. The Goya would be returned, wrote the ransomer, if a charitable fund of equivalent value, £140,000, were established to pay for television licenses for old age pensioners. There seemed to be no personal motivation for the theft, only outrage at the government’s TV license scheme.

The police refused to negotiate and a second ransom note was received and read:

Goya Com 3. The Duke is safe. His temperature cared for – his future uncertain. The painting is neither to be cloakroomed or kiosked, as such would defeat our purpose and leave us to ever open arrest. We want pardon or the right to leave the country – banishment? We ask that some nonconformist type of person with the fearless fortitude of a Montgomery start the fund for £140,000. No law can touch him. Propriety may frown – but God must smile.

Still the police would not respond and a third ransom letter followed:

Terms are same. . . . An amnesty in my case would not be out of order. The Yard are looking for a needle in a haystack, but they haven’t a clue where the haystack is. . . I am offering three-pennyworth of old Spanish firewood in exchange for 140,000 of human happiness. A real bargain compared to a near million for a scruffy piece of Italian cardboard.

The police held their ground and the case went cold until 1965, when a note arrived at the offices of the Daily Mirror newspaper along with a luggage check ticket for the Birmingham rail station. Checking the locker, the police found the stolen painting, which had been deposited by someone identifying himself as a “Mister Bloxham,” likely a reference to Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, in which an infant is found in a handbag at a rail station luggage check. The painting had been recovered, handed over as a sign of good will by the thief, who realized that his demands, which he felt were entirely reasonable and noble, would not be met.

Rather than being a handsome and debonair art thief, the perpetrator turned out to be a middle aged, over weight,  unemployed bus driver named Kempton Bunton, who gave himself up six weeks later and told police that he had planned to use the ransom money to buy TV licenses for the poor, serving three months in jail for his offense.

During the trial the jury only convicted Bunton of the theft of the frame (which was not returned). Since his defence successfully claimed that he never wanted to keep the painting, he was not convicted of stealing the portrait itself. Bunton was sentenced to 3 months in prison. A provision in the Theft Act 1968, where section 11 makes it illegal to remove without authority any object displayed or kept for display to the public in a building to which the public have access, was enacted as a direct result of this case.
Many people have doubts about Bunton’s involvement in the theft, particularly as the large sized man could hardly have slipped in and out of the NPG through a partially opened window. And it’s been said that documents released in 1996 by the National Gallery are said to reveal his possible innocence. The mystery surrounding the Duke of Wellington continues. One thing’s for certain – Goya’s portrait of the Duke hangs once more in the National Portrait Gallery where, one would hope, the loo windows are now kept locked.

The Wellington Connection – Pubs

Today we’re taking a look at some of the many, many, many pubs named after the Hero of Waterloo.

As far as I can make out, the Duke of Wellington was not widely known as a drinking man, so the large number of pubs named in his honour is amazing – almost as many as those named for the Duke of York who, I believe, was a drinking man. And the Marquess of Angelsey, who may not have been a lush, but was certainly a wife stealer – but that’s another story. When in London, I heard tell of a man who has taken up the mission of visiting as many of the Duke of Wellington pubs across England as he can. He’s going to be very old, and very drunk, by the time he’s done. One of the prettiest Duke of Wellingtons I’ve seen is this one, though I’ve not personally visited it. Yet.

They’re in Surrey – check out the website here.

Whilst I haven’t made it my mission, I must admit that I’ve fallen upon, and entered, a few Wellington pubs myself, such as the one in Portobello Road that features this sign

And Brooke and I visited the Wellington at Waterloo south of the River in June, which you can read about in at prior post. If you’ve been following this blog, you’ll know that I fell upon yet another Wellington pub when in London recently, at the corner of Wellington Street and the Strand. Here’s a bit from that post to refresh your memory –

“took a boat cruise on the River Thames then went to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street for dinner. It was closed until the 29th – and the cab had left. Fleet Street after business hours is desolate, to say the least. What to do? Well, I thought, I’ll just carry on as if I know what the Hell I’m doing. “This way,” I told Greg as I walked purposefully towards the Strand. Please God, I prayed, let there be somewhere’s nice to eat. We passed The George pub – very old, very atmospheric, very closed. Xmas and the Bank Holiday are playing havoc with opening times. Right then, I told myself, keep marching. We fell upon Somerset House and went inside to watch the ice skaters. Then we walked another three blocks up the Strand when, off on the far right corner I saw something promising – lights were on, people were inside and it looked like a pub. It was a pub . . . The Duke of Wellington in Wellington Street. NO, I’m not kidding . . . saved by the Duke. Again. We had a pint in the bar and then went upstairs to the dining room, where we had a fantastic meal (lamb shank pie for me, steak for Greg) and warmed ourselves by the gas fire. The Duke of Wellington – I ask you, what were the odds!?”

Here are my personal photos of the pub, which don’t measure up to those above, but you’ll excuse me under the circumstances.

That’s the logo for The Lion King just behind the Duke – the pub is next to the theatre where it’s playing.

You can read a review of the pub here. To prove the point that one can, and often does, literally fall upon pubs named for the Duke of Wellington,  I tripped over yet another whilst Greg and I were on a Rock and Roll walking tour.

As we had to keep up with the tour guide, I didn’t have the opportunity to peek inside.

Which may be just as well, as I’ve come to learn that it’s known for being a gay bar. The Duke of Wellington . . . . . I ask you . . . . couldn’t they have changed the name to something a bit more appropriate?