Biography of Sarah Bazett Countess Essex 1759-1838

Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville. To the Duke of Devonshire (age 21). London: May 10, 1812.

Granville is gone to vote against Reform¹, and G. is at Spencer House. I am quite alone, very tired, have seen nobody, heard nothing, and it is therefore only upon the score of brotherly love that you can be glad to hear from me. My last gaiety was at Lady Essex's on Sunday, where Lady Hamilton (age 47) did attitudes in a shawl of Lady Essex's (age 52), who looked inspired and will I hope shortly take to doing them herself.

I was at Mrs. Gordon's on Monday. It was very pleasant. She did the honours so sturdily and goodhumouredly, that it made everything go off well. I saw my Aunt Spencer, grunting and elbowing through the crowd and afterwards squatting down with a bevy of respectable women about her. It must be dull for Georgiana², who seems to have no acquaintance but Lady Cork, the Dowager Lady Pembroke (age 75), and Mrs. Howe.

Dear Rawdon was pushing about in a fury, her shawl upon her arm and in her countenance 'I will endure it no longer.' The daughter very pretty, but her blooming little face quite lost in curls and nosegays. Lady Sandon, with her eyes shut, steered about between them.

Lord Byron (age 24) is still upon a pedestal and Caroline William (age 26) doing homage. I have made acquaintance with him. He is agreeable, but I feel no wish for any further intimacy. His countenance is fine when it is in repose, but the moment it is in play, suspicious, malignant, and consequently repulsive. His manner is either remarkably gracious and conciliatory, with a tinge of affectation, or irritable and impetuous, and then I am afraid perfectly natural.

Note 1. Mr. Canning and his Mends had gradually adopted Liberal opinions on most questions except Beform. After his death they most of them supported, Lord Grey in his Reform policy.

Note 2. Her daughter.

Adeline Horsey Recollections. We spent many week-ends at Cassiobury with [her former husband] Lord and Lady Essex [Note. presumed to refer to before 1838 when Lady Essex died?], and as it is only seventeen miles from London, we found it most accessible, and used to go there in the winter as well as the summer.

Cassiobury was the scene of a practical joke which originated with Henry Blackwood (age 24), who was staying there one summer. Some very self-important young men had been invited for the week-end, and Henry Blackwood thought it would be great fun to enact the part of highwaymen and stop their travelling-carriage as they were driving through the lonely park. He enlisted two other kindred spirits to help him, and, of course, the whole house-party was in the secret.

We were all full of conjectures as to how these young bloods would face the highway-men. They would naturally be startled, we thought, but as they were (according to themselves) such ultra-superior people, we could not imagine them behaving, even under such conditions, in any other than an ultra-superior way. The eventful evening was fine and dark, and we all went to the place destined for the scene of the robbery, and hid under cover, patiently waiting for the fun to begin. Henry Blackwood and his friends were disguised beyond recognition, and did indeed look desperadoes of the road.

Note A. last the faint noise of wheels in the distance was heard, and as they drew nearer we were breathless with expectation. The travelling-carriage was dimly discernible - it approached - Henry Blackwood rushed forward to the horses' heads, while his friends told the trembling post-boys to drive on at their peril. Needless to say the carriage was at once brought to a standstill, one highwayman stood by the two horses, and Henry Blackwood went to the carriage door and told the occupants to alight, and hand over their valuables.

We thought that the crucial moment had arrived for our superior friends to assert themselves, but we were speedily disillusioned, for the young men, who were giving vent to a series of frightened squeaks, were terrified out of their wits. "Spare our lives", they cried in an imploring chorus, "and you can take everything we have!" "Spare our lives", they kept on repeating as they handed over their money, watches and jewellery to the merciless Henry. At last, half dead with fear, they were allowed to enter the carriage, which was driven away as though pursued by the devil.

When we emerged from our hiding-place and saw the booty, we were highly amused, and, I may say, very disgusted at the cowardice shown by the superior young men. It was a difficult task to enact the part of sympathetic listeners later in the evening, and hear a very much embroidered account of the dozens of highwaymen who infested the Park, armed to the teeth and apparently villains of the deepest dye.

The feelings of the young cowards can be easily imagined when next morning, at breakfast, Henry Blackwood returned them their belongings "with the compliments of the high-waymen", and the suppressed laughter which greeted the announcement made them feel very small indeed. They left later in the day, but the story got about, and they never felt so superior afterwards.