And still, at any mention of his home or of those dearest to him, there breaks involuntarily into his correspondence that longing, which would not be repressed, for a sorely needed respite from labour and for the balm of reunion with those he loved. There were, perhaps, few people to whom he ventured to unburden himself as simply and spontaneously as he did to Stanhope, a man linked to him by the tie of kinship, yet not so closely as to make any such self-revelation on his part a possible selfishness. Thus it is that this hitherto unpublished batch of his correspondence betrays ever more and more, with a pathos of which the writer was obviously unconscious, how the strain of watching and of loneliness was undermining an indomitable brain and soul.
Collingwood's existence, indeed, alternated between an eternal racking anxiety and a monotony before which the imagination sinks appalled. "Between days and nights I am almost wore out," he wrote briefly to Stanhope on April 29th, 1806, "but I do not mean to quit my station while I have health"; and on September 26th of that same year, after writing an account of the situation in which he finds himself, he exclaims abruptly, "It is the dullest life that can be conceived and nothing but the utmost patience can endure it!" During long months of blockading, dawn after dawn arose to reveal to his weary gaze the same boundless expanse of rocking ocean, which he had well-nigh learnt to hate; the same restricted space of deck to traverse; the same routine of action to contemplate; the same type of food further to nauseate a reluctant appetite; the same complete lack of mental and physical relaxation, which is, in itself, almost an essential to sanity. Thus, soon, to the tension of that perpetual guardianship was added the haunting dread that an existence which was undermining his health might also impair his mental faculties, and this at a time when he was aware that one false step, one error in strategy, and ignominy might be his portion or the liberties of England herself be the sacrifice.
In a diary [9] in which, during the last years of his life, he entered memoranda, ostensibly from which to compile his dispatches, there is conveyed more eloquently than by any laboured insistence the ceaseless fret of his guardianship and the impracticability which he experienced of sifting the truth or falsehood of the information on which his line of conduct was dependent. Incessantly do its pages recall, with elaborate care, the details of reported engagements and of reported manoeuvres of the enemy, supplied from some apparently unimpeachable source, and incessantly are such memoranda revoked emphatically by a later entry. Once, after retailing minutely the details of an assault undertaken by the Portuguese and Spaniards against the French—which he was informed had continued for six days and during which about 8000 of the former and 6000 of the latter had been killed—and subsequent to which all the inhabitants of Elvas had been put to the sword by the French—he appends with pardonable irritation—"Not a word of this true—the whole a fabrication for the amusement of country gentlemen and ladies." Meanwhile he was confronted by the knowledge that those who were most ready to criticise his decisions, had least comprehension of the difficulties with which he had to contend.
On May 15th, 1807, Mrs Stanhope writes:—
I have had letters from Lord Collingwood and William of so late a date as the 29th of April. Lord C. writes out of Spirits, the recent great losses have hurt him and the failure at Constantinople, tho' no blame attached to him. He sent out one third more force than the Government considered necessary and they were at the Dardanelles when they were supposed to be with him; but the defences of Constantinople, both natural and of art, were little known, the Castles as strong as Cannon can make them and of that particular kind the Turks use and from which they fire balls of granite or marble;—those would not go far, but they do very well for a passage which is so narrow their object cannot be far of. One which passed through the Windsor Castle weighed 800 pounds. He thinks there will be an active campaign in Italy— Sicily their object.
On December 19th, Marianne Stanhope retailed—
Papa has this instant received a most delightful account from Lord Collingwood of William, everything that is satisfactory. He says everything that we could wish both of his health, disposition and capacity, the letter is dated October 13th, off Sicily. He mentions his hopes of being able to catch the French if they come to Sicily, but the difficulty will be, from the extent of the coast they will come from all quarters. He said that the Sicilians finding that we take the part of the Court who are most completely detested will make for relief from any quarter. The Turks, he says, detest the Russians, and lament much the misunderstanding with us, but are completely in the power of the French past all relief. The Buenos Ayres expedition, he says, he always blamed, and that it turned out exactly as he predicted, and that we are most completely detested by the people who formerly respected us.
On August 13th, 1808, off Cadiz, Collingwood learnt that the French General, Dupont, and some officers who had capitulated, had been brought to Port St Mary, for their better security to be embarked on board a Spanish Man-o'-war. The mob, however, attacked and wounded Dupont before he could be got on board, and on August 26th Collingwood relates to Mrs Stanhope:—
The Mob of Port Santa Maria seized on Dupont's baggage, for the Generals and Juntas may make Conventions as they please, but the People is the only real Power at the present moment, and they will observe as much of them as they like. On breaking open the Trunks they were found to be filled with plunder—Church Plate mostly—but everything that was gold or silver was acceptable. I went to see it yesterday at the Custom House, and an immense quantity of it there was—from a silver Toy to the Crown of Thorns which they had torn from the head of Jesus Christ. I heard at first that the mob had been raised against the French by the black servant of a Frenchman having part of the robe of a Bishop for his dress, but this was not the case. The black man had the Bishop's Cross hung with a chain of gold round his neck—it was of large amethysts and diamonds worth about 2000 pounds.
Dupont was so very silly as to write to the Governor complaining of the people who had robbed him, saying that he felt sensibly for the honour of Spain and desired that his "property" might be returned to him. He had nothing but those trunks of plundered silver!