Collingwood's own reception by the Spanish people afforded a remarkable instance of the estimation in which he was held and the extraordinary recognition of his integrity even by a lawless, unreasoning mob. John Stanhope, some years afterwards, recorded:—
"When, at an earlier period of the war, our expedition under the command of General Spencer appeared off Cadiz, there prevailed so great a jealousy against the English Army that the authorities refused to allow them to land.
"Such, however, was not the case with Lord Collingwood when he appeared with his fleet.
"He was received by high and low with the greatest enthusiasm. A publick fête was given to him, and my brother William who accompanied him on shore described the scene as one of the most striking sights he ever witnessed. One only feeling seemed to pervade the immense crowd of all ranks assembled to receive the Admiral, the desire of showing their respect and admiration for his character. What a triumph for one who, in the hour of victory, had succeeded to the command of a fleet that had annihilated the Spanish Navy, and since that time had been constantly blockading their coasts! But what must have been Lord Collingwood's feelings when the only pledge required before they permitted an English force to land in a place of so much importance, was his word of honour! They felt in him a confidence which they denied to our Government."
But in the midst of a situation so unique, Collingwood ignored the unparalleled homage paid to him, to revert persistently to each item of news respecting his distant home. The splendid fetes of which he formed the central figure, the adulation of an entire nation, find no mention in his letters to Stanhope, and are of less account to him than the most trivial circumstance regarding his family or his native county, on which his thoughts dwell tenderly, lingeringly. From Cadiz, in August, he laments the tidings conveyed to him by Stanhope of the death, at the age of eighty-nine, of his former Commander and neighbour, in Northumberland, Admiral Roddam.
Poor Admiral Roddam! I have indeed mourned his death, because I lost in him a kind friend who had always taken a sincere interest in my welfare; but he was become too infirm to enjoy comfort, and then to die is a blessing. I am glad he left your son his estate, but it was want of knowing the world if he thought of improving the Property by keeping him out of it so long.
For little William, on attaining the age of twenty-five, was to succeed to the estate of Collingwood's former Commander, and this must, if possible, have strengthened the link between the Admiral and the midshipman in whose progress he took a profound interest. Collingwood's own character is perhaps never more clearly portrayed than in his criticism of the little lad who had been committed to his care. "Of William," he wrote to Stanhope, in 1808, "everything I have to say is good—and such as must give you and Mrs Stanhope much satisfaction. He is the best-tempered boy that can be—has a superior understanding, which makes everything easy to him. He is very inquisitive in what relates to his duty, and comprehends it with a facility which few boys do, at this time I believe he has more knowledge than many twice his standing. He is never engaged in disputes, and this not from a milkiness and yielding to others, but he seems superior to contention, and leaves a blockhead to enjoy his own nonsense." In December of the same year he reiterates, "Your son always gives me satisfaction. He behaves well and always like a gentleman and I endeavour to instil in him a contempt for what is trifling and unworthy. When I come home I will leave him in a frigate and I hope I may soon, for I grow very weak and languid."
It was to be regretted that while evincing to the utmost his own contempt for what was "trifling and unworthy," it was impracticable for Collingwood to follow the example of his small midshipman and contentedly "leave a blockhead to his own nonsense." The realisation was torment to him that the very conditions of his service were dictated by those who had only a partial conception of his requirements, that his representations—his advice—were alike incessantly ignored, yet, none the less, that his tactics would subsequently be criticised pitilessly by men incapable of appreciating the difficulties with which he had been beset at the time of action. "I have lately had a most anxious and vexatious life," he wrote on May 16th, 1808, "since the Rochefort ships came into the Mediteranean and joined the Toulon, I have been in constant pursuit of them, but with bad intelligence and never knowing whether I was going right or not." Yet though compelled to act thus blindly, in that torturing uncertainty, the eyes of the world were upon him, and men, wise in the cognisance of after- events, would unhesitatingly judge him in the light of that knowledge.
More than once in his letters to Mrs Stanhope did the pent up bitterness of this recognition find vent. On May 16th, 1807, he wrote:—
I am sorry to see Mr Pole's speech about the Rochefort Squadron and Sir R. Strachan, insinuating that he was well provided with everything—and that had he been in the station that it was expected he should have held, they could not have escaped. The fact is they came here destitute of everything, one of his ships had not 20 tons of water, and none of them were in a condition to follow the enemy to a distant point. Those insinuations, though they advance nothing positive, are disgusting—the season of the year and the situation of the fleet on such an errand were sufficient reasons. Let your Politicians beware how they sour the minds of such men—men whose lives are devoted to their country. If ever they accomplish that, your State would not be worth half-a-crown.