Diary of the Times of George IV Volume 1 Section 1

COURTS are strange, mysterious places; those who pretend most to despise them covet being within their precincts— those who once obtain an entrance there generally lament their fate, and yet, somehow or other, they cannot break their chains. I believe, nevertheless, that it is all one whether these circles of society, which stand apart from the rest of the world, exist under one form of government, or under another; whether under Emperors, Kings, Protectors or Consuls; they may vary as to modes and designations, but courts are courts still, from the earliest times even to these days. Intrigues, jealousies, heart-burnings, lies, dissimulation, thrive in them as mushrooms in a hot-bed. Notwithstanding, they are necessary evils, and they afford a great school both for the heart and head. It is utterly impossible, so long as the world exists, that similar societies should not exist also; and one may as well declaim against every other defect attendant upon humanity, and endeavour to extirpate crime from the world, as pretend to put down courts and their concomitant evils.

December, 1810'.— Lady M— C— called upon me by appointment; we went together to Her Royal Highness the Duchess of B—k. She thought more of me than she had ever done before, because I was on the road to royal favour, she herself being in her own estimation an engrafted sprig of royalty¹. We rumbled in her old tub all the way to New-street, Spring Gardens, much to the discomfiture of my bones; for if ever the vehicle had springs, lime had stiffened their joints as completely as it has done those of its soi-disant royal mistress. Lady M— C— was grandly gracious, and gave me dissertations on etiquette, such as it existed in her young days, till we reached our destination. We were ushered into the dirtiest room I ever beheld, empty, and devoid of comfort. A few filthy lamps, stood on a sideboard— common chairs were placed around very dingy walls— and in the middle of this empty space, sat the old Duchess, a melancholy specimen of decayed royalty. There is much goodness in her countenance, and a candour and sincerity in her manner, and even in her abrupt and rough conversation, which is invaluable in a person of her rank, whose life must necessarily have been passed in the society of those whose very essence is deceit. Her former friendship, for friends very dear to me, of whom she spoke in terms of respect and love, gave an interest to the visit which it could not otherwise have had. I sat, therefore, patiently listening to Lady M— C— and Her Royal Highness, who talked of lords and ladies of the last century, and wondered at those of the present, and passed trippingly over the peccadillos of their own contemporaries, to vent all their moral indignation upon those of mine.

Note 1. If Lady M— C— means Lady Mary Coke (age 83), it is well known she supposed herself to he the widow of the antecedent Duke of York; for when her mother one day found the Duke in her apartment, and rated her for the impropriety of her conduct, she drew herself up with ineffable dignity, and replied, "Madam, do you know whom you are talking to? You are talking to the Duchess of York." — ED.

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Old Mr. L——ne¹ was announced: poor man, what did he get by his attendant on royalty? the illwill or all parties. He knows many things which, if told, would set London on fire. Soon after his entrance, Lady M— C— arose, and, kicking her train behind her, backed out of the room in capital style. How the heart dilates or closes in the presence of different persons! It must surely be very unwholesome to be with those in whose society the latter is the case.

Note 1. If these initials designate Mr. Livingstone, the tutor of some of the Princes, he was a good dull man, not likely to be intrusted with state secrets. — ED.

Went to Kensington— a great ball— every body of the highest fashion — Dukes of Portland and Beaufort, Earl Harrowby¹, etc., etc. As I always wished the royal hostess well, I was glad to observe that the company then frequenting the palace were of the best. I sat down by some old friends, and felt that to be near them was a comfort, surrounded as I was by persons for whom I cared not, and who cared not for me; but the Princess beckoned to me, and taking my arm, leant upon it, parading me around the apartments. The inner room was set out with refreshments, and a profusion of gold plate— which, by the way, in after limes I never saw: was it taken away, or was it otherwise disposed of? I know not. Sofas were placed around the tables, and the whole thing was well managed.

Note 1. These noblemen and their wives continued to visit Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales till the King was declared too ill to reign, and the Prince became in fact Regent; then those ladies disappeared that moment from Kensington, and were never seen there more. It was the besom of expediency, which swept them all away.

Her Royal Highness wished the company to come into this banquetting room; but, eiiher out of respect, and not knowing whether they ought to do so or nor, or because they preferred the outer room, no one would come in, except Lady 0— d, Lord H. Fitzgerald, and Lord G — —r, who was forcibly; seized upon by Lady 0— d. Altogether, in my quality of lookeron, I could not but think that .lady was no honour to society; and it was only, surprising to remark in. her instance, as well as in that of many others, how well impudence succeeds, even, with the mild and the noble, who are often subdued by its arrogant assumption of command.

The Princess complained of the weight of some jewels she wore in her head, and said they gave her the headache; then turning to a person who was evidently a favourite, asked, "May I not take them off now that the first parade is over?" He replied in his own doucereux voice, "Your, Royal Highness is the best judge; but, now that you have shown off the magnificence of the ornament, I .think it would be cruel that you should condemn yourself to suffer by wearing it longer. "In my opinion you will be just as handsome without ir."

I was, convinced, from the manner in which these words were, spoken, that that man loved her. Poor soul! of all those on whom she conferred benefits, I think he was the only man or woman who could be said to have loved her, — and he ought not to have done so

I dined again at Kensington. There were assembled a company, of the very first persons. of the realm. I was glad to see that what had been told me of low company was not true.

Wednesday, 9th, 1810.— This day, I found Her Royal Highness sitting for her picture. She received me with her/usual graciousness of manner, and desired me to "come and. sit,"— her phrase for feeling comfortable and at one's ease. She informed me that Mr. S, the painter engaged upon the picture, was only altering the costume of a portrait taken many years back, which she said was by no means doing his talent justice. Certainly the picture was frightful, and I have often regretted that I never saw a tolerable likeness painted of her. Although during the last years of her life she was bloated and disfigured by sorrow and by the life she led, the Princess was in her early youth a pretty woman; fine light hair— very delicately formed features, and a fine complexion — quick, glancing, penetrating eyes, long cut and rather sunk in the head, which gave them much expression— and a remarkably delicately formed mouth; but her head was always too large for her body, and her neck too short; and latterly, her whole figure was like a ball, and her countenance became hardened, and an expression of defiance and boldness took possession of it, that was very unpleasant. Nevertheless, when she chose to assume it, she had a very noble air, and I have seen her on more than one occasion put on a dignified carriage, which became her much more than the affectation of girlishness which she generally preferred.

To-day I received the following letter from my friend "Matt. Lewis¹:" -—

(Dated) Holland House, Dec 9, 1810.

The only news which is likely to be very interesting, to you is, that I have got a violent cold; and that, too, can scarcely be called news, for I have now had it about, a week. Perhaps you may think this a subject of much interest to myself, but of very little to you; but I can assure you that you are likely to feel the bad effects of it, for it makes me so cross and so stupid, that you must not expect to find in this letter the slightest scrap of goodnature or the faintest spark of entertainment.

Note 1. Matt. Lewis, known to the public as "Monk Lewis." He was one of the most original characters I ever knew; he possessed generous and noble feelings, and talents of a very high description; but the whole was marred by conceit, which frequently rendered him ridiculous: nevertheless, his friends, who profited by his good qualities, and enjoyed the amusement which no one could at limes better supply to society than himself, will not like to see even this shade thrown upon his character.— ED.

[9th December 1810] Since you left town, I have been to Brocket Hall, and passed ten very pleasant days there en trio with William (age 31)¹ and Lady Caroline Lamb (age 25). I was at Kensington, both Saturday and Sunday last, and dine there again to-morrow. The Princess was quite well — very anxious about the dear good King; talked a great deal about you, and expressed much impatience for a letter from you, giving an account of the wedding, and its antecedents and consequences. Nothing is talked of, but the fluctuations in the King's health, and the probable consequences, till I am wearied to death of the eternal discussion. Sometimes he is said to be so much better that Parliament is to be immediately prorogued; then he is considerably worse, and the Prince is to be appointed Kegent, with full powers, the next day. The King's situation is so doubtful that Perceval is resolved to protract measures as much as possible, and the regal power is at present to be confided to a commission of Lords Justices; then again, the Prince, and the King, and the Lords Justices, are all to be laid on the shelf together, and the Regency is to be vested in Her Majesty Queen Charlotte.

Note 1. Now Lord Melbourne.

All these projects in their turns are sifted, and supported, and contradicted, and laid down again, leaving one, at the end of the discussion, just as ignorant and as confused as at the beginning. So that I grow quite wearied and impatient with the subject, and am in the precise situation of Sir Philip Francis, when the Prince was telling him a long prosing story, which still went on and went on, without coming to a conclusion: 'Well, Sir? well, Sir?' cried Sir Philip, out of all patience—'Well, Sir, well! and what then, Sir? what then?' At last the Prince said, 'Why, what's the matter with you, Sir Francis? what do you want?' 'Want, Sir, want? What's the matter with me? Sir, I want a result.' And this is precisely the only thing now which I want to hear about the Regency. Moreover, it is at last certain that latterly the King's general health is worse than it was; in particular, he has lately had an internal complaint, which in his peculiar circumstances is said frequently to be the forerunner of idiotcy.

For my own part, I am for having the Queen at the head of the government; it is certain, that having a man there, has as yet produced but little good against Bonaparte, and therefore I should like to try a woman. Wha knows, but the Queen may be the very woman mentioned in the Revelations, who is destined to be crowned with glory, and conquer the beast; and therefore, as soon as she is appointed Regent, I would immediately have her send a challenge to Ronaparte; decide the whole dispute by single combat; and if she will but follow the example of that illustrious heroine, the Princess Rusty Fusty, in setting her back against a tree, and defending herself with her fan and her scissors, I make no doubt she will have the same success, and lay the holy Roman Emperor dead at her feet.

In the midst of all these political speculations, Lord Grey has made the disputants a low bow, and has gone back to Northumberland, to remain there till the middle of January. I asked Lord Lauderdale, if Lord Grey's friends did not find fault with his being out of the way at such a moment? 'By no means,' answered he with great gravity; 'Lady Grey, is to be confined very soon, and he sacrifices every thing to the consideration of his wife. He was quite in the right. I always do the same thing¹.'

Note 1. This is rather a strange affirmation for the man who is surnamed " The Father of Divorces."

London is very full, and the Duchess of Gordon has had some good assemblies. The Princess of Wales lives quietly; never has above four or five people at dinner, and has quite given up going to the play, though she owns, she considers this is a very great privation. I have been teased into promising to put together some showy spectacle for Covent-Garden; and the Princess insists on its not being produced before Easter Monday, as she says that till then she has no hopes of being allowed to visit the theatre.

I am quite impatient for your return to town, not only because I shall be very glad to see you again, but for your own sake, that you may see La Perouse. I am certain you will be pleased with it out of all measure. I saw it the other night, and was quite delighted: and I promise myself great pleasure in seeing the pleasure which it will give you. There is besides a new actress, a Miss Booth, who promises to be the greatest acquisition that the stage has made for many years. She plays Mrs. Jordan's characters with great sprightliness; a very pretty little figure (but not a very pretty face, at least to my taste); great intelligence, much appearance of sensibility and naïveté, and, above all, a voice very sweet, touching, and so articulate, that it can be heard all over the house, even in a whisper. She dances, too, remarkably well, and is very good in pantomime. The only thing in which she fails is her singing, which is abominable; but I trust (as she is to set herself to the study of music immediately, with all her might and main,) perhaps she may mend this deficiency.

How do you like Thalaba? There are always so many nothings to be done in London daily, that I have not read ten lines for the last ten weeks, till I came to Holland House, where I have galloped through two volumes of Madame Du Deffand's Letters, and with much amusement, though the anecdotes are in them selves of no great value; still, being written on the spot, and at the moment, they have a vivacity and inter-, est which make one read letter after • letter without weariness. The extracts from Lord Orford's letters contain frequently excellent things; and indeed, in Madame Du Deffand's own general observations, there is much good sense and plain truth; but that sense and truth, being generally grounded upon knowledge of the world, and experience of its inhabitants, it unfortunately follows, of course, that the information which it conveys must be of a disagreeable and humiliating complexion;> but what puts me out of all patience, and seems to me quite hard-hearted, is Lord Orford's perpetually torturing the poor old blind woman upon her vanity and her indiscretion, and producing all her defects before her in terrible array, and that too, in the most unqualified language. Could he expect, that at eighty she would cure herself of her faults, or that if time had not rendered her discreet, his lectures would,— and if being indiscreet, contributed to her amusement, in the nameof Heaven, why (situated as she was) should she not be so. I really think that this plain-dealing with a poor old blind woman, who had passed her eighty long years in frivolity, vanity, and dissipation, something barbarous; and I cannot see any purpose which this opening her eyes to her imperfections could possibly answer, except that of vexing and mortifying her: for, as to correcting her,1 she must have been long past that, and the idea was ridiculous, though, to be sure, the poor old soul frequently promises to set about the amendment of her faults, as if she was a little school girl, which is, in truth, almost as ridiculous as the advice.

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Have you read these letters? You know, of course, that they were edited by your friend, Miss Berry, who has also written the Preface, the Life, and the Notes, all of which are most outrageously abused by many persons, though, in my opinion, without any just grounds¹.

Believe me, ever yours truly,

(Signed) "M. G. LEWIS."

Note 1. It would be difficult to account for this '' outrageous abuse," were it not an established fact, that all women who meddle with literature, especially those in the higher ranks of life, place themselves in a pillory, at which every impertinent idler conceives he has a right to throw his rotten eggs. Miss Berry has, however, established her reputation as an authoress, in spite of all detraction. Her comparative view of social life, in England and France, is assuredly one of Ihe best written and most comprehensive views of the subject which can issue from the press, and combines all the tact of woman's feeling, with the strength and terseness ascribed to male intellect alone. This work, so superior to the epherreral fictions of the day, has obtained for her the sober and lasting suffrage of the public. The affection and admiration of a wide circle of friends, (a dearer boon still, to one whose heart, like hers, rests its happiness on them), is that which it has ever been her privilege to call her own, and their pride to bestow. — ED.

To-day, I was invited to dine at Kensington. It was a private dinner party; the table lighted from above, and there were dumb waiters.

Thursday, December. — This was the Princess's birthday. I went to pay my respects. Her Royal Highness was very injudiciously attired,— wrapped in a pink dressing-gown. Lady C—n was with her; she seemed dead tired of the latter, who in truth appears to be a dull woman, and there is an expression in her features of something very like deceit, and a sneer, which makes me grave in despite of myself. Shortly after her departure, came the Duke of Brunswick. He paid his sister a set compliment, and gave her a ring of no value. — (N.B. All princes and princesses give shabby presents).

The Duke of Brunswick is very near being a handsome man; his figure is light and graceful; and were it not that he carries his head ill, he would be a noble looking creature. His eyes are deep sunk in his head, more so than I ever saw in any one, and his brows are remarkably prominent, with shaggy eyebrows. This circumstance gives him a sombre expression, and indeed, the whole cast of his countenance is gloomy, but his features are regular; and when he smiles, there is a transitory sweetness whith is very striking, by the contrast to his usual severity of expression. In manner he is very reserved,— stiff and Germanic. He remained some time conversing with his sister in German, eyeing the lady in waiting occasionally askance. He seemed glad to take his leave.

Her Royal Highness the old Duchess of Brunswick next arrived, and still I was desired to remain. I thought this conference would never end; and yet it seemed not to delight either party. What a factitious life! The Duchess appears kind-hearted; the tears rolled down her cheeks as she said the poor Princess Amelia cannot live: she seemed really affected. I take her to be a kind-hearted upright woman, but not in the least clever, very slow in her speech and in her comprehension, whereas her daughter is precisely the reverse, and has no patience with the repetition of phrases, and the lengthiness of histories, for which, in fact, she feels no interest.

To-day, I had the honour of meeting the Princess Charlotte, at her grandmother's. She is very clever, but has at present the manners of a hoyden school girl; she talked all sorts of nonsense to me; she is a fine piece of flesh and blood, but can put on dignity when she chooses, though it seems to sit uneasily upon her. What will be her fate? It is impossible not to feel an interest in any human being upon whom such a weight of responsibility is placed.

There is no company at the Duchess of Brunswick's, but old women of the last century, and naturally the Princess calls this a dullification. It is unwise for the old to forget that they were once young; this it is which always put the Princess out of humour when she is there, and she yawns and shows it.

There was a Count Munster who sat next to me at dinner, who seems quite ill placed in a court; for he appears to me to be a delightful and a particularly sincere person. He expresses himself on many subjects with great enthusiasm, and has all the sentiment of a German. He said Italy was a country in which one should not live too long. I asked him, "Why?" His reply was, "It is too delightful." The Princess of Wales told him, that whatever little good she had in her, she owed it to his mother, who had been her governess.

One day, Her Royal Highness said to me, "If I lived always with my cousins, the royal family, and if they were kind to me, I should like them, and care for them; but I cannot say, treating me as they do, that I feel that affection for them I should otherwise feel, except indeed for my dear old uncle; and he, poor dear, is lost to me now: so I confess all I am afraid of is, lest the Princess Amelia should die, because I could not then get out to amuse myself." There was a levity in this confession, certainly, but yet there was a sincerity in it, which made me augur well of the ingenuousness of her character.

The royal family had sent her presents on her birthday; the Queen, a very handsome aigrette, which the' young Princess Charlotte observed was really pretty well, considering who sent it. She then laughed heartily, her own peculiar loud but musical laugh.

                    To-day, I received the following letter from Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales:—
                
                    Monday, Dec. 10, 1810.
                
                    I am just on the point of setting out for the Priory, my dear Lord, where I don't expect to be much enlivened, but go partly from civility, and partly from curiosity, to make the acquaintance with the 'Ida of Athens' which I trust will gratify my search for knowledge, or my taste for quizzing.

There is nothing new here under the sun, since you left the metropolis, and. I lead literally the life of a recluse, for still public amusements are prohibited for the present. Thanks to heaven, no Lord Chamberlain has. been appointed yet, otherwise the dear operas would have begun by this time, and I should have felt myself obliged to renounce this great amusement. The parties in, Hanover Square, are not more lively than they were last.winter in Spring Gardens, except we miss the galanti show., which was exhibited, of all the 'old fograms, since the reign of George the First,' which, I suppose, was intended to show the difference that existed between them and the beauties [Windsor Beauties] of Charles the Second, painted by Sir Peter Lely; but I am afraid his pencil, as that of Titian, or of Marc Angelo¹, would never have succeeded in making them rivals of that happy century;— their beauty was much more valued and praised, except there is one precedent, which will remain on record in the Argyle family². Your letter arrived most welcomely, as, there had, been various reports about a suspension d'armes, an armistice, or a reireat; resembling that of Massena; but all this puff must have been merely raised by envy, love of gossip, and newsmongers.

Note 1. It would appear, her Royal Highness was not very learned in vertù, or very correct in nomenclature.

Note 2. I suppose Her Royal Highness alluded to Lady Charlotte Campbell, the beauty of the Argyle family of that day.

I intend to go to Blackheath, before Christmas, to take in an addilionalstock of health, and strength, and spirits for the winter campaign, which I suspect will be rather longer than usual, parliament having met so early. Blackheath will be called Le Palais des....¹, as the sleep will be the most predominant amusement and relaxation, otherwise I would feel myself dans l'ordre de la Trappe, being with my lay sister², Mrs. Lisle, who has taken her resemblance from the springing skeleton. If any body would take the pains to write my biography, they would inform the public, that for some secret and dreadful crime this penance was inflicted upon her. This is the way one may vouch for the historian's veracity; but as I flatter myself, that this wonderful production of epistolary punning will remain in the archives of the illustrious family of the, that upon record, matter of fact reasons of my absence from Kensington will be known.

Believe me, for ever, your most sincere

(Signed) " C. P."

P.S. — As much as you may admire eccentricity, I defy any person of taste and tact to admire Miss O——; she is just what Moliere describes so well, in one of his plays, of the 'Precieuses Ridicules,' very plain, and has an unpleasing expression in her countenance; her figure is the most diminutive I ever saw, both in height and breadth, without manners and without grace; she sings, what every other person would call, like a crow, and plays the harp like a young school miss: in short, I trust that we shall not meet again³. And I can easily imagine, that all men, except the Marquis, hold her in abhorrence.

Note 1. This word is illegible in the original letter.

Note 2. Rather a confusion here of similes, and metaphors, and persons.

Note 3. This abuse is, and will be thought by most readers, to be unjust and false, and seems dictated by some private pique. Did Miss O ever offend Her Royal Highness, who was in general a good-humoured person? Miss O——, now Lady M——, was far removed above the reach of such squibs; and her decided superiority of talent ranks her amongst those who depend not on royal favour for success. — ED.

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The above letter may convey to posterity an idea of the kind of ill-assorted matter, which filled the mind of this unfortunate Princess; but something must be attributed to her want of knowledge of the English language, and much indulgence may be extended to a person in Her Royal Highness's situation, who was constantly goaded publicly and privately, to irritation — a fact, which she was too proud to acknowledge, but which made her take refuge in an affected jocularity, and a pretence to wit.

Georgian Books, Diary of the Times of George IV Volume 1 Section 1