AFTER NAPOLEON'S FALL
News of the Emperor's fall--Foreign plans--Disquieting
rumours--Madame de Staël--London in an uproar--Emperors and
Kings--Hero-worship at close quarters.
1814.
The sudden rupture of the Peace of Amiens in May, 1803, closed France to
Englishmen, except to the miserable eight or nine thousand who were in
the country at the time, and were forcibly detained there by orders of
the First Consul. It was not until eleven years later, in April, 1814,
when Napoleon had abdicated, and when the allies had triumphantly
entered Paris and restored Louis XVIII. to the throne of his fathers,
that peaceful British travellers could cross the frontier once more.
The busy parish life which had occupied Edward Stanley during the years
which had elapsed since his first visit to France had not made him less
keen for travel than he had been in his college days, and all his ardour
was aroused by the news that there was to be an end to Napoleon's rule.
The excitement caused by the rumour of the capture of Paris and the
deposition of the Emperor may be guessed at by a letter received at
Alderley from Lord Sheffield, father of Lady Maria Stanley, in the
spring of 1814.
_Letter from Lord Sheffield._
PORTLAND PLACE, _April 6, 1814_.
...I am just come from the Secretary of State's Office. We are all
gasping for further intelligence from Paris, but none has arrived since
Capt. Harris, a very intelligent young man who was despatched in half an
hour after the business was completed, but of course cannot answer half
the questions put to him. He came by Flanders, escorted part of the way
by Cossacks, but was stopped nearly a day on the road. Schwartzenberg
completely out-generalled Buonaparte. An intercepted letter of the
latter gave him notice of an intended operation. He instantly decided on
the measures which brought on the capture of Paris. I suppose you know
that King Joseph sent the Empress and King of Rome previously to
Rambouillet. It is supposed that Buonaparte has fallen back to form a
junction with some other troops. A friend of Marshal Beresford's[17] has
just called here who lately had a letter from the Marshal which says
that he is quite sure that Soult has not 15,000 men left, and that in
sundry engagements and by desertion he has lost about 16,000 men. I
have no letter from Sir Henry[18] or William Clinton[19] since I saw
you, but I learn at the War Office that the latter was, on the 20th of
last month, within ten days' march of the right wing of Lord
Wellington's army.[20]
* * * * *
Further news soon followed, and the authentic accounts of the Emperor's
abdication at Fontainebleau on April 11th, and of his banishment to
Elba, made it certain that his power was broken.
The Rector of Alderley was eager to seize the chance of viewing the
wreck of Napoleon's Empire while the country was still ringing with
rumours of battles and sieges, and he began to make plans to do so
almost as soon as the French ports were open.
His wife was as keen as himself, and it was at first suggested that Sir
John and Lady Maria, as well as Mrs. Edward Stanley, should join the
expedition; but the difficulties of finding accommodation, and the fears
of the disturbed state of the country, made them abandon the idea, to
their great disappointment.
The following extracts from the correspondence of Lady Maria Stanley
explain the reasons for the journey being given up by herself and her
sister-in-law.
They describe the feeling in England on the foreign situation, and also
give a glimpse of the wayward authoress, Madame de Staël, who was just
then on her way back to France after a banishment of ten years.
_Lady Maria Stanley to her sister, Lady Louisa Clinton._
ALDERLEY PARK, _April 30, 1814_.
So the Parisian expedition is at an end for us, in convention, that is,
for I think Edward will brave all difficulties, and with Ed. Leycester,
taking Holland first on his way, make a fight for Paris if possible; but
all who know anything on the subject represent the present difficulties
as so great, and the probable future ones so much greater, that Kitty
(Mrs. Ed. Stanley) has given up all thought of making the attempt this
year.
Lodging at Paris is difficult to be had, and there are even serious
apprehensions of a scarcity of provisions there. Moreover, the wise ones
would not be surprised if things were in a very unsettled and, perhaps,
turbulent state for some months. This is Miss Tunno's information,
confirmed by other accounts she has had from Paris.
Madame Moreau's[21] brother means to return to prepare for her
reception and the mode of travelling, and when all is arranged to come
again to fetch her.
There seems every reason to think another year preferable for a trip,
especially as I have been making the same melancholy reflections as Cat.
Fanshawe,[22] and feared there would not be one clever or agreeable
person left in London a Twelve-month hence; my only comfort is the
expectation that House rent will be very cheap, and that the said Cat.
will be better disposed to take up with second best company for want of
perfection, and that we may have more of her society.
...All you say of the French nobility and their feelings is very true;
but if they return with the sentiment that all the Senate who wish for a
good constitution are "des coquins," which I very much suspect, I shall
consider the emigrants are the greatest "coquins" of the two sets.
Surely, all the very bad Republicans and terrorists are exterminated. I
should like to see a list of the Constituent Assembly, with an account
of what has become of each. I have been reading all the accounts we have
of the Revolution from the beginning. When I begin I am as fierce a
Republican as ever, and think no struggle too much for the purpose of
amending such a government or such laws. By the time I come to /93,
however, one begins to hesitate, but I rejoice most heartily the old
times are not restored, and hope Louis means to be sincere and
consistent with his good beginning.
I return the "Conte de Cely," which is very entertaining and
interesting, as no doubt speaking the sentiments of all the old
nobility. I do not think France has seen the end of her troubles
entirely. It is impossible the Senate and the Emigrants can sit down
quietly together, but the former--the Marshals and the Generals--would
be formidable if they had reason given them to doubt the security of
Louis' acceptation of the Constitution. If the Bourbons share the
sentiments of their nobles, will you not give me leave to think they are
too soon restored?
Miss Tunno is very intimate with Mdme. Moreau and a cousin of hers. All
her accounts have been conformable with yours.
_Lady Louisa Clinton to her sister, Lady Maria Stanley._
To-day I sat an hour with Cat. Fanshawe, and was highly amused by the
account she gave of Mme. de Staël bolting up to her while standing
speaking to Lord Lansdowne and some others at Mrs. Marcet's,[23] and
saying, "I want to be acquainted with you. They say you have written a
minuet. I am not a judge of English poetry, but those who are told me
it is very good. Is it printed?" This intolerable impertinence, which,
however, she probably meant for condescension, so utterly overset Cat.,
that she could find not a word to say, and treated the overture so
coldly that nothing more came of it.
I exhort Cat. to recollect that the woman was so notorious for excessive
ill-breeding, that no particular affront was intended, and hoped she
would not continue coy, as I long to hear something of this Lioness from
one who can judge.
Hitherto I have had no such luck. I hear the most exaggerated statements
of the Baroness's absurdities, or of the necessity of her being one of
every literary party.
_Letter from Miss Catherine Fanshawe, after meeting Lord Byron and Mme
de Staël at Sir Humphry and Lady Davy's._
_Early Spring, 1814._
I have just stayed in London long enough to get a sight of the last
imported lion,[24] Mme de Staël; but it was worth twenty peeps through
ordinary show-boxes, being the longest and most entertaining dinner at
which I ever in my life was present. The party being very small, her
conversation was for the benefit of all who had ears to hear, and even
my imperfect organ lost little of the discourse--happy if memory had
served me with as much fidelity; for, had the whole discourse been
written without one syllable of correction, it would be difficult to
name a dialogue so full of eloquence and wit. Eloquence is a great word,
but not too big for her. She speaks as she writes; and upon this
occasion she was inspired by indignation, finding herself between two
opposite spirits, who gave full play to all her energies. She was
astonished to hear that this pure and perfect constitution was in need
of radical reform; that the only safety for Ireland was to open wide the
doors which had been locked and barred by the glorious revolution; and
that Great Britain, the bulwark of the World, the Rock which alone had
withstood the sweeping flood, the ebbs and flows of Democracy and
Tyranny, was herself feeble, disjointed, and almost on the eve of ruin.
So, at least, it was represented by her antagonist in argument, Childe
Harold, whose sentiments, partly perhaps for the sake of argument, grew
deeper and darker in proportion to her enthusiasm.
The wit was his. He is a mixture of gloom and sarcasm, chastened,
however, by good breeding, and with a vein of original genius that makes
some atonement for the unheroic and uncongenial cast of his whole mind.
It is a mind that never conveys the idea of sunshine. It is a dark night
upon which the lightning flashes. The conversation between these two
and Sir Humphry Davy,[25] at whose house they met, was so animated that
Lady Davy[26] proposed coffee being served in the eating-room; so we did
not separate till eleven. Of course we had assembled rather late. I
should not say "assembled," for the party included no guests except Lord
Byron and myself in addition to the "Staël" quartette....
As foreigners have no idea that any opposition to Government is
compatible with general obedience and loyalty, their astonishment was
unbounded. I, perhaps I only, completely relished all her reasonings,
and I thought her perfectly justified in replying to the pathetic
mournings over departed liberty, "Et vous comptez pour rien la liberté
de dire tout cela, et même devant les domestiques!" She concluded by
heartily wishing us a little taste of real adversity to cure us of our
plethora of political health.
* * * * *
In consequence of the difficulties and dangers anticipated in the above
letters Edward Stanley finally decided to take as his only travelling
companion his young brother-in-law, Edward Leycester, who was just
leaving Cambridge for the Long Vacation.
Mrs. Stanley accompanied her husband and brother as far as London, in
order to see the festivities held in honour of the State visit of the
Allied Sovereigns to England in June, on their way from the Restoration
ceremonies in France.
Her letters to her sister-in-law during this visit describe some of the
actors in the great events of the last few months and the excitement
which pervaded London during their stay.
_Mrs. Edward Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _Friday, June 13, 1814_.
Edward went for his passport the other day, and was told he must go to
the Alien Office, being taken for a Frenchman....
I forgot yesterday to beg Sir John would write Edward an introduction to
Lord Clancarty,[27] and anybody else he can think of at Paris or the
Hague, and send them to him as soon as possible.
We have been Emperor[28] hunting all morning. No, first we went to Mass
with Miss Cholmondeley, and heard such music!
Then with her to the Panorama of Vittoria, and since then we have been
parading St. James's Street and Piccadilly. Oh! London for ever! Edward
saw a whiskered man go into a shop, followed him, and accosted him, and
it was a man just arrived with despatches for the Crown Prince, who was
thankful to be shewn his way. There was a gentleman came up to talk to
Miss Cholmondeley, and he had been living in the house with Lucien
Bonaparte.[29]
[Illustration: _H. Edridge A.R.A. Welt 1811_ _Emory Walker Ph. Sc._
_Kitty Leycester--married Edward Stanley 1810._]
Then Edward was standing in Hatchard's shop, and he saw a strange bonnet
in an open landau, and there was the Duchess of Oldenburg[30] and her
Bonnet, and her brother sitting by her in a plain black coat, and he
gave himself the toothache running after the carriage.
He saw, or fancied he saw, a great deal of character in the Duchess's
countenance. I just missed this, but afterwards joined Edward, and
walked up and down St. James's Street, trusting to Edward's eyes, rather
than all the assurances we met with, that the Emperor was gone to
Carlton House, and were rewarded by a sight of him in a quarter of an
hour, which had sufficed him to change his dress and his equipage, and a
very fine head he has. Such a sense of bustle and animation as there is
in that part of the town! You and Sir John may, and I daresay will,
laugh at all the amazing anxiety and importance attached to a glimpse of
what is but a man after all; but still the common principles of sympathy
would force even Sir John's philosophy to yield to the animating throng
of people and carriages down St. James's Street, and follow their
example all the time he was abusing their folly.
_June 13, 1814._
At half-past ten we started for the illuminations, and nearly made the
tour of the whole town from Park Lane to St. Paul's in the open
barouche.
I cannot conceive a more beautiful scene than the India House; they had
hung a quantity of flags and colours of different sorts across the
street; the flutings and capitals of the pillars, and all the outlines
of the buildings, marked out with lamps, so that it was much more like a
fairy palace and a fairy scene altogether than anything else.
The flags concealed the sky, and formed such a fine background to the
brilliant light thrown on all the groups of figures.
We did not get home till daylight. There was nothing the least good or
entertaining in the way of inscriptions and transparencies, except a
"Hosanna to Jehovah, Britain, and Alexander."
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _Wednesday, June, 1814_.
Where did we go to be made fools of by the Emperor yesterday for four
hours? We went with Miss Tunno, got introduced to a gentleman's tailor
in Parliament Street, and looked out of his window; saw a shabby coach
and six pass, full of queer heads, one of which was so like the prints
of Alexander, and bowed so like an Emperor, that I must and will
maintain it to have been him till I can receive positive proof that it
was not. We saw, too, what they said was Blücher, but we could hear or
see nothing but that something was wrapped up in furs. However, Edward
was more fortunate, and came in for the real bows which the real Emperor
made from the Pulteney Hotel window, and you and Sir John may laugh as
you please at all the trouble we have taken to see--nothing.
Nevertheless, though I was well disposed to kiss the Emperor and Prince,
and all who contributed to disappoint the public expectation, it is
certainly entertaining and enlivening to be in expectation of meeting
something strange every corner you turn and every different report you
hear. The Emperor has gone out this morning to look about at half-past
nine, long before the Prince Regent called.
They say he will sail in one of his own ships from Leith and may pass
through Manchester. But after all, it is something like what Craufurd
described being in Paris, to be hearing yourself in the midst of a
great bustle with your eyes shut and unable to see what was going on
round you.
We talk of Monday se'enight for our separation. There is so much to be
seen if one could but see it here, that Edward is in no hurry to be
off....
At Lady Cork's the other night Blücher was expected. Loud Huzzas in the
street at length announced him, the crowd gathered round the door, and
in walked Lady Caroline Lamb[31] in a foreign uniform! This I had from
no less authentic and accurate a source than Dr. Holland, who was an
eye-witness. She had been at the party in female attire, and seeing Lady
Cork's anxiety to see the great man, returned home and equipped herself
to take in Lady C. and Co.
_Monday, 8 a.m., June 16th._
Yesterday, after Church, we went to the Park. It was a beautiful day,
and the Emperor may well be astonished at the population, for such a
crowd of people I could not have conceived, and such an animated crowd.
As the white plumes of the Emperor's guard danced among the trees, the
people all ran first to one side and then to the other; it was
impossible to resist the example, and we ran too, backwards and forwards
over the same hundred yards, four times, and were rewarded by seeing the
Ranger of the Forest, Lord Sydney, who preceded the Royal party, get a
good tumble, horse and all. We saw Lord Castlereagh almost pulled off
his horse by congratulations and huzzahs as loud as the Emperor's, and a
most entertaining walk we had.
We dined at Mr. Egerton's. Mr. Morritt[32] rather usurped the
conversation after dinner, but I was glad of him to save me from the
history of each lady's adventures in search of the Emperor or the
illuminations. The Opera must have been a grand sight; it seems
undoubted that the Emperor and Prince Regent, and all in the Royal box,
rose when the Princess of Wales came in and bowed to her--it is supposed
by previous arrangement. Lord Liverpool[33] declared that he would
resign unless something of the sort was done.
One man made forty guineas by opening his box door and allowing those in
the lobbies to take a peep for a guinea apiece. We made an attempt on
Saturday to get into the pit, but it was quite impossible. I would not
for the world but have been here during the fever, although what many
people complain of is very true, that it spoils all conversation and
society, and in another day or two I shall be quite tired of the sound
or sight of Emperors.
The merchants and bankers invited the Emperor to dinner; he said he had
no objection if they would promise him it should not exceed
three-quarters of an hour, on which Sir William Curtis lifted up his
hands and exclaimed, "God bless me!"
He is tired to death with the long sittings he is obliged to undergo.
The stories of him quite bring one back to the "Arabian Nights," and
they could not have chosen a more appropriate ballet for him than "Le
Calife Voleur."
If he stayed long enough, he might revolutionise the hours of London.
I was close to Blücher yesterday, but only saw his back, for I never
thought of looking at a man's face who had only a black coat on.
You may safely rest in your belief that I do not enjoy anything I see or
hear without telling it to you, and you are quite right in your
conjecture as to what your feelings would be here.
I have thought and said a hundred times what a fever of impatience
disappointment, and fatigue you would be in.... You are also right in
supposing that you know as much or more of the Emperor than I do, for
one has not the time nor the inclination to read what one has the chance
of seeing all the day long, and it is so entertaining that I feel it
quite impossible to sit quiet and content when you know what is going
on.
One person meets another: "What are you here for?" "I don't know. What
are you expecting to see?" One says the Emperor is gone this way, and
another that way, and of all the talking couples or trios that pass you
in the street, there are not two where the word "Emperor" or "King" or
"Blücher" is not in one, if not both mouths; and all a foxhound's
sagacity is necessary to scent him successfully, for he slips round by
backways and in plain clothes.
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _June 17, 1814_.
We were in high luck on Sunday in getting a private interview with the
Cossacks, through some General of M.'s acquaintance. We saw their horses
and the white one, 20 years old, which has carried Platoff[34] through
all his engagements. They are small horses with very thick legs. The
Cossacks themselves would not open the door of their room till luckily a
gentleman who could speak Russian came up, and then we were admitted.
There were four, one who had been thirty years in the service, with a
long beard and answering exactly my idea of a Cossack; the others,
younger men with fine countenances and something graceful and
gentleman-like in their figure and manner. They were very happy to talk,
and there was great intelligence and animation in their eyes. No wonder
they defy the weather with their cloaks made of black sheepskin and
lined with some very thick cloth which makes them quite impenetrable to
cold or wet. Their lances were 11 feet long, and they were dressed in
blue jacket and trousers confined round the waist with a leather belt,
in which was a rest for the lance. I envied their saddles, which have a
sort of pommel behind and before, between which is placed a cushion, on
which they must sit most comfortably. We must see them on horseback to
_have seen_ them, but we shall probably have an opportunity of seeing
them again.
_June 18, 1814._
On returning from Miss Fanshawe's we saw a royal carriage in George
Street at Madame Moreau's, and we waited to see the Emperor and the
Duchess (of Oldenburg) get into the carriage. He was in a plain blue
coat; she without her curious bonnet, so that I had a good view of her
face, which I had the satisfaction of finding exactly what I wished to
see. The extreme simplicity of her dress--she had nothing but a plain
white gown and plain straw hat, with no ornament of any sort--and her
very youthful appearance made me doubt whether it was really the
Duchess; but it was.
She is very little, and there is a strong expression of intelligence,
vivacity, and youthful, unsophisticated animation in her countenance. I
fancied I could see so much of her character in the brisk step with
which she jumped into the carriage, and the unassuming, lively smile
with which she bowed to the people.
The Emperor looks like a gentleman--but a country gentleman, not like an
Emperor. His head is very like R. Heber's. The Duchess allowed herself
to be pleased and to express her pleasure at all the sights without the
least restraint. She asks few questions, but those very pertinent. She
is impatient at being detained long over anything, but anxious to
silence those who would hence infer that she runs over everything
superficially, without gaining or retaining real knowledge.
At Woolwich she was asked if she would see the steam-engines. "No, she
had seen them already, and understood them perfectly." As they passed
the open door she turned her head to look at the machinery, and
instantly exclaimed, "Oh, that is one of Maudesley's engines," her eye
immediately catching the peculiarity of the construction.
LONDON, _June 22, 1814_.
In the middle of Edward's sermon at St. George's to-day somebody in our
pew whispered it round that there was the King of Prussia[35] in the
Gallery. I looked as directed, and fixed my eyes on a melancholy,
pensive, interesting face, exactly answering the descriptions of the
King, and immediately fell into a train of very satisfactory reflection
and conjecture on the expression of his physiognomy, for which twenty
minutes afforded me ample time. The King was the only one I had not
seen, therefore this opportunity of studying his face so completely was
particularly valuable. When the prayer after the sermon was concluded,
my informer said the King was gone, when, to my utter disappointment, I
beheld my Hero still standing in the Gallery, and discovered I had
pitched upon a wrong person, and wasted all my observations on a face
that it did not really signify whether it looked merry or sad, and
entirely missed the sight of the real King, who was in the next pew.
Nothing but his sending to offer Edward a Chaplaincy in Berlin for his
excellent sermon can possibly console me, except, indeed, the _honour by
itself_ of having preached before a King of Prussia, which can never
happen again in his life.
...The Duchess of Oldenburg took all the merchants by surprise the other
day. They had no idea she was coming to their dinner; she was the only
lady, and she was rather a nuisance to them, as they had provided a
hundred musicians, who could not perform, as she cannot bear music.[36]
She was highly amused at the scene and with their "Hip! Hip!"
MONDAY, _June 23, 1814_.
At our dinner Mr. Tennant came in late, with many apologies, but really
he had been hunting the Emperor--waiting for him two hours at one place
and two hours at another, and came away at last without seeing him at
all.
He said, in his dry way, that "Have you seen the Emperor?" has entirely
superseded the use of "How do you do?"
In the morning he had gone into a shop to buy some gloves, and whilst he
was trying them on the shopman suddenly exclaimed, "Blücher! Blücher!"
cleared the counter at a leap, followed by all the apprentices, and Mr.
Tennant remained soberly amongst the gloves to make his own selection,
for he saw nothing more of his dealers.
Rooms are letting to-day in the City at 60 guineas a room, or a guinea a
seat for the procession. Tickets for places to see it from White's to be
had at Hookham's for 80 guineas; 50 have been refused.
Your letter revived me after five hours' walking and standing, and
running after reviews, &c.
I did see the King of Prussia, to be sure, and the Prince, and the
people climbing up the trees like the grubs on the gooseberry bushes,
and heard the _feu de joie_, whose crescendo and diminuendo was very
fine indeed, but altogether it was not worth the trouble of being tired
and squeezed for.
At the reception at Sir Joseph Banks's house last night the most
interesting object of the evening was a sword come down from heaven on
purpose for the Emperor! Let the Prince Regent and his garters and his
orders, and the merchants and the aldermen and everybody hide their
diminished heads! What are they and their gifts to the Philosophers'?
This is literally a sword made by Sowerby from the iron from some
meteoric stones lately fallen--of course in honour of the Emperor. There
is an inscription on it something to this effect, but not so neat as
the subject demanded, and it is to be presented to Alexander--who does
not deserve it, by the by, for having entirely neglected Sir Joseph
amongst all the great sights and great men, which has rather mortified
the poor old man.
LONDON, _Monday night_.
They are off, and in spite of all my friends' predictions to the
contrary, I am here.
Edward went this morning to Portsmouth on his way to Havre, but the
Havre packet is employed in pleasuring people up and down to see the
ships. Not a bed is to be had in the place, so he has secured his berth
in the packet, if he can find her, and get on board at night after her
morning's excursions.
Standing room is to be had in the streets for three shillings; seats are
putting up in and for two miles out of the town; all the laurels cut
down to stick upon poles; in short, everybody is madder there than in
London.
Can the English ever be called cool and phlegmatic again? It is really a
pity some metaphysicianising philosopher is not here to observe,
describe, and theorise on the extraordinary symptoms and effects of
enthusiasm, curiosity, insanity--I am sure I do not know what to call
it--en masse.
One should have supposed that the great objects would have swallowed up
the little ones. No such thing! they have only made the appetite for
them more ravenous.
The mob got hold of Lord Hill[37] in the Park at the review, and did
literally pull his coat and his belt to pieces. He snatched off his
Order of the Bath, and gave it to Major Churchill, who put it in the
holster of his saddle, where he preserved it from the mob only by
drawing his sword and declaring he would cut any man's hand off who
touched it. Some kissed his sword, his boots, his spurs, or anything
they could touch; they pulled hair out of his horse's tail, and one
butcher's boy who arrived at the happiness of shaking his hand, they
chaired, exclaiming, "This is the man who has shaken hands with Lord
Hill!" At last they tore his sword off by breaking the belt and then
handed it round from one to another to be kissed.
My regret at not having been at White's is stronger than my desire to go
was; it must have been the most splendid and interesting sight one could
ever hope to see.
* * * * *
On Friday, June 27th, Edward Stanley and Edward Leycester finally set
off and sailed from Portsmouth, all gay with festivities in honour of
the Allied Sovereigns.
Mrs. Stanley was left to spend the time of their absence at her father's
house in Cheshire, but the keen interest with which she would have
shared the journey was not forgotten by her husband.
The events of the tour were minutely chronicled in his letters to her,
and not only in letters, but in sketch books, filled to overflowing with
every strange group and figure which met the travellers on their way,
through countries which had been, although so near, prohibited for such
a long time that they had almost the interest of unknown lands.
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
STOKE, _July 4, 1814_.
...That my curiosity may not catch cold in the too sudden transition
from exercise to inaction, the Shropshire and Cheshire Heroes have
followed me down here, and I have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing
of the crowds going to touch (for that is the present fashion of seeing,
or, to speak philosophically, _mode_ of _perception_) Lord Hill; and
yesterday I met Lord Combermere and his Bride at Alderley, and a worthy
Hero he is for Cheshire!
A folio from Havre just arrived. I am very noble, very virtuous, and
very disinterested--pray assure me so, for nothing else can console
me--it is too entertaining to send one extract.