LONDON.
Twelve hours after my arrival in England I entered London. I cannot attempt
to record the sensations which thronged my mind as the din and tumult of
that mighty city awoke me from a sound sleep I had fallen into in the
corner of the chaise. The seemingly interminable lines of lamplight, the
crash of carriages, the glare of the shops, the buzz of voices, made up a
chaotic mass of sights and sounds, leaving my efforts at thought vain and
fruitless.
Obedient to my instructions, I lost not a moment in my preparations to
deliver my despatches. Having dressed myself in the full uniform of my
corps, I drove to the Horse Guards. It was now nine o’clock, and I learned
that his Royal Highness had gone to dinner at Carlton House. In a few words
which I spoke with the aide-de-camp, I discovered that no information of
the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo had yet reached England. The greatest anxiety
prevailed as to the events of the Peninsula, from which no despatches had
been received for several weeks past.
To Carlton House I accordingly bent my steps, without any precise
determination how I should proceed when there, nor knowing how far
etiquette might be an obstacle to the accomplishment of my mission. The
news of which I was the bearer was, however, of too important a character
to permit me to hesitate, and I presented myself to the aide-de-camp in
waiting, simply stating that I was intrusted with important letters to his
Royal Highness, the purport of which did not admit of delay.
“They have not gone to dinner yet,” lisped out the aide-de-camp, “and if
you would permit me to deliver the letters--”
“Mine are despatches,” said I, somewhat proudly, and in no way disposed to
cede to another the honor of personally delivering them into the hands of
the duke.
“Then you had better present yourself at the levee to-morrow morning,”
replied he, carelessly, while he turned into one of the window recesses,
and resumed the conversation with one of the gentlemen-in-waiting.
I stood for some moments uncertain and undecided; reluctant on the one
part to relinquish my claim as the bearer of the despatches, and equally
unwilling to defer their delivery till the following day.
Adopting the former alternative, I took my papers from my sabretasche,
and was about to place them in the hands of the aide-de-camp, when the
folding-doors at the end of the apartment suddenly flew open, and a large
and handsome man with a high bald forehead entered hastily.
The different persons in waiting sprang from their lounging attitudes upon
the sofas, and bowed respectfully as he passed on towards another door.
His dress was a plain blue coat, buttoned to the collar, and his only
decoration a brilliant star upon the breast. There was that air, however,
of high birth and bearing about him that left no doubt upon my mind he was
of the blood royal.
As the aide-de-camp to whom I had been speaking opened the door for him to
pass out, I could hear some words in a low voice, in which the phrases,
“letters of importance” and “your Royal Highness” occurred. The individual
addressed turned suddenly about, and casting a rapid glance around the
room, without deigning a word in reply, walked straight up to where I was
standing.
“Despatches for me, sir?” said he, shortly, taking, as he spoke, the packet
from my hand.
“For his Royal Highness the commander-in-chief,” said I, bowing
respectfully, and still uncertain in whose presence I was standing. He
broke the seal without answering, and as his eye caught the first lines of
the despatch, broke out into an exclamation of--
Ha, Peninsular news! When did you arrive, sir?”
“An hour since, sir.”
“And these letters are from--”
“General Picton, your Royal Highness.”
“How glorious! How splendidly done!” muttered he to himself, as he ran his
eyes rapidly over the letter. “Are you Captain O’Malley, whose name is
mentioned here so favorably?”
I bowed deeply in reply.
“You are most highly spoken of, and it will give me sincere pleasure to
recommend you to the notice of the Prince Regent. But stay a moment,” so
saying, he hurriedly passed from the room, leaving me overwhelmed at the
suddenness of the incident, and a mark of no small astonishment to the
different persons in waiting, who had hitherto no other idea but that my
despatches were from Hounslow or Knightsbridge.
“Captain O’Malley,” said an officer covered with decorations, and whose
slightly foreign accent bespoke the Hanoverian, “his Royal Highness
requests you will accompany me.” The door opened as he spoke, and I found
myself in a most splendidly lit-up apartment,--the walls covered with
pictures, and the ceiling divided, into panels resplendent with the richest
gilding. A group of persons in court dresses were conversing in a low tone
as we entered, but suddenly ceased, and saluting my conductor respectfully,
made way for us to pass on. The folding-doors again opened as we
approached, and we found ourselves in a long gallery, whose sumptuous
furniture and costly decorations shone beneath the rich tints of a massive
lustre of ruby glass, diffusing a glow resembling the most gorgeous sunset.
Here also some persons in handsome uniform were conversing, one of whom
accosted my companion by the title of “Baron;” nodding familiarly as he
muttered a few words in German, he passed forward, and the next moment the
doors were thrown suddenly wide, and we entered the drawing-room.
The buzz of voices and the sound of laughter reassured me as I came
forward, and before I had well time to think where and why I was there, the
Duke of York advanced towards me, with a smile of peculiar sweetness in its
expression, and said, as he turned towards one side:--
“Your Royal Highness--Captain O’Malley!”
As he spoke the Prince moved forward, and bowed slightly.
“You’ve brought us capital news, Mr. O’Malley. May I beg, if you’re not
too much tired, you’ll join us at dinner. I am most anxious to learn the
particulars of the assault.”
As I bowed my acknowledgments to the gracious invitation, he continued:--
“Are you acquainted with my friend here?--but of course you can scarcely
be; you began too early as a soldier. So let me present you to my friend,
Mr. Tierney,” a middle-aged man, whose broad, white forehead and deep-set
eyes gave a character to features that were otherwise not remarkable in
expression, and who bowed rather stiffly.
Before he had concluded a somewhat labored compliment to me, we were joined
by a third person, whose strikingly-handsome features were lit up with an
expression of the most animated kind. He accosted the Prince with an air
of easy familiarity, and while he led him from the group, appeared to be
relating some anecdote which actually convulsed his Royal Highness with
laughter.
Before I had time or opportunity to inquire who the individual could
be, dinner was announced, and the wide folding-doors being thrown open,
displayed the magnificent dining-room of Carlton House in all the blaze and
splendor of its magnificence.
The sudden change from the rough vicissitudes of campaigning life to all
the luxury and voluptuous elegance of a brilliant court, created too much
confusion in my mind to permit of my impressions being the most accurate
or most collected. The splendor of the scene, the rank, but even more the
talent of the individuals by whom I was surrounded, had all their full
effect upon me. And although I found, from the tone of the conversation
about, how immeasurably I was their inferior, yet by a delicate and
courteous interest in the scene of which I had lately partaken, they took
away the awkwardness which in some degree was inseparable from the novelty
of my position among them.
Conversing about the Peninsula with a degree of knowledge which I could
in no wise comprehend from those not engaged in the war, they appeared
perfectly acquainted with all the details of the campaign; and I heard on
every side of me anecdotes and stories which I scarcely believed known
beyond the precincts of a regiment. The Prince himself--the grace and charm
of whose narrative talents have seldom been excelled--was particularly
conspicuous, and I could not help feeling struck with his admirable
imitations of voice and manner. The most accomplished actor could not have
personated the canny, calculating spirit of the Scot, or the rollicking
recklessness of the Irishman, with more tact and _finesse_. But far above
all this, shone the person I have already alluded to as speaking to his
Royal Highness in the drawing-room. Combining the happiest conversational
eloquence with a quick, ready, and brilliant fancy, he threw from him in
all the careless profusion of boundless resource a shower of pointed and
epigrammatic witticisms. Now illustrating a really difficult subject by one
happy touch, as the blaze of the lightning will light up the whole surface
of the dark landscape beneath it; now turning the force of an adversary’s
argument by some fallacious but unanswerable jest, accompanying the whole
by those fascinations of voice, look, gesture, and manner which have made
those who once have seen, never able to forget Brinsley Sheridan.
I am not able, were I even disposed, to record more particularly the
details of that most brilliant evening of my life. On every side of me I
heard the names of those whose fame as statesmen or whose repute as men of
letters was ringing throughout Europe. They were then, too, not in the easy
indolence of ordinary life, but displaying with their utmost effort those
powers of wit, fancy, imagination, and eloquence which had won for them
elsewhere their high and exalted position. The masculine understanding
and powerful intellect of Tierney vied with the brilliant and dazzling
conceptions of Sheridan. The easy _bonhomie_ and English heartiness of Fox
contrasted with the cutting sarcasm and sharp raillery of O’Kelly. While
contesting the palm with each himself, the Prince evinced powers of mind
and eloquent facilities of expression that, in any walk of life, must
have made their possessor a most distinguished man. Politics, war, women,
literature, the turf, the navy, the opposition, architecture, and the
drama, were all discussed with a degree of information and knowledge that
proved to me how much of real acquirements can be obtained by those whose
exalted station surrounds them with the collective intellect of a nation.
As for myself, the time flew past unconsciously. So brilliant a display of
all that was courtly and fascinating in manner, and all that was brightest
in genius, was so novel to me, that I really felt like one entranced. To
this hour, my impression, however confused in details, is as vivid as
though that evening were but yesternight; and although since that period
I have enjoyed numerous opportunities of meeting with the great and the
gifted, yet I treasure the memory of that evening as by far the most
exciting of my whole life.
While I abstain from any mention of the many incidents of the evening,
I cannot pass over one which, occurring to myself, is valuable but as
showing, by one slight and passing trait, the amiable and kind feeling of
one whose memory is hallowed in the service.
A little lower than myself, on the opposite side of the table, I perceived
an old military acquaintance whom I had first met in Lisbon. He was then on
Sir Charles Stewart’s staff, and we met almost daily. Wishing to commend
myself to his recollection, I endeavored for some time to catch his eye,
but in vain; but at last when I thought I had succeeded, I called to him,--
“I say, Fred, a glass of wine with you.”
When suddenly the Duke of York, who was speaking to Lord Hertford, turned
quickly round, and taking the decanter in his hand, replied,--
“With pleasure, O’Malley. What shall it be, my boy?”
I shall never forget the manly good-humor of his look as he sat waiting for
my answer. He had taken my speech as addressed to himself, and concluding
that from fatigue, the novelty of the scene, my youth, etc., I was not over
collected, vouchsafed in this kind way to receive it.
“So,” said he, as I stammered out my explanation, “I was deceived. However,
don’t cheat me out of my glass of wine. Let us have it now.”
With this little anecdote, whose truth I vouch for, I shall conclude. More
than one now living was a witness to it, and my only regret in the mention
of it is my inability to convey the readiness with which he seized the
moment of apparent difficulty to throw the protection of his kind and
warm-hearted nature over the apparent folly of a boy.
It was late when the party broke up, and as I took my leave of the Prince,
he once more expressed himself in gracious terms towards me, and gave
me personally an invitation to a breakfast at Hounslow on the following
Saturday.