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[86] 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[87] 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.