In the autumn of 1785, when the Prince of Wales was at Brighton, he was much in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrell; of whom and the Prince, Lady Llanover, in her Memoirs of Mrs. Delany, relates the following piquant story, which she received from a gentleman, as well as from Miss Burney, who had it from Lady Rothes, Sir Lucas Pepys' wife.[32] It happened one afternoon that Mrs. Lawrell alone was of a party with the Prince of Wales, Lady Beauchamp, and some other fine people. Mrs. Lawrell, like a good wife, about nine o'clock, said she must go home to her husband. The Prince said, he and the party would come and sup with them; the lady received the gracious intimation with all the respect that became her, and hastened home to acquaint her husband and make preparation. Whether Mr. Lawrell was more or less sensible of the honour that was designed him than his wife, I don't know, but he said he should not come if he could help it, and if he did come, he should have nothing to eat. It was in vain Mrs. Lawrell remonstrated; he continued inflexible, and she had nothing for it but to put him to bed, and write a note to Lady Beauchamp, informing her Mr. Lawrell was taken suddenly ill, and begging she would entertain the Prince in her stead. Between one and two o'clock in the morning, when the company were pretty merry, the Prince, whether he guessed at the reason or was concerned for the indisposition of his friend, said it was a pity poor Lawrell should die for want of help, and they immediately set about writing notes to all the physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries they could think of in the place, informing them as from Mr. L. that he was taken suddenly ill, and begged their immediate assistance; these notes very soon set the medical body in motion towards Mr. L.'s doors; a few of the most alert apothecaries came first, but they were got rid of by the servants, who assured them it was a mistake, that their master and mistress were well and asleep, and that they did not care to wake them. Soon after came Sir Lucas Pepys, who declaring that "nobody would presume to impose upon a person of his character," insisted on seeing Mr. L., and was pressing by the maid towards his bedchamber; she was then forced to waken her mistress, and Mr. L. being very drowsy and disinclined to rise, his lady was obliged to appear in great deshabille, and with the utmost difficulty, persuaded Sir Lucas he was imposed upon, and prevailed with him to retire. During their dispute the staircase was filled with the rest of the faculty arriving in shoals.
The Prince Regent.
[Sir John Waters's Escape.]
This distinguished man, in the Peninsular War, was the most admirable spy ever attached to an army. He would assume the character of Spaniards of every degree and station, so as to deceive the most acute. He gave the most reliable and valuable information to Lord Wellington, and on one occasion he was entrusted by his Lordship with a very particular mission, which he undertook effectually to perform, and to return on a particular day with the information required. Just after leaving the camp, however, he was taken prisoner, before he had time to exchange his uniform: a troop of dragoons intercepted him, and carried him off; and the commanding officers desired two soldiers to keep a strict watch over him and carry him to head-quarters. He was, of course, disarmed, and being placed on a horse, was galloped off by his guards. He slept one night in the kitchen of a small inn; conversation flowed on very glibly, and as he appeared a stupid Englishman, who could not understand a word of French or of Spanish, he was allowed to listen, and thus obtained precisely the intelligence he was in search of. The following morning, being again mounted, he overheard a conversation between his guards, who deliberately agreed to rob him, and shoot him at a mill where they were to stop, and to report to their officer that they had been compelled to fire at him in consequence of his attempt to escape.
Shortly before their arrival at the mill, the dragoons took from their prisoner his watch and his purse, lest they might meet with some one who would insist on having a portion of the spoil. On reaching the mill, they dismounted, and to give appearance of truth to their story, they went into the house, leaving their prisoner outside, in the hope that he would make some attempt to escape. In an instant, Waters threw his cloak upon a neighbouring olive-bush, and mounted his cocked hat on the top. Some empty flour sacks lay upon the ground, and a horse laden with well-filled flour-sacks stood at the door. Sir John contrived to enter one of the empty sacks, and throw himself across the horse. When the soldiers came out of the house, they fired their carbines at the supposed prisoner, and galloped off.
A short time after, the miller came out, and mounted his steed. Waters contrived to rid himself of the encumbrance of the sack, and sat up behind the man, who, suddenly turning round, saw a ghost, as he believed, for the flour that still remained in the sack had whitened his fellow-traveller and given him a ghostly appearance. A push sent the frightened miller to the ground, when away rode Waters with his sacks of flour, which at length bursting, made a ludicrous spectacle of man and horse.
On reaching the English camp, where Lord Wellington was anxiously deploring his fate, a sudden shout from the soldiers made his lordship turn round, when a figure resembling the statue in Don Juan, galloped up to him. Wellington, affectionately shaking him by the hand, said, "Waters, you never yet deceived me; and though you have come in a most questionable shape, I must congratulate you and myself." This is one of the many capital stories in Captain Gronow's First Series of Anecdotes.
[Colonel Mackinnon's Practical Joking.]
Colonel Mackinnon, commonly called "Dan," was famous for practical jokes. Before landing at St. Andero's, with some other officers who had been on leave in England, he agreed to personate the Duke of York, and make the Spaniards believe that his Royal Highness was amongst them. On nearing the shore, a Royal standard was hoisted at the masthead, and Mackinnon disembarked, wearing the star of his shako on his left breast, and accompanied by his friends, who agreed to play the part of aides-de-camp to royalty. The Spanish authorities were soon informed of the arrival of the Royal Commander-in-Chief of the British army; so they received Mackinnon with the usual pomp and circumstance. The Mayor of the place, in honour of the arrival, gave a grand banquet, which terminated with the appearance of a huge bowl of punch, whereupon Dan, thinking that the joke had gone far enough, suddenly dived his head into the china bowl, and threw his heels into the air. The surprise and indignation of the solemn Spaniards was such that they made a most intemperate report of the hoax that had been played on them to Lord Wellington. Dan, however, was ultimately forgiven, after a severe reprimand.