TO RICHARD TRENCH, ESQ.
London, June 23, 1815.
We are in all the triumph and tears of a dear-bought victory. The Prince was at dinner at Mrs. Boehm’s when the news was brought to him. Ministers and all wept in triumph among the bottles and glasses. The Regent fell into a sort of womanish hysteric. Water was flung in his face. No, that would never do. Wine was tried with better success, and he drowned his feelings in an ocean of claret. They seem to have been a little disturbed in their natural course, for he called Jekyll, and said, ‘Lady Gertrude Sloane’s brother is killed. Take my carriage and tell her so.’ Jekyll expostulated that Lady Gertrude was gone to bed—just ready to be confined, and the surprise might be fatal, if the news was announced in that way at that hour. The Regent persisted, and at last said, ‘Well, go to Lord Carlisle’s; for some of them must know it,’ which Jekyll also resisted.
He is made one of the Masters (in Chancery, I suppose), and gets between two and three thousand a-year. I wish his dear wife was living;—but I hope I wrong her much by so mean a wish.
Do not quote Jekyll in this account of the Regent. One of my Hanoverian friends is killed, a worthy man as ever fought—Omptéda his name; and one of my acquaintances in that quarter, Büssche, the fine-looking son of my beautiful friend, has lost an arm.
TO CHARLES MANNERS ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
VIENNA.
Cheltenham, July 3, 1815.
Mrs. —— was at Cheltenham six weeks, and went to an hotel, where she lived at the table-d’hôte. This was not the choice of very good taste; mais n’importe; it amused her, and no one ever thought of criticizing but those who had not kindliness of heart to take pleasure in her being amused. Among these critics were the Ladies B——, who told Mrs. —— their propriety would not allow them to visit her at a place where they might, would or could meet so many men on the stairs, &c. Did any one ever hear such trash? What strange points people choose for their propriety; and how few are there who may not go up and down stairs with perfect security.
There is a great influx of Petticoats, and Irish petticoats, in the place; but man is a rare bird, and, when he does come, very shy, to use a sportsman’s phrase.