16 NEW STEINE, BRIGHTON, August 7th, 1819.
What a multitude of people we have here, Jews, Haberdashers, and money-lenders without number, a sort of Marine Cheapside, Mr Solomons, Mrs Levis, and all the Miss Abrahams; in short, Hook Noses, Mosaical Whiskers and the whole tribe of Benjamin occupy every shop, every donkey-cart, and every seat in Box, Pit, and Gallery. I am very tired of them, and shall probably take flight at the end of the week to Worthing.
The Beaumonts no doubt are still travelling en suite in Scotland. I wonder how many darts and hearts have been fired and wounded amongst my too susceptible Countrymen! We shall see when they return. I suppose half the Country will follow them back into Yorkshire.
Later in the year, from the same town, another friend, Sir James Graham, [17] wrote:—
BRIGHTON, December 28th, 1819.
The Regent is in the best possible state of health and spirits, and moves to London and back frequently. He leaves to-day for a few days. The Pavilion Palace is not in a state to receive Company and therefore he sees very few. The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester have been here some time, and remain until the 5th or 6th of January, and this place is quite full of company-not a good house to be got. Lady Elizabeth Lowther has been here and is much better than usual.
Perhaps stirred by the letters received from their friends in England, the thoughts of the exiled family turned more and more towards their home, and Marianne wrote to her brother—
I shall be delighted to nationalise in old England. I think as much as mind is superior to body, so much is English society better than French-I mean that in which we live…. This is a dancing generation, I think people's wits live in their heels and they cultivate nothing else, though Mrs Poplim, who is now at the bottom of the precipice, tout à fait, gives Proverbs and Concerts.
Lady Morgan [18] is quite the light of Paris, people flock to her house as they would to a wild beast show. She has Talma, Mile. Georges, and all the other Lions, foreign and home-bred. She and the Rochefoucaulds are very thick—a great proof of their want of tact, for she is the most impudent pretender to literature I ever met with.
Mrs Spencer-Stanhope to Charles Spencer-Stanhope. December 12th, 1819.