A melancholy accident happened the other day to Sir J. Smith's second son, Marriott. He was riding through the town of Bridgwater with a young man of the name of Morris who is at the same Tutor's. The horse became unmanageable, the two young men were thrown, Morris pitched on his head and was killed on the spot, young Smith was very little hurt, but his state of distress is such that they hardly know what to do with him.
Your sisters who are looking over the catalogue of books at the library have just met with Countess Moreau's Works—alias Contes Moraux.
July 21st, 1821.
We have just finished reading the newspaper account of the Coronation which must have been a magnificent spectacle. We were horrified at the Queen debasing herself so much as to ask admission at the door—a request she was certain of being denied. We long to hear how you and Philip saw the ceremony, and whether the latter is not half killed by the fatigue of it.
But John Stanhope seems to have been more interested in the various events attendant upon the Coronation than in the ceremony itself. His diary records:—
July 19th, 1821.
The morning was beautiful. I had not attempted to get a ticket for the Abbey or the Hall, so I determined after breakfast to sally forth and see the Balloon ascend, and then to walk down Palace Yard and try whether there was not a place to be got. Nothing could be more animating than the scene, the St James's Park and the Green Park were entirely covered with Spectators. The Balloon ascended to a considerable height before it was at all carried away by the wind, it rose, indeed, out of our sight.
As soon as this spectacle was over, I went to see the guns fired, and from thence to George St., where for five shillings I got a place in a Booth for which the previous night they asked as many guineas, and after waiting for some time I saw the procession go from the Abbey to the Hall,—a superb sight. I afterwards returned home much fatigued, but issued forth again to see the illuminations.
But a long time elapsed before I could get into the Park owing to the string of carriages through the large gates and the pressure of the mob through the smaller ones. At last I was obliged to go round by Grosvenor Gate.
I first directed my steps to the fireworks, which were let off under the direction of the Military from the middle of the Park. I afterwards saw the Serpentine where there was a very brilliant display. There was a splendid illumination at the lower end on the water, a car drawn by elephants with lanterns, and boats with variegated lamps, water rockets, and, at intervals, lights on the terrace at Kensington Gardens which lighted up the whole park.