Settled thus in the heart of London, her love of entertaining remained undiminished, and beneath her hospitable roof the House of Stanhope, in its various branches, continued to assemble as of yore. There Lady Harrington still figured as one of the most constant guests, ever ready to do a kindly action to any of her young relations whom she encountered. Mr Mercer, whom she presented to Marianne Stanhope at the party on March 18th, was, as she was well aware, a man greatly in request in society, and to whom an introduction was eagerly coveted on account of his exceptional talent for music. Gifted with a remarkably fine voice, he sang duets in company with a friend, in Greek, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and English. "Mercer's voice and both their tastes are exquisite," relates Lord Glenbervie at this date. "They accompany themselves, Mercer on the Pianoforte, Gill on a Spanish guitar, which he has had made under his own directions in London. Their foreign airs and words they have chiefly picked up recently from ballad-singers in the streets."
Marianne Stanhope was therefore fortunate in securing this acquaintance, as she was in having for a partner "Mr Cooke of the Guards," better known in London society as "Kangaroo Cooke," for many years private aide-de-camp and secretary to the Duke of York, and of whom Gronow relates that, "He was in the best society and always attracted attention by his dandified mode of dress." Still more, besides frequenting all the Ton parties in London at night, during the day he was invariably to be seen somewhere between the barracks of the Horse Guards and the premises of Weston the tailor in Bond Street, an ultra-fashionable promenade, which he paced and re-paced, thus satisfactorily exhibiting the beauty of his clothes and encountering the most select members of his acquaintance.
The curious nickname which clung to this dandy through life is usually ascribed to a quaint resemblance noticeable in him to the Australian quadruped after which he was called; but others attributed it rather to the leaps and bounds by which he advanced socially, though on account of his connections and the exquisite perfection of his dress this could not be considered surprising. The fact that he bore such a name was well known to him, and only on one occasion did it cause him any annoyance. Once, when dining on board the flag-ship off Lisbon with Admiral Galton, he was much startled by his host suddenly springing up and shouting out a mysterious order, the terms of which seemed like a veiled insult. "Make signal," thundered the Admiral, "for the Kangaroo to get under way!" For one instant the dismayed beau feared that this was a nautical form of dismissal due to some offence of which he had unwittingly been guilty; but his neighbour at table relieved his fears by explaining that the Admiral was merely directing the immediate departure of one of the vessels of his squadron, which, by a strange coincidence, bore the same name as his honoured guest.
But a yet more celebrated leader of fashion mentioned by Mrs Stanhope as being present at the ball given by the Duchess of Bolton was Lord Alvanley. One of the accepted dandies in the same category as Lord Petersham, the Duke of Argyle, Lords Foley and Worcester, Beau Brummell and his great friend, Henry Pierrepont, Lord Alvanley had served with distinction in the army, and further enjoyed the reputation of being one of the wittiest men in Europe. Short and somewhat stout, with a small nose and florid cheeks usually adorned with a lavish sprinkling of snuff, like his rival Lord Petersham, he cultivated a lisp which accentuated the humour of his utterances. He also adopted much the same method of enhancing his value by indulging in certain peculiarities which, however inconvenient to his fellows, appear to have been accepted by them with surprising amiability. For instance, being fond of reading in bed, when he at length felt sleep overpowering him, he would extinguish his candle by the novel method of popping it alight under his bolster, or flinging it into the middle of the room and taking a shot at it with his pillow—but if the shot was unsuccessful, with a heavy sigh he left it to take its chance. So well known, indeed, was this little habit of Lord Alvanley, that hostesses who were anxious not to have their houses set on fire at midnight would depute a servant to watch in a neighbouring apartment till his lordship composed himself to sleep, a precaution which was invariably adopted by Mrs Stanhope when he paid his annual visit to Cannon Hall.
However, despite such minor failings, Lord Alvanley enjoyed a popularity seldom surpassed. To his other recommendations was added that of being a celebrated gourmet, and the excellence was proverbial of the little dinners which he gave in his house in Park Street, St James's, to which never more than eight friends were bidden, and at which there was an apricot tart on the sideboard all the year round. Moreover, although like Brummell and Sheridan, many a bon mot was fathered upon him to which he had never given utterance, yet his reputation as a wit was well deserved, and at a date when both the dandies and the fine ladies prided themselves upon their undisguised insolence, Lord Alvanley remained a shining example of good-nature, so that, save, perhaps, in one instance recorded in this book, his wit never offended. Likewise, only once, it is said, did he exhibit reluctance in consenting to oblige anyone who requested from him a favour, on which occasion he conveyed his refusal in a singularly characteristic manner. Some friends were anxious to get up a representation of Ivanhoe, and begged Lord Alvanley to take the part of Isaac. "That I fear is impossible," he replied. "Why so?" urged his friends, "since you are so clever at doing different characters." "Ah, but—" objected Lord Alvanley, "in all my life I have never been able to do a Jew!"
In truth, with the House of Israel his extravagance had made him painfully familiar; nevertheless, as mentioned by Lord Broughton, on one occasion he made his peccadilloes in this respect the subject of another jest. "Is there any chance," he asked with assumed pathos, "of the ten tribes of Israel being recovered? For I have exhausted the other two!"
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It was three months after the ball at Bolton House, which had been preceded by a concert at Mrs Methuen's that Mrs Stanhope mentions attending another entertainment given by the latter hostess, to which she went shortly after an evening of painful excitement.
Tuesday, June 18th, 1805.
You would read in the papers of the riot at the Opera House. So complete and mischievous a one I never before saw, or ever wish to see again. I saw part of the stage pulled up and thrown into the Pitt, and when the scene was thrown down, it was only wonderful people were not killed, as the stage was full. Notwithstanding the damage was said to amount from £900 to £1200, we are to have an Opera to-night.