. . . I Make Tea In The Drawing-Room, On A Little Table
With A White Cloth, Which Would Not Be Esteemed COMME IL FAUT With
Us.
There is none of the parade of eating in the largest evening
party here.
I see nothing but tea, and sometimes find an informal
refreshment table in the room where we put on our cloaks.
I got a note yesterday from the O'Connor Don, enclosing an order to
admit me to the House of Commons on Monday. . . . You will be
curious to know who is "The O'Connor Don." He is Dennis O'Connor,
Esq., but is of the oldest family in Ireland, and the representative
of the last kings of Connaught. He is called altogether the
O'Connor Don, and begins his note to me with that title. You
remember Campbell's poem of "O'Connor's Child"?
Sunday, 14th February
. . . Yesterday morning was my breakfast at Sir Robert Inglis's.
The hour was halfpast nine, and as his house is two miles off I had
to be up wondrous early for me. The weather has been very cold for
this climate for the last few days, though we should think it
moderate. They know nothing of extreme cold here. But, to return
to or breakfast, where, notwithstanding the cold, the guests were
punctually assembled: The Marquis of Northampton and his sisters,
the Bishop of London with his black apron, Sir Stratford Canning,
Mr. Rutherford, Lord Advocate for Scotland, the Solicitor-General
and one or two others. The conversation was very agreeable and I
enjoyed my first specimen of an English breakfast exceedingly. . . .
Our invitations jostle each other, now Parliament has begun, for
everybody invites on Wednesday, Saturday, or Sunday, when there are
no debates. We had three dinner invitations for next Wednesday,
from Mr. Harcourt, Marquis of Anglesey, and Mrs. Mansfield. We go
to the former. The Queen held a levee on Friday, for gentlemen
only. Your father went, of course.
Sunday, February 21st
I left off on Sunday, on which day I got a note from Lady Morgan,
saying that she wished us to come and meet some agreeables at her
house. . . . There I met Sir William and Lady Molesworth, Sir
Benjamin Hall, etc., and had a long talk with "Eothen," who is a
quiet, unobtrusive person in manner, though his book is quite an
effervescence. . . . On Wednesday we dined with Mr. Harcourt, and
met there Lord Brougham, who did the talking chiefly, Lord and Lady
Mahon, Mr. Labouchere, etc. It was a most agreeable party, and we
were very glad to meet Lord Brougham, whom we had not before seen.
Lord Brougham is entertaining, and very much listened to. Indeed,
the English habit seems to be to suffer a few people to do up a
great part of the talking, such as Macaulay, Brougham, and Sydney
Smith and Mackintosh in their day. . . . On Saturday evening, at ten
o'clock, we went to a little party at Lady Stratheden's. After
staying there three-quarters of an hour we went to Lady
Palmerston's, where were all the GREAT London world, the Duchess of
Sutherland among the number. She is most noble, and at the same
time lovely. . . . We had an autograph note from Sir Robert Peel,
inviting us to dine next Saturday, and were engaged. I hope they
will ask us again, for I know few things better than to see him, as
we should in dining there. I have the same interest in seeing the
really distinguished men of England, that I should have in the
pictures and statues of Rome, and indeed, much greater. I wish I
was better prepared for my life here by a more extensive culture;
mere fine ladyism will not do, or prosy bluism, but one needs for a
thorough enjoyment of society, a healthy, practical, and extensive
culture, and a use of the modern languages in our position would be
convenient. I do not know how a gentleman can get on without it
here, and I find it so desirable that I devote a good deal of time
to speaking French with Louisa's governess. Your father uses French
a great deal with his colleagues, who, many of them, speak English
with great difficulty, and some not at all. . . . Lady Charlotte
Lindsay came one day this week to engage us to dine with her on
Wednesday, but yesterday she came to say that she wanted Lord
Brougham to meet us, and he could not come till Friday. Fortunately
we had no dinner engagement on that day, and we are to meet also the
Miss Berrys; Horace Walpole's Miss Berrys, who with Lady Charlotte
herself, are the last remnants of the old school here.
LETTER: To I.P.D.
February 21st
My dear Uncle: . . . I wrote [J.D.] a week or two before I heard of
his death, but was unable to tell him anything of Lord North, as I
had not met Lady Charlotte Lindsay. I have seen her twice this week
at Baron Parke's and at Lord Campbell's, and told her how much I had
wished to do so before, and on what account. She says her father
heard reading with great pleasure, and that one of her sisters could
read the classics: Latin and, I think, Greek, which he enjoyed to
the last. She says that he never complained of losing his sight,
but that her mother has told her that it worried him in his old age
that he remained Minister during our troubles at a period when he
wished, himself, to resign. He sometimes talked of it in the
solitude of sleepless nights, her mother has told her.
On Tuesday morning we were invited by Dr. Buckland, the Dean of
Westminster, to go to his house, and from thence to the Abbey, to
witness the funeral of the Duke of Northumberland. The Dean, who
has control of everything in the Abbey, issued tickets to several
hundred persons to go and witness the funeral, but only Lord
Northampton's family, the Bunsens (the Prussian Minister), and
ourselves, went to his house, and into the Dean's little gallery.
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