Social England under the Regency, Vol. 1 (of 2). Ashton John

then stops to converse either with the officers, or with the nobility and gentry. We saw him several times on the Terrace; but on this first evening there was a more than ordinary degree of conversation. He was full of inquiries respecting the installation of Lord Grenville as Chancellor of the University of Oxford, which had taken place during the week. He inquired also about the balloon in which Mr. Sadler2 had ascended on this occasion, and was particularly anxious to know how long it continued in the air, and where it had alighted; Harrow-on-the-Hill was mentioned, though the spot had not then been ascertained. He conversed at all times on a variety of topics with the utmost freedom and even hilarity.

      "This daily promenade must benefit both his mind and body: while the presence, as well as the attention, of so many of his subjects, some coming from distant parts, must yield him no inconsiderable gratification. The countenances of the Princesses are replete with good nature, and most exemplary is their attention to their aged parent…

      "It should be mentioned that the King, in returning back to his apartments in the Castle, passing by the band of musicians on the steps, always touched his hat, and said, in an audible voice, 'Gentlemen, good night, I thank you.' Indeed, his Majesty, during the whole time, seemed in perfect good humour with all the company.

      "The only etiquette observed on the Terrace is, that when the King passes, the ladies and gentlemen withdraw on either side, the latter merely uncovering the head; bows and curtsies being dispensed with on the occasion. A police officer is in attendance, who, with a little switch, keeps individuals from pressing too much on the King, when he stops to converse; but this is done with the greatest urbanity. Owing to a slight indisposition, the Queen did not make her appearance on the Terrace; but we saw her on other occasions. His Majesty was regular in his attendance at Chapel every morning, and seemed seriously engaged in his devotions.

      "About ten o'clock, when the weather is fine (Sundays excepted), the King rides out on horseback; and, considering his age, he mounted his horse with wonderful agility. He is, in his ride, accompanied by two of the Princesses, who have some of their maids of honour following in a landau or phaeton. The King has several attendants, two of whom are close by him, and one has a little stick, the crooked end of which catches that part of the bridle nearest the curb, so that should the animal, on which his Majesty rides, stumble, instant assistance might be given."

      Music was his greatest solace from his latter seizure till his death, and we learn of him in the beginning of the year 1811 (Morning Chronicle, Jan. 8th): —

      "Windsor, January 6th, – The Bulletin of to-day is of a very cheering nature, and for these five days past his Majesty has been gradually improving, both in mental and bodily strength. His Majesty has become more tranquillized in his general deportment, and there are daily visible signs that his malady is on the decline. His Majesty now uses the sitting-room in the Blenheim Tower; takes his meals regularly, and at intervals amuses himself with playing the most familiar tunes on the harpsichord, with a correctness surpassing the most sanguine expectations. As a striking proof of this fact, on some very recent occasions, when his Majesty, in consequence of his defective sight, struck a wrong key, he instantly corrected the error by modulating the tune, and finishing it with his accustomed science and judgment…

      "The Harpsichord on which his Majesty plays, formerly belonged to the great Handel, and is supposed to have been manufactured at Antwerp in the year 1612. Handel's music is highly esteemed by his Majesty, and many of his most favourite compositions are now played by his Majesty from recollection." And so let us leave him, for a while, to be soothed by his music.

      The year 1811 came in bitterly cold, and sad were the tales told in consequence. As to the Coaches, they suffered severely. On the 4th of January the fall of snow was so great, that the Northern roads were all but impassable, and the Mail Coach from Boston could only be dragged four miles through the snow, the guard having to do the best he could, on horseback, with the mails, and the mails from London to Boston had to be conveyed in the same manner. The Leicester Coach, on the way to Stamford, was upset in the snow at Burton-Lazarus, and several of the passengers were hurt; the Carlisle Mail was dug out of the snow at Tickencote, and with difficulty got to Stamford with eight horses, three hours later than usual; but it could not proceed further than Thornhaugh, whence the guard was obliged to take the letter-bags on horseback. Three coaches from the north lay all night in the snow about a mile from Stamford, and as many near Winsford. Oh! for the good old Coaching days! when Pulman's Cars were unknown, and people with slender purses had to ride outside in all weathers – and it was recorded that on the 5th of January, 1811, on the arrival of the Carlisle Coach in London two poor women, outside passengers, were frozen to death. The Coachman supposed them to be asleep, and did not attempt to disturb them until he arrived at his destination, when they were found stiff in death. Two persons near Lincoln perished in the snow, and the cold was so great, even so far south as London, that the Thames was nearly frozen over.

      Tender hearts felt for the Poor Debtors, and those in Ludgate record their thanks to M. A. Taylor, Esq., M.P., for his annual benevolent gift of two Chaldrons of Coals, 158 lbs. Beef, and 23 half-peck loaves; and to Alderman Wood, the friend of Queen Caroline, for his present of £5; and an unknown donor for 40 lbs. Beef. The poor debtors in Newgate had very many large sums to acknowledge, and were duly grateful for the kindly and thoughtful assistance thus rendered them. Sad, however, is it to find that during the Severe Frost, on the 7th of January, a poor prisoner died of Cold and Want in the Marshalsea prison. At this time we learn there were about 320 debtors in Newgate alone; and those that were without private means, had to subsist on the prison allowance of 2d. worth of bread (the quartern loaf being, in January, 1s. 3d.), so that their relief during the inclement winter, was a work of necessity, as well as of benevolence.

      In 1811 was living amongst us an illustrious Prisoner of War, no less than Lucien Buonaparte, Prince de Canino (his son, Prince Louis Lucien still lives at Norfolk Terrace, Bayswater), who, not altogether falling in with his brother's policy, was on his way to the United States, when, on the 1st of August, 1810, he was taken and made prisoner by a British Cruiser. After some detention at Malta, he was sent on to England, and Ludlow was assigned as his place of detention; and there he lived for some time, inhabiting Dinham House, the seat of the Earl of Powis. He seems to have accepted the inevitable cheerfully, according to The Times of Friday, January 4th: —

      "Lucien Buonaparte arrived at Ludlow about 4 o'clock on the evening of Wednesday, sen'night, accompanied by his nephew, an interpreter, secretary, Mr. Mackenzie, and a few servants. He drove to the Angel Inn where he dined and slept. On Thursday morning he walked about the town, viewed the Castle, and some of the principal streets; but, as the weather was rather unfavourable, and public curiosity great, he did not stay out long. On that evening, one of the Winter Dancing Assemblies took place, which Lucien, his nephew, and some of his friends attended. Some of the latter danced, but Lucien did not. He continued in the room till supper was announced; he then attended Countess Powis to the supper rooms, and sat at her Ladyship's right hand during supper: after which he returned to the ball and card rooms. On Saturday he went to Stone-house, a seat of Lord Powis, about five miles from Ludlow, where Lucien is in future to reside, and from thence proceeded to Walcot, the principal residence of his Lordship, where he stayed a day or two, and returned to Ludlow."

      The next day's Times says: "Madame Lucien Buonaparte, with her family, and a numerous train of servants, occupying, in all, four carriages, arrived at Ludlow on Wednesday; having performed the journey from Plymouth, in a week. Lucien removed, on the preceding day, from the Inn to Lord Powis's residence in that town, called Dinham-house; his Lordship's seat in the neighbourhood (Stone-house) being found too small for the reception of so numerous a suite."

      In another Newspaper the ladies are described with almost American frankness: "Madame Buonaparte is extremely handsome and fascinating; Lucien's daughter, of whom so much has been said, has great claims to a genteel figure, and elegant demeanour, but she is not beautiful. The motto on Lucien's carriage is an extraordinary one, Luceo, non uro, 'I shine without burning,'" On this motto the following Epigram was made: —

      "A Wag, requested to translate

      The Motto, on the Coach of State

      That sets all Wales into a

2

Then the principal Aëronaut in England.