Brighton, Feb. 19th, 1827.

Dear Julia,

‘To make the best of my time,’ (as the practical English say,) before I left town yesterday I visited three theatres in succession. In the first piece I saw, the principal person was an Irish servant. According to all I have been able to learn from plays and novels, these Irish must be an odd people,—of a fresh originality very unlike the English. Irish beggars are very common in the streets of London, where they are easily recognized by their Gascon-like manner and dialect. A modern author remarks with equal drollery and truth: “The English beggar whines out the same monotonous words in a drawling tone, ‘Give a poor man a halfpenny, Give a poor man a halfpenny.’—What an orator is his Irish colleague! ‘O your honour, give us a penny, only one blessed penny, your honour’s honour, and God’s blessing be upon your children, and your children’s children! Give us only one little penny, and may Heaven grant you a long life, and a quiet death, and a blessed resurrection!’” Who can withstand entreaties so humorously moving?

In the next theatre we were regaled with a pantomime, in which was a quadrille of birds, and another of tea-things; after which the tea-pot, milk-jug, and cup, executed a ‘pas de trois,’ while spoons, knives, and forks danced around them as ‘figurantes.’ The birds were ‘À s’y mÉprendre,’ and I recommend something of the same kind, with parrots which might speak too, to be arranged for the S—— Court theatre by Mephistophiles. A clever account of it would be a still further novelty, and a tea-kettle and accompaniments would be very suitable additions to the society.

I saw the Indian jugglers for the third time. They exhibited something quite new. Instead of balls, they threw up and caught short burning torches. This produces a curious sort of fire-work, a continuous developement of burning figures,—wheels, serpents, triangles, stars, flowers, &c., as if in a kaleidescope. The immovable steadiness and accuracy of these people never misses.

The fantastic absurdities of the pantomimes probably affected my imagination in the night, which I dosed away between London and Brighton; for I had the strangest visions in my carriage. At first I was mounted on my beautiful gray, whom for once I could not manage: he constantly resisted my will; and when at last I mastered him, shook his head with such fury, that it broke from his neck and flew to a distance of twenty paces, while I plunged down a precipice on the headless body.—I was next sitting on a bench in my park, and watching the devastations made by a frightful hurricane, which tore up the old trees far and near, and threw them together like faggots.—At last I quarrelled with you, dear Julia, and in despair went for a soldier. I forgot you (which is possible only in sleep,) and found myself in my new sphere, once more young and brilliant, full of fresh spirit, and not less full of wanton pride. It was the day of battle. The thunder of the cannon rolled magnificently; noble martial music accompanied it, and animated our spirits; while, with the prerogative of a dream, we sat quietly breakfasting on a ‘pÂtÉ aux truffes et champagne,’ in the midst of a fire of musketry. A spent cannon-ball now came ‘en ricochet’ towards us; and before I could spring aside, carried off the head of my comrade, who was sitting on the ground by my side, and both my legs, so that I fell groaning with pain and horror. When I recovered my senses, the storm was roaring around me, and the sea howled in my ears. I thought myself on the voyage, when, behold my carriage stopped at the door of the inn on the Marine Parade at Brighton! To-morrow perhaps I shall dream out the rest. But are the waking fancies of life much less confused? Castles in the air, for good and for evil;—nothing but castles in the air. Some stand for minutes, some for years, some for tens[48] of years; but they all fall at last, and palace, just as easily as a miserable hut, a grave or a dungeon. But you are ever by, my Julia, either sharing the palace, adorning the hut, weeping over the grave, or consoling me in bonds. At this moment I am floating midway, without any determinate abode: I am, however, all the more ethereal and light-hearted for that; but, I must confess, with a very sleepy ‘physique,’ for it is three in the morning: and so I kiss your hand, and bid you good-night. But I beg you to look in your dream-book what these adventures of mine portend.

You know my favourite superstition, which I set too high a value upon to have it torn from me by chaffy reasonings. As, for instance, when an ‘esprit fort’ shrugs up his shoulder, (if he does not venture to turn up his nose in my face,) or a well-anointed priest says, “It is extraordinary to see how inconsistently many men refuse to believe in religion, (by which parsons always mean their Church and its ordinances,) and yet give way to the utmost credulity in the greatest absurdities.” “But, reverend Sir,” I ask in reply, “in what then do these absurdities consist?” “Why, the belief in sympathies, in dreams, in the influence of the stars, and so on.” “But, most respected Sir, I see no inconsistency in the matter. Every reflecting man must confess that there are a number of mysterious powers in nature,—influences, and attractions, both of our earth, and of the system to which it belongs, of which many that formerly passed for fables have been discovered; others that as yet we do but suspect or divine, and cannot ascertain. It is therefore by no means contrary to reason to make one’s own hypothesis concerning them, and to believe in these more or less. I do not, therefore, contest your miracles, nor your symbols;—I contest only certain other things, which many of you teach, and which are equally incomprehensible to the understanding and repugnant to the heart: for instance, a God more passionate and partial than the frailest man; infinite torments appointed by infinite love, for finite sins; arbitrarily-predestined forgiveness or damnation,—and so on. Such things can be possible only when two and two shall make five, and no superstition can approach the insanity of such a belief.”

February 22nd.

I am just returned from a grand Almack’s fancy ball, where everybody was either in some fantastic outlandish dress, or in uniform,—a ‘mÉlange’ which does not seem to me in very good taste, nor very respectful to the latter. You may imagine that my friend the Highland chieftain did not fail to appear in his national costume. It is really very handsome; in the highest degree rich, picturesque, and manly: the only thing that does not please me is the shoes with the large buckles. The sword is just in the form of one of our student’s rapiers; and besides that, there is a dagger, pistols, and cartouche-box. The arms are set with precious stones; and an eagle’s feather, the badge of a chieftain, adorns the cap.

I escorted two ladies to the ball,—the one a good-natured and sensible woman, still very pretty at five-and-thirty, who likes the world and is liked by it, and nurses an invalid husband with the most unremitting care. Her ‘tournure’ is agreeable, her disposition kind and good,—so that she is just the person ‘pour en faire une amie dans le monde.’ The other lady, her intimate friend, is a young and very pretty widow; not a very considerable only seem realities. Nobody can furnish a greater abundance of plans to architects of such castles than I. On the slightest inducement I can build a fairy person, but a good-tempered friendly little creature, who is perfectly contented if you tell her that her teeth are pearls and her eyes violets.

I had no reason to be ashamed of my ladies, either as to person or dress; but they, and all present, were eclipsed by the youthful Miss ——. She is really one of the most beautiful girls I have seen,—a little sylph,—who must have stolen her exquisite foot and her graces from another land. She is only sixteen,—wild, and mobile as quicksilver; unwearied in dancing as in frolic. I was so fortunate as to gain her good graces to-day by a lucky offering. This consisted in a ‘cornet’ of remarkably well-made ‘bonbon’ crackers, in the distribution of which she had found infinite diversion at the last ball. This indecorum had been strongly reprobated by the mammas; so that there were no more to be had at supper, as heretofore. I had providentially laid in a stock at the confectioner’s, and now presented them to her unexpectedly; and I doubt whether the gift of a million of money would give poor me half the pleasure I now bestowed by such a trifle. The little thing was in an ecstacy of delight, and immediately prepared her batteries, which were the more successful, as the enemy thought themselves secure. At every explosion she laughed as if she would kill herself; and every time I met her she smiled upon me with her sparkling eyes, as sweetly as a little angel. Poor child! this perfect innocence, this overflow of happiness and joy, touched me deeply—for, alas! she will soon, like all the rest, be undeceived.

There were many other very pretty young women; but they were too ‘dressÉes’; some were loaded with jewels and trinkets, but none were comparable to this girl.

February 24th.

I spent this evening at Mrs. F——’s, a very dignified and delightful woman, formerly, as it is affirmed, married to the King. She is now without influence in that region, but still universally beloved and respected,—’d’un excellent ton et sans prÉtension.’ I there heard some interesting details concerning Lord Liverpool: a man who, an hour before, ruled half a world with energy and sagacity, becomes an ‘imbecile’ from the neglect to open a vein! His predecessor, Lord Castlereagh, from the same cause commits suicide!—On how frail a tenure hangs the human intellect!

In this house one sees only ‘beau monde.’ Indeed there is not much of the very emptiest, the exclusive society here; or they live completely retired, that they may not come into collision with the persons they call ‘Nobodies,’ whom they shun with greater horror than Brahmins shun Parias. Though my station and connexions allow me to enter the sanctuary, I do not on that account disdain the world without. As a foreigner, and still more as an independent man, I take the liberty to seek enjoyment wherever I can find it, unfettered by such restrictions,—nor do I always find the most in the highest places. Even the vulgar and laughable ‘singerie’ of the ‘parvenus’ is sometimes extremely amusing, and has a much more burlesque character in England than in any other country; since wealth, establishment, and luxury,—in a word, all their ‘entourage,’—are essentially the same as those of the great and high-bred; only the persons wander among them as if stripped bare.

Here occurred a long pause in my correspondence. Pardon,—I was eating my solitary dinner; a snipe stood before me, a ‘mouton qui rÊve’ by my side. You guess who is the latter. Don’t be distressed about the place on the left, for on the right is a blazing fire, and I know how much you fear that.I shall spend the evening again at Count F——’s, who is of the Brahmin class. Have I described him to you? He is no insignificant person. Uniting French agreeableness with English solidity, he speaks both languages with nearly equal ease and fluency. Though no longer young, he is still a handsome man, and his external appearance is rendered more striking by a very noble, dignified air. Simple, and thoroughly polite, cheerful without sarcasm or malignity, his conversation amuses and satisfies, even when it is not brilliant at the moment. His wife is neither remarkable for beauty nor the contrary. She has sense, ‘l’usage du grand monde, et quelque fois de la politesse;’ no inconsiderable talent for music, and ten-thousand a-year. With all these materials, I need not tell you the house is an extremely pleasant one.

February 25th.

There is a delightful custom for the men at English balls. After the conclusion of a dance, each takes his partner on his arm, and walks about with her till the next begins. Many a man has thus time to conquer his timidity, and nothing is wanting but our large and numerous rooms to make it more agreeable. Here there is no wider field to expatiate in than down the stairs to the eating-room, and up again; still many a gentle word may be whispered in the crowd, for nobody heeds what his neighbour does.

As I am tormented on all sides to dance, (a German who does not waltz appears incomprehensible here,) and do not like it, I have given out that I am restrained by a vow, and leave it to be inferred that it is a tender one. The ladies do not know how to reconcile this with the persuasion that I came here in search of a wife, which they stoutly maintain. Thank Heaven! I find my tranquillity quite undisturbed. * * *

A poor Englishman here is in much worse plight. He threw himself off the pier to-day, being, as the English say, ‘crossed in love,’ and only yesterday he was dancing as if stung by a tarantula. The poor fellow must have been like the turkeys that are made to dance ballets in Paris by being set on a metal plate, under which a fire is lighted. The spectator who sees their convulsive bounds, thinks they are very merry, while the poor things are burning by inches.

I have often complained that Brighton has no vegetation; but the sun sets in the sea, and the cloud-pictures by which they are accompanied, exceed all I ever beheld in variety. To-day it had rained all day, and in the evening, when it cleared up, a dark range of mountains formed itself above the watery mirror, gradually acquiring a firmer consistency as the sun reached the highest peak, and broke through the black masses as if with clefts of flaming gold; I thought I saw Vesuvius again, streaming with lava. After I had attended this magnificent ‘coucher’ of the monarch of the heavens till its last moment, I wandered about the bare downs till it was perfectly dark, scouring hill and dale on my swift steed. Probably he too had pictures in his fancy which urged him to greater speed,—enticing visions of oats and hay.

March 14th.[49]

These everlasting balls, concerts, dinners, and promenades, I cannot call exactly tedious, but time-killing. Meanwhile a poor dying man has taken up his abode in my house; and his groans and complaints, which all night long reach me through the thin walls, form too sharp and melancholy a contrast with this abode of frivolity and dissipation. I can do nothing for him, so I shall leave the house to-morrow for London.

I have received both your letters, and am heartily grieved to hear that both cook and doctor are wanting at your baths. You must do everything you can to get both these important chemists, (destined by Nature to play into each other’s hands,) as soon as possible, and of the best quality.

You know that a celebrated French physician, the first time he was called into a house, always began by running into the kitchen, embracing the cook, and thanking him for a new patient.

When Louis the Fourteenth grew worse and worse, and, distrusting his own physicians, consulted our Esculapius, the latter made representations to the first ‘homme de bonne bouche’ that he should provide fewer and simpler dishes for the King. “Allons donc, Monsieur,” replied the heroic cook, embracing the physician, “mon mÉtier est de faire manger la Roi, le votre de lui en Ôter les suites. Faisons chacun le notre.”

Before I left Brighton I was forced to be present at a musical ‘soirÉe,’ one of the severest trials to which foreigners in England are exposed. Every mother who has grown-up daughters, for whom she has had to pay large sums to the music-master, chooses to enjoy the satisfaction of having the youthful ‘talent’ admired. There is nothing therefore but quavering and strumming right and left, so that one is really overpowered and unhappy: and even if an Englishwomen has the power of singing, she has scarcely ever either science or manner. The men are much more agreeable ‘deletanti,’ for they, at least, give one the diversion of a comical farce. That a man should advance to the piano-forte with far greater confidence than a David, strike with his forefinger the note he thinks his song should begin with, and then ‘entonner,’ like a thunder-clap, (generally a note or two lower than the pitch,) and sing through a long ‘aria’ without rest or pause, and without accompaniment of any sort, except the most wonderful distortions of the face,—is a thing one must have seen to believe it possible, especially in the presence of at least fifty people. Sometimes the thing is heightened by their making choice of Italian songs; and, in their total ignorance of the language, roaring out words, which, if they were understood by the ladies, would force them to leave the room. It did not appear to me that people constrained themselves much in laughing on these occasions: but some vocalists are far too well established in their own opinion to be disturbed by that;—once let loose upon society, they are extremely hard to call off again.

London, Feb. 17th.

I am once more in Albemarle Street, and after my long absence I yesterday paid no fewer than twenty-two visits; dined at a Club dinner;[50] went to a ball at the house of the above-mentioned fair Napoleonist, and closed the day with a ‘soirÉe’ at Mrs. Hope’s, a very fashionable and pretty woman, wife of the author of Anastasius.

To-day I visited ‘in another quarter’ two Chinese ladies who also receive company here, and in a very original style too,—only one must pay one’s ‘entrÉe.’ Even from the very staircase everything is arranged as if in China itself; and when you enter, and see the ladies reclining, with outstretched feet five inches in length, under an illumination of paper lanterns, you may almost fancy yourself in Canton. They claim to be of high descent,—to which their feet bear witness; for the lower classes, of course, have not this distinguishing mark. The small-footed women have so little centripedal power, that they can hardly totter from one ottoman to another without a stick.

I am a passionate admirer of small feet in women; but these are too small, and horrible to behold naked: the toes, doubled under from infancy, are literally grown into the sole. This practice is nearly as absurd as the stays of our ladies, though perhaps not quite so injurious to the health.

I bought a new pair of shoes of these princesses, which I made them try on before my eyes. I send them to you, together with several other Chinesiana, silk hangings, pictures, &c.; among others, portraits of the Emperor and Empress. The good creatures seem to me, spite of their quality, to have brought a complete warehouse with them, for the moment a thing is sold it is replaced by another. Though they have been for some time in England, they have not learned a single word of English. Their own language appeared to me very heavy and dragging; and their faces were, to a European taste, more than ugly.

February 18th.

The Italian Opera has commenced,—the only theatre ‘du bel air,’ except the French Play. As people cannot appear there but ‘en toilette,’ even in the pit, the effect is very brilliant. The opera however was bad, orchestra as well as singers, and the ballet likewise. The lighting of the theatre is better adapted for being seen than for seeing: in front of every box hangs a chandelier, which dazzles one very offensively, and throws the actors into the shade. The opera lasts till one o’clock, so that you have ample time to visit it without giving up other engagements. The ‘trouble’ has now begun in good earnest; one seldom gets home before three or four o’clock in the morning: and a man who chooses to be very ‘rÉpandu’—which the exclusives indeed do not, but which is amusing to a foreigner—may very well accept a dozen invitations for every evening.

The great world is consequently not alive before two o’clock in the afternoon. The Park hours are from four till six, when the ladies drive about by thousands in their elegant equipages and morning dresses, and the gentlemen on their beautiful horses ‘voltigent’ about from flower to flower, displaying all the grace Heaven has bestowed upon them. Almost all Englishmen, however, look well on horseback, and ride better and more naturally than our riding-masters, who certainly understand admirably, when they are on a horse trained to every sort of pace and speed, how to sit like a clothes-peg on a linen-line.

The green turf of the Park swarms with riders, who can ride faster there than in the ‘corso.’ Among them are many ladies, who manage their horses as skilfully and steadily as the men.

But Miss Sally is now led out before my door, and snorts impatiently on the macadamized pavement. My letter is long enough:—a thousand greetings to all who are good enough to remember me, and the most affectionate farewell to you!

Your friend L——.