The Project Gutenberg Etext of Letters from England, by Bancroft
#1 in our series by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft


Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!

Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*

Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below.  We need your donations.


Letters from England 1846-1849

by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft (Mrs. George Bancroft)

October, 1999  [Etext #1936]


The Project Gutenberg Etext of Letters from England, by Bancroft
******This file should be named lteng10.txt or lteng10.zip******

Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, lteng11.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, lteng10a.txt


This etext was prepared by Jane Duff and proofed by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk from the 1904 Smith, Elder and Co. edition.

Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
copyright notice is included.  Therefore, we do usually do NOT! keep
these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.


We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.

Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.  To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month.  Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.

At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.

We need your donations more than ever!


All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law.  (CMU = Carnegie-
Mellon University).

For these and other matters, please mail to:

Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box  2782
Champaign, IL 61825

When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .

We would prefer to send you this information by email.

******

To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
to view http://promo.net/pg.  This site lists Etexts by
author and by title, and includes information about how
to get involved with Project Gutenberg.  You could also
download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here.  This
is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
for a more complete list of our various sites.

To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
at http://promo.net/pg).

Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.

Example FTP session:

ftp sunsite.unc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
cd etext90 through etext99
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET GUTINDEX.??  [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]

***

**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**

(Three Pages)


***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project").  Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
     cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
     net profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
     University" within the 60 days following each
     date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
     your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of.  Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".

*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*





This etext was prepared by Jane Duff and proofed by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk from the 1904 Smith, Elder and Co. edition.





LETTERS FROM ENGLAND 1846-1849




LETTER:  TO W.D.B. AND A.B.
LIVERPOOL, October 26, 1846



My dear sons:  Thank God with me that we are once more on TERRA
FIRMA.  We arrived yesterday morning at ten o'clock, after a very
rough voyage and after riding all night in the Channel in a
tremendous gale, so bad that no pilot could reach us to bring us in
on Saturday evening.  A record of a sea voyage will be only
interesting to you who love me, but I must give it to you that you
may know what to expect if you ever undertake it; but first, I must
sum it all up by saying that of all horrors, of all physical
miseries, tortures, and distresses, a sea voyage is the greatest . .
. The Liverpool paper this morning, after announcing our arrival
says:  "The GREAT WESTERn, notwithstanding she encountered
throughout a series of most severe gales, accomplished the passage
in sixteen days and twelve hours."

To begin at the moment I left New York:  I was so absorbed by the
pain of parting from you that I was in a state of complete apathy
with regard to all about me.  I did not sentimentalize about "the
receding shores of my country;" I hardly looked at them, indeed.
Friday I was awoke in the middle of the night by the roaring of the
wind and sea and SUCH motion of the vessel.

The gale lasted all Saturday and Sunday, strong from the North, and
as we were in the region where the waters of the Bay of Fundy run
out and meet those of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, afterwards we had a
strong cross sea.  May you never experience a "cross sea." . . . Oh
how I wished it had pleased God to plant some little islands as
resting-places in the great waste of waters, some resting station.
But no, we must keep on, on, with everything in motion that your eye
could rest on.  Everything tumbling about . . . We lived through it,
however, and the sun of Sunday morn rose clear and bright.  A pilot
got on board about seven and at ten we were in Liverpool.

We are at the Adelphi.  Before I had taken off my bonnet Mr. Richard
Rathbone, one of the wealthiest merchants here, called to invite us
to dine the next day . . . Mrs. Richard Rathbone has written that
beautiful "Diary of Lady Willoughby," and, what is more, they say it
is a perfect reflect of her own lovely life and character.  When she
published the book no one knew of it but her husband, not even her
brothers and sisters, and, of course, she constantly heard
speculations as to the authenticity of the book, and was often
appealed to for her opinion.  She is very unpretending and sweet in
her manners; talks little, and seems not at all like a literary
lady.

I like these people in Liverpool.  They seem to me to think less of
fashion and more of substantial excellence than our wealthy people.
I am not sure but the existence of a higher class above them has a
favorable effect, by limiting them in some ways.  There is much less
show of furniture in the houses than with us, though their servants
and equipages are in much better keeping.  I am not sorry to be
detained here for a few days by my illness to become acquainted with
them, and I think your father likes it also, and will find it useful
to him.  Let me say, while I think of it, how much I was pleased
with the GREAT WESTERN.  That upper saloon with the air passing
through it was a great comfort to me.  The captain, the servants,
the table, are all excellent.  Everything on board was as nice as in
the best hotel, and my gruels and broths beautifully made.  One of
the stewardesses did more for me than I ever had done by any servant
of my own . . . Your father and Louisa were ill but three or four
days, and then your father read Tacitus and talked to the ladies,
while Louisa played with the other children.

The Adelphi, my first specimen of an English hotel, is perfectly
comfortable, and though an immense establishment, is quiet as a
private house.  There is none of the bustle of the Astor, and if I
ring my bedroom bell it is answered by a woman who attends to me
assiduously.  The landlord pays us a visit every day to know if we
have all we wish.


LONDON, Sunday, November 1


Here I am in the mighty heart, but before I say one word about it I
will go on from Wednesday evening with my journal.  On Thursday,
though still very feeble, I dined at Green Bank, the country-seat of
Mr. William Rathbone.  I was unwilling to leave Liverpool without
sharing with your father some of the hospitalities offered to us and
made a great effort to go.  The place is very beautiful and the
house full of comfortable elegance.

The next morning we started for Birmingham, ninety-seven miles from
Liverpool, on our way to London, as I am unable to travel the whole
way in a day.  On this railway I felt for the first time the
superiority of England to our own country.  The cars are divided
into first, second, and third classes.  We took a first-class car,
which has all the comforts of a private carriage.

Just as we entered Birmingham I observed the finest seat, surrounded
by a park wall and with a very picturesque old church, that I had
seen on the way.  On enquiring of young Mr. Van Wart, who came to
see us in Birmingham (the nephew of Washington Irving), whose place
it was, he said it was now called Aston Hall and was owned by Mr.
Watt, but it was formerly owned by the Bracebridges, and was the
veritable "Bracebridge Hall," and that his uncle had passed his
Christmas there.

On arriving here we found our rooms all ready for us at Long's
Hotel, kept by Mr. Markwell, a wine merchant.  The house is in New
Bond Street, in the very centre of movement at the West End, and Mr.
Markwell full of personal assiduity, which we never see with us.  He
comes to the carriage himself, gives me his arm to go upstairs, is
so much obliged to us for honoring his house, ushers you in to
dinner, at least on the first day, and seats you, etc., etc.

Do not imagine us in fresh, new-looking rooms as we should be in New
York or Philadelphia.  No, in London even new things look old, but
almost everything IS old.  Our parlor has three windows down to the
floor, but it is very dark.  The paint is maple color, and
everything is dingy in appearance.  The window in my bedroom looks
like a horn lantern, so thick is the smoke, and yet everything is
scrupulously clean.  On our arrival, Boyd, the Secretary of
Legation, soon came, and stayed to dine with us at six.  Our dinner
was an excellent soup, the boiled cod garnished with fried smelts,
the roast beef and a FRICANDEAU with sweet breads, then a pheasant,
and afterwards, dessert.

This morning Mr. Bates came very early to see us, and then Mr.
Joseph Coolidge, who looks very young and handsome; then Mr. Colman,
who also looks very well, Mr. Boyd and a Mr. Haight, of New York,
and Mr. Gair, son of Mr. Gair of Liverpool, a pleasing young man.


Monday Evening


This morning came Mr. Aspinwall, then Captain Wormeley, then Dr.
Holland, then Mrs. Bates, then Mr. Joseph Jay and his sister, then
Tom Appleton, Mrs. and Miss Wormeley, and Mrs. Franklin Dexter.  Dr.
Holland came a second time to take me a drive, but Mrs. Bates being
with me he took your father.  Mrs. Bates took me to do some
shopping, and to see about some houses.  They are very desirous we
should be in their neighborhood, in Portland Place, but I have a
fancy myself for the new part of town.  I have been so used all my
life to see things fresh and clean-looking, that I cannot get
accustomed to the London dinge, and some of the finest houses look
to me as though I would like to give them a good scouring.  Tell
Cousin M. never to come to England, she would be shocked every
minute, with all the grandeur.  A new country is cleaner-looking,
though it may not be so picturesque.

I got your letters when I arrived here, and I wish this may give you
but a little pleasure they gave me.  Pray never let a steamer come
without a token from both of you . . . With love to Grandma and
Uncle Thomas, believe me, with more love than ever before,
ELIZABETH D. BANCROFT



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, November 3, 1846



. . . This day, at five, your father had his first interview with
Lord Palmerston, who will acquaint the Queen with his arrival, and
after she has received him we shall leave our cards upon all the
ministers and CORPS DIPLOMATIQUE.


November 4th


Your father had a most agreeable dinner at Lord Holland's.  He met
there Lord and Lady Palmerston, Lord Morpeth, Lord de Mauley, Mr.
Harcourt, a son of the Archbishop of York, etc.  He took out Lady
Holland and Lord Morpeth, Lady Palmerston, the only ladies present.
Holland House is surrounded by 200 acres in the midst of the western
part of London, or rather Kensington.  Lord Holland has no children,
and the family dies with him.  They dined in the room in which
Addison died.

To-day, to my surprise, came Lady Palmerston, which was a great
courtesy, as it was my place to make the first visit.  She is the
sister of Lord Melbourne.  Lord de Mauley has also been here. . . .
To-day I have been driving through some of the best streets in
London, and my ideas of its extent and magnificence are rising fast.
The houses are more picturesque than ours, and some of them most
noble.  The vastness of a great capital like this cannot burst upon
one at once.  Its effect increases daily.  The extent of the Park,
surrounded by mansions which look, some of them, like a whole
history in themselves, has to-day quite dazzled my imagination.


November 5th


This morning, Thursday, came an invitation to dine with Lord and
Lady Palmerston on Saturday.  Sir George Grey, another of the
ministers, came to see us to-day and Lord Mahon.  Your father and I
have been all the morning looking at houses, and have nearly
concluded upon one in Eaton Square.  We find a hotel very expensive,
and not very comfortable for us, as your father is very restive
without his books about him.  Mr. Harcourt also came to see us to-
day.  I mention as many of the names of our visitors as I can
recollect, as it will give you some idea of the composition of
English society . . .  This moment a large card in an envelope has
been brought me, which runs thus:  "The Lord Steward has received
Her Majesty's commands to invite Mr. Bancroft to dinner at Windsor
Castle on Thursday, 12th November, to remain until Friday, 13th."  I
am glad he will dine there before me, that he may tell me the order
of performances.


Friday, November 6th


. . . We had to-day a delightful visit from Rogers, the Poet, who is
now quite old, but with a most interesting countenance.  He was full
of cordiality, and, at parting, as he took my hand, said:  "Our
acquaintance must become friendship."  Mr. Harcourt came again and
sat an hour with us, and has introduced your father at the
Traveller's Club and the Athenaeum Club.  To-night came my new
lady's maid, Russell.  She dresses hair beautifully, but is rather
too great a person to suit my fancy.


Sunday Evening, November 8th


On Friday evening we met at Mrs. Wormeley's a cosy little knot of
Americans.  The Dexters were staying there and there were Mr. and
Mrs. Atkinson and Miss Pratt, Mr. and Mrs. Aspinwall, Mr. and Miss
Jay, Mr. and Mrs. Putnam, Mr. Colman, Mr. Pickering, etc.


Wednesday Evening


On Monday we came to our HOME, preferring it to the hotel, though it
is not yet in order for our reception, and we have not yet all our
servants.  Last evening we dined with Lord Morpeth at his father's
house.  His family are all out of town, but he remains because of
his ministerial duties.  Lord Morpeth took me out and I sat between
him and Sir George Grey.  Your father took out Lady Theresa Lewis,
who is a sister of Lord Clarendon.  She was full of intelligence and
I like her extremely.  Baron and Lady Parke (a distinguished judge),
Lady Morgan, Mr. Mackintosh, Dr. and Mrs. Holland (Sidney Smith's
daughter), and Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Dexter, with several others
were the party.

During dinner one gentleman was so very agreeable that I wondered
who he could be, but as Lord Palmerston had told me that Mr.
Macaulay was in Edinburgh, I did not think of him.  After the ladies
left the gentlemen, my first question to Mrs. Holland was the name
of her next neighbor.  "Why, Mr. Macaulay," was her answer, and I
was pleased not to have been disappointed in a person of whom I had
heard so much.  When the gentlemen came in I was introduced to him
and talked to him and heard him talk not a little.

These persons all came the next day to see us, which gave rise to
fresh invitations.

This morning we have been driving round to leave cards on the CORPS
DIPLOMATIQUE, and Mr. Harcourt has taken me all over the Athenaeum
Club-house, a superb establishment.  They have given your father an
invitation to the Club, a privilege which is sometimes sought for
years, Mr. Harcourt says. . . .  Have I not needed all my energies?
We have been here just a fortnight, and I came so ill that I could
hardly walk.  We are now at housekeeping, and I am in the full
career in London society.  They told me I should see no one until
spring, but you see we dine out or go out in the evening almost
every day. . . .  For the gratification of S.D. or Aunt I., who may
wonder how I get along in dress matters, going out as I did in my
plain black dress, I will tell you that Mrs. Murray, the Queen's
dressmaker, made me, as soon as I found these calls and invitations
pouring in, two dresses.  One of black velvet, very low, with short
sleeves, and another of very rich black watered silk, with drapery
of black tulle on the corsage and sleeves. . . .  I have fitted
myself with several pretty little head-dresses, some in silver, some
with plumes, but all white, and I find my velvet and silk suit all
occasions.  I do not like dining with bare arms and neck, but I
must.


Tuesday, November 17th


Last evening we passed at the Earl of Auckland's, the head of the
Admiralty.  The party was at the Admiralty, where there is a
beautiful residence for the first lord. . . .  I had a long talk
with Lord Morpeth last evening about Mr. Sumner, and told him of his
nomination.  He has a strong regard for him. . . .  Not a moment
have I had to a London "lion."  I have driven past Westminster, but
have not been in it.  I have seen nothing of London but what came in
my way in returning visits.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
LONDON, November 17, 1846



My dear Uncle:  I cannot help refreshing the remembrance of me with
you and dear Aunty by addressing a separate letter to you. . . .
Yesterday we hailed with delight our letters from home. . . .  One
feels in a foreign land the absence of common sympathies and
interests, which always surround us in any part of our own country.
And yet nothing can exceed the kindness with which we have been
received here.

Last evening I went to my first great English dinner and it was a
most agreeable one. . . .  It seems a little odd to a republican
woman to find herself in right of her country taking precedence of
marchionesses, but one soon gets used to all things.  We sat down to
dinner at eight and got through about ten.  When the ladies rose, I
found I was expected to go first.  After dinner other guests were
invited and to the first person who came in, about half-past ten,
Lady Palmerston said:  "Oh, thank you for coming so early."  This
was Lady Tankerville of the old French family of de Grammont and
niece to Prince Polignac.  The next was Lady Emily de Burgh, the
daughter of the Marchioness of Clanricarde, a beautiful girl of
seventeen.  She is very lovely, wears a Grecian braid round her head
like a coronet, and always sits by her mother, which would not suit
our young girls.  Then came Lord and Lady Ashley, Lord Ebrington,
and so many titled personages that I cannot remember half.

The dinner is much the same as ours in all its modes of serving, but
they have soles and turbot, instead of our fishes, and their
pheasants are not our pheasants, or their partridges our partridges.
Neither have we so many footmen with liveries of all colours, or so
much gold and silver plate. . . .  The next morning Mr. Bancroft
breakfasted with Dr. Holland to meet the Marquis of Lansdowne alone.
[Thursday] he went down to Windsor to dine with the Queen.  He took
out to dinner the Queen's mother, the Duchess of Kent, the Queen
going with the Prince of Saxe-Weimar, who was paying a visit at the
Castle.  He talked German to the Duchess during dinner, which I
suspect she liked, for the Queen spoke of it to him afterwards, and
Lord Palmerston told me the Duchess said he spoke very pure German.
While he was dining at Windsor I went to a party all alone at the
Countess Grey's, which I thought required some courage.

Of all the persons I see here the Marquis of Lansdowne excites the
most lively regard.  His countenance and manners are full of
benevolence and I think he understands America better than anyone
else of the high aristocracy.  I told him I was born at Plymouth and
was as proud of my pure Anglo-Saxon Pilgrim descent as if it were
traced from a line of Norman Conquerors.  Nearly all the ministers
and their wives came to see us immediately, without waiting for us
to make the first visit, which is the rule, and almost every person
whom we have met in society, which certainly indicates an amiable
feeling toward our country.  We could not well have received more
courtesy than we have done, and it has been extended freely and
immediately, without waiting for the forms of etiquette.  Pray say
to Mr. Everett how often we hear persons speak of him, and with
highest regard.  I feel as if we were reaping some of the fruits of
his sowing.

Mr. Bancroft sends you a pack of cards, one of the identical two
packs with which the Queen played Patience the evening he was at
Windsor.  They were the perquisite of a page who brought them to
him.  He was much pleased with the Queen and thought her much
prettier than any representation of her which we have seen, and with
a very sweet expression.  Lady Holland had been staying two or three
days at Windsor, and was to leave the next morning.  When the Queen
took leave of her at night, she kissed her quite in my Virginia
fashion.


Dear Uncle:  How much more your niece would have written if to-day
were not packet day, I cannot say.  I shall send you some newspapers
and a pack of cards which I saw in the Queen's hands.  The American
Minister and Mrs. Bancroft have since played a game of piquet with
them.  The Queen's hands were as clean as her smile was gracious.
Best regards to the Judge and Aunt Isaac.

Yours most truly, George Bancroft.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, November 29, 1846



After a long interval I find again a quiet Sunday evening to resume
my journal to you.  On Monday we dined at Lord John Russell's, and
met many of the persons we have met before and the Duchess of
Inverness, the widow of the Duke of Sussex.  On Tuesday we dined at
Dr. Holland's.  His wife and daughter are charming, and then we met,
besides, Lady Charlotte Lindsay, the only surviving child of Lord
North, Mr. and Mrs. Milman (the author of the "Fall of Jerusalem"),
and Mr. Macaulay.  Yesterday I went to return the visit of the
Milmans and found that the entrance to their house, he being a
prebend of Westminster Abbey, was actually in the cloisters of the
Abbey.  They were not at home, but I took my footman and wandered at
leisure through the cloisters, treading at every step on the tomb of
some old abbot with dates of 1160 and thereabouts.

Nothing could be more delightful than London is now, if I had only a
little more physical vigor to enjoy it.  We see everybody more
frequently, and know them better than in the full season, and we
have some of the best specimens of English society, too, here just
now, as the Whig ministry brings a good deal of the ability of the
aristocracy to its aid.  The subjects of conversation among women
are more general than with us, and [they] are much more cultivated
than our women as a body, not our blues.  They never sew, or attend,
as we do, to domestic affairs, and so live for social life and
understand it better.


LONDON, December 2, 1846


My dear Mrs. Polk:  you told me when I parted from you at Washington
that you would like to get from me occasionally some accounts of my
experiences in English society.  I thought at that time that we
should see very little of it until the spring, but contrary to my
expectation we have been out almost every day since our arrival.  We
made our DEBUT in London on the first day of November (the suicidal
month you know) in the midst of an orange-colored fog, in which you
could not see your hand before you.  The prospect for the winter
seemed, I must say, rather "triste," but the next day the fog
cleared off, people came constantly to see us, and we had agreeable
invitations for every day, and London put on a new aspect.  Out
first dinner was at Lord Palmerston's, where we met what the
newspapers call a distinguished circle.  The Marquis of Lansdowne,
Lord and Lady John Russell, Marquis and Marchioness of Clanricarde
(Canning's daughter), Earl and Countess Grey, Sir George and Lady
Grey, etc., etc.  I was taken out by Lord Palmerston, with Lord Grey
on the other side, and found the whole thing very like one of our
Washington dinners, and I was quite as much at my ease, and they
seemed made of the same materials as our cabinet at home.  I have
since dined at Lord Morpeth's, Lord John Russell's, Lord Mahon's,
Dr. Holland's, Baron Parke's, The Prussian Minister's, and to-day we
dine with the Duchess of Inverness, the widow of the Duke of Sussex;
to-morrow with Mr. Milman, a prebend of Westminster and a
distinguished man of letters.  We have been at a great many SOIREES,
at Lady Palmerston's, Lady Grey's, Lord Auckland's, Lady Lewis's,
etc., etc.

And now, having given you some idea WHOM we are seeing here, you
will wish to know how I like them, and how they differ from our own
people.  At the smaller dinners and SOIREES at this season I cannot,
of course, receive a full impression of English society, but
certainly those persons now in town are charming people.  Their
manners are perfectly simple and I entirely forget, except when
their historic names fall upon my ear, that I am with the proud
aristocracy of England.  All the persons whose names I have
mentioned to you give one a decided impression not only of ability
and agreeable manners, but of excellence and the domestic virtues.
The furniture and houses, too, are less splendid and ostentatious,
than those of our large cities, though [they] have more plate, and
liveried servants.  The forms of society and the standard of dress,
too, are very like ours, except that a duchess or a countess has
more hereditary point lace and diamonds.  The general style of
dress, perhaps, is not so tasteful, so simply elegant as ours.  Upon
the whole I think more highly of our own country (I mean from a
social point of view alone) than before I came abroad.  There is
less superiority over us in manners and all the social arts than I
could have believed possible in a country where a large and wealthy
class have been set apart from time immemorial to create, as it
were, a social standard of high refinement.  The chief difference
that I perceive is this:  In our country the position of everybody
is undefined and rests altogether upon public opinion.  This leads
sometimes to a little assumption and pretension of manner, which the
highest class here, whose claims are always allowed by all about
them, are never tempted to put on.  From this results an extreme
simplicity of manner, like that of a family circle among us.

What I have said, however, applies less to the South than to the
large cities of the North, with which I am most familiar at home.  I
hope our memory will not be completely effaced in Washington, for we
cling to our friends there with strong interest.  Present my
respectful regards to the President, and my love to Mrs. Walker and
Miss Rucker.  To the Masons also, and our old colleagues all, and
pray lay your royal commands upon somebody to write me.  I long to
know what is going on in Washington.  The Pleasantons promised to do
so, and Annie Payne, to whom and to Mrs. Madison give also my best
love.  Believe me yours with the highest regard.

E.D. BANCROFT.



LETTER:  2 December



Yesterday we dined at the Prussian Minister's, Chevalier Bunsen's.
He met your father in Rome twenty years since, and has received us
with great enthusiasm.  Yesterday at dinner he actually rose in his
seat and made quite a speech welcoming him to England as historian,
old friend, etc., and ended by offering his health, which your
father replied to shortly, in a few words.  Imagine such an outbreak
upon routine at a dinner in England!  Nobody could have done it but
one of German blood, but I dare say the Everetts, who know him,
could imagine it all.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, December 19,1846



My dear Sons:  . . . Yesterday we dined at Macready's and met quite
a new, and to us, a most agreeable circle.  There was Carlyle, who
talked all dinner-time in his broad Scotch, in the most inimitable
way.  He is full of wit, and happened to get upon James I., upon
which topic he was superb.  Then there was Babbage, the great
mathematician, Fonblanc, the editor of the EXAMINER, etc., etc.  The
day before we dined at Mr. Frederick Elliott's with a small party of
eight, of which Lady Morgan was one, and also a brother of Lord
Normanby's, whom I liked very much.  Lady Morgan, who had not
hitherto much pleased me, came out in this small circle with all her
Irish wit and humor, and gave me quite new notions of her talent.
She made me laugh till I cried.  On Saturday we dined at Sir
Roderick Murchison's, the President of the Geological Society, very
great in the scientific way.

We have struck up a great friendship with Miss Murray, the Queen's
Maid of Honor, who paid me a visit of three hours to-day, in the
midst of which came in Colonel Estcourt, whom I was delighted to
see, as you may suppose.  Miss Murray is to me a very interesting
person, though a great talker; a convenient fault to a stranger.
She is connected with half the noble families in England, is the
grand-daughter of the Duchess of Athol, who governed the Isle of Man
as a queen, and the descendant of Scott's Countess of Derby.  Though
sprung of such Tory blood, and a maid of honor, she thinks freely
upon all subjects.  Religion, politics, and persons, she decides
upon for herself, and has as many benevolent schemes as old Madam
Jackson.

I returned the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Leslie, the painter, this week,
and saw the picture he is now painting for the Vice-Chancellor.  It
is a sketch of children, a boy driving his two little sisters as
horses.  One of the little girls is very like Susie, her size, hair,
and complexion.  How I longed to be rich enough to order a copy, but
his pictures cost a fortune.  I paid also a visit this week to the
Duchess of Inverness, whom I found in the prettiest, cosiest morning
boudoir looking onto the gardens of the Palace.  In short, I do, or
see, every hour, something that if I were a traveller only, I could
make quite a story of.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, January 1, 1847



My dear Sons:  . . .  I wrote my last sheet on the 19th and your
father went on that day to Cambridge to be present at the tri-
centennial celebration of Trinity College . . . He went also the day
after the anniversary, which was on our 22nd December, to Ely, with
Peacock, the great mathematician, who is Dean of Ely, to see the
great cathedral there . . . While he was at Cambridge I passed the
evening of the 22nd at Lady Morgan's, who happened to have a most
agreeable set . . . Lady Morgan's reunions are entertaining to me
because they are collections of lions, but they are not strictly and
exclusively fashionable.  They remind me in their composition from
various circles of Mrs. Otis's parties in Boston.  We have in this
respect an advantage over the English themselves, as in our position
we see a great variety of cliques.

For instance, last evening, the 31st, I took Louisa, at half-past
seven, to the house of Mr. Hawes, an under Secretary of State, to
see a beautiful children's masque.  It was an impersonation of the
"Old Year" dressed a little like LEAR with snowy hair and draperies.
OLD YEAR played his part inimitably, at times with great pathos, and
then introducing witty hits at all the doings of his reign, such as
exploding cotton, the new planet, a subject which he put at rest as
"FAR BEYOND OUR REACH," etc., etc.  He then introduced one by one
the children of all ages as "Days" of the coming year.  There was
TWELFTH DAY, crowned as Queen with her cake in her hands; there was
CHRISTMAS, covered with holly and mistletoe; there was APRIL FOOL'S
DAY, dressed as Harlequin; there was, above all, SHROVE TUESDAY,
with her frying-pan of pancakes, dressed as a little cook; there was
a charming boy of fourteen or fifteen, as ST. VALENTINE'S DAY with
his packet of valentines addressed to the young ladies present;
there was the 5TH OF NOVEMBER, full of wit and fun, etc.; the
longest day, an elder brother, of William's height, with a cap of
three or four feet high; and his little sister of five, as the
shortest day.  This was all arranged to music and each made little
speeches, introducing themselves.  The OLD YEAR, after introducing
his successors, and after much pathos, is "going, going--gone," and
falls covered with his drapery, upon removing which, instead of the
lifeless body of the OLD YEAR, is discovered a sweet little flower-
crowned girl of five or six, as the NEW YEAR.  It was charming, and
I was so pleased that, instead of taking Louisa away at nine o'clock
as I intended, I left her to see "Sir Roger de Coverly," in the
dress of his time.

Last night at Mr. Putnam's, I met William and Mary Howitt, and some
of the lesser lights.  I have put down my pen to answer a note, just
brought in, to dine next Thursday with the Dowager Countess of
Charleville, where we were last week, in the evening.  She is
eighty-four (tell this to Grandmamma) and likes still to surround
herself with BEAUX and BELLES ESPRITS, and as her son and daughter
reside with her, this is still easy . . . The old lady talks French
as fast as possible, and troubles me somewhat by talking it to me,
forgetting that a foreign minister's wife can talk English . . .
Your father likes to be here.  He has copying going on in the State
Paper Office and British Museum, and his heart is full of
manuscripts.  It is the first thought, I believe, whoever he sees,
what papers are in their family.  He makes great interest with even
the ladies sometimes for this purpose.  Upon the whole, I love my
own country better than ever, but whether I shall not miss, upon my
return, some things to which I am gradually getting accustomed, I
have yet to learn.  The gratification of mixing constantly with
those foremost in the world for rank, science, literature, or all
which adorns society is great, but there is a certain yearning
toward those whose habits, education, and modes of thought are the
same as our own, which I never can get over.  In the full tide of
conversation I often stop and think, "I may unconsciously be jarring
the prejudices or preconceived notions of these people upon a
thousand points; for how differently have I been trained from these
women of high rank, and men, too, with whom I am now thrown."  Upon
all topics we are accustomed to think, perhaps, with more latitude,
religion, politics, morals, everything.  I like the English
extremely, even more than I expected, and yet happy am I to think
that our own best portions of society can bear a comparison with
theirs.  When I see you I can explain to you the differences, but I
think we need not be ashamed of ourselves.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
LONDON, January 2, 1847



My dear Uncle:  . . . I refer you to my letters to my boys, for all
the new persons and places we may have seen lately, while I give you
for Aunty's amusement a minute account of my visit into the country
at Mr. Bates's, where things are managed in a scrupulously English
manner, so that it will give her the same idea of country life here,
as if it were a nobleman's castle.  Our invitation was to arrive on
Thursday, the day before Christmas, to dine, and to remain until the
following Tuesday morning.  His place is at East SHEEN, which
receives its name from the Anglo-Saxon word for BEAUTY.  It adjoins
Richmond Park, beyond which is the celebrated Richmond Hill,
Twickenham, Kew, etc., etc. . . . We arrived at East Sheen at half-
past five; but I ought first to mention the PREPARATIONS for a
country excursion.  Our own carriage has, of course, no dickey for
my maid, or conveniences for luggage, so we take a travelling
carriage.  The imperials (which are large, flat boxes, covering the
whole top of the carriage, CAPITAL for velvet dresses, and smaller
ones fitting into all the seats IN the carriage, and BEFORE and
BEHIND) are brought to you the day before.  I am merely asked what
dresses I wish taken, and that is all I know of the matter, so
thoroughly does an English maid understand her business.  We were
shown on our arrival into a charming room, semi-library.

In a few minutes a servant came to show me to my apartment, which
was very superb, with a comfortable dressing-room and fire for Mr.
Bancroft, where the faithful Keats unpacked his dressing materials,
while I was in a few moments seated at the toilet to undergo my
hair-dressing, surrounded by all my apparatus, and a blazing fire to
welcome me with a hissing tea-kettle of hot water and every comfort.
How well the English understand it, I learn more and more every day.
My maid had a large room above me, also with a fire; indeed, a
"lady's" maid is a VERY GREAT character INDEED, and would be much
more unwilling to take her tea with, or speak familiarly to, a
footman or a housemaid than I should.  My greatest mistakes in
England have been committed toward those high dignitaries, my own
maid and the butler, whose grandeur I entirely misappreciated and
invaded, as in my ignorance I placed them, as we do, on the same
level with other servants.  She has her fire made for her, and LOAF
sugar in her tea, which she and Cates sip in solitary majesty.
However, she is most conscientious and worthy, as well as dignified,
and thoroughly accomplished in her business.  As all these things
are pictures of English life, I mention them to amuse Aunty, who
likes to know how these matters are managed.

After I am dressed, I join the circle in the library, where I am
introduced to Mr. and Madam Van de Weyer, and Louis Buonaparte, the
son of Louis, the ex-King of Holland, and of Hortense, Josephine's
daughter.  He was a long time imprisoned in the fortress of Ham, and
has not long been free.  There was also Napoleon, son of Jerome
Buonaparte, and the Princess of Wurtemberg.  They were most
agreeable, intelligent, and amiable young men, and I was glad to
meet them.  Lord and Lady Langdale (who have a place in the
neighborhood) were invited to dine with us.  He is Master of the
Rolls and was elevated to the peerage from great distinction at the
bar.  Lady Langdale is a sensible and excellent person.  At dinner I
sat between Mr. Bates and Lord Langdale, whom I liked very much.

The next morning we assembled at ten for breakfast, which was at a
round table, with a sort of circular tray, which turns at the least
touch in the centre, leaving only a rim round the table for plates
and cups.  This was covered also with a white cloth and on it were
placed all the breakfast viands, with butter, sugar, cream, bread,
toast-rack and preserves.  You need no servants, but turn it round
and help yourself.  I believe the Van de Weyers introduced it, from
a visit in Wales.  Tea and coffee are served from a side-table
always, here.  Let me tell Aunty that our simple breakfast DRESS is
unknown in England.  You come down in the morning dressed for the
day, until six or seven in the evening, when your dress is low neck
and short sleeves for dinner.  At this season the morning dress is a
rich silk or velvet, high body quite close in the throat with
handsome collar and cuffs, and ALWAYS a cap.  Madam Van de Weyer
wore every day a different dress, all very rich, but I adhered to a
black watered silk with the same simple cap I wore at home.

I took a drive through Richmond Park (where Henry the Eighth watched
to see a signal on the Tower when Anne Boleyn's head fell, and
galloped off to marry Jane Seymour) to Richmond Terrace, which is
ravishingly beautiful even at this season. . . . The next day the
gentleman all went to town, and Madam Van de Weyer and I passed the
day TETE-A-TETE, very pleasantly, as her experience in diplomatic
life is very useful to me. . . .  Her manners are very pleasing and
entirely unaffected.  She has great tact and quickness of
perception, great intelligence and amiability and is altogether
extremely well-fitted for the ROLE she plays in life.  Her husband
is charming. . . . They have three children, very lovely.  The
eldest, Victor, a fine boy of seven years old, Victoria, a girl of
four, for whom the Queen was sponsor, and Albert, to whom Prince
Albert performed the same office.  This was, of course, voluntary in
the royal parties, as it was not a favor to be asked. . . .  Madam
Van de Weyer is not spoiled, certainly, by the prominent part she
was called to play in this great centre of the world at so early an
age, and makes an excellent courtier.  I could not help pitying her,
however, for looking forward to going through, year after year, the
same round of ceremonies, forms, and society.  For us, it is a new
study, and invaluable for a short time; but I could not bear it for
life, as these European diplomatists.  Besides, we Americans really
enjoy a kind of society, and a much nearer intercourse than other
foreigners, in the literary, scientific, and even social circles.

On Saturday evening Lord William Fitzroy and daughter joined our
party with Sir William Hooker and Lady Hooker. . . . Sir William
Hooker is one of the most interesting persons I have seen in
England.  He is a great naturalist and has the charge of the great
Botanical Gardens at Kew.  He devoted a morning to us there, and it
was the most delightful one I have passed.  There are twenty-eight
different conservatories filled with the vegetable wonders of the
whole world.  Length of time and regal wealth have conspired to make
the Kew gardens beyond our conceptions entirely. . . . Sir William
pointed out to us all that was very rare or curious, which added
much to my pleasure. . . . He showed us a drawing of the largest
FLOWER ever known on earth, which Sir Stamford Raffles discovered in
Sumatra.  It was a parasite without leaves or stem, and the flower
weighed fifteen pounds.  Lady Raffles furnished him the materials
for the drawing.  I dined in company with her not long ago, and
regret now that I did not make her tell me about the wonders of that
region.  At the same dinner you may meet so many people, each having
their peculiar gift, that one cannot avail oneself of the
opportunity of extracting from each what is precious.  I always wish
I could sit by everybody at the same time, and I could often employ
a dozen heads, if I had them, instead of my poor, miserable one.
From Sir William Hooker I learned as much about the VEGETABLE world,
as Mr. Bancroft did from the Dean of Ely on ARCHITECTURE, when he
expounded to him the cathedral of Ely; pointing out the successive
styles of the Gothic, and the different periods in which the
different parts were built.  Books are dull teachers compared with
these gifted men giving you a lecture upon subjects before your
eyes.

On Sunday we dined with out own party; on Monday some diplomatic
people, the Lisboas and one of Mr. Bates's partners, and on Tuesday
we came home.  I must not omit a visit while we were there from Mr.
Taylor (Van Artevelde), who is son-in-law of Lord Monteagle, and
lives in the neighborhood.  He has a fine countenance and still
finer voice, and is altogether one of those literary persons who do
not disappoint you, but whose whole being is equal to their works.
I hope to see more of him, as they spoke of "CULTIVATING" us, and
Mr. Taylor was quite a PROTEGE of our kind and dear friend, Dr.
Holland, and dedicated his last poem to him.  This expression, "I
shall CULTIVATE you," we hear constantly, and it strikes me as oddly
as our Western "BEING RAISED."  Indeed, I hear improper Anglicisms
constantly, and they have nearly as many as we have.  The upper
classes, here, however, do SPEAK English so roundly and fully,
giving every LETTER its due, that it pleases my ear amazingly.

On Wednesday I go for the first time to Westminster Abbey, on
Epiphany, to hear the Athanasian Creed chanted.  I have as yet had
no time for sight-seeing, as the days are so short that necessary
visits take all my time.  No one goes out in a carriage till after
two, as the servants dine at one, and in the morning early the
footman is employed in the house.  A coachman never leaves his box
here, and a footman is indispensable on all occasions.  No visit can
be paid till three; and this gives me very little time in these
short days.  Everything here is inflexible as the laws of the Medes
and Persians, and though I am called "Mistress" even by old Cates
with his grey hair and black coat, I cannot make one of them do
anything, except BY the person and AT the time which English custom
prescribes.  They are brought up to fill certain situations, and
fill them perfectly, but cannot or will not vary.

I am frequently asked by the ladies here if I have formed a
household to please me and I am obliged to confess that I have a
very nice household, but that I am the only refractory member of it.
I am always asking the wrong person for coals, etc., etc.  The
division of labor, or rather ceremonies, between the butler and
footman, I have now mastered I believe in some degree, but that
between the UPPER and UNDER house-maid is still a profound mystery
to me, though the upper has explained to me for the twentieth time
that she did only "the top of the work."  My cook comes up to me
every morning for orders, and always drops the deepest curtsey, but
then I doubt if her hands are ever profaned by touching a poker, and
she NEVER washes a dish.  She is cook and HOUSEKEEPER, and presides
over the housekeeper's room; which has a Brussels carpet and centre
table, with one side entirely occupied by the linen presses, of
which my maid (my vice-regent, only MUCH greater than me) keeps the
key and dispenses every towel, even for the kitchen.  She keeps
lists of everything and would feel bound to replace anything
missing.  I shall make you laugh and Mrs. Goodwin stare, by some of
my housekeeping stories, the next evening I pass in your little
pleasant parlor (a word unknown here).



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, January 10, 1847



My very dear Children:  . . . Yesterday we dined at Lady
Charleville's, the old lady of eighty-four, at whose house I
mentioned an evening visit in my last, and I must tell you all about
it to entertain dear Grandma.  I will be minute for once, and give
you the LITTLE details of a London dinner, and they are all
precisely alike.  We arrived at Cavendish Square a quarter before
seven (very early) and were shown into a semi-library on the same
floor with the dining-room.  The servants take your cloak, etc., in
the passage, and I am never shown into a room with a mirror as with
us, and never into a chamber or bedroom.

We found Lady Charleville and her daughter with one young gentleman
with whom I chatted till dinner, and who, I found, was Sir William
Burdette, son of Sir Francis and brother of Miss Angelina Coutts.  I
happened to have on the corsage of my black velvet a white moss rose
and buds, which I thought rather youthful for ME, but the old lady
had [them] on her cap.  She is full of intelligence, and has always
been in the habit of drawing a great deal. . . . Very soon came in
Lord Aylmer, [who] was formerly Governor of Canada, and Lady
Colchester, daughter of Lord Ellenborough, a very pretty woman of
thirty-five, I should think; Sir William and Lady Chatterton and Mr.
Algernon Greville, whose grandmother wrote the beautiful "Prayer for
Indifference," an old favorite of mine, and Mr. MacGregor, the
political economist.  Lord Aylmer took me out and I found him a nice
old peer, and discovered that ever since the death of his uncle,
Lord Whitworth, whose title is extinct, he had borne the arms of
both Aylmer and Whitworth.  Mr. Bancroft took out Lady Colchester,
and the old lady was wheeled out precisely as Grandma is.

At table she helped to the fish (cod, garnished round with smelts)
and insisted on carving the turkey herself, which she did extremely
well.  By the way, I observe they never carve the breast of a turkey
LONGITUDINALLY, as we do, but in short slices, a little diagonally
from the centre.  This makes many more slices, and quite large
enough where there are so many other dishes.  The four ENTREE dishes
are always placed on the table when we sit down, according to our
old fashion, and not one by one.  They have [them] warmed with hot
water, so that they keep hot while the soup and fish are eaten.
Turkey, even BOILED turkey, is brought on AFTER the ENTREES, mutton
(a saddle always) or venison, with a pheasant or partridges.  With
the roast is always put on the SWEETS, as they are called, as the
term dessert seems restricted to the last course of fruits.  During
the dinner there are always long strips of damask all round the
table which are removed before the dessert is put on, and there is
no brushing of crumbs.  You may not care for all this, but the
housekeepers may.  I had Mr. Greville the other side of me, who
seemed much surprised that I, an American, should know the "Prayer
for Indifference," which he doubted if twenty persons in England
read in these modern days.

It is a great mystery to me yet how people get to know each other in
London.  Persons talk to you whom you do not know, for no one is
introduced, as a general rule.  I have sometimes quite an
acquaintance with a person, and exchange visits, and yet do not
succeed for a long time in putting their name and the person
together. . . . It is a great puzzle to a stranger, but has its
conveniences for the English themselves.  We are endeavoring to
become acquainted with the English mind, not only through society,
but through its products in other ways.  Natural science is the
department into which they seem to have thrown their intellect most
effectively for the last ten or fifteen years.  We are reading
Whewell's "History of the Inductive Sciences," which gives one a
summary of what has been accomplished in that way, not only in past
ages, but in the present.  Every moment here is precious to me and I
am anxious to make the best use of it, but I have immense demands on
my time in every way.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
Tuesday night, January 19, 1847



To-day we have been present at the opening of Parliament, but how
can I picture to you the interest and magnificence of the scene.  I
will begin quite back, and give you all the preparations for a
"Court Day."  Ten days before, a note was written to Lord Willoughby
d'Eresby, informing him of my intention to attend, that a seat might
be reserved for me, and also soliciting several tickets for American
ladies and gentlemen. . . .  I cannot take them with me, however, as
the seat assigned to the ladies of Foreign Ministers is very near
the throne.  This morning when I awoke the fog was thicker than I
ever knew it, even here.  The air was one dense orange-colored mass.
What a pity the English cannot borrow our bright blue skies in which
to exhibit their royal pageants!

Mr. Bancroft's court dress had not been sent home, our servants'
liveries had not made their appearance, and our carriage only
arrived last night, and I had not passed judgment upon it.  Fogs and
tradesmen! these are the torments of London.  Very soon came the
tailor with embroidered dress, sword, and chapeau, but, alas! Mr.
Isidore, who was to have dressed my hair at half-past ten was not
forthcoming, and to complete my perplexity, he had my head-dress in
his possession.  At last, just as Russell had resumed her office at
the toilet, came Isidore, a little before twelve, coiffure and all,
which was so pretty that I quire forgave him all his sins.  It was
of green leaves and white FLEUR-DE-LIS, with a white ostrich feather
drooping on one side.  I wear my hair now plain in front, and the
wreath was very flat and classical in its style.  My dress was black
velvet with a very rich bertha.  A bouquet on the front of FLEUR-DE-
LIS, like the coiffure, and a Cashmere shawl, completed my array.  I
have had the diamond pin and earrings which you father gave me,
reset, and made into a magnificent brooch, and so arranged that I
can also wear it as a necklace or bracelet.  On this occasion it was
my necklace.

Miss Murray came to go with me, as she wished to be by my side to
point out everybody, and her badge as Maid of Honor would take her
to any part of the house.  At half-past twelve she and I set out,
and after leaving us the carriage returned for your father and Mr.
Brodhead.  But first let me tell you something of our equipage.  It
is a CHARIOT, not a coach; that is, it has but one seat, but the
whole front being glass makes it much more agreeable to such persons
as have not large families.  The color is maroon, with a silver
moulding, and has the American arms on the panel.  The liveries are
blue and red; on Court Days they have blue plush breeches, and white
silk stockings, with buckles on their shoes.  Your father leaves all
these matters to me, and they have given me no little plague.  When
I thought I had arranged everything necessary, the coachman, good
old Brooks, solicited an audience a day or two ago, and began,
"Mistress, did you tell them to send the pads and the fronts and the
hand-pieces?"  "Heavens and earth! what are all these things?" said
I.  "Why, ma'am, we always has pads under the saddle on Court Days,
trimmed round with the colors of the livery, and we has fronts made
of ribbin for the horses' heads, and we has white hand-pieces for
the reins."  This is a specimen of the little troubles of court
life, but it has its compensations.  To go back to Miss Murray and
myself, who are driving through the park between files of people,
thousands and thousands all awaiting with patient, loyal faces the
passage of the Queen and of the State carriages.  The Queen's was
drawn by eight cream-colored horses, and the servants flaming with
scarlet and gold.  This part of the park, near the palace, is only
accessible to the carriages of the foreign ministers, ministers, and
officers of the household.

We arrive at the Parliament House, move through the long corridor
and give up our tickets at the door of the chamber.  It is a very
long, narrow room.  At the upper end is the throne, on the right is
the seat of the ambassadors, on the left, of their ladies.  Just in
front of the throne is the wool-sack of the Lord Chancellor, looking
like a drawing-room divan, covered with crimson velvet.  Below this
are rows of seats for the judges, who are all in their wigs and
scarlet robes; the bishops and the peers, all in robes of scarlet
and ermine.  Opposite the throne at the lower end is the Bar of the
Commons.  On the right of the Queen's chair is a vacant one, on
which is carved the three plumes, the insignia of the Prince of
Wales, who will occupy it when he is seven or nine years old; on the
left Prince Albert sits.

The seat assigned me was in the front row, and quite open, like a
sofa, so that I could talk with any gentleman whom I knew.  Madam
Van de Weyer was on one side of me and the Princess Callimachi on
the other, and Miss Murray just behind me.  She insisted on
introducing to me all her noble relatives.  Her cousin, the young
Duke of Athol; the Duke of Buccleuch; her nephew the Marquis of
Camden; her brother the Bishop of Rochester.  There were many whom I
had seen before, so that the hour passed very agreeably.  Very soon
came in the Duke of Cambridge, at which everybody rose, he being a
royal duke.  He was dressed in the scarlet kingly robe, trimmed with
ermine, and with his white hair and whiskers (he is an old man) was
most picturesque and scenic, reminding me of King Lear and other
stage kings.  He requested to be introduced to me, upon which I
rose, of course.  He soon said, "Be seated," and we went on with the
conversation.  I told him how much I liked Kew Garden, where he has
a favorite place.

When I first entered I was greeted very cordially by a personage in
a black gown and wig, whom I did not know.  He laughed and said:  "I
am Mr. Senior, whom you saw only Saturday evening, but you do not
know me in my wig."  It is, indeed, an entire transformation, for it
reaches down on the shoulders.  He is a master in chancery.  He
stood by me nearly all the time and pointed out many of the judges,
and some persons not in Miss Murray's line.

But the trumpets sound! the Queen approaches!  The trumpet
continues, and first enter at a side door close at my elbow the
college of heralds richly dressed, slowly, two and two; then the
great officers of the household, then the Lord Chancellor bearing
the purse, seal, and speech of the Queen, with the macebearers
before him.  Then Lord Lansdowne with the crown, the Earl of
Zetland, with the cap of maintenance, and the Duke off Wellington,
with the sword of State.  Then Prince Albert, leading the Queen,
followed by the Duchess of Sutherland, Mistress of the Robes, and
the Marchioness of Douro, daughter-in-law of the Duke of Wellington,
who is one of the ladies in waiting.  The Queen and Prince sit down,
while everybody else remains standing.  The Queen then says in a
voice most clear and sweet:  "My lords (rolling the r), be seated."
Upon which the peers sit down, except those who enter with the
Queen, who group themselves about the throne in the most picturesque
manner.  The Queen had a crown of diamonds, with splendid necklace
and stomacher of the same.  The Duchess of Sutherland close by her
side with her ducal coronet of diamonds, and a little back, Lady
Douro, also, with her coronet.  On the right of the throne stood the
Lord Chancellor, with scarlet robe and flowing wig, holding the
speech, surrounded by the emblems of his office; a little farther,
one step lower down, Lord Lansdowne, holding the crown on a crimson
velvet cushion, and on the left the Duke of Wellington, brandishing
the sword of State in the air, with the Earl of Zetland by his side.
The Queen's train of royal purple, or rather deep crimson, was borne
by many train-bearers.  The whole scene seemed to me like a dream or
a vision.  After a few minutes the Lord Chancellor came forward and
presented the speech to the Queen.  She read it sitting and most
exquisitely.  Her voice is flute-like and her whole emphasis decided
and intelligent.  Very soon after the speech is finished she leaves
the House, and we all follow, as soon as we can get our carriages.

Lord Lansdowne told me before she came in that the speech would be
longer than usual, "but not so long as your President's speeches."
It has been a day of high pleasure and more like a romance than a
reality to me, and being in the very midst of it as I was, made it
more striking than if I had looked on from a distant gallery.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, February 7, 1847



My dear Sons:  . . . On Friday we dined with two bachelors, Mr.
Peabody and Mr. Coates, who are American bankers.  Mr. Peabody is a
friend of Mr. Corcoran and was formerly a partner of Mr. Riggs in
Baltimore.  Mr. Coates is of Boston. . . . They mustered up all the
Americans that could be found, and we dined with twenty-six of our
countrymen.


Monday Morning


Last evening we were at home to see any Americans who might chance
to come. . . . 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.

After the ceremony there were a crowd of visitors at the Dean's, and
I met many old acquaintances, and made many new ones, among whom
were Lady Chantrey, a nice person.  After the crowd cleared off, we
sat down to a long table at lunch, always an important meal here,
and afterward the Dean took me on his arm and showed me everything
within the Abbey precincts.  He took us first to the Percy Chapel to
see the vault of the Percys. . . . From thence the Dean took us to
the Jerusalem chamber where Henry IV died, then all over the
Westminster school.  We first went to the hall where the young men
were eating their dinner. . . . We then went to the school-room,
where every inch of the wall and benches is covered with names, some
of them most illustrious, as Dryden's.  There were two bunches of
rods, which the Dean assured me were not mere symbols of power, but
were daily used, as, indeed, the broken twigs scattered upon the
floor plainly showed.  Our ferules are thought rather barbarous, but
a gentle touch from a slender twig not at all so.  These young men
looked to me as old as our collegians.  We then went to their study-
rooms, play-rooms, and sleeping-rooms.  The whole forty sleep in one
long and well-ventilated room, the walls of which were also covered
with names.  At the foot of each bed was a large chest covered with
leather, as mouldering and time-worn as the Abbey itself.  Here are
educated the sons of some of the noblest families, and the
Archbishop of York has had six sons here, and all of them were in
succession the Captain of the school. . . .

On Wednesday evening we went first to our friends, the Bunsens,
where we were invited to meet the Duchess of Sutherland with a few
other persons.  Bunsen is very popular here.  He is learned and
accomplished, and was so much praised in the Biography of Dr.
Arnold, the late historian of Rome, that he has great reputation in
the world of letters. . . . Although we have great pleasure in the
society of Chevalier and Madam Bunsen, and in those whom we meet at
their house.  On this occasion we only stayed half an hour, which I
passed in talking with the Bishop of Norwich and his wife, Mrs.
Stanley, and went to Lady Morgan's without waiting till the Duchess
of Sutherland came.  There we found her little rooms full of
agreeable people. . . . The next day, Thursday, there was a grand
opera for the benefit of the Irish, and all the Diplomatic Corps
were obliged to take boxes.  Lady Palmerston, who was one of the
three patronesses, secured a very good box for us, directly opposite
the Queen, and only three from the stage.

We took with us Mrs. Milman and W.T. Davis, to whom it gave a grand
opportunity of seeing the Queen and the assembled aristocracy, at
least all who are now in London.  "God save the Queen," sung with
the whole audience standing, was a noble sight.  The Queen also
stood, and at the end gave three curtsies.  On Friday Captain and
Mrs. Wormeley, with Miss Wormeley, dined with us, with Mr. and Mrs.
Carlyle, Miss Murray, the Maid of Honor, Mr. and Mrs. Pell of New
York, with William T. and Mr. Brodhead.  William was very glad to
see Carlyle, who showed himself off to perfection, uttering his
paradoxes in broad Scotch.

Last evening we dined at Mr. Thomas Baring's, and a most agreeable
dinner it was.  The company consisted of twelve persons, Lord and
Lady Ashburton, etc.  I like Lady Ashburton extremely.  She is full
of intelligence, reads everything, talks most agreeably, and still
loves America.  She is by no means one of those who abjure their
country.  I have seen few persons in England whom I should esteem a
more delightful friend or companion than Lady Ashburton, and I do
not know why, but I had received a different impression of her.
Lord Ashburton, by whom I sat at dinner, struck me as still one of
the wisest men I have seen in England.  Lady Ashburton, who was
sitting by Mr. Bancroft, leant forward and said to her husband, "WE
can bring bushels of corn this year to England."  "Who do you mean
by WE?" said he.  "Why, we Americans, to be sure."


Monday Evening


Yesterday we dined at Count St. Aulair's, the French Ambassador, who
is a charming old man of the old French school, at a sort of
amicable dinner given to Lord and Lady Palmerston.  Lord John
Russell was of the party, with the Russian Ambassador and lady, Mr.
and Madam Van de Weyer, the Prussian and Turkish Ministers.  The
house of the French Embassy is fine, but these formal grand dinners
are not so charming as the small ones.  The present state of feeling
between Lord Palmerston and the French Government gave it a kind of
interest, however, and it certainly went off in a much better spirit
than Lady Normanby's famous party, which Guizot would not attend.
It seems very odd to me to be in the midst of these European
affairs, which I have all my life looked upon from so great a
distance.



LETTER:  To Mrs. W.W. Story
LONDON, March 23, 1847



My dear Mrs. Story:  I should have thanked you by the last steamer
for your note and the charming volume which accompanied it, but my
thoughts and feelings were so much occupied by the sad tidings I
heard from my own family that I wrote to no one out of it.  The
poems, which would at all times have given me great pleasure, gave
me still more here than they would if I were with you on the other
side of the Atlantic.  I am not cosmopolitan enough to love any
nature so well as our American nature, and in addition to the charm
of its poetry, every piece brought up to me the scenes amidst which
it had been written. . . . How dear these associations are your
husband will soon know when he too is separated from his native
shores and from those he loves. . . . I shall look forward with
great pleasure to seeing him here, and only wish you were to
accompany him, for your own sake, for his, and for ours.  His
various culture will enable him to enjoy most fully all that Europe
can yield him in every department.  My own regret ever since I have
been here has been that the seed has not "fallen upon better
ground," for though I thought myself not ignorant wholly, I
certainly lose much that I might enjoy more keenly if I were better
prepared for it.  I envy the pleasure which Mr. Story will receive
from music, painting, and sculpture in Europe, even if he were
destitute of the creative inspiration which he will take with him.
For ourselves, we have everything to make us happy here, and I
should be quite so, if I could forget that I had a country and
children with very dear friends 3,000 miles away. . . . There are
certain sympathies of country which one cannot overcome.  On the
other hand I certainly enjoy pleasures of the highest kind, and am
every day floated like one in a dream into the midst of persons and
scenes that make my life seem more like a drama than a reality.
Nothing is more unreal than the actual presence of persons of whom
one has heard much, and long wished to see.  One day I find myself
at dinner by the side of Sir Robert Peel, another by Lord John
Russell, or at Lord Lansdowne's table, with Mrs. Norton, or at a
charming breakfast with Mr. Rogers, surrounded by pictures and
marbles, or with tall feathers and a long train, making curtsies to
a queen.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, April 2 [1847]



Here it is the day before the despatches leave and I have not
written a single line to you. . . . On Friday we dined at Lady
Charlotte Lindsay's, where were Lord Brougham and Lady Mallet, Mr.
Rogers and the Bishop of Norwich and his wife.  In the evening Miss
Agnes Berry, who never goes out now, came on purpose to appoint an
evening to go and see her sister, who is the one that Horace Walpole
wished to marry, and to whom so many of his later letters are
addressed.  She is eighty-four, her sister a few years younger, and
Lady Charlotte not much their junior.

These remnants of the BELLES-ESPRITS of the last age are charming to
me.  They have a vast and long experience of the best social
circles, with native wit, and constant practice in the conversation
of society. . . . On Wednesday, we dined at Sir Robert Peel's, with
whom I was more charmed than with anybody I have seen yet.  I sat
between him and the Speaker of the House of Commons.  I was told
that he was stiff and stately in his manners, but did not think him
so, and am inclined to imagine that free from the burden of the
Premiership, he unbends more.  He talked constantly with me, and in
speaking of a certain picture said, "When you come to Drayton Manor
I shall show it to you."  I should like to go there, but to see
himself even more than his pictures.  Lady Peel is still a very
handsome woman.

The next morning we breakfasted with Mr. Rogers.  He lives, as you
probably know, in [a] beautiful house, though small, whose rooms
look upon the Green Park, and filled with pictures and marbles.  We
stayed an hour or more after the other guests, listening to his
stores of literary anecdote and pleasant talk.  In the evening we
went to the Miss Berrys', where we found Lord Morpeth, who is much
attached to them.  Miss Berry put her hand on his head, which is
getting a little gray, and said:  "Ah, George, and I remember the
day you were born, your grandmother brought you and put you in my
arms."  Now this grandmother of Lord Morpeth's was the celebrated
Duchess of Devonshire, who electioneered for Fox, and he led her to
tell me all about her.  "Eothen" was also there, Lady Lewis and many
of my friends. . . . Aunty wishes to know who is "Eothen."  She has
probably read his book, "Eothen, or Traces of Travel," which was
very popular two or three years since.  He is a young lawyer, Mr.
Kinglake, the most modest, unassuming person in his manners, very
shy and altogether very unlike the dashing, spirited young
Englishman I figured to myself, whom nothing could daunt from the
Arab even to the plague, which he defied.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.



Dear Uncle and Aunt:  On Thursday [the 25th] we were invited to Sir
John Pakington's, whose wife is the Bishop of Rochester's daughter,
but were engaged to Mr. Senior, who had asked us to meet the
Archbishop of Dublin, the celebrated Dr. Whately.  He had come over
from Ireland to make a speech in the House of Lords upon the Irish
Poor Law.  He is full of learning [and] simplicity, and with most
genial hearty manners.  Rogers was also there and said more fine
things than I have heard him say before at dinner, as he is now so
deaf that he does not hear general conversation, and cannot tell
where to send his shaft, which is always pointed.  He retains all
his sarcasm and epigrammatic point, but he shines now especially at
breakfast, where he has his audience to himself.

We went from Mr. Senior's to Mr. Milman's, but nearly all the guests
there were departed or departing, though one or two returned with us
to the drawing-room to stay the few minutes we did.  Among the
lingerers we found Sir William and Lady Duff Gordon, the two
Warburtons, "Hochelaga" and "Crescent and Cross," and "Eothen."
Mrs. Milman I really love, and we see much of them.

On Saturday was the dreaded Drawing-Room, on which occasion I was to
be presented to the Queen. . . . Mr. Bancroft and I left home at a
quarter past one.  On our arrival we passed through one or two
corridors, lined by attendants with battle-axes and picturesque
costumes, looking very much like the supernumeraries on the stage,
and were ushered into the ante-room, a large and splendid room,
where only the Ministers and Privy Councillors, with their families,
are allowed to go with the Diplomatic Corps.  Here we found Lady
Palmerston, who showed me a list she had got Sir Edward Cust, the
master of ceremonies, to make out of the order of precedence of the
Diplomatic Corps, and when the turn would come for us who were to be
newly presented.  The room soon filled up and it was like a pleasant
party, only more amusing, as the costumes of both gentlemen and
ladies were so splendid.  I got a seat in the window with Madam Van
de Weyer and saw the Queen's train drive up.  At the end of this
room are two doors:  at the left hand everybody enters the next
apartment where the Queen and her suite stand, and after going round
the circle, come out at the right-hand door.  After those who are
privileged to go FIRST into the ANTE-ROOM leave it, the general
circle pass in, and they also go in and out the same doors.  But to
go back.  The left-hand door opens and Sir Edward Cust leads in the
Countess Dietrichstein, who is the eldest Ambassadress, as the
Countess St. Aulair is in Paris.  As she enters she drops her train
and the gentlemen ushers open it out like a peacock's tail.  Then
Madam Van de Weyer, who comes next, follows close upon the train of
the former, then Baroness Brunnow, the Madam Bunsen, then Madam
Lisboa, then Lady Palmerston, who, as the wife of the Minister for
Foreign Affairs, is to introduce the Princess Callimachi, Baroness
de Beust, and myself.  She stations herself by the side of the Queen
and names us as we pass.  The Queen spoke to none of us, but gave me
a very gracious smile, and when Mr. Bancroft came by, she said:  "I
am very glad to have had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Bancroft to-
day."  I was not [at] all frightened and gathered up my train with
as much self-possession as if I were alone.  I found it very
entertaining afterward to watch the reception of the others.  The
Diplomatic Corps remain through the whole, the ladies standing on
the left of the Queen and the gentlemen in the centre, but all
others pass out immediately. . . . On Sunday evening Mr. Bancroft
set off for Paris to pass the Easter recess of Parliament. . . . I
got a very interesting letter yesterday from Mr. Bancroft.  It seems
that the Countess Circourt, whose husband has reviewed his book and
Prescott's, is a most charming person, and makes her house one of
the most brilliant and attractive in Paris.  Since he left, a note
came from Mr. Hallam, the contents of which pleased me as they will
you.  It announced that Mr. Bancroft was chosen an Honorary Member
of the Society of Antiquaries, of which Lord Mahon is president,
Hallam, vice-president.  Hallam says the society is very old and
that he is the first citizen of the United States upon whom it has
been conferred, but that he will not long possess it exclusively, as
his "highly distinguished countryman, Mr. Prescott, has also been
proposed."



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.



Tuesday

My dear Sons:  . . . On Monday morning came the dear Miss Berrys, to
beg me to come that evening to join their circle.  They have always
the best people in London about them, young as well as old.

The old and the middle-aged are more attended to here than with us,
where the young are all in all.  As Hayward said to me the other
evening, "it takes time to make PEOPLE, like cathedrals," and Mr.
Rogers and Miss Berry could not have been what they are now, forty
years ago.  A long life of experience in the midst constantly of the
highest and most cultivated circles, and with several generations of
distinguished men gives what can be acquired in no other way.  Mr.
Rogers said to me one day:  "I have learnt more from men that from
BOOKS, and when I used to be in the society of Fox and other great
men of that period, and they would sometimes say 'I have always
thought so and so,' then I have opened my ears and listened, for I
said to myself, now I shall get at the treasured results of the
experience of these great men."  This little saying of Mr. Rogers
expresses precisely my own feelings in the society of the venerable
and distinguished here.  With us society is left more to the
crudities of the young than in England.  The young may be
interesting and promise much, but they are still CRUDE.  The
elements, however fine, are not yet completely assimilated and
brought to that more perfect tone which comes later in life.


Monday, April 12th


. . . On Saturday I went with Sir William and Lady Molesworth to
their box in the new Covent Garden opera, which has been opened for
the first time this week.  There I saw Grisi and Alboni and
Tamburini in the "Semiramide."  It was a new world of delight to me.
Grisi, so statuesque and so graceful, delights the eye, the ear, and
the soul.  She is sculpture, poetry, and music at the same time. . .
. Mr. Bancroft has been received with great cordiality in Paris.  He
has been three times invited to the Palace, and Guizot and Mignet
give him access to all that he wants in the archives, and he passes
his evenings with all the eminent men and beautiful women of Paris.
Guizot, Thiers, Lamartine, Cousin, Salvandi, Thierry, he sees, and
enjoys all.  They take him to the salons, too, of the Faubourg St.
Germain, among the old French aristocracy, and to innumerable
receptions.


Wednesday


To-morrow I go to the Drawing-Room alone, and to complete the
climax, the Queen has sent us an invitation to dine at the Palace
to-morrow, and I must go ALONE for the FIRST TIME.  If I live
through it, I will tell you all about it; but is it not awkward in
the extreme?


Friday Morning


At eight o'clock in the evening I drove to the Palace.  My dress was
my currant-colored or grosseille velvet with a wreath of white Arum
lilies woven into a kind of turban, with green leave and bouquet to
match, on the bertha of Brussels lace.  I was received by a servant,
who escorted me through a long narrow corridor the length of
Winthrop Place and consigned me to another who escorted me in his
turn, through another wider corridor to the foot of a flight of
stairs which I ascended and found another servant, who took my cloak
and showed me into the grand corridor or picture gallery; a noble
apartment of interminable length; and surrounded by pictures of the
best masters.  General Bowles, the Master of the Household, came
forward to meet me, and Lord Byron, who is one of the Lords in
Waiting.  I found Madam Lisboa already arrived, and soon came in
Lord and Lady Palmerston, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis and
Marchioness of Exeter, Lord and Lady Dalhousie, Lord Charles
Wellesley, son of the Duke of Wellington, Lady Byron, and Mr.
Hallam.  We sat and talked as at any other place, when at last the
Queen was announced.  The gentlemen ranged themselves on one side,
and we on the other, and the Queen and Prince passed through, she
bowing, and we profoundly curtseying.  As soon as she passed the
Marquis of Exeter came over and took Madam Lisboa, and Lord
Dalhousie came and took me.  The Queen and Prince sat in the middle
of a long table, and I was just opposite the Prince, between Lord
Exeter and Lord Dalhousie, who is the son of the former Governor of
Nova Scotia, was in the last ministry, and a most agreeable person.
I talked to my neighbors as at any other dinner, but the Queen spoke
to no one but Prince Albert, with a word or two to the Duke of
Norfolk, who was on her right, and is the first peer of the realm.

The dinner was rather quickly despatched, and when the Queen rose we
followed her back into the corridor.  She walked to the fire and
stood some minutes, and then advanced to me and enquired about Mr.
Bancroft, his visit to Paris, if he had been there before, etc.  I
expressed, of course, the regret he would feel at losing the honor
of dining with Her Majesty, etc.  She then had a talk with Lady
Palmerston, who stood by my side, then with all the other ladies in
succession, until at last Prince Albert came out, soon followed by
the other gentlemen.  The Prince then spoke to all the ladies, as
she had done, while she went in succession to all the gentlemen
guests.  This took some time and we were obliged to stand all the
while.

At last the Queen, accompanied by her Lady in Waiting, Lady Mount
Edgcumbe, went to a sofa at the other end of the corridor in front
of which was a round table surrounded by arm-chairs.  When the Queen
was seated Lady Mount Edgcumbe came to us and requested us to take
our seats round the table.  This was a little prim, for I did not
know exactly how much I might talk to others in the immediate
presence of the Queen, and everybody seemed a little constrained.
She spoke to us all, and very soon such of the gentlemen as were
allowed by their rank, joined us at the round table.  Lord Dalhousie
came again to my side and I had as pleasant a conversation with him,
rather SOTTO VOCE, however, as I could have had at a private house.
At half-past ten the Queen rose and shook hands with each lady; we
curtsied profoundly, and she and the Prince departed.  We then bade
each other good-night, and found our carriages as soon as we chose.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, May 16, 1847



My dear Sons:  My letters by this steamer will have very little
interest for you, as, from being in complete retirement, I have no
new things to related to you. . . . We have taken advantage of our
leisure to drive a little into the country, and on Tuesday I had a
pleasure of the highest order in driving down to Esher and passing a
quiet day with Lady Byron, the widow of the poet.  She is an
intimate friend of Miss Murray, who has long wished us to see her
and desired her to name the day for our visit.

Esher is a little village about sixteen miles from London, and Lady
Byron has selected it as her residence, though her estates are in
Leicestershire, because it is near Lord and Lady Lovelace, her only
child, the "ADA" of poetry.  We went in our own carriage, taking
Miss Murray with us, and as the country is now radiant with blossoms
and glowing green, the drive itself was very agreeable.  We arrived
at two o'clock, and found only Lady Byron, with the second boy of
Lady Lovelace and his tutor.  Lady Byron is now about fifty-five,
and with the remains of an attractive, if not brilliant beauty.  She
has extremely delicate features, and very pale and finely delicate
skin.  A tone of voice and manner of the most trembling refinement,
with a culture and strong intellect, almost masculine, but which
betrays itself under such sweet and gentle and unobtrusive forms
that one is only led to perceive it by slow degrees.  She is the
most modest and unostentatious person one can well conceive.  She
lives simply, and the chief of her large income (you know she was
the rich Miss Milbank) she devotes to others.  After lunch she
wished me to see a little of the country round Esher and ordered her
ponies and small carriage for herself and me, while Mr. Bancroft and
Miss Murray walked.  We went first to the royal seat, Claremont,
where the Princess Charlotte lived so happily with Leopold, and
where she died.  Its park adjoins Lady Byron's, and the Queen allows
her a private key that she may enjoy its exquisite grounds.  Here we
left the pedestrians, while Lady Byron took me a more extensive
drive, as she wished to show me some of the heaths in the
neighborhood, which are covered with furze, now one mass of yellow
bloom.

Every object is seen in full relief against the sky, and a figure on
horseback is peculiarly striking.  I am always reminded of the
beginning of one of James's novels, which is usually, you know,
after this manner:  "It was toward the close of a dull autumn day
that two horsemen were seen," etc., etc.  Lady Byron took me to the
estate of a neighboring gentleman, to show me a fine old tower
covered with ivy, where Wolsey took refuge from his persecutors,
with his faithful follower, Cromwell.

Upon our return we found the last of the old harpers, blind, and
with a genuine old Irish harp, and after hearing his national
melodies for half an hour, taking a cup of coffee, and enjoying a
little more of Lady Byron's conversation, we departed, having had a
day heaped up with the richest and best enjoyments.  I could not
help thinking, as I was walking up and down the beautiful paths of
Claremont Park, with the fresh spring air blowing about me, the
primroses, daisies, and wild bluebells under my feet, and Lady Byron
at my side, that it was more like a page out of a poem than a
reality.

On Sunday night any Americans who are here come to see us. . . . Mr.
Harding brought with him a gentleman, whom he introduced as Mr.
Alison.  Mr. Bancroft asked him if he were related to Archdeacon
Alison, who wrote the "Essay on Taste."  "I am his son," said he.
"Ah, then, you are the brother of the historian?" said Mr. Bancroft.
"I am the historian," was the reply. . . . An evening visitor is a
thing unheard of, and therefore my life is very lonely, now I do not
go into society.  I see no one except Sunday evenings, and,
occasionally, a friend before dinner.



LETTER:  To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, May 24, [1847]



My dear Sons:  . . . On Friday we both went to see the Palace of
Hampton Court with my dear, good, Miss Murray, Mr. Winthrop and son,
and Louise. . . . On our arrival, we found, to our great vexation,
that Friday was the only day in the week in which visitors were not
admitted, and that we must content ourselves with seeing the grounds
and go back without a glimpse of its noble galleries of pictures.
Fortunately for us, Miss Murray had several friends among the
persons to whom the Queen has assigned apartments in the vast
edifice, and they willingly yielded their approbation of our
admission if she could possibly win over Mrs. Grundy, the
housekeeper.  This name sounded rather inauspicious, but Mr.
Winthrop suggested that there might be a "Felix" to qualify it, and
so in this case it turned out.  Mrs. Grundy asserted that such a
thing had never been done, that it was a very dangerous precedent,
etc., but in the end the weight of a Maid of Honor and a Foreign
Minister prevailed, and we saw everything to much greater advantage
than if we had 150 persons following on, as Mr. Winthrop says he had
the other day at Windsor Castle. . . . On our way [home] we met Lady
Byron with her pretty little carriage and ponies.  She alighted and
we did the same, and had quite a pleasant little interview in the
dusty road.


Sunday, May 30th


Your father left town on Monday. . . . He did not return until the
27th, the morning of the Queen's Birthday Drawing-Room.  On that
occasion I went dressed in white mourning. . . . It was a petticoat
of white crape flounced to the waist with the edges notched.  A
train of white glace trimmed with a ruche of white crape.  A wreath
and bouquet of white lilacs, without any green, as green is not used
in mourning.  The array of diamonds on this occasion was magnificent
in the highest degree, and everybody was in their most splendid
array.  The next evening there was a concert at the Palace, at which
Jenny Lind, Grisi, Alboni, Mario, and Tamburini sang.  I went
dressed in [a] deep black dress and enjoyed the music highly.  Seats
were placed in rows in the concert-room and one sat quietly as if in
church.  At the end of the first part, the royal family with their
royal guests, the Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, and the Grand
Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Weimar went to the grand dining-room and
supped by themselves, with their suites, while another elegant
refreshment table was spread in another apartment for the other
guests. . . . Jenny Lind a little disappointed me, I must confess,
but they tell me that her songs were not adapted on that evening to
the display of her voice.

On Sunday evening your father dined with Baron Brunnow, the Russian
Minister, to meet the Grand Duke Constantine.  It so happened that
the Grand Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Weimar appointed an audience to
Baron and Baroness Brunnow at seven, and they had not returned at
half-past seven, when the Grand Duke and their other guests arrived.
The Baroness immediately advanced to the Grand Duke and sunk on her
knees before him, asking pardon in Russian.  He begged her to rise,
but she remained in the attitude of deep humiliation, until the
Grand Duke sunk also on HIS knees and gently raised her, and then
kissed her on the cheek, a privilege, you know, of royalty.

. . . On Monday evening we both went to a concert at Mr. Hudson's,
the great railway "king," who has just made an immense fortune from
railway stocks, and is now desirous to get into society.  These
things are managed in a curious way here.  A NOUVEAU RICHE gets
several ladies of fashion to patronize their entertainment and
invite all the guests.  Our invitation was from Lady Parke, who
wrote me two notes about it, saying that she would be happy to meet
me at Mrs. Hudson's splendid mansion, where would be the best music
and society of London; and, true enough, there was the Duke of
Wellington and all the world.  Lady Parke stood at the entrance of
the splendid suite of rooms to receive the guests and introduce them
to their host and hostess.  On Tuesday morning I got a note from Mr.
Eliot Warburton (brother of "Hochelaga") to come to his room at two
o'clock and look at some drawings.  To our surprise we found quite a
party seated at lunch, and a collection of many agreeable persons
and some lions and lionesses.  There was Lord Ross, the great
astronomer; Baroness Rothschild, a lovely Jewess; Miss Strickland,
the authoress of the "Queens of England"; "Eothen," and many more.
Mr. Polk, CHARGE at Naples, and brother of the President, dined with
us, and Miss Murray, and in the evening came Mr. and Mrs. McLean, he
a son of Judge McLean, of Ohio.


June 17th


On Friday evening we went to the Queen's Ball, and for the first
time saw Her Majesty dance, which she does very well, and so does
the Duchess of Sutherland, grandmother though she be.

On Monday evening we went to a concert given to the Queen by the
Duke of Wellington at Apsley House.  This was an occasion not to be
forgotten, but I cannot describe it.  On Tuesday I went for the
first time to hear a debate upon the Portugal interference in the
House of Lords.  It brought out all the leaders, and I was so
fortunate as to hear a most powerful speech from Lord Stanley, one
from Lord Lansdowne in defence of the Ministry and one from the Duke
of Wellington, who, on this occasion, sided with the Ministers.  On
Wednesday was the great FETE given by the Duchess of Sutherland to
the Queen.  It was like a chapter of a fairy tale.  Persons from all
the courts of Europe who were there told us that nowhere in Europe
was there anything as fine as the hall and grand staircase where the
Duchess received her guests.  It exceeded my utmost conceptions of
magnificence and beauty.  The vast size of the apartment, the
vaulted ceilings, the arabesque ornaments, the fine pictures, the
profusion of flowers, the music, the flourish of trumpets, as the
Queen passed backward and forward, the superb dresses and diamonds
of the women, the parti-colored full dress of the gentlemen all
contributed to make up a scene not to be forgotten.  The Queen's
Ball was not to be compared to it, so much more effective is
Stafford House than Buckingham Palace. . . . We were fortunate to be
present there, for Stafford House is not opened in this way but once
in a year or two, and the Duke's health is now so very uncertain,
that it may be many years before it happens again.  He was not
present the other evening.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
My dear Uncle and Aunt:
LONDON, June 20, 1847



On the 19th, Saturday, we breakfasted with Lady Byron and my friend,
Miss Murray, at Mr. Rogers'.  He and Lady Byron had not met for
many, many years, and their renewal of old friendship was very
interesting to witness.  Mr. Rogers told me that he first introduced
her to Lord Byron.  After breakfast he had been repeating some lines
of poetry which he thought fine, when he suddenly exclaimed:  "But
there is a bit of American PROSE, which, I think, had more poetry in
it than almost any modern verse."  He then repeated, I should think,
more than a page from Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast," describing
the falling overboard of one of the crew, and the effect it
produced, not only at the moment, but for some time afterward.  I
wondered at his memory, which enabled him to recite so beautifully a
long prose passage, so much more difficult than verse.  Several of
those present with whom the book was a favorite, were so glad to
hear from me that it was as TRUE as interesting, for they had
regarded it as partly a work of imagination.  Lady Byron had told
Mr. Rogers when she came in that Lady Lovelace, her daughter (Ada)
wished also to pay him a visit, and would come after breakfast to
join us for half an hour.  She also had not seen Rogers, I BELIEVE,
ever.  Lady Lovelace joined us soon after breakfast, and as we were
speaking of the enchantment of Stafford House on Wednesday evening,
Mr. Rogers proposed to go over it and see its fine pictures by
daylight.  He immediately went himself by a short back passage
through the park to ask permission and returned with all the
eagerness and gallantry of a young man to say that he had obtained
it.  We had thus an opportunity of seeing, in the most leisurely way
and in the most delightful society, the fine pictures and noble
apartments of Stafford House again.

. . . On Tuesday Mr. Hallam took us to the British Museum, and being
a director, he could enter on a private day, when we were not
annoyed by a crowd, and, moreover, we had the advantage of the best
interpreters and guides.  We did not even enter the library, which
requires a day by itself, but confined ourselves to the Antiquity
rooms. . . . As I entered the room devoted to the Elgin marbles, the
works of the "divine Phidias," I stepped with awe, as if entering a
temple, and the Secretary, who was by my side, observing it, told me
that the Grand Duke Constantine, when he came a few days before,
made, as he entered, a most profound and reverential bow.  This was
one of my most delightful mornings, and I left the Antiquities with
a stronger desire to see them again than before I had seen them at
all.


Sunday, June 27th


. . . I went on Wednesday to dine at Lord Monteagle's to meet Father
Mathew, and the Archbishop of Dublin (Dr. Whately) also dined there.
Father Mathew spoke with great interest of America and of American
liberality, and is very anxious to go to our country.  He saw Mr.
Forbes at Cork and spoke of him with great regard. . . . On
[Saturday] Mr. Bancroft went to the palace to see the King of the
Belgians, with the rest of the Diplomatic Corps.  After his return
we went to Westminster Hall to see the prize pictures, as Lord
Lansdowne had sent us tickets for the private view.  The Commission
of Fine Arts have offered prizes for the best historical pictures
that may serve to adorn the new Houses of Parliament, and the
pictures of this collection were all painted with that view.  One of
those which have received a prize is John Robinson bestowing his
farewell blessing upon the Pilgrims at Leyden, which is very
pleasing.  It was to me like a friend in a strange country, and I
lingered over it the longest.


July 2d


Wednesday [evening] we went to Lady Duff Gordon's, who is the
daughter of Mrs. Austin, where was a most agreeable party, and among
others, Andersen, the Danish poet-author of the "Improvisatore."  He
has a most striking poetical physiognomy, but as he talked only
German or bad French, I left him to Mr. Bancroft in the conversation
way.

The next morning before nine o'clock we were told that Mr. Rogers,
the poet, was downstairs.  I could not imagine what had brought him
out so early, but found that Moore, the poet, had come to town and
would stay but a day, and we must go that very morning and breakfast
with him at ten o'clock.  We went and found a delightful circle.  I
sat between Moore and Rogers, who was in his very best humor.  Moore
is but a wreck, but most a interesting one.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
Nuneham Park, July 27, 1847



My dear Uncle and Aunt:  . . . I must go back to the day when my
last letters were despatched, as my life since has been full of
interest.  On Monday evening, the 19th, we went to the French play,
to see Rachel in "Phedre."  She far surpassed my imagination in the
expression of all the powerful passions. . . . On Tuesday Mr.
Bancroft went down to hear Lord John make a speech to his
constituents in the city, while I went to see Miss Burdett-Coutts
lay the corner-stone of the church which "the Bishop of London has
permitted her to build," to use her own expression in her note to
me.  In the evening we dined there with many of the clergy, and Lord
Brougham, Lord Dundonald, etc.  I went down with the Dean of
Westminster, who was very agreeable and instructive.  He and Dr.
Whately have the simplicity of children, with an immense deal of
knowledge, which they impart in the most pleasant way.  Saturday,
the 24th, we were to leave town for our first country excursion.  We
were invited by Dr. Hawtrey, the Head Master of Eton, to be present
at the ceremonies accompanying the annual election of such boys on
the Foundation as are selected to go up to King's College,
Cambridge, where they are also placed on a Foundation.  From reading
Dr. Arnold's life you will have learned that the head master of one
of these very great schools is no unimportant personage.  Dr.
Hawtrey has an income of six or seven thousand pounds.  He is
unmarried, but has two single sisters who live with him, and his
establishment in one of the old college houses is full of elegance
and comfort.  We took an open travelling carriage with imperials,
and drove down to Eton with our own horses, arriving about one
o'clock.  At two, precisely, the Provost of King's College,
Cambridge, was to arrive, and to be received under the old gateway
of the cloister by the Captain of the school with a Latin speech.
After dinner there is a regatta among the boys, which is one of the
characteristic and pleasing old customs.  All the fashionables of
London who have sons at Eton come down to witness their happiness,
and the river bank is full of gayety.  The evening finished with the
most beautiful fireworks I ever saw, which lighted up the Castle
behind and were reflected in the Thames below, while the glancing
oars of the young boatmen, and the music of their band with a merry
chime of bells from St. George's Chapel, above, all combined to give
gayety and interest to the scene.  The next morning (Sunday), after
an agreeable breakfast in the long, low-walled breakfast-room, which
opens upon the flower garden, we went to Windsor to worship in St.
George's Chapel.  The Queen's stall is rather larger than the
others, and one is left vacant for the Prince of Wales.


LONDON, July 29th


And now with a new sheet I must begin my account of Nuneham. . . .
The Archbishop of York is the second son of Lord Vernon, but his
uncle, Earl Harcourt, dying without children, left him all his
estate, upon which he took the name of Harcourt.  We arrived about
four o'clock. . . . The dinner was at half-past seven, and when I
went down I found the Duchess of Sutherland, Lady Caroline Leveson-
Gower, Lord Kildare, and several of the sons and daughters of the
Archbishop.  The dinner and evening passed off very agreeably.  The
Duchess is a most high-bred person, and thoroughly courteous.  As we
were going in or out of a room instead of preceding me, which was
her right, she always made me take her arm, which was a delicate way
of getting over her precedence. . . . At half-past nine the [next
morning] we met in the drawing-room, when the Archbishop led the way
down to prayers.  This was a beautiful scene, for he is now ninety,
and to hear him read the prayers with a firm, clear voice, while his
family and dependents knelt about him was a pleasure never to be
forgotten. . . . At five I was to drive round the park with the
Archbishop himself in his open carriage.  This drive was most
charming.  He explained everything, told me when such trees would be
felled, and when certain tracts of underwood would be fit for
cutting, how old the different-sized deer were--in short, the whole
economy of an English park.  Every pretty point of view, too, he
made me see, and was as active and wide-awake as if he were thirty,
rather than ninety. . . . The next morning, after prayers and
breakfast, I took my leave.



LETTER:  To A.H.
BISHOP'S PALACE, NORWICH, August 1st



My dear Ann:  How I wish I could transport you to the spot where I
am writing, but if I could summon it before your actual vision you
would take it for a dream or a romance, so different is everything
within the walls which enclose the precincts of an English Cathedral
from anything we can conceive on our side of the water. . . . Some
of the learned people and noblemen have formed an Archaeological
Society for the study and preservation [of] the interesting
architectural antiquities of the kingdom, and [it] is upon the
occasion of the annual meeting of this society for a week at Norwich
that the Bishop has invited us to stay a few days at the palace and
join them in their agreeable antiquarian excursions.  We arrived on
Friday at five o'clock after a long dull journey of five hours on
the railway. . . . Staying in the house are our friends, Mr. and
Mrs. Milman, Lord Northampton and his son, Lord Alwyne Compton, and
the Bishop's family, consisting of Mrs. Stanley, and of two Miss
Stanleys, agreeable and highly cultivated girls, and Mr. Arthur
Stanley, the writer of Dr. Arnold's Biography.

After dinner company soon arrived.  Among them were Mrs. Opie, who
resides here.  She is a pleasing, lively old lady, in full Quaker
dress.  The most curious feature of the evening was a visit which
the company paid to the cellar and kitchen, which were lighted up
for the occasion.  They were build by the old Norman bishops of the
twelfth century, and had vaulted stone roofs as beautifully carved
and ribbed as a church.

The next day, Saturday, the antiquarians made a long excursion to
hunt up some ruins, while the Milmans, Mr. Stanley, and ourselves,
went to visit the place of Lady Suffield, about twelve miles
distant, and which is the most perfect specimen of the Elizabethan
style.  Lady Suffield herself is as Elizabethan as her
establishment; she is of one [of] the oldest high Tory families and
so opposed to innovations of all sorts that though her letters,
which used to arrive at two, before the opening of the railway two
years ago, now arrive at seven in the morning, they are never
allowed to be brought till the old hour. . . . This morning Mr.
Bancroft and the rest are gone on an excursion to Yarmouth to see
some ruins, while I remain here to witness the chairing of two new
members of Parliament, who have just been elected, of whom Lord
Douro, son of the Duke of Wellington, is one.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
AUDLEY END, October 14, 1847



Dear Uncle:  We are staying for a few days at Lord Braybrooke's
place, one of the most magnificent in England; but before I say a
word about it I must tell you of A.'s safe arrival and how happy I
have been made by having him with me again. . . . On Saturday the
9th we had the honor of dining with the LORD MAYOR to meet the Duke
of Cambridge, a FETE so unlike anything else and accompanied by so
many old and peculiar customs that I must describe it to you at full
length.  The Mansion House is in the heart of the CITY, and is very
magnificent and spacious, the Egyptian Hall, as the dining-room is
called, being one of the noblest apartments I have seen.  The guests
were about 250 in number and were received by the Lady Mayoress
SITTING.  When dinner was announced, the Lord Mayor went out first,
preceded by the sword-bearer and mace-bearer and all the insignia of
office.  Then came the Duke of Cambridge and the Lady Mayoress, then
Mr. Bancroft and I together, which is the custom at these great
civic feasts.  We marched through the long gallery by the music of
the band to the Egyptian Hall, where two raised seats like thrones
were provided for the Lord Mayor and Mayoress at the head of the
hall.  On the right hand of the Lord Mayor sat the Duke of Cambridge
in a COMMON CHAIR, for royalty yields entirely to the Mayor, on his
own ground.  On the right of the Duke of Cambridge sat the Mayoress-
elect (for the present dignitaries go out of office on the 1st of
November).  On the left hand of the present Lady Mayoress sat the
Lord Mayor-ELECT, then I came with my husband on my left hand in
very conjugal style.

There were three tables the whole length of the hall, and that at
which we were placed went across at the head.  When we are placed,
the herald stands behind the Lord Mayor and cries:  "My Lords,
Ladies, and Gentlemen, pray silence, for grace."  Then the chaplain
in his gown, goes behind the Lord Mayor and says grace.  After the
second course two large gold cups, nearly two feet high, are placed
before the Mayor and Mayoress.  The herald then cries with a loud
voice:  "His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, the American
Minister, the Lord Chief Baron," etc., etc. (enumerating about a
dozen of the most distinguished guests), "and ladies and gentlemen
all, the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress do bid you most heartily
welcome and invite you to drink in a loving cup."  Whereupon the
Mayor and Mayoress rise and each turn to their next neighbor, who
take off the cover while they drink.  After my right-hand neighbor,
the Lord Mayor-elect, had put on the cover, he turns to me and says,
"Please take off the cover," which I do and hold it while he drinks;
then I replace the cover and turn round to Mr. Bancroft, who rises
and performs the same office for me while I drink; then he turns to
his next neighbor, who takes off the cover for him.  I have not felt
so solemn since I stood up to be married as when Mr. Bancroft and I
were standing up alone together, the rest of the company looking on,
I with this great heavy gold cup in my hand, so heavy that I could
scarcely lift it to my mouth with both hands, and he with the cover
before me, with rather a mischievous expression in his face.  Then
came two immense gold platters filled with rose water, which were
also passed round.  These gold vessels were only used by the persons
at the head table; the other guests were served with silver cups.
When the dessert and the wine are placed on the table, the herald
says, "My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen, please to charge your
glasses."  After we duly charge our glasses the herald cries:
"Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen, pray silence for the Lord Mayor."  He
then rises and proposes the first toast, which is, of course, always
"The Queen."  After a time came the "American Minister," who was
obliged to rise up at my elbow and respond.  We got home just after
twelve.

And now let me try to give you some faint idea of Audley End, which
is by far the most magnificent house I have seen yet.  It was built
by the Earl of Suffolk, son of the Duke of Norfolk who was beheaded
in Elizabeth's reign for high treason, upon the site of an abbey,
the lands of which had been granted by the crown to that powerful
family.  One of the Earls of Suffolk dying without sons, the EARLDOM
passed into another branch and the BARONY and ESTATE of Howard de
Walden came into the female line.  In course of time, a Lord Howard
de Walden dying without a son, his title also passed into another
family, but his estate went to his nephew, Lord Braybrooke, the
father of the present Lord.  Lady Braybrooke is the daughter of the
Marquis of Cornwallis, and granddaughter of our American Lord
Cornwallis.

The house is of the Elizabethan period and is one of the best
preserved specimens of that style, but of its vast extent and
magnificence I can give you no idea.  We arrived about five o'clock,
and were ushered through an immense hall of carved oak hung with
banners up a fine staircase to the grand saloon, where we were
received by the host and hostess.  Now of this grand saloon I must
try to give you a conception.  It was, I should think, from seventy-
five to one hundred feet in length.  The ceiling overhead was very
rich with hanging corbels, like stalactites, and the entire walls
were panelled, with a full-length family portrait in each panel,
which was arched at the top, so that the whole wall was composed of
these round-topped pictures with rich gilding between.
Notwithstanding its vast size, the sofas and tables were so disposed
all over the apartment as to give it the most friendly, warm, and
social aspect.

Lady Braybrooke herself ushered me to my apartments, which were the
state rooms.  First came Mr. Bancroft's dressing-room, where was a
blazing fire.  Then came the bedroom, with the state bed of blue and
gold, covered with embroidery, and with the arms and coronet of
Howard de Walden.  The walls were hung with crimson and white
damask, and the sofas and chairs also, and it was surrounded by
pictures, among others a full length of Queen Charlotte, just
opposite the foot of the bed, always saluted me every morning when I
awoke, with her fan, her hoop, and her deep ruffles.

My dressing-room, which was on the opposite side from Mr.
Bancroft's, was a perfect gem.  It was painted by the famous Rebecco
who came over from Italy to ornament so many of the great English
houses at one time.  The whole ceiling and walls were covered with
beautiful designs and with gilding, and a beautiful recess for a
couch was supported by fluted gilded columns; the architraves and
mouldings of the doors were gilt, and the panels of the doors were
filled with Rebecco's beautiful designs.  The chairs were of light
blue embroidered with thick, heavy gold, and all this bearing the
stamp of antiquity was a thousand times more interesting than mere
modern splendor.  In the centre of the room was a toilet of white
muslin (universal here), and on it a gilt dressing-glass, which gave
pretty effect to the whole.

I sat at dinner between Lord Braybrooke and Sir John Boileau, and
found them both very agreeable.  The dining-room is as magnificent
as the other apartments.  The ceiling is in the Elizabethan style,
covered with figures, and the walls white and gold panelling hung
with full-length family portraits not set into the wall like the
saloon, but in frames.  In the evening the young people had a round
game at cards and the elder ones seemed to prefer talking to a game
at whist.  The ladies brought down their embroidery or netting.  At
eleven a tray with wine and water is brought in and a quantity of
bed candlesticks, and everybody retires when they like.  The next
morning the guests assembled at half-past nine in the great gallery
which leads to the chapel to go in together to prayers.  The chapel
is really a beautiful little piece of architecture, with a vaulted
roof and windows of painted glass.  On one side is the original cast
of the large monument to Lord Cornwallis (our lord) which is in
Westminster Abbey.  After breakfast we passed a couple of hours in
going all over the house, which is in perfect keeping in every part.

We returned to the library, a room as splendid as the saloon, only
instead of pictured panels it was surrounded by books in beautiful
gilt bindings.  In the immense bay window was a large Louis Quatorze
table, round which the ladies all placed themselves at their
embroidery, though I preferred looking over curious illuminated
missals, etc., etc.

The next day was the meeting of the County Agricultural Society. . .
. At the hour appointed we all repaired to the ground where the
prizes were to be given out. . . . Lord Braybrooke made first a most
paternal and interesting address, which showed me in the most
favorable view the relation between the noble and the lower class in
England, a relation which must depend much on the personal character
of the lord of the manor. . . . First came prizes to ploughmen, then
the plough boys, then the shepherds, then to such peasants as had
reared many children without aid, then to women who had been many
years in the same farmer's service, etc., etc.  A clock was awarded
to a poor man and his wife who had reared six children and buried
seven without aid from the parish.  The rapture with which Mr. and
Mrs. Flitton and the whole six children gazed on this clock, an
immense treasure for a peasant's cottage, was both comic and
affecting. . . . The next morning we made our adieus to our kind
host and hostess, and set off for London, accompanied by Sir John
Tyrrell, Major Beresford, and young Mr. Boileau.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, November 4, 1847



Dear W.:  . . . Mr. Bancroft and I dined on Friday, the 22d, with
Mr. and Mrs. Hawes, under-Secretary of State, to meet Mr. Brooke,
the Rajah of Sarawak, who is a great lion in London just now.  He is
an English gentleman of large fortune who has done much to
Christianize Borneo, and to open its trade to the English.  I sat
between him and Mr. Ward, formerly Minister to Mexico before Mr.
Pakenham.  He wrote a very nice book on Mexico, and is an agreeable
and intelligent person. . . . On Wednesday A. and I went together to
the National Gallery, and just as we were setting out Mr. Butler of
New York came in and I invited him to join us. . . . While we were
seated before a charming Claude who should come in but Mr. R.W.
Emerson and we had quite a joyful greeting.  Just then came in Mr.
Rogers with two ladies, one on each arm.  He renewed his request
that I would bring my son to breakfast with him, and appointed
Friday morning, and then added if those gentlemen who are with you
are your friends and countrymen, perhaps they will accompany you.
They very gladly acceded, and I was thankful Mr. Emerson had chanced
to be with me at that moment as it procured him a high pleasure.

Yesterday your father and I dined with Sir George Grey. . . . About
four o'clock came on such a fog as I have not seen in London, and
the newspapers of this morning speak of it as greater than has been
known for many years.  Sir George Grey lives in Eaton Place, which
is parallel and just behind Eaton Square.  In going that little
distance, though there is a brilliant gas light at every door, the
coachman was completely bewildered, and lost himself entirely.  We
could only walk the horses, the footman exploring ahead.  When the
guests by degrees arrived, there was the same rejoicing as if we had
met on Mont St. Bernard after a contest with an Alpine snow-storm. .
. . Lady Grey told me she was dining with the Queen once in one of
these tremendous fogs, and that many of the guests did not arrive
till dinner was half through, which was horrible at a royal dinner;
but the elements care little for royalty.


November 14th


On Saturday we dined at the Duc de Broglie's.  He married the
daughter of Madam de Stael, but she is not now living.  I was very
agreeably placed with Mr. Macaulay on one side of me, so that I
found it more pleasant than diplomatic dinners usually.  At the
English tables we meet people who know each other well, and have a
common culture and tastes and habits of familiarity, and a fund of
pleasant stories, but of course, at foreign tables, they neither
know each other or the English so well as to give the same easy flow
to conversation.  I am afraid we are the greatest diners-out in
London, but we are brought into contact a great deal with the
literary and Parliamentary people, which our colleagues know little
about, as also with the clergy and the judges.  I should not be
willing to make it the habit of my life, but it is time not misspent
during the years of our abode here. . . . The good old Archbishop of
York is dead, and I am glad I paid my visit to him when I did.  Mr.
Rogers has paid me a long visit to-day and gave me all the
particulars of his death.  It was a subject I should not have
introduced, for of that knot of intimate friends, Mr. Grenville, the
Archbishop, and himself, he is now all that remains.


November 28th


. . . On Monday evening I went without Mr. Bancroft to a little
party at Mrs. Lyell's, where I was introduced to Mrs. Somerville.
She has resided for the last nine years abroad, chiefly at Venice,
but has now come to London and taken a house very near us. . . . Her
daughter told me that nothing could exceed the ease and simplicity
with which her literary occupations were carried on.  She is just
publishing a book upon Natural Geography without regard to political
boundaries.  She writes principally before she rises in the morning
on a little piece of board, with her inkstand on a table by her
side.  After she leaves her room she is as much at leisure as other
people, but if an idea strikes her she takes her little board into a
corner or window and writes quietly for a short time and returns to
join the circle.

Dr. Somerville told me that his wife did not discover her genius for
mathematics till she was about sixteen.  Her brother, who has no
talent for it, was receiving a mathematical lesson from a master
while she was hemming and stitching in the room.  In this way she
first heard the problems of Euclid stated and was ravished.  When
the lesson was over, she carried off the book to her room and
devoured it.  For a long time she pursued her studies secretly, as
she had scaled heights of science which were not considered feminine
by those about her.


December 2d


I put down my pen yesterday when the carriage came to the door for
my drive.  It was a day bright, beaming, and exhilarating as one of
our own winter days.  I was so busy enjoying the unusual beams of
the unclouded sun that I did not perceive for some time that I had
left my muff, and was obliged to drive home again to get it.  While
I was waiting in the carriage for the footman to get it, two of the
most agreeable old-lady faces in the world presented themselves at
the window.  They were the Miss Berrys.  They had driven up behind
me and got out to have a little talk on the sidewalk.  I took them
into Mr. Bancroft's room and was thankful that my muff had sent me
back to receive a visit which at their age is rarely paid. . . . I
found them full of delight at Mr. Brooke, the Rajah of Sarawak, with
whose nobleness of soul they would have great sympathy.  He is just
now the lion of London, and like all other lions is run after by
most people because he is one, and by the few because he deserves to
be one.  Now, lest you should know nothing about him, let me tell
you that at his own expense he fitted out a vessel, and established
himself at Borneo, where he soon acquired so great [an] ascendancy
over the native Rajah, that he insisted on resigning to him the
government of his province of Sarawak.  Here, with only three
European companions, by moral and intellectual force alone, he
succeeded in suppressing piracy and civil war among the natives and
opened a trade with the interior of Borneo which promises great
advantages to England. . . . Everybody here has the INFLUENZA--a
right-down influenza, that sends people to their beds.  Those who
have triumphed at their exemption in the evening, wake up perhaps in
the morning full of aches in every limb, and scoff no longer. . . .
Dinner parties are sometimes quite broken up by the excuses that
come pouring in at the last moment.  Lady John Russell had seven
last week at a small dinner of twelve; 1,200 policemen at one time
were taken off duty, so that the thieves might have had their own
way, but they were probably as badly off themselves.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
LONDON, December 16, 1847



My dear Uncle and Aunt:  . . . On Saturday Mr. Hallam wrote us that
Sir Robert Peel had promised to breakfast with him on Monday morning
and he thought we should like to meet him in that quiet way.  So we
presented ourselves at ten o'clock, and were joined by Sir Robert,
Lord Mahon, Macaulay, and Milman, who with Hallam himself, formed a
circle that could not be exceeded in the wide world.  I was the only
lady, except Miss Hallam; but I am especially favored in the
breakfast line.  I would cross the Atlantic only for the pleasure I
had that morning in hearing such men talk for two or three hours in
an entirely easy unceremonious breakfast way.  Sir Robert was full
of stories, and showed himself as much the scholar as the statesman.
Macaulay was overflowing as usual, and Lord Mahon and Milman are
full of learning and accomplishments.  The classical scholarship of
these men is very perfect and sometimes one catches a glimpse of
awfully deep abysses of learning.  But then it is ONLY a glimpse,
for their learning has no cumbrous and dull pedantry about it.  They
are all men of society and men of the world, who keep up with it
everywhere.  There is many a pleasant story and many a good joke,
and everything discussed but politics, which, as Sir Robert and
Macaulay belong to opposite dynasties, might be dangerous ground.

After dinner we went a little before ten to Lady Charlotte
Lindsay's.  She came last week to say that she was to have a little
dinner on Monday and wished us to come in afterwards.  This is
universal here, and is the easiest and most agreeable form of
society.  She had Lord Brougham and Colonel and Mrs. Dawson-Damer,
etc., to dine. . . . Mrs. Damer wished us to come the next evening
to her in the same way, just to get our cup of tea.  These nice
little teas are what you need in Boston.  There is no supper, no
expense, nothing but society.  Mrs. Damer is the granddaughter of
the beautiful Lady Waldegrave, the niece of Horace Walpole, who
married the Duke of Gloucester.  She was left an orphan at a year
old and was confided by her mother to the care of Mrs. Fitzherbert.
She lived with her until her marriage and was a great pet of George
IV, and tells a great many interesting stories of him and Mrs.
Fitzherbert, who was five years older than he.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, December 30, 1847



Dear W.:  Your father left me on the 18th to go to Paris.  This is
the best of all seasons for him to be there, for the Ministers are
all out of town at Christmas, and in Paris everything is at its
height.  My friends are very kind to me--those who remain in town. .
. . One day I dined at Sir Francis Simpkinson's and found a pleasant
party.  Lady Simpkinson is a sister of Lady Franklin, whom I was
very glad to meet, as she has been in America and knows many
Americans, Mrs. Kirkland for one. . . . Then I have passed one
evening for the first time at Mr. Tagent's, the Unitarian clergyman,
where I met many of the literary people who are out of the great
world, and yet very desirable to see.

There, too, I met the Misses Cushman, Charlotte and Susan, who
attend his church.  I was very much pleased with both of them.  I
have never seen them play, but they will send me a list of their
parts at their next engagement and I shall certainly go to hear
them.  They are of Old Colony descent (from Elder Cushman), and have
very much of the New England character, culture, and good sense.  On
Monday I dined at Sir Edward Codrington's, the hero of Navarino,
with the Marquis and Marchioness of Queensberry, and a party of
admirals and navy officers.  On Tuesday I dined at Lady Braye's,
where were Mr. Rogers, Dr. Holland, Sir Augustus and Lady Albinia
Foster, formerly British Minister to the United States.  He could
describe OUR COURT, as he called it, in the time of Madison and
Monroe.


January 1, 1848


This evening, in addition to my usual morning letter from your
father, I have another; a new postal arrangement beginning to-day
with the New Year.  He gives me a most interesting conversation he
has just been having with Baron von Humboldt, who is now in Paris.
He says he poured out a delicious stream of remarks, anecdotes,
narratives, opinion.  He feels great interest in our Mexican
affairs, as he has been much there, and is a Mexican by adoption.

His letter, dated the 31st December, says:  "Madam Adelaide died at
three this morning."  This death astonished me, for he saw her only
a few evenings since at the Palace.  She was a woman of strong
intellect and character, and her brother, the King, was very much
attached to her as a counsellor and friend. . . . There were more
than 100 Americans to be presented on New Year's Day at Paris, and,
as Madam Adelaide's death took place without a day's warning, you
can imagine the embroidered coats and finery which were laid on the
shelf.


Saturday, January 7th


Yesterday, my dear son, I had a delightful dinner at the dear Miss
Berrys.  They drove to the door on Thursday and left a little note
to say, "Can you forgive a poor sick soul for not coming to you
before, when you were all alone," and begging me to come the next
day at seven, to dine.  There was Lady Charlotte and Lady Stuart de
Rothesay, who was many years ambassadress at Paris, and very
agreeable.  Then there was Dr. Holland and Mr. Stanley, the under-
Secretary of State, etc.  In the evening came quite an additional
party, and I passed it most pleasantly. . . . Your father writes
that on Friday he dined at Thiers' with Mignet, Cousin, Pontois, and
Lord Normanby.  He says such a dinner is "unique in a man's life."
"Mignet is delightful, frank, open, gay, full of intelligence, and
of that grace which makes society charming." . . . Your father to-
day gives me some account of Thiers.  He is now fifty:  he rises at
five o'clock every morning, toils till twelve, breakfasts, makes
researches, and then goes to the Chambers.  In the evening he always
receives his friends except Wednesdays and Thursdays, when he
attends his wife to the opera and to the Academie.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
LONDON, January 28th, 1848



My dear Uncle and Aunt:  . . . Last Monday I received [this] note
from George Sumner, which I thought might interest you:  "My dear
Mrs. Bancroft:  I hasten to congratulate you upon an event most
honorable to Mr. Bancroft and to our country.  The highest honor
which can be bestowed in France upon a foreigner has just been
conferred on him.  He was chosen this afternoon a Corresponding
Member of the Institute.  Five names were presented for the vacant
chair of History.  Every vote but one was in favor of Mr. Bancroft
(that one for Mr. Grote of London, author of the 'History of
Greece').  A gratifying fact in regard to this election is that it
comes without the knowledge of Mr. Bancroft, and without any of
those preliminary visits on his part, and those appeals to
academicians whose votes are desired, that are so common with
candidates for vacancies at the Institute.  The honor acquires
double value for being unsought, and I have heard with no small
satisfaction several Members of the Academy contrast the modest
reserve of Mr. Bancroft with the restless manoeuvres to which they
have been accustomed.  Prescott, you know, is already a member, and
I think America may be satisfied with two out of seven of a class of
History which is selected from the world."



LETTER:  To T.D.
LONDON, February 24, 1848



My dear Brother:  . . . Great excitement exists in London to-day at
the reception of the news from France.  Guizot is overthrown, and
Count Mole is made Prime Minister.  The National Guards have sided
with the people, and would not fire upon them, and that secret of
the weakness of the army being revealed, I do not see why the
Liberal party cannot obtain all they want in the end.  Louis
Philippe has sacrificed the happiness of France for the advancement
of his own family, but nations in the nineteenth [century] have
learned that they were not made to be the slaves of a dynasty.  Mr.
Bancroft dines with the French Minister to-day, not with a party,
but quite EN FAMILLE, and he will learn there what the hopes and
fears of the Government are.


February 25th


The news this morning is only from Amiens, which has risen in
support of France.  The railways are torn up all round Paris, to
prevent the passage of troops, and the roads and barriers are all in
possession of the people.  All France will follow the lead of Paris,
and what will be the result Heaven only knows.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
LONDON, February 26, 1848



My dear Uncle:  . . . On Thursday Mr. Bancroft dined with Count
Jarnac, the Minister in the Duc de Broglie's absence, and he little
dreamed of the blow awaiting him.  The fortifications and the army
seemed to make the King quite secure.  On Friday Mr. Bancroft went
to dine with Kenyon, and I drove there with him for a little air.
On my return Cates, the butler, saluted me with the wondrous news of
the deposition and flight of the royal family, which Mr. Brodhead
had rushed up from his club to impart to us.  I was engaged to a
little party at Mr. Hallam's, where I found everybody in great
excitement.


Sunday Noon


To-day we were to have dined with Baron de Rothschild, but this
morning I got a note from the beautiful baroness, saying that her
sister-in-law and her mother with three children, had just arrived
from Paris at her house in the greatest distress, without a change
of clothes, and in deep anxiety about the Baron, who had stayed
behind.

Our colleagues all look bewildered and perplexed beyond measure. . .
. The English aristocracy have no love for Louis Philippe, but much
less for a republic, so near at hand, and everybody seemed perplexed
and uneasy.


Tuesday


On Sunday the Duc de Nemours arrived at the French Embassy, and
Monday the poor Duchess de Montpensier, the innocent cause of all
the trouble.  No one knows where the Duchess de Nemours and her
young children are, and the King and Queen are entirely missing.  At
one moment it is reported that he is drowned, and then, again, at
Brussels.


Wednesday


To-day the French Embassy have received despatches announcing the
new government, and Count Jarnac has immediately resigned.  This
made it impossible for the Duc de Nemours and the Duchess de
Montpensier to remain at the Embassy, and they fell by inheritance
to Mr. Van de Weyer, whose Queen is Louis Philippe's daughter.  The
Queen has taken Louis Philippe's daughter, Princess Clementine, who
married Prince Auguste de Saxe-Coburg to the Palace, but for State
Policy's sake she can do nothing about the others.  Mr. Van de Weyer
offered Mr. Bates's place of East Sheen, which was most gratefully
accepted.


Friday


This morning came Thackeray, who is the soul of PUNCH, and showed me
a piece he had written for the next number.


Saturday


The King has arrived.  What a crossing of the Channel, pea-jacket,
woollen comforter, and all!  The flight is a perfect comedy, and if
PUNCH had tried to invent anything more ludicrous, it would have
failed.  Panic, despotism, and cowardice.

These things are much more exciting here than across the water.  We
are so near the scene of action and everybody has a more personal
interest here in all these matters.  The whole week has been like a
long play, and now, on Saturday night, I want nothing but repose.
What a dream it must be to the chief actors!  The Queen, who is
always good and noble, was averse to such ignominious flight; she
preferred staying and taking what came, and if Madam Adelaide had
lived, they would never have made such a [word undecipherable]
figure.  Her pride and courage would have inspired them.  With her
seemed to fly Louis Philippe's star, as Napoleon's with Josephine. .
. . Mr. Emerson has just come to London and we give him a dinner on
Tuesday, the 14th.  Several persons wish much to see him, and
Monckton Milnes reviewed him in BLACKWOOD.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, March 11, 1848



Dear W.:  . . . Yesterday we dined at Lord Lansdowne's.  Among the
guests were M. and Madam Van de Weyer, and Mrs. Austin, the
translatress, who has been driven over here from Paris, where she
has resided for several years.  She is a vehement friend of
Guizot's, though a bitter accuser of Louis Philippe, but how can
they be separated?  She interests herself strongly now in all his
arrangements, and is assisting his daughters to form their humble
establishment.  He and his daughters together have about eight
hundred pounds a year, and that in London is poverty.  They have
taken a small house in Brompton Square, a little out of town, and
one of those suburban, unfashionable regions where the most
accommodations can be had at the least price.  What a change for
those who have witnessed their almost regal receptions in Paris!
The young ladies bear very sweetly all their reverses. . . . Guizot,
himself, I hear, is as FIER as ever, and almost gay.  Princess de
Lieven is here at the "Clarendon," and their friendship is as great
as ever.


March 15th


Yesterday we had an agreeable dinner at our own house.  Macaulay,
Milman, Lord Morpeth and Monckton Milnes were all most charming, and
we ladies listened with eager ears.  Conversation was never more
interesting than just now, in this great crisis of the world's
affairs.  Mr. Emerson was here and seemed to enjoy [it] much.


Friday, March 17th


Things look rather darker in France, but we ought not to expect a
republic to be established without some difficulties. . . . You
cannot judge of the state of France, however, through the medium of
the English newspapers, for, of course, English sympathies are all
entirely against it.  They never like France, and a republic of any
kind still less.  A peaceful and prosperous republic in the heart of
Europe would be more deprecated than a state of anarchy.  The
discussion of French matters reveals to me every moment the deep
repugnance of the English to republican institutions.  It lets in a
world of light upon opinions and feelings, which, otherwise, would
not have been discovered by me.


Sunday, March 19th


Yesterday we breakfasted at Mrs. Milman's.  I was the only lady, but
there were Macaulay, Hallam, Lord Morpeth, and, above all, Charles
Austin, whom I had not seen before, as he never dines out, but who
is the most striking talker in England.  He has made a fortune by
the law in the last few years, which gives him an income of 8,000
pounds.  He has the great railroad cases which come before the House
of Lords. . . . On Tuesday came a flying report of a revolution in
Berlin, but no one believed it.  We concluded it rather a
speculation of the newsmen, who are hawking revolutions after every
mail in second and third editions.  We were going that evening to a
SOIREE at Bunsen's, whom we found cheerful as ever and fearing no
evil.  On Monday the news of the revolution in Austria produced a
greater sensation even than France, for it was the very pivot of
conservatism. . . . On Thursday I received the letter from A. at
eight A.M., which I enclose to you.  It gives an account of the
revolution in Berlin.



LETTER:  To T.D.
March 31



The old world is undergoing a complete reorganization, and is
unfolding a rapid series of events more astonishing than anything in
history.  Where it will stop, and what will be its results, nobody
can tell.  Royalty has certainly not added to its respectability by
its conduct in its time of trial.  Since the last steamer went,
Italy has shaken off the Austrian yoke, Denmark has lost her German
provinces, Poland has risen, or is about to rise, which will bring
Russia thundering down upon Liberal Europe. . . . Our whole
Diplomatic Corps are certainly "in a fix," and we are really the
only members of it who have any reason to be quite at ease.  Two or
three have been called home to be Ministers of Foreign Affairs, as
they have learned something of constitutional liberty in England.
England is, as yet, all quiet, and I hope will keep so, but the
Chartists are at work and Ireland is full of inflammable matter.
But England does love her institutions, and is justly proud of their
comparative freedom, and long may she enjoy them. . . . On Sunday
Mr. Emerson dined with us with Lady Morgan and Mrs. Jameson--the
authoress.  On Monday I took him to a little party at Lady Morgan's.
His works are a good deal known here.  I have great pleasure in
seeing so old a friend so far from home. . . . I think we shall have
very few of our countrymen out this spring, as travelling Europe is
so uncertain, with everything in commotion.  Those who are passing
the winter in Italy are quite shut in at present, and if war begins,
no one knows where it will spread.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, April 7, 1848



. . . On Wednesday we had an agreeable dinner at Mrs. Milner
Gibson's.  Mr. and Mrs. Disraeli, Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan (brother of
Mrs. Norton), etc., were among the guests.  After dinner I had a
very long talk with Disraeli.  He is, you know, of the ultra Tory
party here, and looks at the Continental movements from the darkest
point of view.  He cannot admit as a possibility the renovation of
European society upon more liberal principles, and considers it as
the complete dissolution of European civilization which will, like
Asia, soon present but the ashes of a burnt-out flame.  This is most
atheistic, godless, and un-christian doctrine, and he cannot himself
believe it.  The art of printing and the rapid dissemination of
thought changes all these things in our days.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
April 10



This is the day of the "Great Chartist Meeting," which has terrified
all London to the last degree, I think most needlessly.  The city
and town is at this moment stiller than I have ever known it, for
not a carriage dares to be out.  Nothing is to be seen but a
"special constable" (every gentleman in London is sworn into that
office), occasionally some on foot, some on horseback, scouring the
streets.  I took a drive early this morning with Mr. Bancroft, and
nothing could be less like the eve of a revolution.  This evening,
when the petition is to be presented, may bring some disturbance,
not from the Chartists themselves, but from the disorderly persons
who may avail themselves of the occasion.  The Queen left town on
Saturday for the Isle of Wight, as she had so lately been confined
it was feared her health might suffer from any agitation. . . . I
passed a long train of artillery on Saturday evening coming into
town, which was the most earnest looking thing I have seen. . . .
To-day we were to have dined at Mrs. Mansfield's, but her dinner was
postponed from the great alarm about the Chartists.  There is not
the slightest danger of a revolution in England.  The upper middle-
class, which on the continent is entirely with the people, the
professional and mercantile class, is here entirely conservative,
and without that class no great changes can ever be made.  The Duc
de Montebello said of France, that he "knew there were lava streams
below, but he did not know the crust was so thin."  Here, on the
contrary, the crust is very thick.  And yet I can see in the most
conservative circles that a feeling is gaining ground that some
concessions must be made.  An enlargement of the suffrage one hears
now often discussed as, perhaps, an approaching necessity.


Friday, April 14


The day of the Chartists passed off with most ridiculous quiet, and
the government is stronger than ever. . . . If the Alien Bill
passes, our American friends must mind their p's and q's, for if
they praise the "model republic" too loudly, they may be packed off
at any time, particularly if they have "long beards," for it seems
to be an axiom here that beards, mustaches, and barricades are
cousins-german at least. . . . Mr. Bancroft goes to Paris on Monday,
the 17th, to pass the Easter holidays.  He will go on with his
manuscripts, and at the same time witness the elections and meeting
of the Convention.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, April 19, 1848



Dear W.:  . . . To-day I have driven down to Richmond to lunch with
Mrs. Drummond, who is passing Easter holidays there.  On coming home
I found a letter from Mr. Bancroft from which I will make some
extracts, as he has the best sources of knowledge in Paris.  "Then I
went to Mignet, who, you know, is politically the friend of Thiers.
He pointed out to me the condition of France, and drew for me a
picture of what it was and of the change.  I begin to see the
difference between France and us.  Here they are accustomed to BE
governed.  WE are accustomed to GOVERN.  HERE power may be seized
and exercised, if exercised in a satisfactory manner; with us the
foundation of power, its constitutionality and the legality of its
acts are canvassed and analyzed.  Here an unpopularity is made away
with by a revolution, and you know how WE deal with it.  Thus,
power, if in favor, may dare anything, and if out of favor is little
likely to be forgiven." . . . "Our fathers had to unite the thirteen
States; here they have unity enough and run no risk but from the
excess of it.  My hopes are not less than they were, but all that
France needs may not come at once.  We were fourteen years in
changing our confederation into a union, perhaps France cannot be
expected to jump at once into perfect legislation or perfect forms.
Crude ideas are afloat, but as to Communism, it is already exploded,
or will be brushed away from legislative power as soon as the
National Assembly meets, though the question of ameliorating the
condition of the laboring class is more and more engaging the public
mind." . . . "I spent an hour with Cousin, the Minister of a
morning.  He gave me sketches of many of the leading men of these
times, and I made him detail to me he scene of Louis Philippe's
abdication, which took place in a manner quite different from what I
had heard in London." . . . "Cousin, by the way, says that the Duc
de Nemours throughout, behaved exceedingly well.  Thence to the Club
de la Nouvelle Republique.  Did not think much of the speaking which
I heard.  From the club I went to Thiers, where I found Cousin and
Mignet and one or two more.  Some change since I met him.  A leader
of opposition, then a prime minister, and now left aground by the
shifting tide." . . . "Everybody has given up Louis Philippe,
everybody considers the nonsense of Louis Blanc as drawing to its
close.  The delegates from Paris will full half be UNIVERSALLY
acceptable.  Three-fourths of the provincial delegates will be
MODERATE republicans.  The people are not in a passion.  They go
quietly enough about their business of constructing new
institutions.  Ledru-Rollin, Louis Blanc, and Flocon tried to lead
the way to ill, but Lamartine, whose heroism passes belief and
activity passes human power, won the victory over them, found
himself on Sunday, and again yesterday, sustained by all Paris, and
has not only conquered but CONCILIATED them, and everybody is now
firmly of opinion that the Republic will be established quietly." .
. . "But while there are no difficulties from the disorderly but
what can easily be overcome, the want of republican and political
experience, combined with vanity and self-reliance and idealism, may
throw impediments in the way of what the wisest wish, VIZ., two
elected chambers and a president."



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, May 5, 1848



My dear W.:  . . . Last evening, Thursday, we went to see Jenny
Lind, on her first appearance this year.  She was received with
enthusiasm, and the Queen still more so.  It was the first time the
Queen had been at the opera since the birth of her child, and since
the republican spirit was abroad, and loyalty burst out in full
force.  Now loyalty is very novel, and pleasant to witness, to us
who have never known it.


LONDON, May 31, 1848


. . . Now for my journal, which has gone lamely on since the 24th of
February.  The Queen's Ball was to take place the evening on which I
closed my last letter.  My dress was a white crepe over white satin,
with flounces of Honiton lace looped up with pink tuberoses.  A
wreath of tuberoses and bouquet for the corsage.  We had tickets
sent us to go through the garden and set down at a private door,
which saves waiting in the long line of carriages for your turn.
The Diplomatic Corps arrange themselves in a line near the door at
which the Queen enters the suite of rooms, which was at ten
precisely.  She passes through, curtseying and bowing very
gracefully, until she reaches the throne in the next room, where she
and the Duchess of Cambridge, the Duchess of Saxe-Weimar and her
daughters, who are here on a visit, etc., sit down, while Prince
Albert, the Prince of Prussia and other sprigs of royalty stand
near.  The dancing soon began in front of the canopy, but the Queen
herself did not dance on account of her mourning for Prince Albert's
grandmother.  There was another band and dancing in other rooms at
the same time.  After seeing several dances here the Queen and her
suite move by the flourish of trumpets to another room, the guests
forming a lane as she passes, bowing and smiling.  Afterward she
made a similar progress to supper, her household officers moving
backwards before her, and her ladies and royal relatives and friends
following.  At half-past one Her Majesty retired and the guests
departed, such as did not have to wait two hours for their
carriages.  On Saturday we went at two to the FETE of flowers at
Chiswick, and at half-past seven dined at Lord Monteagle's to meet
Monsieur and Mademoiselle Guizot.  He has the finest head in the
world, but his person is short and insignificant.

On Wednesday we dined at Lady Chantrey's to meet a charming party.
Afterward we went to a magnificent ball at the Duke of Devonshire's,
with all the great world.  On Friday we went to Faraday's lecture at
the Royal Institution.  We went in with the Duke and Duchess of
Northumberland, and I sat by her during the lecture.  On Saturday
was the Queen's Birthday Drawing-Room. . . . Mr. Bancroft dined at
Lord Palmerston's with all the diplomats, and I went in the evening
with a small party of ladies.  On coming home we drove round to see
the brilliant birthday illuminations.  The first piece of
intelligence I heard at Lady Palmerston's was the death of the
Princess Sophia, an event which is a happy release for her, for she
was blind and a great sufferer.  It has overturned all court
festivities, of course, for the present, and puts us all in deep
mourning, which is not very convenient just now, in the brilliant
season, and when we had all our dress arrangements made.  The Queen
was to have a concert to-night, a drawing-room next Friday, and a
ball on the 16th, which are all deferred. . . . I forgot to say that
I got a note from Miss Coutts on Sunday, asking me to go with her
the next day to see the Chinese junk, so at three the next day we
repaired to her house.  Her sisters (Miss Burdetts) and Mr. Rogers
were all the party.  At the junk for the first time I saw Metternich
and the Princess, his wife.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, June 29, 1848



My dear W.:  . . . When I last left off I was going to dine at Miss
Coutts's to meet the Duchess of Cambridge.  The party was brilliant,
including the Duke of Wellington, Lord and Lady Douro, Lady Jersey
and the beautiful Lady Clementina Villiers, her daughter, etc.  When
royal people arrive everybody rises and remains standing while they
stand, and if they approach you or look at you, you must perform the
lowest of "curtsies."  The courtesy made to royalty is very like the
one I was taught to make when a little girl at Miss Tuft's school in
Plymouth.  One sinks down instead of stepping back in dancing-school
fashion.  After dinner the Duchess was pleased to stand until the
gentlemen rejoined us; of course, we must all stand. . . . The next
day we dined at the Lord Mayor's to meet the Ministers.  This was a
most interesting affair.  We had all the peculiar ceremonies which I
described to you last autumn, but in addition the party was most
distinguished, and we had speeches from Lord Lansdowne, Lord
Palmerston, Lord John, Lord Auckland, Sir George Grey, etc.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
LONDON, July 21, 1848



I was truly grieved that the last steamer should go to Boston
without a line from me, but I was in Yorkshire and you must forgive
me. . . . I left off with the 26th of June. . . . The next evening
was the Queen's Concert, which was most charming.  I sat very near
the Duke of Wellington, who often spoke to me between the songs. . .
. The next day we went with Miss Coutts to her bank, lunched there,
and went all over the building.  Then we went to the Tower and the
Tunnel together, she never having seen either.  So ignorant are the
West End people of city lions. . . . And now comes my pleasant
Yorkshire excursion.  We left London, at half-past three, at
distance of 180 miles.  This was Saturday, July 8.  At York we found
Mr. Hudson ready to receive us and conduct us to a special train
which took us eighteen miles on the way to Newby Park, and there we
found carriages to take us four miles to our destination.  We met at
dinner and found our party to consist of the Duke of Richmond, Lord
Lonsdale, Lord George Bentinck, Lord Ingestre, Lord John Beresford,
Lady Webster, whose husband, now dead, was the son of Lady Holland,
two or three agreeable talkers to fill in, and ourselves.


Tuesday


Lady Webster, Mr. Bancroft, and myself, went to Castle Howard, as
Lord Morpeth had written to his mother that we were to be there and
would lunch with her.  Castle Howard is twenty-five miles the other
side of York, which is itself twenty-five miles from Newby.  But
what is fifty miles when one is under the wing of the Railway King
and can have a special engine at one's disposal.  On arriving at the
Castle Howard station we found Lord Carlisle's carriage with four
horses and most venerable coachman waiting to receive us.  We enter
the Park almost immediately, but it is about four miles to the
Castle, through many gates, which we had mounted footmen open for
us.  Lady Carlisle received us in the most delightful manner. . . .
I was delighted to see Lord Morpeth's home and his mother, who
seldom now goes to London.  She was the daughter of the beautiful
Duchess of Devonshire, and took me into her own dressing-room to
show me her picture. . . . On Wednesday we went into York to witness
the reception of Prince Albert, to see the ruins of St. Mary's
Abbey, the Flower Show, to lunch with the Lord Mayor, and above all,
to attend prayers in the Minister and hear a noble anthem.  The
Cathedral was crowded with strangers and a great many from London.
The next day was the day of the great dinner, and I send you the
POST containing Mr. Bancroft's speech.  It was warmly admired by all
who heard it.

At ten at night we ladies set out for York to go [to] the Lord
Mayor's Ball, where the gentlemen were to meet us from the dinner.
Everybody flocked round to congratulate me upon your father's
speech.  Even Prince Albert, when I was led up to make my curtsey,
offered me his hand, which is a great courtesy in royalty, and spoke
of the great beauty and eloquence of Mr. B.'s speech.  The Prince
soon went away:  the Lord Mayor took me down to supper and I sat
between him and the Duke of Richmond at the high table which went
across the head of the hall.  Guildhall is a beautiful old room with
a fine old traceried window, and the scene, with five tables going
the length of the hall and the upper one across the head, was very
gay and brilliant.  There were a few toasts, and your father again
made a little speech, short and pleasant.  We did not get home till
half-past three in the morning. . . . On Friday morning [July 14th]
many of the guests, the Duke of Richmond, etc., took their departure
and Mr. Hudson had to escort Prince Albert to town, but returned the
same evening. . . . The next day we all went to pay a visit to an
estate of Mr. Hudson's [name of estate indecipherable] for which he
paid five hundred thousand pounds to the Duke of Devonshire. . . .
It is nobly situated in the Yorkshire wolds, a fine range of hills,
and overlooking the valley of the Humber, which was interesting to
me, as it was the river which our Pilgrim fathers sailed down and
lay in the Wash at its mouth, awaiting their passage to Holland.
They came, our Plymouth fathers, mostly from Lincolnshire and the
region which lay below us.  I thought of them, and the scene of
their sufferings was more ennobled in my eyes, from their
remembrance than from the noble mansions and rich estates which
feast the eye.

On Monday morning we left Newby for York on our way home.  It so
happened that the judges were to open the court that very morning,
on which occasion they always breakfast with the Lord Mayor in their
scarlet robes and wigs, the Lord Mayor and aldermen are also in
their furred scarlet robes and the Lady Mayoress presents the judges
with enormous bouquets of the richest flowers.  We were invited to
this breakfast, and I found it very entertaining.  I was next the
High Sheriff, who was very desirous that we should stay a few hours
and go to the castle and see the court opened and listen to a case
or two.  The High Sheriff of a county is a great character and has a
carriage and liveries as grand as the Queen's.  After breakfast we
bade adieu to our York friends, and set off with our big bouquets
(for the distribution was extended to us) for home.



LETTER:  To T.D.
LONDON, August 9, 1848



My dear Brother:  . . . On Saturday we set off for Nuneham, the
magnificent seat of the late Archbishop of York, now in possession
of his eldest son, Mr. Granville Harcourt. . . . The guests besides
ourselves were Sir Robert and Lady Peel, Lord and Lady Villiers,
Lord and Lady Norreys, Lord Harry Vane, etc.  We considered it a
great privilege to be staying in the same house with Sir Robert
Peel, and I had also the pleasure of sitting by him at dinner all
the three days we were there.  He was full of conversation of the
best kind.  Mr. Denison and Lady Charlotte, his wife, were also of
our party.  She was the daughter of the Duke of Portland and sister
of Lord George Bentinck, Sir Robert's great antagonist in the House.

On Sunday morning we attended the pretty little church on the estate
which with its parsonage is a pleasing object on the grounds.  The
next day the whole party were taken to Blenheim, the seat of the
famous Duke of Marlborough, built at the expense of the country.
The grounds are exquisite, but I was most charmed by the collection
of pictures.  Here were the finest Vandykes, Rubens, and Sir Joshua
Reynolds which I have seen.  Sir Robert Peel is a great connoisseur
in art and seemed highly to enjoy them.  Altogether it was a truly
delightful day:  the drive of fifteen miles in open carriages, and
through Oxford, being of itself a high pleasure.  Yesterday we
returned to London, and on Thursday we set out for Scotland.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
EDINBURGH, August 16, 1848



My dear Uncle and Aunt:  . . . Of Edinburgh I cannot say enough to
express my admiration.  The Castle Rock, Arthur's Seat, Salisbury
Craigs and Calton Hill are all separate and fine mountains and, with
the Frith of Forth, the ocean and the old picturesque town, make an
assemblage of fine objects that I have seen nowhere else.  Mr.
Rutherford, the Lord Advocate, who is of the Ministry, had written
to his friends that we were coming, and several gentlemen came by
breakfast time the next morning.  Mr. Gordon, his nephew, married
the daughter of Prof. Wilson, and invited us to dine that day to
meet the professor, etc. . . . We drove out after breakfast into the
country to Hawthornden, formerly the residence of Drummond the poet,
and to Lord Roslin's grounds, where are the ruins of Roslin Castle
and above all, of the Roslin Chapel. . . . After lingering and
admiring long we returned to Edinburgh just in season for dinner at
Mr. Gordon's, where we found Prof. Wilson, and another daughter and
son, Mrs. Rutherford, wife of the Lord Advocate, and Capt.
Rutherford, his brother, with his wife.  We had a very agreeable
evening and engaged to dine there again quite EN FAMILLE, with only
the professor, whose conversation is delightful.

The next morning we went out to Craigcrook, Lord Jeffrey's country
seat, to see and lunch with him.  He was confined to his couch. . .
. He is seventy-three or seventy-four, but looks not a minute older
than fifty.  He has a fine head and forehead, and most agreeable and
courteous manners, rather of the old school.  As he could not rise
to receive me he kissed my hand.  Mrs. Jeffrey is an intelligent and
agreeable woman but has been much out of health the last year.  She
was Miss Wilkes of New York, you know.  The house was an old
castellated and fortified house, and with modern additions is a most
beautiful residence.  Capt. Rutherford told me that when he received
the Lord Advocate's letter announcing that we were coming, he went
to see Lord Jeffrey to know if he would be well enough to see us,
and he expressed the strongest admiration for Mr. Bancroft's work.

This may have disposed them to receive us with the cordiality which
made our visit so agreeable.  Mr. Empson, his son-in-law and the
president editor of the Edinburgh Review, was staying there, and
after talking two hours with Lord and Mrs. Jeffrey we took with him
a walk in the grounds from which are delightful and commanding views
of the whole environs, and never were environs so beautiful.



LETTER:  To W.D.B.
TARBET ON LOCH LOMOND, August 28, 1848



Dear W. . . . Being detained here by rain this morning I devote it
to you and to my journal. . . . The next day was Sunday but the
weather being fine we concluded to continue our journey, and
followed the Tay seeing Birnam Wood and Dunsinane on our way up to
Dunkeld, near to which is the fine seat of the Duke of Athol.  We
took a delightful walk in the beautiful grounds, and went on to
Blair Athol to sleep.  This is the chief residence of the Duke of
Athol and he has here another house and grounds very pretty though
not as extensive as those at Dunkeld. . . . When the innkeeper found
who we were he insisted on sending a message to the Duke who sent
down an order to us to drive up Glen Tilt and met us there himself.
We entered through the Park and followed up the Tilt.  Nothing could
be more wild than this narrow winding pass which we followed for
eight miles till we came to the Duke's forest lodge.  Here were
waiting for us a most picturesque group in full Highland dress:  the
head stalker, the head shepherd, the kennel keepers with their dogs
in leashes, the piper, etc., etc.  They told us that the Duke had
sent up word that we were coming and he would soon be there himself.

In a few moments he appeared also in full Highland costume with bare
knees, kilt, philibeg, etc.  He told us he had then on these
mountains 15,000 head of dear, and thought we might like to see a
START, as it is called.  The head stalker told him, however, that
the wind had changed which affects the scent, and that nothing could
be done that day.  The Duke tried to make us amends by making some
of his people sing us Gaelic songs and show us some of the athletic
Highland games.  The little lodge he also went over with us, and
said that the Duchess came there and lived six or seven weeks in the
autumn, and that the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch rented it for
many years while he was a minor.  If you could see the tiny little
rooms, you would be astonished to find what the love of sport can do
for these people who possess actual palaces.

After dining again upon salmon and grouse at the pretty little inn,
we took a post chaise to go on to Taymouth, a little village
adjoining Lord Breadalbane's place.  We did not arrive at the inn
till after eight and found it completely full. . . . We were sent to
the schoolmaster's to sleep in the smallest of little rooms, with a
great clock which ticked and struck so loud that we were obliged to
silence it, to the great bewilderment, I dare say, of the scholars
the next day.  Before we were in bed, there was a knock at the door,
which proved to be from Lord Breadalbane's butler, to say that he
had been commissioned to enquire whenever we arrived at the inn, as
his Lordship had heard that we were in Scotland and wished us to
make them a visit.

Next morning before we were up came a note from Lord Breadalbane
urging us to come immediately to the Castle. . . . Taymouth Castle,
though not more than fifty years old, has the air of an old feudal
castle. . . . As we were ushered up the magnificent staircase
through first a large antechamber, then through a superb hall with
lofty ceiling glowing with armorial bearings, and with the most
light and delicate carving on every part of the oaken panelling,
then through a long gallery, of heavier carving filled with fine old
cabinets, into the library, it seemed to me that the whole Castle
was one of those magical delusions that one reads of in Fairy Tales,
so strange did it seem to find such princely magnificence all alone
amid such wild and solitary scenes.  I had always the feeling that
it would suddenly vanish, at some wave of an enchanter's wand, as it
must have arisen also.  The library is by far the finest room I ever
saw.  Its windows and arches and doorways are all of a fine carved
Gothic open work as light as gossamer.  One door which he lately
added cost a thousand pounds, the door alone, not the doorway, so
you can judge of the exquisite workmanship.  Here Lady Breadalbane
joined us, whom I had never before met. . . . During dinner the
piper in full costume was playing the pibroch in a gallery outside
the window, and after he had done a band, also in full Highland
dress, played some of the Italian, German as well as Scotch music,
at just an agreeable distance.  I have seen nothing in England which
compares in splendor with the state which is kept up here.

We passed Wednesday and Thursday here most agreeably, and we rode or
walked during the whole days.  Lord Breadalbane, by the way, has
just been appointed Lord High Chamberlain to the Queen in place of
Lord Spencer.  I am glad of this because we are brought often in
contact with the Lord Chamberlain, but it is very strange to me that
a man who lives like a king, and through whose dominions we
travelled a hundred miles from the German Ocean to the Atlantic, can
be Chamberlain to any Queen.  These feudal subordinations we
republicans cannot understand. . . . We stopped at the little town
of Oban.  After reading our letters and getting a dinner, we went
out just before sunset for a walk.

We wished much to see the ruins of Dunolly.  We passed the porter's
lodge and found ourselves directly in the most picturesque grounds
on the very shore of the ocean and with the Western Islands lying
before us.  Mr. Bancroft sent in his card, which brought out
instantly the key to the old castle, and in a few moments Capt.
MacDougal and Mr. Phipps, a brother of Lord Normanby's, joined us.
They pointed out the interesting points in the landscape, the Castle
of Ardtornish, the scene of Lord of the Isles, etc., in addition to
the fine old ruin we came to see.  We lingered till the lighthouses
had begun to glow, and I was reminded very much of the scenery at
Wood's Hole, which I used to enjoy so much, only that could not
boast the association with poetry and feudal romance.  We then went
into the house, and found a charming domestic circle in full evening
dress with short sleeves, so that my gray travelling cloak and straw
bonnet were rather out of place.  Here were Mrs. Phipps, and Miss
Campbell, her sister, daughters of Sir Colin Campbell, and to my
great delight, Captain MacDougal brought out the great brooch of
Lorn, which his ancestor won from Bruce and the story of which you
will find in the Lord of the Isles.  It fastened the Scotch Plaid,
and is larger than a teacup.  He described to me the reverential way
in which Scott took it in both hands when he showed it to him.  The
whole evening was pleasant and the more so from being unexpected. .
. . One little thing which adds always to the charm of Scotch
scenery is the dress of the peasantry.  One never sees the real
Highland costume, but every shepherd has his plaid slung over one
shoulder, making the most graceful drapery.  This, with the
universal Glengarry bonnet, is very pretty.

At Glasgow we intended to pay a visit of a day to the historian
Alison, but found letters announcing Governor Davis's arrival in
London with Mr. Corcoran and immediately turned our faces homeward.
We were to have passed a week on our return amidst the lakes, and I
protested against going back to London without one look at least.
So we stopped at Kendal on Saturday, took a little carriage over to
Windermere and Ambleside and passed the whole evening with the poet
and Mrs. Wordsworth, at their own exquisite home on Rydal Mount.  At
ten o'clock we went from there to Miss Martineau, who has built the
prettiest of houses in this valley near to Mrs. Arnold at Fox Howe.
As we had only one day we made an arrangement with Miss Martineau to
go with us and be our guide, and set out the next day at six o'clock
and went over to Keswick to breakfast.  From thence we went to
Borrowdale, by the side of Derwentwater, and afterward to Ulswater
and home by the fine pass of Kirkstone.  On my return, I found the
Duke and Duchess of Argyle had been to see us.

The time of closing the despatch bag has come and I must hurry over
my delight at the scenery of the lakes.  I could have spent a month
there, much to my mind.  We arrived home on Monday and early next
morning came Mr. Davis and Mr. Corcoran.  They went to see the
Parliament prorogued in person by the Queen.



LETTER:  To Mr. and Mrs. I.P.D.
LONDON, December 14, 1848



Dear Uncle and Aunt:  On Friday we dined at Mr. Tufnell's, who
married last spring the daughter of Lord Rosebery, Lady Anne
Primrose, a very "nice person," to use the favorite English term of
praise. . . . Sir John Hobhouse was of our party and he told us so
much of Byron, who was his intimate friend, as you will remember
from his Life, that we stayed much longer than usual at dinner. . .
. On Tuesday we were invited to dine with Miss Coutts, but were
engaged to Mr. Gurney, an immensely rich Quaker banker, brother of
Mrs. Fry.  His daughter is married to Ernest Bunsen, the second son
of our friend.  We were delighted with the whole family scene, which
was quite unlike anything we have seen in England.  They live at
Upton Park, a pretty country seat about eight miles from us, and are
surrounded by their children and grandchildren.  Their costume and
language are strictly Quaker, which was most becoming to Mrs.
Gurney's sweet, placid face. . . . Louis Napoleon's election seems
fixed, and is to me one of the most astounding things of the age.
When we passed several days with him at Mr. Bates's, I would not
have given two straws for his chance of a future career.  To-night
Mendelssohn's "Elijah" is to be performed, and Jenny Lind sings.  We
had not been able to get tickets, which have been sold for five
guineas apiece the last few days.  To my great joy Miss Coutts has
this moment written me that she has two for our use, and asks us to
take an early dinner at five with her and accompany her.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
LONDON, June 8, 1849



I thank you, my dear Uncle, for your pleasant letter, which
contained as usual much that was interesting to me.  And so Mr. and
Mrs. Lawrence are to be our successors. . . . Happy as we have been
here, I have a great satisfaction that we are setting rather than
rising; that we have done our work, instead of having it to do.
Like all our pleasures, those here are earned by fatigue and effort,
and I would not willingly live the last three years over again, or
three years like them, though they have contained high and lasting
gratifications.  We have constantly the strongest expressions of
regret at our approaching departure, and in many cases it is, I
know, most genuine.  My relations here have been most agreeable, and
particularly in that intellectual circle whose high character and
culture have made their regard most precious to me.  The
manifestations of this kindness increase as the time approaches for
our going and we are inundated with invitations of all kinds.

Young Prescott is here.  I wish Prescott could have seen his
reception at Lady Lovelace's the other evening when there happened
to be a collection of genius and literature.  What a blessing it is
SOMETIMES to a son to have a father.

To-morrow we dine with Lord John Russell down at Pembroke Lodge in
Richmond Park.  On Monday we breakfast with Macaulay.  We met him at
dinner this week at Lady Waldegrave's, and he said:  "Would you be
willing to breakfast with me some morning, if I asked one or two
other ladies?"  "Willing!" I said, "I should be delighted beyond
measure."  So he sent us a note for Monday next.  I depend upon
seeing his bachelor establishment, his library, and mode of life.
On Wednesday we go to a ball at the Palace.  But it is useless to go
on, for every day is filled in this way, and gives you an idea of
London in the season.



LETTER:  To I.P.D.
LONDON, June 22, 1849



My dear Uncle:  Yesterday I passed one of the most agreeable days I
have had in England at Oxford, where I went with a party to see Mr.
Bancroft take his degree. . . . Nothing could have gone off better
than the whole thing.  Mr. Bancroft went up the day before, but Mrs.
Stuart Mackenzie and her daughter, with Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave,
Louisa, and myself went up yesterday morning and returned at night.
We lunched at the Vice-Chancellor's (where Mr. B. made a pleasant
little informal speech) and were treated with great kindness by
everybody.  I wish you could have seen Mr. Bancroft walking round
all day with his scarlet gown and round velvet cap, such as you see
in old Venetian pictures.  From this time forward we shall have the
pain of bidding adieu, one by one, to our friends, as they leave
town not to return till we are gone.





End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Letters from England, by Bancroft