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The Creevey Papers
Countess of Glengall to Frances Ann Taylor, 27 August 1821
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Introduction
Vol. I. Contents
Ch. I: 1793-1804
Ch. II: 1805
Ch. III: 1805
Ch. IV: 1806-08
Ch. V: 1809
Ch. VI: 1810
Ch. VII: 1811
Ch. VIII: 1812
Ch. IX: 1813-14
Ch X: 1814-15
Ch XI: 1815-16
Ch XII: 1817-18
Ch XIII: 1819-20
Vol. II. Contents
Ch I: 1821
Ch. II: 1822
Ch. III: 1823-24
Ch. IV: 1825-26
Ch. V: 1827
Ch. VI: 1827-28
Ch. VII: 1828
Ch. VIII: 1829
Ch. IX: 1830-31
Ch. X: 1832-33
Ch. XI: 1833
Ch. XII: 1834
Ch XIII: 1835-36
Ch XIV: 1837-38
Index
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“Dublin, Aug. 27th.

“Now then, to perform my promise! but it would require the wit of a Creevey, the pen of a Pindar* or the pencil of a Gilray to do justice to the scene. Bedlam broke loose would be tame and rational to the madness of this whole nation; for persons of all ranks are collected from all parts to add their madness and loyalty to that of this mad-tropolis. The first sight that struck my eyes on landing out of the steamboat was the print of his sacred feet cut in the stone, well turned in, thus [figure]. I proceeded a little further, when a triumphal arch struck my astonished eyes. It was worthy and only fit for Jack-in-the

* I.e. John Wolcott, who, under the pseudonym of “Peter Pindar,” wrote The Lousiad, and a great quantity of occasional, satirical, and often scurrilous poems.

30 THE CREEVEY PAPERS [Ch I.
Green on a May Day. Rags hung from every window which are called flags, but which would be taken by any one in their senses for the sign of a dyer’s shop. Not one human being in mourning, and when I appeared in sables at a ball, and was asked who I mourned for, I was called a Radical! He was dead drunk when he landed on the 12th of August—his own birthday. They drank all the wine on board the steamboat, and then applied to the whiskey punch, till he could hardly stand. This accounts for his eloquent speech to Lord Kingston, which you may have seen in the papers:—‘You black-whiskered rascal!’ etc. They clawed and pawed him all over, and called him his Ethereal Majesty. . . . They absolutely kiss his knees and feet, and he is enchanted with it all. Alas! poor degraded country! I cannot but blush for you. Think of their having applauded Castlereagh! It is exactly as if a murderer were brought to view the body of his victim, and that he was to be applauded for his crime; for Dublin is but the mangled corpse of what it was; and he—the man whom they huzza—the cut-throat who brought it to its present condition.

“Lady C[onyngham] shows but little in public. She lives at the King’s own lodge at the Phoenix Park. He returned from Slane* this day and report says he is to pay another visit there. It is much talked of by all ranks, and many witticisms are dealt forth. . . . Ye Gods! how they will fight next week. The persons who are most active and forward in managing the fêtes will be undone, as the money subscribed cannot be collected. It is a melancholy farce from beginning to end, and they have voted him a palace! In short, palaces in the air and drunkards under the table are the order of the day. Ireland, I am ashamed of you! He never can stand it: his head must go. Indeed, were I to tell you half, you would say that it was already going, but in all in which she is concerned, I wish to be silent. . . . Far from doing good to this wretched country, his visit is making people spend money which they don’t possess. . . . Nothing is so indecent as the total neglect of mourning. He

* The Marquess Conyngham’s seat in county Meath.

1821.]END OF THE ROYAL VISIT.31
appeared at his private levee, the day after his arrival, in a bright blue coat with the brightest yellow buttons* . . .

“Ever yours,
“E. Glengall.”