d: LORD GLENGALL'S COMEDY]

December 1st, 1829 {p.249}

After I left Roehampton last week came to town and dined with
Byng, Moore, Irving, Sir T. Lawrence, and Vesey Fitzgerald; very
agreeable. No news but the failure of the Spanish expedition
against Mexico, which capitulated, and the soldiers promised
never to bear arms against Mexico again. On Friday went to see
Lord Glengall's comedy, with a prologue by F. Mills and an
epilogue by Alvanley.[15] It succeeded, though the first two acts
went off heavily; not much novelty in it, but the characters well
drawn and some of the situations very good: it amused me very
well, and was exceedingly well acted. Glengall came to me
afterwards to get criticisms on his play. I told him some of the
faults, and he was not in the Sir Fretful line, but took it all
very thankfully. At Roehampton on Sunday; Byng, Sir Robert
Wilson, Sharpe,[16] and Luttrell. There is a joke of Luttrell's
about Sharpe. He was a wholesale hatter formerly; having a dingy
complexion, somebody said he had transferred the colour of his
hats to his face, when Luttrell said that 'it was _darkness which
might be felt_.' Wilson has written to the Sultan a letter full
of advice, and he says the Turks will be more powerful than ever.
Wilson is always full of opinions and facts; the former are wild
and extravagant, the latter generally false.

[15] [A comedy by the Earl of Glengall, entitled 'The
Follies of Fashion.']

[16] [Richard Sharpe, Esq., well known by the _sobriquet_ of
'Conversation Sharpe.']

No Council yet; the King is employed in altering the uniforms of
the Guards, and has pattern coats with various collars submitted
to him every day. The Duke of Cumberland assists him, and this is
his principal occupation; he sees much more of his tailor than he
does of his Minister. The Duke of Cumberland's boy, who is at
Kew, diverts himself with making the guard turn out several times
in the course of the day to salute him.

December 3rd, 1829 {p.250}

Came from Roehampton. Lady Pembroke and her daughter, Luttrell
and I, and the Lievens, dined there one day. Lady Pembroke was
Countess Woronzow; Lord Pembroke pleaded poverty all his life,
and died leaving each of his five daughters L20,000, and his wife
L200,000 to do what she liked with. Old Woronzow was Ambassador
here many years, has lived here ever since, and never learnt a
word of English. His son Michel is one of the most