LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
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The Creevey Papers
Thomas Creevey to Elizabeth Ord, 4 September 1834

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
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“August 4th.

“. . . I am all ashamed to say that I dined at Brougham’s on Saturday, because I am as sure as I am of my existence that it was he who drove Lord Grey from the Government by his perfidious correspondence with Lord Wellesley respecting the Coercion Bill; and moreover, I am equally certain that the driving Lord Grey from the Government has long been the object nearest Brougham’s heart. How then can one dine at Brougham’s one day with all the rubbish of Lord Grey’s Government, with Beelzebub himself in roaring spirits (his servants in silk stockings and waiting in gloves), and then dine at Lord Grey’s yesterday, with him quite knocked down and poor Lady Grey actually speechless—both feeling that he has been the victim of the basest perfidy? Poor Lady Grey! you must remember how often she told me at the formation of the Government, and with her uniform horror of Brougham, how completely she had got him in a cage by having him in the House of Lords. They were both quite sure he could do

* She was a daughter of the Hon. John Rawdon (brother of the 1st Marquess of Hastings), and died in 1874.

no harm, tho’ they well knew his dispositions. . . . Where do you think I dine to-day? With our poet
Rogers, to meet Anacreon Moore and that melodious dicky-bird Miss Stephens.* Can you imagine a greater contrast to the two preceding dinners? . . . Miss Stephens has realised £30,000 by her voice, and brought up and supported with it a very large family of her kindred. . . . Only think of the Beau’s flirt, Mrs. Arbuthnot, being dead!”