Monday, May 30th. ...  The Francis Egertons called, and sat a long time discussing “Hernani.” ...  I must record such a good pun of his, which he only, alas, dreamt.  He dreamt Lord W——­ came up to him, covered with gold chains and ornaments of all sorts, and that he had called him the “Chain Pier.” ...  In the evening to Bridgewater House.  As soon as we arrived, I went to my own private room, and looked over my part.  We began at nine.  Our audience was larger than the last time.  The play went off extremely well; we were all improved.  I was very anxious to play well, for the Archbishop of York was in the front row, and he (poor gentleman!) had never had the happiness of seeing me, the play-house being forbidden ground to him. [This seems rather inconsistent, as all the lesser clergy at this time frequented the theater without fear or reproach.  Dr. Hughes, the Very Reverend Prebend of St. Paul’s, Milman, Harness, among our own personal friends, were there constantly, not to speak of my behind-the-scenes acquaintance, the Rev. A.F.] I should like to seduce an old Archbishop into a liking for the wickedness of my mystery, so I did my very best to edify him, according to my kind and capacity....  At the end of the play, as I lay dead on the stage, the king (Captain Shelley) was cutting three great capers, like Bayard on his field of battle, for joy his work was done, when his pretty dancing shoes attracted, in spite of my decease, my attention, and I asked, with rapidly reviving interest in existence, what they meant, on which I was informed that the supper at Mrs. Cunliffe’s was indeed a ball.  I jumped up from the dead, hurried off my stage robes, and hurried on my private apparel, and followed my mother into the saloon.  Here I had delightful talk (though I believe I was dancing on my mind’s feet all the while) with Lord John Russell, Miss Berry, Lady Charlotte Lindsay, and that charming person, James Wortley, and I got a glimpse of Lord O——­’s lovely face, who is a beautiful creature.  After being duly stared at by the crowds of my exalted fellow-beings who filled the room, Lady Francis said she would send them away, and we adjourned to Mrs. Cunliffe’s, and had a very fine ball; that is to say, we had neither room to dance, nor space to sit, nor power to move.

“Oh, pleasure is a very pleasant thing,” as Byron sings and H——­ for ever says, and certainly a good ball is a pleasant thing, and in spite of the above drawbacks I was enchanted with everything.  Such shoals of partners! such nice people! such perfect music! such a delightful floor!  Danced till the day had one eye wide open, and then home to bed—­what a good thing it is to have one under the circumstances!  I hope I have not been very tipsy to-night, but it is difficult with so many stimulants to keep quite sober.  Broad daylight!  Six o’clock!

     Tuesday, May 21st.—­My feet ache so with dancing that I can
     hardly stand.  Did not some traditional princesses of German
     fairyland dance their shoes and stockings to pieces?