pg. 19,20 chapter 1: "Poor Jack Talbot, after leaving Eton, entered the Coldstream Guards, and accompanied his regiment to Spain, where he evinced great courage, and was foremost in every fight. Though he possessed many imperfections, he was the manliest and and kindest of human beings, and was the idol of the women; and their champion, also, for he was one of the few men who would never hear improper epithets applied to them under any circumstances, or allow their failings to be criticised by those who were in all probability the cause of them. There was a charm in Talbot's conversation that I never found in that of any other man; his brave good heart, and love of punch, made him an agreeable companion, and many friends. When in his cups, or rather bowls, he would talk facetiously about his rich father in Ireland, Lord Malahide, spending that nobleman's money all the time. He was foolishly generous. I have often seen him, at a club or in a coffee-house, pay for the whole of his friends present; and his liberality to women of all classes was profuse. He used to say, 'I would rather disoblige my father or my best friend than a pretty woman.'
Whether in Guards' Club or at private assemblies, you were always sure to find Jack surrounded by a circle of friends, amused with his witty conversation and charmed with his good-humour. He had always a smile on his face; in fact, everybody acknowledged him as their friend.
During his last illness, [Lord] Alvanley asked the doctor of the regiment what he thought of it. The doctor replied, 'My Lord, he is in a bad way, for I was obliged to make use of the lancet this morning.' 'You should have tapped him, doctor,' said Lord Alvanley; 'for I am sure he has more claret than blood in his veins.' The late Duke of Beaufort one day called upon him at his lodgings in Mount Street, and found him drinking sherry at breakfast: the Duke remonstrated with him, saying. 'It will be the death of you.' Talbot replied, 'I get drunk every night, and find myself the better for it the next morning.' Talbot was a great favourite of the late Duke of Cambridge, who frequently called to inquire after his health. Upon one occasion, the Captain's servant, in answer to the Duke's interrogations, told his Royal Highness that his master did not want to see either doctor or parson, but only wished to be left to die in peace. The Duke, with sad forebodings, sent Dr. Keate to see him; the doctor, on his arrival, found Talbot seated in his armchair dead, with a bottle of sherry half-empty on the table beside him. He was only twenty-seven."
excerpt from: Captain Gronow: His Reminiscences of Regency and Victorian Life 1810-60 by Christopher Hibbert