M. Dupin was so much struck by the magnificent apparel of the ladies of the English Court that he made a remark to me on the subject, which is really amusing. "The Queen of the French should lay down a rule about Court dress; this would impose on the bourgeois vanity, which in our country is always wishing to show itself at Court, the tax of an expensive dress."
London, May 30, 1834.—The Portuguese ratifications of the treaty of Quadruple Alliance have come in at last. They are however inexact and incomplete. The whole preamble of the Treaty is passed over in silence. It is difficult to believe that this is not due rather to malignity than inadvertence. The Attorney General was summoned to the Foreign Office to discover some device which would make the exchange possible. Nothing could be found to which there was not some objection, but Lord Palmerston was inclined to carry out the exchange leaving the preamble on one side. This would deprive the Treaty of its moral force—perhaps the only kind of force which it possesses. The decision on this point will not be reached until this morning.
I have often heard it said that there is no one more astute than a madman; something I have just heard makes me think that this is true. Replying to the congratulations of the Bishops on the occasion of his birthday, the King assured them with tears in his eyes that as he felt himself an old man and near the time when he must render up his soul to God, he did not wish to charge his soul with the guilt of wronging the Church and would support with all his strength the rights and privileges of the Anglican Clergy. This remark was made the very day that His Majesty pressed Lord Grey to remain and to allow Mr. Stanley to resign.
Last night the rearrangement of the Ministry was not completed. What seems to me certain is that no one wants Lord Durham. They say he is in an indescribable state of fury. Lady Durham, whom he has treated with great cruelty as he does every time he is angry with Lord Grey, fainted yesterday while dining with her mother, and her husband did not even turn his head to look at her.
The Marquis of Lansdowne who has quite lately spoken in Parliament in favour of the Church, may very well also retire from the Cabinet. It depends on what happens next Monday in the House of Commons. When she heard this, Lady Holland went in all haste to Lord Brougham's to tell him that she should consider Lord Lansdowne's resignation a great misfortune which should be avoided at all costs. The Chancellor who has no liking for Lord Lansdowne's moderation replied that for his part he thought it would be a very good thing and that he would do all he could to bring it about. Thereupon Lady Holland got angry and enumerating the merits of her friend asked Lord Brougham if he had considered all that Lord Lansdowne represented. "Oh yes," was the answer, "I know that he represents all the old women in England."
London, May 31, 1834.—The English Ministry is rearranged, but none of its characteristics are any more distinct than they were before.
By means of declarations and reservations it has been found possible to proceed with the exchange of ratifications with Portugal.
I think that this week's work is a poor performance indeed and that its results in the future will be no better.
London, June 1, 1834.—Yesterday I met the Ministers who were leaving office and those who were coming in. The former seemed to me happier than the latter and I think they had reason.
Lady Cowper in spite of her subtle and delicate wit is both nonchalant and naïve. This makes her say things which are startling in their excessive frankness. Thus she said to Madame de Lieven yesterday morning, "I assure you that Lord Palmerston regards you as an old and pleasant acquaintance whom he is very sorry to lose, that he is quite aware of all your husband's excellent qualities, and that he knows that Russia could not be more worthily represented than by him. But you see that that is the very reason why England must profit by your departure." Madame de Lieven was no less struck by the sincerity of the avowal than annoyed by its implication.
Lady Cowper rather thoughtlessly also showed her a letter from Madame de Flahaut in which, after expressing some polite regret at the recall of M. de Lieven, she lamented the choice which had been made of a chargé d'affaires. He was, she said, a venomous and wicked little wasp, fiercely Russian in sentiment, a savage enemy of Poland, and to sum all up in one word a cousin german of Madame de Dino, which she added is very much against the interest of England whose one object must be to keep Russia and France apart.
For the rest it is said that Pozzo is delighted that my cousin Medem is leaving Paris. He has always praised him and treated him well, but perhaps Paul's direct and intimate relations with M. de Nesselrode had begun to embarrass Pozzo. I don't believe it however.
Yesterday, while dining with Lord Holland, M. Dupin showed rather too much of the legislator. Poor Lord Melbourne, especially, who was half absent and half asleep, was bored with a long dissertation on divorce which was all the more out of place as his wife, who had for long been a source of great trouble to him, has just died insane and under restraint. Lord Holland, who makes friends easily with all those whom he does not wish to hang for their political opinions, told me that he disliked M. Dupin very much, and that he had all the bad points of Lord Brougham with none of his extraordinary ability and versatility.
A propos of the Chancellor I hear bad accounts of his character. For instance it was Lord Holland who forced the Duke of Bedford's hand and so got him into Parliament. For four years thereafter Lord Brougham never set foot in Lord Holland's house. When he did call he did so for no apparent reason, without embarrassment and without excuses. The Chancellor's leading gift is his ready memory and presence of mind which enable him to have at hand at a moment's notice all the facts and arguments relevant to the subject of his speech. Thus Mr. Allen says of him that he has always a legion of devils of all colours ready to obey him, and that of these he is himself the chief. Lord Holland says that no scruple can stop him. Lady Sefton told me in confidence the other day that as a friend he was neither sincere nor faithful. Lady Grey says outright that he is a monster and it is in this way that every one talks who is intimate with him or belongs to the same party.
Hylands, June 2, 1834.—The Republicans are annoyed with M. de la Fayette for choosing as his burying-place the aristocratic cemetery of Picpus. They are also angry because there were so many priests at the mortuary chapel to receive the body. A hogshead of earth from the United States was placed in the grave. A propos of M. de Lafayette, I have several times heard M. de Talleyrand tell how he went to his house with the Marquis de Castellane, another member of the Constituant Assembly, early on October 7, 1789, to propose some arrangements for the safety of Louis XVI., who had been taken to the Tuileries the night before. They found Lafayette, after the terrible two days which had passed, calmly having his hair done!
Here at Hylands we are with M. Labouchere, an old and kind friend. The place is very cheerful, and distinguished for its wonderful flowers and vegetables. M. Labouchere, who is a cosmopolitan sort of person, has collected about him many souvenirs of travel, but Holland is the most conspicuous; and he takes most pains with his flower-beds, on which he spends a great deal of money.
Hylands, June 3, 1834.—A note from Lord Sefton, written yesterday from the House of Lords before the end of the sitting, the result of which we do not yet know, informs me that the Commission of Inquiry on the Church of Ireland, which Lord Althorp has proposed, will not satisfy the demands of Mr. Ward and his party. Mr. Stanley and Sir James Graham scoff at the Commission, and intend to move the previous question. Sir Robert Peel holds back; Lord Grey is very low, and the King is quite ready either to support him or to send for another Minister. Pressed by the difficulties of the situation, he has neither principles nor affections, and in this he shares what I believe to be the position common to all Kings.
London, June 4, 1834.—It seems that Dom Miguel is hors de combat, and is on the point of giving in and quitting the Peninsula. I gather that the signatories of the Quadruple Alliance attribute his submission to the news of the signing of their treaty. If this be so, the moral effect is all the more satisfactory, as the material result would probably not have been great.
In the English Parliament Mr. Ward declined to be satisfied with the Commission of Inquiry. Lord Althorp moved the previous question, supported by Mr. Stanley—who made an admirable speech on the inviolability of Church property—and by all the Tories. The previous question was adopted by a large majority. It cannot be pleasant for the Ministry that this vote is due only to their enemies, for whom it is a triumph, and to the four Ministers who have resigned. The real opinion of the Cabinet, the different combinations which have divided it and ruled its actions—all this is so confused and complicated that it is difficult to understand what really is the idea which governs its jerky and inconsequent mode of progression.
In the Commons Lord Palmerston has denounced the principle upheld by Lord Lansdowne in the Upper House, where every one was surprised to see a known Socinian[16] like him speak in favour of the clergy. In this matter all is contradictory. Lord Grey has wavered hesitatingly among all the combatants, not exalting one party, not urging on the others. He is shouldered, jostled, and pushed about by everybody, and he emerges in a battered condition from the mêlée. If in his friends' eyes he is still a decent, honest sort of person, in the eyes of the public he is now only a feeble old man—an exhausted Minister.
Lady Holland usually does everything that other people avoid. She went to a window in Downing Street to observe the Members of Parliament who went to Lord Althorp's meeting two days ago in order that she might speculate with more accuracy about each. Her speculations are rarely charitable. She thinks that she palliates her inconceivable egotism by flaunting it without shame; she exploits other people without mercy for her own benefit, and treats them well or ill according to calculations more or less personal. She never allows any one else's convenience to stand in her way. The most one can do is to credit her with a few good qualities, and even these are based on some interested motive. When her caprices and her exigence has worn out the patience of her friends, she tries to regain their favour by the most abject condescension. She abuses the false position she holds in society—with which well-bred people are careful not to reproach her—in order to conquer and oppress them. The position she has is, it must be admitted, the best proof of her ability. In her time she has done the most unheard-of things, and she has been forgiven everything. For instance, she gave out that her eldest daughter was dead in order not to be forced to surrender her to her first husband, and when she had ceased to care for this child she brought her back to life again, and to prove that she was not buried she had the grave opened, and the skeleton of a goat was found in the coffin. This is going a little too far! However, she is a social despot in her own numerous circle. The reason of this is, perhaps, that she does not try to force herself on any one, and that she may be said rather to rise superior to prejudice than to struggle against it. M. de Talleyrand keeps her very well in hand, and is becoming the avenger of all her acquaintance. Every one is delighted when Lady Holland is a little mishandled, and no one comes to her assistance, Lord Holland and Mr. Allen as little as any one.
Lady Aldborough came one day to Lady Lyndhurst and asked her to be so kind as to find out from her husband, who was then Chancellor, what steps she should take in an important case. Lady Lyndhurst refused, in the rude and vulgar manner which is characteristic of her, to undertake to obtain the required information, adding that she never interfered in such tedious matters. "Very true, my Lady," answered Lady Aldborough, "I quite forgot that you are not in the civil line." Lady Aldborough is witty, and what she says is brilliant, even when she speaks French. She is often a trifle too bold and free-spoken. Thus, when she heard how the Princesse de Léon had been burned to death, and when some one said that the Prince had been more of a brother to his wife than a husband, Lady Aldborough exclaimed, "What! Virgin as well as Martyr! Ah! that is too much."
The condition of the English Cabinet is very curious. Sir Robert Peel said in the House that he couldn't understand it at all; and this being so, every one else's ignorance may well be excused. What is clear to everybody is that if no member of the Cabinet is absolutely destroyed they are all wounded, some say mortally. That they are enervated is evident. I am sorry for it for Lord Grey's sake, for I am really attached to him; in the rest I have not the slightest interest. Lord Palmerston will not restore their credit. M. de Talleyrand may say what he likes. He may have a gift for the despatch of business; he may speak and write French well; but he is a rude and presumptuous person, his behaviour is arrogant, and his character not upright. Each day some new and more or less clear proof of his duplicity comes to light. For instance, how is it that, while Lord Grey is arguing loudly against King Leopold's plan for choosing himself a successor, and while Lord Palmerston seems to be of the same mind, the latter is writing privately to Lord Granville in support of the King's idea? This constantly embarrasses the Ambassadors in their relations with him, and above all puts M. de Talleyrand in a very painful position.
London, June 5, 1834.—The Duc d'Orléans writes to me, without any prompting on my part and without any obvious motive, a letter of which the point seems to lie in the following phrase, which appears to be intended to show that he does not approve of the conduct of his father's ministers: "I consider there is already a reassuring sign in this disposition to limit party quarrels to an electoral college and to wage war by manifesto alone. May this tendency in time eliminate the system of brute force, which I regret to see nowadays in all parties, and which is the favourite argument not only of the opposition but also of those in power!" I think there is good sense and good feeling in this reflection.
If the Duc d'Orléans had good counsellors I should have confidence in his future. He is intelligent, brave, graceful, well-educated, and energetic. These are excellent gifts in a Prince, and, matured by age, they might make him a good king. But those about him, both men and women, are so commonplace and small-minded! Since the death of Madame de Vaudémont there is no one of any distinction or nobility of mind or character.
Lady Granville has given a ball in Paris in honour of the birthday of the King of England. She had the gallery filled with orange-trees, and the company waltzed round them. Lamps were placed behind the flowers, so that there was very little light in the room. Nothing could be more favourable to private conversation. Eight thieves dressed to perfection came in through the garden, but such a large number of unknown men attracted attention, and notice was taken of it too soon. They saw that they had been observed, and made good their escape. Their intention seems to have been to snatch the women's diamonds when they had gone into the garden, which was to be illuminated.
London, June 6, 1834.—The English Cabinet, so feebly reorganised, does not hold its head very high; all the honours are with the seceding Ministers. Lord Grey is under no illusions, and is by no means proud of the great majority of last Monday; for, as one of his friends said to me: "This majority is not the result of affection for Ministers; it is due merely to fear that the Tories will come in and dissolve Parliament." Nothing, I think, can be truer. For the rest, the Cabinet already feels the need of strengthening. They say that Lord Radnor, a friend of the Chancellor's and a Radical big gun, will be made Lord Privy Seal.
It seems certain that Dom Miguel and Don Carlos are really leaving the Peninsula, the one for England, the other for Holland.
The Prince de la Moskowa having persisted in his desire to be presented, was presented yesterday, along with the Prince d'Eckmühl. Their desire was so strong that they tried to get Mr. Ellice to present them in the absence of M. de Talleyrand, as if that were possible, apart from its being objectionable! Really, young Frenchmen have no idea how to behave, and Mr. Ellice, whose gentility is of recent growth, had lent himself to this pretty scheme!
Lord Durham and Mr. Ellice are called here, comically enough, "the Bear" and "the Pasha."
London, June 7, 1834.—Lucien Bonaparte has at last reappeared here, and is addressing the French electors from London. After his manifesto to the Deputies last year he disappeared for several months, and is said to have visited France secretly during the recent troubles at Lyons and Paris. His new letter is more turgid than ever, and even more full of literary affectations than the first; is in other ways a most abject production and in very bad taste.
Lucien, whom I had never seen before his arrival in England, as he was in disgrace with the Emperor, was said to be at least as able as his brother, and to have more decision of character. I have heard it said that it was he who saved Napoleon on the 18th Brumaire, and, in fact, I had heard him greatly praised. My actual meeting with him, as often happens, did not come up to my expectations. He seemed to me cringing in his manners and false in his look. He is like Napoleon in the outward shape of his features—not at all in expression. I saw him last year, at a concert at the Duchesse de Canizzaro's, beg her to introduce him to the Duke of Wellington, who was present. I saw him cross the room, and come up bowing and scraping to be presented to the victor of Waterloo, whose reception was as cold as such baseness deserved.
As I live in a London house[17] celebrated for the great robbery suffered by the old Marchioness of Devonshire, who is its owner, and for a ghost which appeared to Lord Grey and his daughter during their tenancy, I will relate here what Lord Grey and Lady Georgiana have often told me in the presence of witnesses—Lord Grey quite seriously and circumstantially, Lady Georgiana with repugnance and hesitation. It seems, then, that Lord Grey was crossing the dining-room on the ground floor, whose windows look into the square, to go to his own room. He had a light in his hand, and he saw behind one of the pillars by which the room is divided a pale face, which appeared to be that of an old man, though the eyes and hair were very black. Lord Grey at first started back, but on raising his eyes he again saw the same face staring at him fixedly, while the body seemed to be hidden behind the pillar. It disappeared as soon as he moved forward. He searched, but found nothing. There are two small doors behind the pillars and a large mirror between them, so there may well be some natural explanation of the apparition. Lord Grey, however, denies that it was either a burglar or the reflection of his own face in the glass. As a matter of fact, at that time his hair was fair and his eyes are blue. However that may be, he told his family next morning at breakfast what he had seen the night before when he was going to bed. Lady Grey and her daughter thereupon exchanged glances with a meaning look, and Lord Grey asked what they meant. They told him that they had concealed the thing from him till then for fear of being laughed at, but that one night Lady Georgiana had been awakened by feeling some one breathe on her face. She opened her eyes, and saw the face of a man bending over her. She shut them, thinking she was dreaming, but when she opened them again the face was still there. She screamed, and the face disappeared. She then jumped out of bed and rushed into the next room, locking the door behind her, and threw herself half dead with fright on the bed of her sister, Lady Elizabeth. Lady Elizabeth wanted to go and examine the haunted room, but Lady Georgiana would not allow her. Next day the windows, doors, and bolts were found in good order, and what she had seen was pronounced to be a ghost, though the fact that a flat piece of roof comes close up under one of the windows might suggest even to the credulous that some footman in love with one of the maids was the hero of this nocturnal adventure.
Nevertheless, the house has a very bad reputation. I sleep in the room from which Lady Devonshire's diamonds were stolen, and my daughter in that in which Lady Georgiana's ghost appeared. When we came to the house there were actually people who thought us astonishingly brave! At first the servants were afraid to go about the house at night except in couples. To be quite frank, the conviction with which Lord Grey and his daughter described their experiences made me also a little uncomfortable—a feeling which did not wear off for some time.
We have been here nearly three years, and nothing has been stolen and there has been no apparition. Yet once, when we were away in France, and when the door of my room was locked, the housemaid, the porter, and the maids swore that they heard a violent ringing of a bell, the cord of which is at the foot of my bed. They said that they went to the room and found the door locked as it should have been, and when they opened it they could find no explanation of the noise. They tried to make me believe that the bell rang on July 27, 1832, at the very time of my accident at Baden-Baden. A mouse was probably the real cause of this incident.
It is said that Lord Grey's father had a similar and very curious experience; and that Lord Grey himself, besides the Hanover Square ghost, saw one at Howick, which was even more remarkable, but of which he does not care to speak. Of course, this being so, I have not asked any questions about it, but several versions of what happened are in circulation, and the thing has lent itself to caricature.
London, June 8, 1834.—Lord Radnor's extravagant pretensions have put an end to the idea of admitting him to the Ministry. They are now said to be thinking of Lord Dacre, whose appointment would, it is believed, be satisfactory to the Dissenters. The Privy Seal, which is held provisionally by Lord Carlisle, is destined for the newcomer.
When I called yesterday on Madame de Lieven she had just received letters from St. Petersburg which have at last made clear what her new position in Russia is to be. It seems to me to promise well. Instead of being a puppet at Court and groaning under the burden of perpetual ceremonial, the Princess is to have a house of her own. The Emperor wishes that his son shall learn there to know society and how to converse and conduct himself in the world.
This plan is set forth with infinite tact and kindness in a letter from the Empress, which is very happily expressed, perfectly natural, and full of cleverness and affection. Of course it has become a great interest and a great consolation to Madame de Lieven. She sees herself possessed of a direct influence on affairs, and in a position as independent as is possible in Russia. Her imagination is busy developing and improving this new sphere for her energies, and I must say in justice to her that her projects have not a trace of childishness or small-mindedness. She knows exactly what she wants to do, and the lines of her scheme are broad and well thought out. The pleasure she derives from the importance of her prospective position was evident, but anything else would have been hypocritical, and I was pleased that she did not think it necessary to pretend to sentiments she did not feel before me. Her great desire is to render the young Grand Duke the immense service of accustoming him to great and exalted company, to make her house sufficiently distinguished and sufficiently agreeable to accustom every one, including the Emperor and Empress, to enjoy there the pleasures of conversation rather than amusements for which they are perhaps growing too old. Her ambition is to restore to the Russian Court the splendour and the intellectual culture which were its glory under the Great Catherine. She hopes in this way to attract foreigners by exciting their curiosity and providing it with a worthy object. All this fully occupies the Princess, who has it in her to play this part well, though it would be difficult anywhere, and is doubly so in Russia, where thought is as much fettered as speech.
There was a reasonableness and a delicacy in the letters both of the Empress and M. de Nesselrode which accords with all I hear of the Czar Nicolas and which augurs well for the result of this second education of the heir to the throne of ice. I was particularly glad to see that the frankness with which Madame de Lieven had expressed her regret at leaving England had been well received. She said to me à propos of this, "It proves to me that one can be sincere in our country without breaking one's neck." I hope that she may find more and more reason to think so, but it will be necessary to keep this sincerity in cotton wool for some time to come.
She spoke to me with great admiration of the Emperor as a man with great gifts who is destined to become the greatest figure in contemporary history. On this I repeated to her a remark made by M. de Talleyrand with which she was much pleased. This is what he said: "The only Cabinet which has not made a single mistake during the last four years is the Russian Cabinet, and do you know why that is so? The Russian Cabinet is never in a hurry."
The Queen of England has shewn Madame de Lieven on the occasion of her recall much of the kindness which is natural to her, though it must be difficult for her Majesty to forget how little respect the Princess showed her during the life of George IV. and that of the Duke of York, and above all how discourteous the patronesses of Almack's with Madame de Lieven at their head were to her on the only occasion she was there when she was still Duchess of Clarence. I have even on one occasion heard the Queen remind Madame de Lieven of this incident in such a way as greatly to embarrass her. However all these old quarrels are forgotten, and when the leave-taking came the Queen's conduct was perfect. As to the King it is different; he has never even said either to M. or Madame de Lieven that he was aware that they had been recalled. They blame Lord Palmerston and I don't think they are far wrong.
London, June 9, 1834.—Yesterday I found the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland very busy getting together twenty ladies to join in offering Madame de Lieven some tangible token of the regret felt at her departure by the ladies of her particular acquaintance. This idea is particularly English, for the spirit of association is everywhere in this country and enters even into matters of compliment and civility. I thought that the Princess could not but be pleased and flattered, and I was delighted to add my name to the list. Ten guineas is the subscription and I believe the testimonial will take the shape of a fine bracelet inside which our names will, if possible, be inscribed.
M. de Montrond has returned from Paris. His wit is as ready and as cutting as ever, and, though he is certainly anything but a bore, I again feel with him the uneasiness which one has in the presence of a venomous creature with a poisonous sting. The charm which used for a long time to fascinate M. de Talleyrand is gone and has left behind a sense of fatigue and oppression which is the more felt as their long standing friendship and the remembrance of their past intimacy hardly permit them to make an end of it.
I don't think there is anything new in what M. de Montrond tells me of Paris. He speaks of the King's ability; no one contests it. It is equally well known that the King is always talking, and always of himself. M. de Montrond complains of the complete destruction of Parisian Society, of the spirit of division which is breaking up everything and which does not decrease. He gives amusing accounts of the embarrassments of the Thiers family, of the high diplomatic ambitions of Marshal Soult for his son, of the alarm of Rigny and others at the kind of effect produced here by M. Dupin. They think that it is ominous of a future premiership and are almost angry with M. de Talleyrand for showing him attention. They do not see that M. Dupin's reception here is only a compliment to us, he being a man who is less fitted than any one in the world to shine in good English society, and that our object is merely to turn the turgid stream of M. Dupin's eloquence in favour of the English alliance of which he is a bitter opponent.
I found Lord Grey yesterday in a state of depression which he did not attempt to disguise. It is a contagious malady, and seems to have attacked all his adherents. Lord Grey's lassitude and weariness is to my thinking the most alarming symptom of the weakness of the Cabinet as now constituted. Lord Durham's attacks on Lord Grey in the Times wound him deeply. Conservatives and Radicals are alike speculating on the succession of the Whigs, and it is impossible to disguise the fact that this is a critical moment for every one.
While talking yesterday to a friend I remembered that when I was seventeen, I, like many other women of the period in Paris, was romantic or silly enough to consult Mlle. Lenormand who was then much in vogue, taking what I thought sufficient precautions not to be recognised by her. One had to fix the day and the hour beforehand and this I arranged through my maid giving a false name and address. She gave me an appointment and on the day named I went with my maid in a cab, taken at a distance from my abode, to the Rue de Tournon where the sorceress lived. The house was of good appearance and the rooms clean and even rather pretty. We had to wait till a gentleman with moustaches had left the chamber where the Sibyl delivered her oracles. I made my maid go in first and my turn came next. After some questions about the month, day and hour of my birth, and about my favourite animal, flower and colour, and about the animals, flowers and colours which I particularly disliked, she asked whether she should make the great or the little cabala for me, the price being different. At last she came to my fortune and told me what follows. I may have forgotten some insignificant details but I give the main part of what she predicted, and I have since repeated it to several persons, my mother and M. de Talleyrand among the number.
She said that I was married, that I had a spiritual bond with an exalted personage (my explanation of this is that the Emperor was my eldest son's godfather), that after much pain and trouble I should be separated from my husband, that my troubles would not cease till nine years after this separation, and that during these nine years I should experience all manner of trials and calamities. She also said that I should become a widow when no longer young but not too old to marry again which I should do. She saw me for many years closely allied with a person whose position and influence would impose on me a kind of political position and would make me powerful enough to save some one from imprisonment and death. She said also that I should live through very difficult and stormy times, during which I should have very exciting experiences, and that one day even I should be awakened at five o'clock in the morning by men armed with pikes and axes who would surround my house and try to kill me. This danger would be the consequence of my opinions and the part I was destined to take in politics and I should escape in disguise. I should still be alive, she said, at sixty-three. When I asked whether that was the destined end of my days she answered, "I don't say you will die at sixty-three, I only mean that I see you still alive at that age. I know nothing of you or your destiny after that."
The leading circumstances of this prediction seemed to me then too much out of the probable course of events to cause me any anxiety. I told my friends about it as a sort of joke, and, though the most improbable parts of it have come true, such as my separation from my husband, my prolonged troubles, the interest in public affairs which M. de Talleyrand's concern with them has imposed on me, I confess that unless some one has mentioned some similar matter, I think very rarely about what Mlle. Lenormand told me, and very little of herself though she was a remarkable person. She seemed to be over fifty when I saw her. She was rather tall and wore a loose, black, trailing gown. Her complexion was ugly and confused, her eyes were small, bright and wild; her countenance, coarse and yet uncanny, was crowned with a mass of untidy grey hair. The whole effect was unpleasant, and I was glad when the interview was over.
I thought of her prophecies in July 1830, when I was alone at Rochecotte surrounded by conflagrations, and was receiving the news of what was happening in Paris, and when I saw General Donnadieu's regiments marching past my windows on La Vendée where it was thought Charles X. would go. I heard some denouncing the Jesuits whom they were silly enough to accuse of setting fire to their houses and fields, and others crying out against "malignants" such as I. The Curé came to my house for refuge and the Mayor asked whether I did not think that the soutane, which according to him reeked of brimstone, should be turned out of the commune. Already I saw myself surrounded by pikes and axes, and escaping as best I could disguised as a peasant. I escaped then, but I have sometimes said to myself that it was only a postponement and that I should not get off in the end.
London, June 10, 1834.—Lord Dacre, who was to have joined the Ministry, has had a fit and fallen from his horse which puts him out of the question. They are now thinking of Mr. Abercromby for the Mint with a seat in the Cabinet.
Yesterday we had at dinner M. Dupin, the young Ney and Davoust, M. Bignon and General Munier de la Converserie. If to speak ill of every one is to praise one's self M. Dupin did it to perfection. He treated with the utmost scorn the King and his Ministers and every man and woman in Paris. Some are mean, dowdy chatterboxes, others are robbers, smugglers, I know not what. Immorality was castigated and justice brandished her flaming sword. M. Piron, the cicerone and the very humble servant of M. Dupin, multiplied his formulæ of adulation. What he chiefly praised was the lucid and detailed manner in which the great man had explained to the English Ministers the embarrassment and danger of their position. I think they would have been equally obliged if he had not crossed the sea to tell them what they know only too well already.
After dinner I had to endure the honeyed insincerity of M. Bignon. He reminded me of Vitrolles' cloying and inferior manner, he is rather like him in face, distinctly like him in his talk and above all in his bearing. I think however, that M. de Vitrolles' conversation is more vivacious, and his imagination more brilliant. As yesterday was the first time I have spoken to M. Bignon it would be wrong to judge him on one conversation, but one cannot fail to be struck with his calm and submissive manner which at once puts one on one's guard.
London, June 11, 1834.—Mr. Abercromby's appointment was in last night's Globe. We shall see if this will mollify the tone of the Times which ill-treated poor Lord Grey shamefully yesterday morning.
Among the many sayings of M. de Talleyrand here is one which is very good and not much known. M. de Montrond was saying to him last year that Thiers was a good sort of man and not so impertinent as you would expect from a parvenu. "I will tell you the reason," replied M. de Talleyrand: "c'est que Thiers n'est pas parvenu, il est arrivé." I fear that this remark is too subtle to be altogether true, but that is the fault of M. Thiers. Impertinence is becoming a familiar method with him. Since his marriage he has been living in a kind of solidarity with the smallest sort of people, ill reputed pretentions, parvenus assuredly and not arrivés. It is impossible, in spite of the floods of wit with which he deluges the mud which surrounds him, that he should not be bespattered if not smothered. It is really a great pity.
London, June 12, 1834.—At Holland House yesterday I heard a story of how the Abbé Morellet complained to the Marquis of Lansdowne that at the Revolution he lost his pensions and his benefices though he had written and spoken so much on the Revolutionary side, and of how the Marquis answered: "My dear sir, how can you be surprised, there are always a few wounded in the victorious armies."
London, June 13, 1834.—There is a rumour that Dom Miguel has escaped and that a conspiracy has broken out at Lisbon against Dom Pedro; all kinds of sinister details are added. This, it seems, is nothing but a Stock Exchange trick, the truth being that there were some unpleasant demonstrations against Dom Pedro when he showed himself at the play. The simultaneous expulsion of both the rivals would be the most satisfactory conclusion of the great drama.
There is some surprise that Dom Miguel has not yet disembarked in England. Don Carlos arrived yesterday at Portsmouth in the Donegal.
Spain is annoyed, and with reason, because the Duke of Terceira and the English Commissioner who made Dom Miguel sign an undertaking not to return did not exact a similar promise from Don Carlos. They now wish England and France to take measures against Don Carlos so as to make him an outlaw in Europe. This however is not admissible, in spite of the notes of the Marquis de Miraflorès and the diatribes of Lord Holland.
The conversation at Holland House is very curious. Little Charles Barrington was there the other day and said he had been prevented from riding a donkey because it was Sunday and because religious people didn't ride donkeys on Sunday. Mr. Allen grunted in reply, "Never mind: the religion is only for the donkeys themselves."
Mr. Spring Rice has just been elected at Cambridge, but by a small majority, which is by no means pleasant for the Ministry.
Sir Henry Halford, M. Dedel and the Princesse de Lieven came back from Oxford yesterday, moved, enchanted, intoxicated by the festivities on the occasion of the installation of the Duke of Wellington as Chancellor of the University. This occasion is really in its way unique. The Duke's character and his past career—it is only four years since he would have been stoned at Oxford for having passed Catholic emancipation—the magnificence of the ceremony, the number and the quality of the company, the immemorial traditions of the scene, the excitement of everybody, the unanimous applause—everything in fact was wonderful and the like will never be seen again. Even the Duke of Cumberland, universally unpopular as he is, was well received there. The Anglican spirit was in the ascendant, all personal animosities vanished in the presence of the dangers with which the Church is threatened, and this secured a favourable reception for every one who is believed to be ready to rally to her defence. In the Duke of Wellington it was less the great Captain whom they were cheering than the Defender of the Faith.
It is annoying to record that the undergraduates used the licence granted to them on such occasions to hoot the names of Lord Grey and others, which they called out loudly in order to have the pleasure of hissing them. The Duke of Wellington, on every occasion of their occurrence, showed that these demonstrations displeased him, but in spite of these signs of his disapproval they were several times repeated.
They say that when the Duke shook hands with Lord Winchelsea, on whom he had just conferred the Doctor's degree, every one recollected the duel which had once taken place between the two, and that this gave rise to a storm of cheering. The applause, however, was not less when Lord Fitzroy Somerset approached the Duke, his faithful friend and comrade, and being unable to give him his right hand, which he lost at Waterloo, extended his left. But what excited the greatest and most prolonged enthusiasm was an ode addressed to the Duke, the two final lines of which were as follows:
At this point the whole audience rose spontaneously; the cries, the tears, the acclamations were thrilling; and, as Madame de Lieven said: "The Duke of Wellington may die to-day, and I may depart in peace to-morrow, for I have been present at the most marvellous scene that there has been during the twenty-two years that I have spent in England."
London, June 14, 1834.—A German improvisatore named Langsward has been recommended to me by Madame de Dolomieu. I had to gather together in his honour all the people here (few enough) who know a little German. The entertainment was not bad. There were bouts rimés, which he filled up very creditably; some verses about Inez de Castro; and, later on, a prose piece—a scene of lower-class Viennese life—which showed real verve and talent. The talent for poetic improvisation almost always indicates faculties of an unusual order. This is the case even with Southern people, whose language is naturally very harmonious. Poetic inspiration is a proportionately greater achievement in the less flexible accents of Northern countries. Still improvisatori, even Sgricci, have always seemed to me more or less frigid or more or less absurd. Their enthusiasm is overdone and false; the close rooms in which they are confined inspire neither the poet nor his audience. Nothing in them or their surroundings is in the key of poetry. I think that if you are to produce an enthusiasm which will really gain every one you must have a landscape for your stage, the sun to light you, a rock for seat, a lyre for accompaniment, for your subject great and immediate events, and a whole nation for audience. Corinna if you like, Homer above all! But a gentleman in a dress-coat in a little London drawing-room, posturing before a few women who are trying to get away to a ball, and a few men, of whom half are thinking of the Belgian protocols and the other half of Ascot races, can never be more than a trifling little rhyming doll who is tedious and quite out of place.
Madame de Lieven showed me yesterday a letter from M. de Nesselrode, in which he complains of the ill-will and the troublesome, teasing manner of Lord Ponsonby, who, he adds, is goading the poor Divan to fury. Admiral Roussin appears charming by comparison.
Dom Miguel has really embarked, and is going to Genoa.
London, June 15, 1834.—Dom Pedro is hardly relieved of his brother's presence and free of the supervision of the Cortes, and he has already begun to destroy convents, monks, and nuns. I do not know whether this, too, will excite admiration at Holland House, but to me it seems a piece of impious folly which may well bring speedy repentance in its train.
The Rothschilds, who are by way of knowing everything, have been to M. de Talleyrand to say that the Marquis de Miraflorés has just left for Portsmouth to take money to Don Carlos on condition of his signing guarantees similar to those given by Dom Miguel.
M. Bignon, the day he dined at Lord Palmerston's, when M. de Talleyrand was there, said to the latter that he wished to have a word with him, and with a mysterious and confidential air, added: "Now that I have dined with Lord Palmerston they can no longer say at Paris that I can't be Minister." This curious piece of reasoning was followed by a series of indiscreet criticisms of the French Cabinet and expressions of surprise that overtures of the same kind had not been made to M. de Talleyrand by M. Dupin. Nothing assuredly can be more presumptuous than this spirit, whether it takes the supple and cringing form of M. Bignon or the didactic and crude shape of M. Dupin.
London, June 16, 1834.—A propos of M. Dupin, when his mother died some time ago, at Clamecy en Nivernais, he had cut on her tomb, "Here lies the mother of the three Dupins."
There are some good stories here of him and the amiable Piron, his cicerone. Mr. Ellice one day took them both to see some sight or other in London. In the carriage M. Dupin unfolded a large-checked pocket handkerchief, very vulgar in design, and holding it some distance from his face, spat into it, aiming very precisely at the middle of the handkerchief. On this M. Piron said to him aloud, with a very knowing air, "Sir, in this country one does not spit in public."
The choice of Mr. Fergusson for a high legal appointment gives an even more Radical tinge to the English Cabinet. Lord Grey, almost without knowing it, has thus been dragged to the verge of an abyss, into which his weakness is thrusting him, but from which all his instincts and natural tendencies hold him back. Lord Brougham boasts that he has set everything right; Lord Durham, on the contrary, says (no doubt in order to prepare the way for himself) that it is he alone who has persuaded all the new recruits to join. Meanwhile he has retired to his villa near London, whence he declares, "I have made Kings and refused to be one myself."
The Marquis of Conyngham is, they say, to go to the Post Office and not to have a seat in the Cabinet. His selection is a social matter, with which politics, it appears, have very little to do.
The Duke of Richmond has accepted an invitation to the High Tory dinner to be given on the 22nd to the Duke of Gloucester. The Duke of Wellington, who has sworn never to go to the City again after their shameful conduct to him in 1830, refused, and did not conceal the reason. And yet the Lord Mayor is not the same as in 1830, and probably the Duke would now have a most flattering reception. However, he has taken an oath and will not break it.
Mr. Backhouse, Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, has been sent to Portsmouth to hold himself at the disposition of Don Carlos on every point except that of offering him money. This reserve seems to be the only way of assisting the negotiations which are being conducted by the Marquis de Miraflorès, who is himself commissioned to offer the Infante, on behalf of his Government, an annual allowance of £20,000 sterling, on condition of his entering into obligations similar to those contracted by Dom Miguel. It is thought that the abject poverty to which the Prince himself, his wife and children, the Duchess of Beïra, seven priests, and a suite of ladies (seventy-two persons in all), who are with him in the Donegal, are reduced, will smooth the course of the discussion. It is said that they have not so much as a change of linen. It is not known what Don Carlos's plans are. Some say that he wants to retire to Holland; others say Vienna; others again talk of Rome. This last idea seems to be peculiarly unpleasing to the present Government in Spain, but no one has the right to dictate a choice.
M. de Palmella is expected here quite soon. He says he is coming on private business, but it is generally supposed that it is in order to concert measures for getting rid of Dom Pedro, whose absurd behaviour is displeasing every one. Then would be the time to choose a husband for Doña Maria da Gloria, and the opportunity, perhaps, of bringing out this young Princess who is still somewhat elephantine in her style.
Lord Palmerston, with his usual courtesy, sent Mr. Backhouse to Portsmouth without so much as mentioning the matter to M. de Talleyrand, who only heard of it by public rumour. This led to a candid little conversation between Lord Grey and me. No one, it must be admitted, is better, more frank, more sincere or better intentioned than the Prime Minister. I am always as much touched by his good qualities as a man as I am struck by his incompetence as a politician. He ran downstairs after me at his house to exculpate Lord Palmerston, to assure me that he had no ill-intention, and to beg me to make excuses for him to M. de Talleyrand. I replied to him with the old French proverb to the effect that hell is paved with good intentions, and added in English, "Well, I promise you to tell M. de Talleyrand that Lord Palmerston is as innocent as an unborn child, but I don't believe a word of it." This made Lord Grey laugh, and he took what I said in excellent part as he always does.
London, June 17, 1834.—Don Carlos refused to see M. de Miraflorès and would receive no one but Mr. Backhouse, whom he gave to understand that he would not accept a penny if he had to sign away the smallest fragment of his rights. He commissioned M. Sampaïo, formerly Dom Miguel's Consul in London, to find him a house at Portsmouth, where he wants to rest for a fortnight, and thereafter one near London, where he will remain for some time.
The British Government attributes Don Carlos's refusal to a credit of a million, which they are convinced has been opened on the Prince's behalf with M. Saraiva, Dom Miguel's former Minister here. They even say that the credit was opened for him by the Duc de Blacas, which is very unlikely. The Bishop of Leon, who is said to be a bad man but clever after the fashion of a Spanish monk, is with the Infante, and is the leading spirit and the brain of this exiled Court.
The Marquis of Conyngham, son of George IV.'s celebrated favourite, has been definitely appointed to succeed his brother-in-law, the Duke of Richmond, as Postmaster-General. He is a young and good-looking man of fashion with many love affairs, who writes and receives more billets-doux than serious letters, and is therefore called "the Postmaster of the twopenny post."
London, June 18, 1834.—At all meetings of ladies there is always much confusion and controversy, so, in spite of the presidency of the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland, there have been many discussions and hesitations over the bracelet which is to be presented to Madame de Lieven. Some ladies have retired from motives of economy, others because the affair was not put under their charge; thirty remain. The choice of the jewels and the fashion of the setting have also given rise to difficulties. Opals are not to be thought of; the Princess dislikes them. Rubies are too expensive. Turquoises come from Russia; to give them would be to send coals to Newcastle. The same applies to amethysts, and as to sapphires, the Princess already has magnificent sapphires of her own. "Emeralds perhaps."—"No."—"Yes."—"Well perhaps——."—"Why not?"—"It won't be what I expected."—"Peridots are so common."—"Let's ask the Princess herself." This in the end is what we did; the mystery was revealed, the surprise abandoned, and a large pearl chosen.
Then came another question, more literary and more delicate in character, the question of the dedicatory inscription. The committee wished it to be in English, so, as a foreigner, I retired. They kindly expressed regret, but of course I persisted and remained as a mere spectator. It was very amusing. Twenty ways of putting the inscription were tried. Poetry and allegory were suggested. Some wished for a play of words suggesting that a pearl had been chosen because the Princess was a pearl among women. Others thought that the image was not sufficiently precise; they wanted some allusion to be made to the Princess's talent for affairs, a suggestion which was declared out of order. There was the further difficulty of putting on record the names of the donors without offending other ladies in society. So I was consulted. I said that I didn't know enough English to have an opinion. They asked what I should put if it were in French. I told them, and, weary of the struggle, they decided to translate it into English and adopt it. The wording is very simple: "Testimony of regard, regret and affection presented to the Princess Lieven on her departure, by some English ladies of her particular acquaintance, July 1834."
London, June 19, 1834.—Madame de Lieven called on me yesterday morning. Her agitation grows as her departure draws nearer, and carried away by a sort of feverish excitement which consumes her, she said to me that she was sure there was one person besides Lord Palmerston who was glad she was going, and that was the King of England. He had refused to write an autograph letter, which while saving the Minister's face, might have reversed the decision as to M. de Lieven's recall. Palmerston had lectured the King on the objections to foreign ambassadors staying too long in London, where they became too much at home, and even came to acquire a real and important influence. In short, the King is delighted at Madame de Lieven's departure, and she blames Palmerston for it, which does not increase her partiality for him. She may find some consolation in thinking of the abyss which is opening at his feet. The whole Ministry is as shaky as possible; and Lord Palmerston is the least secure of them all. His colleagues think little of him. Lord Grey does not deny that his speeches in the House of Commons are bad. The Corps diplomatique detest his arrogance. English people think him ill-bred. His one merit, when all is said and done, seems to consist in his remarkable facility for speaking and writing French. The Lievens' departure, which every one, and most certainly Lord Grey regrets, is so generally attributed to Lord Palmerston's impudent obstinacy that no one even pretends to conceal his conviction that this is the case, not even Lord Palmerston's colleagues in the Ministry. Thus he is never invited to the numerous farewell dinners and parties which are being given to the Lievens, and this is the more remarkable, as of course Lady Cowper is always there. This has not failed to give him great offence, and he has especially resented Lord Grey's attitude. The latter has made a merit of this with Madame de Lieven, saying to her, on one occasion: "You see I have got all your friends and haven't asked Palmerston." Poor Lady Cowper gets the benefit of all Lord Palmerston's ill-humour, and they say he is very unkind to her.
The Duke of Saxe-Meiningen has arrived by the King's invitation to escort the Queen, his sister, during her German tour. Her departure, is fixed, they say, for July 4, but the King is pressing her to go on the 2nd, and he is so strangely anxious to hurry her away, having made all the arrangements himself, that many people think that he will not be in such haste to let her come back. No one doubts that he expects to enjoy himself very much in his renewed bachelorhood, and every one trembles to think of the kind of enjoyment he may fancy. The nature of his pleasures, no less than the type of person he is likely to ask to share them, is a source of anxiety to decent people. There is no doubt that he has singular projects in his head, for the other day at dinner, he shouted out to an old admiral, who had been a great friend of his long ago, to ask "whether he was as great a rascal as ever." The admiral answered that the days of his follies were over; but the King replied, "that for his part he meant to begin again!"
A letter from M. Royer-Collard is always an event for me: in the first place, because I am very fond of him; and, secondly, because he says so much in so few words, in a striking way, and in a tone which is entirely individual, and gives much food for thought. Here is an extract from one which I have just got; it is quite true and yet malicious in a well-bred way: "He [Thiers] is very clever; what he wants is Society and the experience which Society alone can give, a little dignity and a little principle. As I write this it comes into my mind that you will take me for a doctrinaire, which would be very unjust, for principle is a weakness which doctrinaires don't cultivate."
London, June 20, 1834.—Intercepted letters show that the Duke of Leuchtenburg, weary of the tumult caused by the design of the Duchess of Braganza's sister to marry him to Doña Maria, asked the Duchess to do no more in the matter, as too much suspicion had been aroused and success was impossible. At the same time he begged his sister not to forget their young brother Max, who has not been suspected, and who might have a better chance. Now that this new plan is revealed it will probably be as keenly opposed as the ex-Empress's first intrigue. They say she is extraordinarily energetic and ambitious, though to outward view she is all quietness, amiability, and simplicity.
Last night, in our drawing-room, the conversation turned on the character and position of Mirabeau, and I heard M. de Talleyrand repeat a curious story. It appears that at the time of the Restoration he was entrusted during the Provisional Government with the most confidential of the Revolutionary archives, and that he found among them a receipt in due form, given by Mirabeau for a sum of money received from the Court. This receipt was made out in detail, and stated precisely the services which Mirabeau undertook to perform. M. de Talleyrand added that in spite of this financial transaction it would be unjust to say that Mirabeau was "bought," and that in accepting the price of promised services he did not surrender his independent opinion. He wished to serve France as much as to serve the King, and reserved for himself liberty of thought and action as well as liberty of choice of means to bring about the object which he engaged to realise. It follows that, without deserving the extreme imputations of baseness and vileness which some have made against him, Mirabeau's moral character was very far behind his astuteness. He belonged to a bad stock; his father, his mother, his brother and sister were all either insane or criminal. Yet in spite of his execrable reputation, of his being regarded everywhere much as a convict let out of prison, of his hideous ugliness and constant lack of money, what a marvellous influence his very memory has! The book just published by his adopted son brings out very strikingly the power of his prodigious personality and the charm of his superabundant vitality, which imposes itself upon you in spite of the tedious formality with which the author has sought to adorn his subject. The authenticity of the sources, the abundance of quotations from the original, and their extraordinary interest, often make up for the awkwardness and heavy-handedness of the execution.
The book, moreover, has for me the great merit of enlightening my ignorance. I had only the vaguest ideas on the subject of Mirabeau, owing to my very imperfect knowledge of the Revolutionary period, which is too near my own time for me to have studied it historically, and which is yet too far off for me to have known it as a contemporary. All I know is derived from M. de Talleyrand's stories and the Memoirs of Madame Roland. Besides, I have such a horror of this repulsive and terrible epoch that I have never had the courage to think much about it, and have almost always leapt hurriedly across the abyss which separates 1789 from the Empire. M. de Talleyrand's Memoirs might no doubt have helped me, but I have always been too much occupied with his individual fortunes to pay much attention to the general situation. M. de Talleyrand in the Memoirs is much clearer about the causes of the catastrophe than about its details, and he was out of France during the most critical years. His sojourn in America is one of the most agreeable episodes in his career, and for the reader—as indeed it was in reality for himself—it is a period of rest and relief, during which the horrors of the Convention are kept out of sight, and you have time to take breath before coming to the stirring events of the Empire.
M. de Talleyrand went on to say, as regards Mirabeau's receipt, that he regarded it as a family paper which he had no right to keep, and handed it over to Louis XVIII. himself, and knew nothing of what had become of it.
London, June 21, 1834.—M. de Talleyrand was over fifty-three when he began to write the Memoirs, or rather a small volume on the Duc de Choiseul. In 1809, when he was going to take the waters at Bourbon l'Archambault, he asked Madame de Rémus to lend him a book to read on the way. She gave him Lacretelle's Histoire du dixhuitième Siècle, a work both inaccurate and incomplete. M. de Talleyrand, annoyed by the errors and the ignorance of the author, employed his leisure while at the waters in making a rapid sketch of one of the periods which Lacretelle had particularly misrepresented. Those who came to know this fragment were so much pleased with it, and M. de Talleyrand was so much amused by writing it, that he formed the idea of grouping subsequent events round another person whom he had known very well. He then put together his study of the Duc d'Orléans, a piece no less curious than the former, but since almost entirely rehandled and incorporated in his own Memoirs. These, of course, contain reminiscences of an even more personal character, and complete the story of the two epochs, of which one saw the preparation and the other the climax of the crisis in which M. de Talleyrand played a historic part. Most of the Memoirs (and in my opinion the most brilliant part) was written during the four years that he was in disgrace with the Emperor Napoleon. From 1814 to 1816 he added almost nothing to the Memoirs; later, and up to 1830, he devoted himself to revision, correction, and amplification. He inserted the portion about Erfurt, and another on the Spanish catastrophe, which brought Ferdinand VII. to Valençay, in the main body of the narrative, and brought it down to just after the Restoration; but as all the copies of his despatches during the Congress of Vienna (of which the originals are at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs) were stolen from him, he was without materials or notes for this interesting period, and this is sometimes obvious in the Memoirs.
It is indeed unfortunate that M. de Talleyrand never kept a journal or took notes. He is abominably careless about his papers, and when he set about collecting his reminiscences he had nothing to depend upon for the details but his memory, which is no doubt very good, but of course is too much overburdened not occasionally to leave regrettable gaps.[18]
I have often heard M. de Talleyrand tell most amusing stories, which are omitted from the Memoirs because by the time he came to write he had forgotten them. I myself was wrong not to write them down as I heard them, and to trust, like him, to my memory, which is so often deceptive for oneself and insufficient for others.
M. de Talleyrand has, unhappily, been too ready to read his Memoirs, or parts of them, to all sorts of people. He has got sometimes one person, sometimes another, to copy the manuscript, and has dictated portions now and then. The result is that their existence has become known, and has awakened political anxiety in some quarters and literary jealousy in others. Treachery and cupidity have speculated on their importance. It is said, and I am disposed to believe it to be true, that several garbled copies exist, envenomed by the slanderous and uncharitable temper of their possessors, and that these are some day to be published. This would be a misfortune, not only because of the evil passions which would be awakened, but also because these unfaithful copies would deprive the authentic Memoirs, when they do appear, of their merit, their freshness, and their interest. They would be spoiled in the forestalling.
Nothing can be more free from slander than the real Memoirs. I do not say that there are not occasional sallies of that gay and subtle malice which is so characteristic of M. de Talleyrand's wit. But there is nothing unkind, nothing insulting and less scandal than in any work of this kind. M. de Talleyrand treats women with respect or at least with politeness, restraint and indulgence though they have occupied so large a place in his social existence. It is clear that he is grateful for the charm which they have imparted to his life, and if some day serious persons find the Memoirs incomplete as history, and curious ones do not find all the revelations they expect, they may perhaps blame M. de Talleyrand's careless indolence; women at least will always be grateful to him for the good manners which inspired his reticence and deprived the cynical publicists of to-day of new weapons for calumny and evil speaking.
London, June 22, 1834. Sir Robert Peel with whom I dined yesterday pointed out to me that M. Dupin, who was also present, was much more like an American than a Frenchman. This is nearly the worst compliment which could be paid any one by an Englishman of good breeding. Sir Robert seemed to me to be in quite particularly good spirits. His careful questions about the members of the French Ministry, his insistence on his affection and admiration for M. de Talleyrand made me think that he had some idea in his mind that he would soon be in a position in which he would have direct dealings with them. I asked him whether he thought that Parliamentary manners and the tone of debate had changed since the Reform Bill was passed. He said they had up to a certain point, but that what had particularly struck him was the complete absence of any new talent, notwithstanding the accession of new members to the House of Commons.
I thought him at least as much pleased as surprised by this. He has certainly excellent reasons for not wishing that the old parliamentary celebrities should be effaced.
His house is one of the prettiest, best arranged, and best situated in London. It is full of fine pictures and valuable furniture, yet there is nothing pompous or ostentatious about it. Everything is in the best taste and nothing shows a trace of Sir Robert's humble origin. Lady Peel's modest but distinguished countenance, her quiet and amiable manner, the intelligent faces of the children, the wealth of flowers which shed their perfume through the house, the great balcony opening on the Thames, from which you can see both Westminster and St. Paul's—everything combines to make the general effect both complete and charming. Yesterday evening was fine and really hot, and the combined brilliance of a lovely moon and of the gaslight on so many bridges and buildings made one feel one's self anywhere rather than in foggy England.
London, June 23, 1834.—Lord Clanricarde, Mr. Canning's son-in-law has resigned his place in the Household because he is angry at not getting the Post Office which was given to Lord Conyngham.
The great Conservative dinner in the City the day before yesterday was signalised by the presence of the Duke of Richmond, and by his Grace's reply to the Lord Mayor when he proposed the toast of the Duke of Wellington and the Peers who were present. The Duke of Richmond made a sort of public profession of his attachment to Church and State, and when the Lord Mayor proposed the health of the Earl of Surrey, the eldest son of the Duke of Norfolk, who is a member of the House of Commons, but who is not a Conservative and who is a Catholic, the Earl replied that he was convinced that the House of Commons would not be behind the Upper Chamber in maintaining the Church, yes, the Church and the ancient constitution of the realm. The cheering was immense.
Everything, it seems, tends to bring Mr. Stanley and Sir Robert Peel closer and closer together. It is hoped that this alliance, already far advanced, will bring about the fall of the present Cabinet, but a sharp transition is not desired, for that might frighten John Bull who doesn't like Coalition Cabinets.
London, June 25, 1834.—In the large provincial towns of England there are every year what are called "Musical festivals." At these as a rule the great oratorios are given, and celebrated artists from all countries are engaged at great expense. These festivals last for several days; all the smart people from the various parts of the county come into the town where the music is performed in the churches in the mornings, the evenings being given up to diversions of a more worldly character. Next to horse racing these functions draw the greatest crowds.
In London a festival takes place only every fifty years, and yesterday was one of these anniversaries. The whole Court was present in state and will be on the three remaining days. Westminster Abbey was full, and, though less imposing than at the King's coronation, the spectacle was even more brilliant. The arrangements were excellent; there was no crowding or embarrassment; everything went very well. The number of musicians, vocal and instrumental, was enormous—seven hundred in all. Unfortunately the Abbey is so high, and constructed on principles so detrimental to all musical effect, that the prodigious numbers of voices and instruments which, it was said, was enough to bring down the building, hardly filled it. One felt this particularly during the first part of Haydn's Creation. Handel's Samson, a broader and more powerful composition, was more suited to the circumstances of the occasion. The Funeral March made a deep impression on me and the final air sung by Miss Stevens with a trumpet obbligato was very fine. But the general effect was marred by the great mistake of placing the singers so low that their voices were lost before they could rise to the roof, there to find the point from which they could re-echo. I think the organ is the only instrument which can sufficiently fill a great cathedral. In such a place all the orchestras in the world sound thin and incongruous, and I was sorry yesterday that the organ was not used in the concerted pieces as it would have made the effect richer and more impressive. I even felt that this concert music was out of place in a church. It was like the effect of an academic panegyric, however beautiful and noble, being pronounced in a pulpit instead of a funeral sermon.
London, June 26, 1834.—A propos of certain of our countrymen M. de Talleyrand remarked yesterday: "It is extraordinary how much talent vanity consumes." Nothing can be truer, especially as he applied it.
It is announced that the Greek Order of the Saviour and the Portuguese Order of Christ have been conferred on M. de Talleyrand. On the occasion of his receiving the latter he told me that under the Empire, when Orders were raining upon him from every side, the Comte de Ségur, Grand Master of the Ceremonies, seemed rather cast down because he had not got any. M. de Talleyrand begged the Emperor to allow him to give M. de Ségur the Order of Christ which he had just received. This was done to M. de Ségur's great satisfaction, and he never afterwards appeared without his broad ribbon.
London, June 27, 1834.—The late Lord Castlereagh had a curious way of speaking French. He said to Madame de Lieven that what gave him most pleasure in her conversation was that his mind became "liquide" when in her company, and one day, speaking of the union which prevailed among the Great Powers, he said to her that he was delighted to say that they were all dans le même potage, a rather too literal translation of the English idiom "in the same mess."
Yesterday I had a long conversation with my cousin Paul Medem. He understands very well the difficulties of his position, which begin with the keen regret with which M. and Madame de Lieven are yielding him the place. These difficulties will be removed in part by the very wise advice of the Czar, that he should remain altogether outside the internal politics of England, and become neither Whig nor Tory. He told me that the real reason why he had been preferred to Matuczewicz, was the marked and uncompromising character of the opinions which the latter had adopted in England, where he went in for politics with the vigour of John Bull himself.