June 28, 1834.—The King of England is ill and his haste to see the Queen depart has suddenly changed into keen regret that she is going. She did everything she could to persuade him to allow her to stay, but the King replied that it was too late to change his mind, that all was ready and that she must go. To stay now would give rise to all sorts of unfortunate conjectures which should be avoided. "Besides," he added, "if a change in the Ministry comes soon it is better that you should be absent so that they cannot say, as they did some years ago, that you influenced me." The same day, speaking of his Ministers, the King said, "I am tired to death of these people," and when some one observed that if so, it was very curious that he did not dismiss them, he replied very sensibly, "But two years ago when I sent for the Tories they left me stranded at the end of twenty-four hours and abandoned me to the Whigs. This must not happen a second time. I shall therefore do nothing one way or the other, but let them fight it out as best they can among themselves." Things will not, however, turn out as before, for it was the refusal of Sir Robert Peel to take office which wrecked the plan on the former occasion. Now he is willing to take up the succession, and public opinion is prepared to see him do so.

I hear much of internal dissensions in the Cabinet. It appears that Lord Lansdowne will not remain with Mr. Ellice, especially since the declaration of the latter in favour of the principles of Mr. O'Connell. It is also said that Lord Grey doesn't get on with Mr. Abercromby. Finally the disunion of the Cabinet is obvious, even to the public, and is being, I think, rather cleverly exploited by the Conservative Party.

The Prince de Lieven yesterday introduced Paul Medem to Lord Grey, who appeared much embarrassed, and, after a long silence, found nothing to talk about but France, M. de Broglie, M. de Rigny, the elections, &c., just as he might have done with a French chargé d'affaires. For a Russian one, just come from St. Petersburg, this was very curious—Lord Grey's praises of Broglie were excessive; his questions about Rigny cold and distrustful.

London, June 29, 1834.—It is very strange that, as things are, Lady Holland, who has always professed to be a friend of Lord Aberdeen in spite of the difference of their political opinions, should have asked M. de Talleyrand to meet him at dinner at her house!

Yesterday I took leave of the Queen; everything seemed definitely arranged for her departure.

Don Carlos and his suite are established at Gloucester Lodge, a pretty house in one of the suburbs, which is called Old Brompton. This house, whose present owner is unknown to me, was built by the mother of the present Duke of Gloucester who gave it its name. Don Carlos's close proximity to London much embarrasses all the members of the diplomatic corps, whose courts have left their relations with Spain conveniently vague. The signatories of the Quadruple Alliance are of course out of the game.

London, June 30, 1834.—The Marquis de Miraflorès makes no progress in the difficult art of behaving tactfully in society. The other day he made another curious lapse. It was at the house of Lord Brougham the Chancellor, where he had been talking to M. de Talleyrand. The latter, turning to go, found himself face to face with Lucien Bonaparte. They greeted each other and exchanged inquiries, coldly but politely, and M. de Talleyrand was about to take his leave when he was stopped by the Spanish Minister, who in a loud voice asked the French Ambassador to present him to Lucien Bonaparte! It was a perfect example of tact!

The Duke of Wellington, whom I saw yesterday at a concert in honour of Madame Malibran, told me that he had been with Don Carlos that morning, and had had a very curious conversation with him. He could not give me an account of it then because of the crowd which surrounded us listening to everything we said, but he told me that nothing could exceed the squalour, poverty and untidiness of this King and Queen of Spain and the Indies. The Duke was the more astonished at this, as they have found money here, and might easily have bought a little soap and clean linen. All that the Duke told me of the conversation was as follows. First he told them the truth as he always does, and, seeing a priest, then observed, "God doubtless does much for those who invoke His help, but He does even more for those who do something for themselves." The priest only said that there was a Spanish proverb to the same effect.

London, July 1, 1834.—Yesterday we received the news of the death of Madame Sosthène de la Rochefoucault, an event which proves that I am right in maintaining that there is no such thing as a malade imaginaire. Nothing, in fact, can be so tedious and wearisome as to be constantly watching, dieting and pitying one's self. How could any one keep up such a pretence unless some serious and painful symptom condemned one to it? But there are two things which the world never will believe in—the troubles and the sufferings of others. Every one is so afraid of being asked for sympathy and help, that it is found more convenient to deny the facts than to sacrifice one's self. All my life I have heard Madame Sosthène abused; she was described as a lazy, complaining creature who had in reality the constitution of a Turk. When one does not look delicate, and even sometimes when one does, nothing short of dying will convince people that one is really ill. The world is only too ready to give exhibitions of its curiosity, its indiscretion, and its calumny, but its compassion, like its indulgence, only comes after the event, when you have no longer any need of it.

M. de Montrond talks of returning to Louèche to put his poor body in a bath. It would be a good thing if it were possible to put his soul in also. His visit here was an even worse failure than that of last year. When you have survived yourself, your fortune, your health, your wit, and your manners, and when there does not even remain the faintest reflection of your past glories to give you a little consideration in the world, the spectacle which you present is deplorable. I said one day to M. de Talleyrand that in my opinion nothing was left to M. de Montrond except to blow out his brains. He replied that he would do nothing of the sort, because he had never been able to put up with the smallest deprivation, and he would not willingly accept the deprivation of life any more than any other.

Madame de Montrond, who was divorced from her first husband[19] in order to marry M. de Montrond, told me that one day, after she had been divorced for the second time and had resumed her maiden name Aimée de Coigny, she was being driven in a phaeton with M. de Montrond, who himself took the reins. She was admiring the fine pair of English horses and praised the view, the equipage, and the driver. "It is not much of a pleasure," he replied; "what would be worth doing would be to harness two young tigers, lash them to fury, to tame them, and then to kill them." This is, indeed, the language of an insatiable soul.

London, July 2, 1834.—The Queen is definitely going on the 5th. She will cross in the yacht Royal George, which people are going to visit out of curiosity, as well as two splendid steamboats, which will act as tugs when necessary. The whole Yacht Club will escort her, and the North Sea will be covered with a charming little fleet. The Queen is to land at Rotterdam some time on the 6th, and will proceed the same evening incognita to her sister, the Duchess of Weimar, who lives in the suburbs of The Hague. The Prince of Orange, I understand, is to be there as if by chance. The Princess of Orange is in Germany with her sister.

London, July 3, 1834.—Lord Grey has become extremely nervous and irritable. Yesterday, while dining with Lord Sefton, he was, as they say here, quite cross because dinner was later than usual; because Lady Cowley, a witty and animated woman but a great Tory, was there; and, finally, because every one was in full dress for the Duke of Wellington's ball. It is really curious that a man in Lord Grey's exalted position and of such a noble nature as he, should be so sensitive to small matters, and should have nerves so childishly susceptible.

The Duke of Wellington gave a splendid ball, very magnificent, brilliant, and well-arranged. All the guests did their best not to dim the lustre of the proceedings, and I think they were successful.

M. Royer-Collard writes to me: "The aspect of the elections is deceptive; they are much less ministerial than they seem. Next Session will be very heavy, and the Ministry is prepared for trouble. The great number of coalitions is a very serious symptom. What must be the violence of the hatreds which have formed such an alliance!" Further on he adds, "When one knows a person one is usually able to predict with fair accuracy what he will say or do in given circumstances, but M. Dupin defies all calculation. The rashness of his speech is such as cannot be foreseen; it is the same here as in London, and it makes it impossible that he should ever come into power."

London, July 4, 1834.—The other day the Queen said something which seemed very ridiculous to the person to whom she said it, but which seems to me quite intelligible, probably owing to what M. de Talleyrand would call my allemanderie. She said that "during the sixteen hours which she spent last week in Westminster Abbey during the performance of the great oratorios, she had had more time and leisure to reflect on her position, and for self-examination than she usually had." This has led to her making discoveries, for instance that she was more attached to the King than she was perhaps aware, that she was more necessary to her husband than she had thought, and, in a word, that henceforth England was her only true country. All this makes her departure particularly painful, but she has one consolation. This is the thought that when she is away the King will be more disposed to assist in bringing about a change of Ministry, and that it cannot be supposed that in doing so he is yielding to her influence. There is much, perhaps too much, frankness in such pieces of self-revelation, but I think that all these ideas are perfectly natural, and I understand perfectly how they were inspired in the places and circumstances above described.

The King for his part gives the most curious explanations of his regret at the Queen's leaving him, which grows keener day by day. Thus he said to Madame de Lieven yesterday. "I could never explain to you, Madame, the innumerable ways in which the Queen is of use to me." This is a strange and rather ridiculous way of putting it. The King has gout in his hands which makes it difficult to use them, prevents him from riding, and often from writing. This causes him much pain when he has many papers to sign, and makes him depend on his valet in the smallest matters. All his fine plans of resuming his bachelor existence and of amusing himself as suits his fancy are abandoned. So much so that his Majesty concluded his confidences to Madame de Lieven by saying that once the Queen is gone he would go to Windsor and live there like a hermit, never leaving the place till she came back.

The departure of her Majesty, which takes place to-morrow, will be a really splendid spectacle. Besides her own vessel the two great steam-boats and all the Yacht Club, the Lord Mayor, and all the City Companies will escort the Queen in their State barges as a mark of respect up to the point on the river at which their jurisdiction ends. It is said, too, that a Dutch fleet is to be sent to meet her.

Almack's, the celebrated Almack's,[20] which for twenty years has been the despair of the middle classes, the object of the emulation and the desire of so many young ladies in the provinces, Almack's, which gives or withholds the stamp of fashion, Almack's, the despotism par excellence, ruled with a rod of iron by six of the most exclusive ladies in London; Almack's, like all modern institutions, carries in its bosom the seeds of its own destruction! Following on a relaxation of internal regulations came a violation of its privileges, for the Duke of Wellington dared to give a ball on Wednesday, the day devoted and consecrated exclusively to Almack's. Finally, there has been disunion and a conflict of jurisdiction in the Council of Six, and like the constitution of Church and State, so much shaken at present, Almack's also threatens to fall to pieces, and we fear for the safety of an institution where young ladies find husbands, women of position an exercising ground for their pretentions, novelists the most brilliant scenes in their stories, foreigners their introduction to society, and everybody a more or less legitimate interest to occupy them in the height of the season.

Lady Jersey is accused of being the subversive spirit. The counts in the indictment against her are numerous. She would not allow the appointment of younger patronesses, who being livelier than their elders might have revived the fading interest people took in the place. She had been much to blame in giving tickets carelessly to people who were anything but elegant, and had refused to submit her lists to the inspection of her colleagues. Further, having herself introduced an undesirable element at the balls, she had decried them, and in spite of the fact that she was a patroness had ceased to go herself, and had persuaded the Duke of Wellington to give a ball on Wednesday. She had tried to force the other patronesses to change the day, and finally, not content with having set at naught in this way all the most sacred traditions of the institution, she had written an arrogant and preposterous letter, or rather manifesto, to Lady Cowper, complaining that, as her advice had been disregarded, Almack's had clashed with the Duke of Wellington's Ball, and threatening that, as she was very angry at this, she would resign her position as a member of the Committee. It is expected that at the next meeting there will be a great row. I confess that if the public were admitted I should certainly be present.

It must be admitted that Lady Jersey carries blind vanity to a degree which is beyond all bounds. She is absolutely stupid, and her origin is bourgeois.[21] Her husband is too indulgent, and she is beautiful with a beauty which is imperfect but very well preserved. Her health is robust, her energy untiring, and the possession of all these advantages has convinced her that she has enough money to excuse all her caprices, enough beauty to be the despair or the rapture of all the men about her, enough wit to rule the world, and enough authority to be always paramount without question in the favour of princes, in the confidence of statesmen, in the hearts of the young men, and even in the opinion of her rivals. She thinks her superiority so incontestable that modesty is unnecessary and would be merely hypocritical, so she does without it perfectly. She speaks of her beauty, which she exhibits with all the complacency of Helen of Troy, of her wit, her virtue, and her sensibility each in its turn. Piety arrives punctually on Sunday and departs on Monday. She has neither restraint nor ability, nor generosity, nor kindness, nor honesty nor dignity. She is either mocked or hated, either avoided or feared. In my opinion her heart is bad, her head empty, her character dangerous, her society tedious, but when all is said and done she is as they say, "the best creature in the world."

London, July 6, 1834.—The rather violent altercation in the House of Commons between Mr. Littelton, Chief Secretary for Ireland, and Mr. O'Connell has not been well received, and has brought out in a strong light both the indiscretion of the former and the want of principle of the latter. After such a scene it was expected that the two champions would have a mutual explanation not without arms, and that Mr. Littelton would resign or be dismissed. But the political epidermis is neither very fine nor very sensitive; the manners and customs of Parliament make people callous very quickly, and ambition and intrigue promptly dethrone every sentiment of delicacy, and sometimes every sentiment of honour.

Mr. Stanley made another long speech the day before yesterday on the eternal question of the Irish Church, launching defiance at the Government of which he was so lately a member. This was so easy to foresee that I was astonished at the stupidity of Ministers and their friends, who maintained breathlessly that Mr. Stanley would remain their friend and defender after his resignation as he had been before. As if between politicians there could be any other bond of union except common ambition?

The Neapolitan Minister thought it his duty to present himself before Don Carlos, who sent for him. He made up his mind, however, not to commit his Court without instructions, and to give Don Carlos no higher title than "Monseigneur." However, when he got to Gloucester Lodge, he was solemnly introduced into the presence of the Prince, who received him standing in the midst of his Court, the Princesses at his side so black and ugly, with eyes of such an African cast, that poor old Ludolf became confused, and hearing every one cry "the King," and feeling these four terrible black eyes fixed on him with the fury of wild beasts, he felt that if he did not go beyond "Monseigneur" his last hour was come; and so he scattered "King" and "Majesty" right and left, and was glad to escape alive from that den of brigands!

The Princesse de Lieven gave us a charming day in the country yesterday. The company showed both good humour and good taste, and consisted of the Princess, Lady Clanricarde, M. Dedel, Count Pahlen, Lord John Russell, and myself. The weather was splendid, except for two thunder-showers, which we all took in good part. We dined at Burford Bridge, a pretty little inn at the foot of Box Hill, only half of which we were able to climb owing to the heat. We also visited Deepdene, a country house which belongs to Mr. Hope,[22] and well deserves its name. The vegetation is fine, but the place is low-lying and melancholy; the house is in a pretentious Egyptian style, which is grotesque and ugly.

Mr. Denison's property of Denbies,[23] which we next visited, is admirably situated; the view is rich and varied, but the house is insignificant, at least from the outside. All this country is quite picturesque—remarkably so, in fact, when one thinks how near it is to a great city like London. The party was undoubtedly very pleasant, and I like to look back on it.

London, July 7, 1834.—The Duke of Cumberland has announced his intention of visiting Don Carlos, which much displeases the King. The Duke of Gloucester would be tempted to go too, but he was unwilling to do so without telling the King, who begged him not to do so.

Here is exactly what passed between the Infante Don Carlos and the Duke of Wellington. The Infante began by sending the Bishop of Leon to the Duke, who thought him a fat and rather common priest, but that he had more sense than all the rest of the party put together. The Bishop begged the Duke to go to see his master and give him his advice. The Duke declined to advise on a position the details of which, as well as the resources available, were unknown to him, but felt that he could not very well refuse to call on Don Carlos, with whom he had the singular conversation which follows:

Don Carlos. Do you advise me to go by sea and rejoin Zumalacarreguy in Biscaya?

Duke of Wellington. But have you the means of getting there? (No reply.) Have you a seaport at your disposal where you would be sure to be able to disembark?

Don Carlos. Zumalacarreguy will take one for me.

Duke of Wellington. But in order to do so he would have to leave Biscaya. Moreover, you must not forget that, in accordance with the Treaty of Quadruple Alliance, England will not allow you to start for Spain, having engaged to expel you from that country.

Don Carlos. Very well. I will go by way of France.

Duke of Wellington. But France has entered into the same engagements.

Don Carlos. What would be done if I crossed France?

Duke of Wellington. You would be arrested.

Don Carlos. What impression would be produced on the other Powers by this?

Duke of Wellington. The impression that a Prince had been arrested.

Don Carlos. But if there were a change of Ministry here they would restore me in Spain.

Duke of Wellington. Many intriguing persons, some of them of the highest rank, will try to persuade you that this is so, and I cannot sufficiently warn you against such a delusion. England has recognised Isabella II., and cannot go back on that recognition or on the engagements entered into by treaty. What I say may be unpleasant, but I think that to say it is the greatest service I can do you. I know this country well; you need expect nothing from it. I am indeed astonished that, after the treaty our Government has signed, you should have chosen it for your residence. From many points of view you would, I think, be much better off in Germany. I do not know the strength of your party in Spain, or what its chances of success may be, but I do not believe that you will ever find any honest or efficient help except in Spain itself.

Such is the conversation, which seems to me very interesting as illustrating the extraordinary ignorance of the one and the simple straightforwardness of the other. The Duke was much struck by a sort of cretinism which distinguishes this unhappy Prince, who knows and has learned nothing, who has neither dignity, nor courage, nor address, nor intelligence, and who really appears to be on the lowest rung of the human ladder. It is said that the Princesses, the children, and, in fact, every one about him, are much of the same sort. It is a pitiable spectacle.

The Duke of Wellington does not believe in the million sent by M. de Blacas. He thinks that it is no doubt rather the Spanish clergy who have sent a little money.

I told the Duke that I had seen many people who were very curious to know what title he had given to Don Carlos when he was with him. He said, "You see from what I have told you that there is nothing in the conversation I had with the prince which might not be printed; there is nothing which could offend any one. The curiosity you mention reminds me of that shown by all Spaniards during the Peninsular War, to know the manner in which I addressed Joseph Bonaparte when I communicated with him as I often did. His French correspondence was often intercepted and brought to me. It contained much information that I could not allow him to have, but also news of his wife and children of which I had no wish to deprive him, and which I used to send through the French outposts. On these occasions I used to write to the French General saying, 'Acquaint the King that his wife, or his eldest daughter, or his younger daughter, is better, or not so well, as the case might be, that they have gone to the country,' &c. &c. I never said the King of Spain, and I addressed my communications to the French General commanding, and not to the Spanish Generals of Joseph's party. Thus in this title of King there was no recognition to be inferred. It was a piece of civility and nothing more, and as such was of no consequence." Thus the Duke left me to my own reflections on the manner in which he addressed Don Carlos when he saw him.

All these poor Spaniards were at the Opera yesterday, where, as was natural, they were the object of much curiosity.

I hear from Paris that they are busy bringing a Governor of Algiers into the world. Marshal Soult would like to send a Marshal, others want a civilian in order that the Duc Decazes may have the place. He is loudly asking for it, and Thiers for one has promised that it shall be his. It is a curious thing to see a favourite of Louis XVIII. taking refuge in Algiers! I can remember a time when people were casting about for a means to send him far away and when Algiers with its Dey, its slavery and its bow strings, would have been considered at the Pavilion Marsan to be a most excellent solution of the problem. Rascality, eccentricity, reverses of fortune, catastrophes have not been wanting in the years which I have seen, the number of which seems double and treble what it really is when I think of the immensity of the events which have happened, the destinies which have been destroyed, the ruins and the recoveries which they have witnessed.

London, July 8, 1834.—The English Ministry cannot either live or die. Each day demolishes a fraction of the edifice; it is impossible that the Cabinet should not feel itself shaken to its foundations, and yet against all parliamentary tradition it remains in office in defiance of the insults and indiscretions, the paltry cowardice of one set of people, the paltry treachery of others. Even the King is not acting straightforwardly; the Conservatives are ready to take up an inheritance which seems within their grasp, but they prefer taking it over quietly to snatching it from the dying hands of its present owners. Meanwhile nothing is done, nothing decided, and the astonished and expectant public looks on uncomprehendingly. Lord Althorp announces that Mr. Littleton has offered his resignation which Lord Grey has refused to accept. Lord Grey denies that the Cabinet has taken a decision announced by the Duke of Richmond with (according to his account) the special permission of the King. If the old Parliamentary tradition were observed this strange incident would lead to some drastic solution of the problem, but as things are, no one expects anything more than some paltry patching up of the Ministry. In the meantime while they are haggling over the price of existence at home, Lord Palmerston is finding a peremptory settlement for all foreign questions, refusing explanations to one party, declining to accept them from another, irritating and alarming everybody. It is not assuredly a case for imitating John Huss on his way to execution who, seeing a poor old woman hurrying with a blind zeal for the glory of God to throw another faggot on the pyre on which he was to be burned, exclaimed Sancta simplicitas!

A propos of Lord Palmerston and his reputation even among those who cannot do without him, I shall quote the remark of Lord William Russell, the most tranquil and moderate of men. Madame de Lieven had expressed to him her desire to see him Ambassador at St. Petersburg, at an early date, to which he replied, "Nothing could be more splendid or fortunate for my career, yet if Lord Palmerston thought of me I should refuse. What he wants is not an enlightened and truthful agent, but a man who will distort the truth to suit his prejudices. If you display any independence, whether of language or of opinion, it irritates him. His one thought is how to get rid of you and bring about your ruin. When I was at Lisbon my views did not agree with his, so he attacked my wife's reputation, and if I were to send him any information from St. Petersburg except what he wanted to receive, he would simply say that I had been bought by Russia and try to dishonour me in that way. No gentleman can in the end consent to do business with him."

London, July 9, 1834.—Paul Medem was telling us yesterday that nothing was so curious as the excessive partiality shewn by the Duc de Broglie, when he was Minister, for Lord Granville. The preference given by him to the British Ambassador over all the rest of the diplomatic corps seemed natural in the circumstances, but, as it was not only an exclusive preference but an anxious, jealous and absorbing passion, it became ridiculous, embarrassing and often inexpedient.

Another fact which was not less curious was that the day after he left the Ministry when he was going the round of the Ambassadors and explaining to them the reasons for his resignation, the Duc de Broglie, by way of softening what he wrongly supposed to be their regret, added that his ideas and his system were still represented in his pupil M. Duchâtel whom he had put there after having initiated him into the great affairs which were to be the chief concern of his life, and having formed him as a statesman of the first eminence. This legacy so pompously announced seemed of less importance to the legatees than to the testator.

London, July 10, 1834.—I learned from the Times yesterday that Lord Grey and Lord Althorp, having asked for the adjournment of several Bills in the House of Lords, and having had a very long meeting of the Cabinet, tendered their resignations to the King, who immediately accepted them.[24]

Without hearing any more I left Town with the Countess of Sutherland and Countess Batthyány to spend the morning at Bromley Hill, a charming country house where Lord Farnborough, Mr. Pitt's old friend, always lives, devoting himself entirely to this delightful habitation which is remarkable alike for its fine situation, its beautiful woods, flowers and water, and the perfect taste and care with which it is managed. We were quite delighted with everything and sorry to go back to the smoke and politics of London.

We could hear nothing more about the great event of the day except the simple fact of the King's message to Lord Melbourne. Nothing is known as yet of what passed between the King and him. In the evening we went to Lord Grey's and found him en famille. His children seemed cast down, his wife angry; he alone was cheerful, simple and friendly, displaying the noble and candid demeanour which is natural in him, and which in its way is quite touching. He told us quite naturally that there had been a series of difficulties and dissensions which were constantly renewed from the beginning of the session onwards, and that the last incident—the foolish indiscretion of Mr. Littelton of which Lord Althorp gave such a lame explanation in the House of Commons—had made Mr. Littelton's resignation insufficient, and had necessitated his own and Lord Althorp's.

I thought that in Lord Grey's family it was Mr. Stanley who was hated most, for it was his resignation, followed by a bitter speech, which produced the situation in which the Littelton incident was only the culminating crisis. The Commons were so far from satisfied with Lord Althorp's speech on this that a series of groups developed, each of which was capable of making its displeasure felt. This is what put an end to Lord Grey's prolonged uncertainty. He seemed to us satisfied with the effect produced by the personal explanation of his whole conduct which he had just given in the House of Lords.

Mr. Ward his son-in-law came with news of the House of Commons, where it appeared that Lord Althorp's explanations were received coldly enough. The impression there was that, besides Lord Grey and Lord Althorp, Messrs. Abercromby, Grant, and Spring Rice had also left the Ministry. This Lord Grey said was incorrect. Only he and Lord Althorp had actually resigned, and indeed the Chancellor had gone so far as to say in the House of Lords that for his part he meant to stay, and would not give up the Great Seal unless formally ordered to do so by the King. On this I ventured to ask whether the Premier's resignation did not necessarily involve that of all the other members of the Cabinet. "In theory, yes," replied Lord Grey, "but in fact, no. But you are right, it is the usual custom, and, as a matter of fact, any Ministry is dissolved. However, these gentlemen individually may remain in the new Cabinet." His manner in answering was visibly awkward and embarrassed.

Next we went to Lord Holland's; he was much more upset than Lord Grey, and much irritated at the attack made on the Cabinet by the Duke of Wellington in Parliament, which he considered to be malicious and in bad taste. He said that the Tories seemed quite ready to take up the succession, but he hoped the Chancellor's speech would disgust them with the undertaking by showing them what enormous difficulties they would have to contend with. He added, moreover, that "you can't go out to dinner without being asked," and that, so far, the King had not summoned the Tories to office, but had sent for Lord Melbourne, though he did not know what had passed at the interview.

To our question whether the Cabinet was entirely or only partially dissolved, Lord Holland replied that the King must consider himself to be without Ministers, and that for his part, though he had not handed in his resignation, he regarded himself as out of office. On this question there is an air of uncertainty which proves how much these gentlemen are attached to their places and how unwilling they are to give them up. Lord Melbourne arrived while we were there, and we discreetly retired, being no more enlightened by the end of the day than we had been at the beginning.

There is no new light, it seems, on the Spanish situation. There is a cholera scare which the Queen Regent is trying to make an excuse for retirement from the public eye at a time which is said to be embarrassing for her. It is a bad thing for Her Majesty to lose the esteem of a public whose good opinion and goodwill are so desirable. The cholera and the Queen's seclusion are throwing the conduct of Government business into great confusion. They talk of changing the place of meeting of the Cortes.

It is asserted that the Infante Don Francesco, is still at Madrid with his wife, who is on bad terms with the Queen Regent although she is her sister, and is aiming at the Regency for himself instigated by his consort. It is even hinted that his plans are more ambitious still. Civil war is still general in the north, and the principal actors in the drama being placed as they are, it is impossible to predict what the result of the present state of matters in the South of Europe will be.

London, July 11, 1834.—When the King sent for Lord Melbourne yesterday he spoke to him of his desire that a Coalition Ministry should be formed, and asked him to undertake it. Yesterday morning, however, Lord Melbourne had to write to the King to say that the task was impossible. At the same moment Lord Brougham, who does not conceal his desire to stay in office and direct affairs, has also written to the King to say that nothing would be easier than to reconstruct the administration out of the ruins of its predecessor and to continue to govern on the same system. Two leading Tories have told Madame de Lieven that if they were sent for by the King they would accept office. Their plans were made, they said, and when asked whether they would have the courage to dissolve they said that they would not dissolve because they believed that they could control the existing House bad as it is. They also expressed themselves very favourably on the subject of the French Alliance and especially regarding M. de Talleyrand, whose conservative policy inspires them with so much confidence that they say he is the only French Ambassador who would suit them.

Yesterday we had at dinner some relics of the fallen Ministry. The causes of the catastrophe were freely discussed; it seems to have been due to a series of small treacheries or, as Lady Holland said, to High Treason.

Lord Brougham, whom Lord Durham, perhaps justly, described as a rogue and a madman, appears to be the villain of the piece. He has been secretly corresponding with the Marquess Wellesley, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in order to persuade him to make reports to Lord Grey different from those previously sent and intended to induce him to abandon the Coercion Bill. On the other hand he asked the Lords Justices for an opinion on the state of Ireland and on the measures which should be adopted, but, as it was not what he wanted, it never reached Lord Grey and has every appearance of having been suppressed, Mr. Littelton's indiscretions—Lord Althorp's want of energy, the difficulties of the situation as a whole—all this put together ended Lord Grey's irresolution. He had for some time past been decided not to face next session. He wished to retire after the present one and to choose his successor. I believe that he is sincerely glad to be out of the turmoil, but that he is sorry to have resigned when his position was honey-combed with treason and without knowing into whose hands power would fall. He is very dignified about it, but his wife is full of regret and irritation at the loss of all the chances of establishing her family which came from her husband's being Prime Minister.

Lady Holland is quite prostrate with regret for the comfort in which the Duchy of Lancaster kept her husband. Lord Holland talks of it all with a mixture of geniality, indifference, annoyance and good spirits which is rare, amusing and astonishing.

No one knows, foresees, or even guesses what is to be the result of the crisis.

The King is at Windsor surrounded by an undistinguished crowd of relatives, legitimate and illegitimate, who have neither cleverness nor consistency and who are not even agreed among themselves. It is impossible to gauge what influence they will have one way or the other. The presence of the Queen would have had more effect, but I am glad to think that her absence relieves her of all responsibility. The King foresaw this, and said so several times, and her own consolation on leaving was the thought that she could not be accused of influencing the Royal decisions.

London, July 13, 1834.—It is evident that several people have been duped this week. The most surprised and upset are of course the Conservatives. They and the public with them have always imagined that the King, too weak to dismiss the Ministry, would none the less be delighted to get rid of them and would eagerly seize the first opportunity to recall the Tories to office. Yet hours and days pass without their being sent for.

I dined with them yesterday; they were obviously disappointed, and the Duke of Wellington, next whom I sat at dinner at Lady Jersey's, talked quite frankly to me about it. I quite agreed with his opinion of the inevitable result of the King's conduct. Lord Grey represented the last stage between innovation and revolution, and the King, by letting slip a natural and decent opportunity, will be unable to retrace his steps, and will precipitate himself into the abyss which is destined to engulf the monarchy and the country. The effect which this will have in Europe is incalculable.

Some one who was dining last night in the opposite camp told me that the Whigs were sure that the King had come back to town in order to leave Lord Melbourne free to choose what Ministry he liked as he had refused to construct a coalition. This conjecture is confirmed by the fact that several prominent members of the House of Commons have appointments with Lord Melbourne this morning. It appears that the question is whether the more drastic clauses of the Coercion Bill for Ireland are to be abandoned. Lord Melbourne wishes to retain them, but in that case it would be necessary to do without Lord Althorp who seems to be the only person capable of leading the House of Commons. All doubts will probably be resolved when it comes to the point, and to-morrow we shall have a reconstructed or at least a readjusted Ministry, smoothly plastered to the outward view but bearing in itself the seeds of its destruction. What I have long believed and sometimes said seems to be coming true.

Sir Herbert Taylor, George III.'s private secretary, with whom once upon a time Princess Amelia fell hopelessly in love, who was said to be without influence under George III., and who was a model of discretion under George IV., occupies the same position under the present King. I have always suspected him of being a devoted friend of the Whigs and especially of Lord Palmerston. He was the only man at Windsor to whom the King could speak during the crisis, and through whom all the necessary communications could have passed. His prompting and his subterranean, yet active and long prepared intrigues are believed to be the cause of what is now happening.

Rumours succeed and destroy each other. One is wearied out with curiosity, unsatisfied and unjustified. It is said again that Lord Melbourne will be quite at liberty to govern his Ministry as he will. It is also said that the King, who has certainly not left Windsor, has sent Sir Herbert Taylor to Sir Robert Peel.

Again it is asserted that Dom Pedro is dead and Don Carlos gone. In fact the city and the clubs are amusing themselves (to kill time I suppose) by disseminating the most extraordinary and contradictory news. People end by believing nothing and listening to no one, and meanwhile one waits patiently with a sort of lassitude until the Gazette announces officially who is going to take up the heavy and difficult task of the Ministry.

Meanwhile Lord Grey occupies himself with little dinners at Greenwich, where he consoles himself for his fall and the treachery of his friends, Madame de Lieven for her gilded exile, and M. de Talleyrand for the conflict of unsatisfied ambition and a natural weariness. The other day Lord Grey said very happily in his farewell speech in Parliament, that when one was seventy years old as he was, one might manage affairs very well in ordinary times, but that in a period so critical as the present it needed the activity and energy which belong only to youth.

This is a truth which I have had the opportunity of verifying in my own circle, and I have felt that in public life it is above all things necessary to choose a good moment for retreat, not to lose the proper moment, and so to quit politics gracefully, thus carrying with you the applause of the spectators and avoiding their hisses.

London, July 14, 1834.—This morning people were writing from Windsor to London to find out what was going on. The King's silence had been complete; and in his long walks with his sister, the Princess Augusta, or his daughter, Lady Sophia Sidney, all conversation was carefully avoided, and nothing was talked of but the weather.

The Queen's journey has met with some difficulties; and Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, who it appears is not a very skilful sailor, had some difficulty in finding the way, and besides, the royal yacht drew too much water. Fortunately, the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, and the Prince and Princess of the Netherlands had come in a Dutch steamer to meet her Majesty, who was able to go on board the latter vessel with her maid, and proceed to The Hague direct; the suite reached Rotterdam with some difficulty.

It seems to have been very fortunate that the Queen was able to avoid Rotterdam herself, for they are so much annoyed that they had prepared an ugly reception for her. It had been arranged here that she was to meet neither the King nor the Queen of the Netherlands, and this condition had been strongly insisted on by the King of England. A "chance meeting," however, which might take place at the palace of Loo, had been talked of.

Sir Herbert Taylor has of late been the centre of interest for a good many people, and has been discussed in many conversations. In this way I learned that when he was proposed as private secretary to George III., who had become blind, it was also proposed that he should be made a Privy Councillor. The mere idea roused the King to fury, and, in the presence of all his Ministers, he said to Mr. Taylor: "Remember, sir, that you are to be my pen and my eye, but nothing else; that if you should presume but once to remember what you hear, read, or write, to have an opinion of your own or to give any advice, we should part for ever." And, as a matter of fact, under George III. and later under George IV., Mr. Taylor was never more than a kind of lay figure without eyes to see or ears to hear, or a memory to remember. They say that things are changed now, though he still keeps up the appearance of the greatest reserve and the most profound discretion. I heard on the same occasion that, until he grew blind, George III. never used a secretary, even for making envelopes or sealing his letters. His correspondence was extensive as well as secret; he always knew what was going on in society and all the political intrigues; and when displeased with his Ministers or distrusting their measures he would secretly take the advice of the Opposition. He was never taken by surprise, followed public opinion, and combined considerable learning with a great dignity of carriage.

Since the day before yesterday a rumour has been afloat that Don Carlos has already quitted London and has already landed in France, everybody supposing that he was lying ill at Gloucester Lodge. This though generally believed is not yet proved. What makes me doubt it is that M. de Miraflorès claims that it is true, and boasts that he has led Don Carlos into this proceeding by means of an agent in his pay who, he says, persuaded the unfortunate Prince to take this step in order to betray him to the first Spanish patrol on the frontier, from whom he would receive short shrift. This singular and horrible boast would have to be taken seriously if uttered by any other person. But M. de Miraflorès is as idiotic in politics as in love, and it is quite likely that the whole story is false, or at any rate, that the agent who is said to have inveigled the Prince has only duped the diplomat.

Yesterday evening, politeness, interest, curiosity, and affection, in a word, every possible motive, good and bad, brought an unusually large number of people to Lady Grey's Sunday reception, which is believed to be her last. It was being said there in veiled language, but in a manner which admitted of no doubt, that Lord Melbourne had come back from Windsor, Prime Minster, and charged with the construction of a new Ministry out of the old Cabinet, to which Lord Grey alone will not return. If this is so, the former will commence in the sinister character of a traitor, and the latter will end with the melancholy countenance of a dupe. The King will have been weak enough to prefer patching up matters to being energetic for a day or two, which might doubtless have been difficult, but would have been at least dignified, and certainly salutory for the country. The Tories will never forgive him for having drawn back, and posterity will condemn him for his feebleness.

Last night it seemed as if everything in the greatness of England was dwindled, shrunken, and soiled. The Diplomatic Corps separated into groups, the expression of which was remarkable. The new Spain, the new Portugal, Belgium still in outline, everything which depends on the disorder and weakness of the Great Powers, looked at Lord Palmerston with great anxiety, which as the certainty grew that he would stay in office, changed into an expression of affection and triumph. Scorn and hatred contracted every fibre of the Princesse de Lieven. The French Ambassador, neither a reactionary like the North, nor a propagandist like the English, seemed full of care rather than annoyance, more sorry than surprised, and had the air of a man who, seeing the part of honest man played out, feels that his own is finished, and that the time has come for retiring with honour. The English themselves seemed humiliated, and under no illusions about the appearance of moderation which cloaks the feebleness of the present policy. In fact, the patch-up of the Ministry will lead more slowly perhaps, but by a process of disintegration equally sure, to the ruin which would have been the result had Lord Durham and Mr. O'Connell reached office at a single stride.

The more one examines Lord Brougham's conduct, the more one is struck with the shamelessness of his character. The day before yesterday the venerable Lord Harewood asked him where we were, and whether the Ministry would be reconstructed, and the Chancellor replied, "Where are we? Where do you suppose we can be when at a critical moment like this we have to deal with people who take it into their heads to talk of their honour? What have we to do with honour at such a time?"

If he is not troubled by considerations of his honour, he troubles himself equally little about his dignity. Yesterday when every one was so much agitated, in spite of the established custom that the Chancellor of England shall attend Divine Service at the Temple Church, he thought fit to accompany Madame Peter to Mass, and to sit beside this lady all the time, courting her not less assiduously than his colleague, Lord Palmerston.

This morning, it is said, they will throw a sop to Lord Durham, and will make him Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in order to get rid of him. At the same time, the revived Ministry will abandon the Coercion Bill. If this be done, they will have crowned Mr. O'Connell King of Ireland on the anniversary of the taking of the Bastille. July 14 is certainly the great day in the modern revolutionary annals.

I have just met a Conservative Peer, a clever and honourable man who moved me greatly. With tears in his eyes he lamented the degradation of his country, the ruin of this great and venerable fabric. He foresaw the terrible struggle which may immediately arise between the two Houses; the Radical spirit which, whether they like it or not, must control the present Ministry, and those which will rapidly succeed it. The present Cabinet in everybody's opinion is still-born, and people are surprised that so good and intelligent a man as Lord Melbourne should lend himself to such a farce. His sister tried to explain it by saying that one must sacrifice one's self for one's country, but Madame de Lieven answered, "The country cannot be saved by men who dishonour themselves."

Lord Melbourne's friends who know him well say that his indolence will very soon get the upper hand, and that with a vigorous "damn!" he will cast off everything. It is, indeed, strange to see the most nonchalant man in England called to the conduct of affairs at such a critical moment for the country.

London, July 15, 1834.—Lord Grey called and stayed a long time. We spoke of the recent crisis as if it were already ancient history, and with the same detachment and sincerity as of old. He argued feebly, and as it were to ease his conscience, against my melancholy forebodings, defended his successors collectively and abandoned them in detail; or at least he agreed that their position was difficult, and that they cut a sinister figure on their re-entry into power. He was silent when I told him that the public thought Mr. Littleton was the fool, Lord Althorp the weakling, the Chancellor the villain of the piece. He shrugged his shoulders when I quoted to him a curious remark made by his brother-in-law, Mr. Ellice, in Lady Grey's drawing-room the evening before, which was as follows. Replying to the regret expressed by some one at Lord Grey's retirement, "No doubt," he said, "it is a pity from many points of view, but it was bound to come. He was quite sick of the business, and, at any rate, this will have the advantage of giving us more scope, making our progress freer and getting us out of the policy of compromise, which is no longer possible."

Lord Grey said and repeated several times that he regretted neither power nor office, and that for several months past he had felt enfeebled, without interest in anything, and unable to do any business except with repugnance and lassitude. He confessed that what had made him feel most bitter was the conduct of some of his own people, especially Lord Durham, whose violence, hauteur, ambition and intrigues had afflicted him the more as his daughter had been the first to suffer. He could not doubt that Lady Durham's last miscarriage was due to her husband's brutality. He told me that in spite of the terror inspired by his character, it was proposed to give him, in the new Cabinet, the place left vacant by Lord Melbourne's transfer to the Treasury. Lord Durham's ambition and malevolent activity make him so inconvenient to any Ministry of which he is not a member, that it seems almost better to admit him, and to try in this way to neutralise his ill-will. Lord Grey was doubtful, however, whether they could make up their minds to do so, he was so much detested by every one.

Lord Grey was sure that he had persuaded Lord Althorp to resume his place in the Cabinet[25] in spite of the many embarrassments of his position. He says that without Lord Althorp they could never control the House of Commons. He flattered himself also that he has persuaded Lord Lansdowne to stay, but he was not sure of this. In fact, being persuaded that the accession to power of either the Tories or the Radicals would mean revolution, he did all he could with all the energy in his power to patch up the miserable Cabinet which has just betrayed him. He cannot or will not understand that it is Radicalism very thinly veiled just as much as if O'Connell or Cobbett were already in office.

I sat next the Chancellor at the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland's dinner. He was very genial, and invited me to drink the toast of the day, the 14th of July. "At dessert," I replied, well knowing that his restless mind would forget all about it. As a matter of fact, the matter quite slipped his memory. I could not, in any case, have drunk the toast, for this date, which has already such unhappy associations, was certainly not purified yesterday.

The Chancellor asked me if I had seen Lord Grey and if I was not struck with his simplicity, which he said was such that he could conceal, dissemble and contain nothing. "He is a child in candour and thoughtlessness, and he yields to the impressions of every moment." "His is a very noble nature," I replied. "Yes, yes, no doubt," said he, "it is the nature of a very nice child, which reminds me that Mr. Hare, a friend of Mr. Fox as well as of Fitzpatrick and Grey, used always to call him 'Baby Grey.'"

There is no doubt that Don Carlos is gone. Some say he embarked on the Thames when he was supposed to be at the Opera, and that he will land in Spain at one of the points where he is supposed to have a following. Others, and among them M. de Miraflorès, say that he has gone viâ France; that M. Calomarde managed the whole thing from Paris, instigated by him (Miraflorès) in order to entrap Don Carlos. Anyhow, he is gone, and whatever be the result of his enterprise it cannot be without effect.

London, July 16, 1834.—Lord Melbourne's successor at the Home Office is known; it is Lord Duncannon, who has been transferred from the Woods and Forests, which he leaves to Sir John Cam-Hobhouse. The latter is celebrated for his friendship with Lord Byron, his Eastern travels, and his very liberal opinions, in which, however, he is less extreme than Lord Duncannon, who is said to be quite violent. This shows that the Cabinet has taken on a more decidedly revolutionary character.

Yesterday it was certain that Don Carlos had left London; to-day his arrival in Spain is equally beyond doubt. The Tories say he has got to Navarre after having crossed all France; and this, too, is the version of M. de Miraflorès, who now perhaps regrets having boasted of having deceived the Prince and surrounded him with spies who were to deliver him up to the first Spanish outpost, while as a matter of fact he has arrived safe and sound among his own people, by whom, it is said, he has been enthusiastically received.

The English Ministry yesterday admitted knowing of Don Carlos's arrival in Spain, which is believed to have taken place on the 9th, but they say that he landed at a port in Biscaya attended only by a single Frenchman, and that his partisans eagerly welcomed him. It is asserted that he only went to Spain because the Northern provinces invited him, and threatened that they would declare their independence and constitute themselves a Republic if their natural leader did not come to them. It is clear that there must have been great hopes on the one hand and much to lose on the other before a man so timid and so incapable as Don Carlos could have been persuaded to run such a risk. Moreover, his conversation with the Duke of Wellington, which I set down above, shows that his mind has for several weeks been occupied with this plan of going to Spain.

London, July 17, 1834.—The friends of the new Ministry are wearing themselves out with assertions that the policy of the French alliance will not be altered in any way. I believe this is true; but, in the interests of both countries, I should have preferred that the alliance had been founded on social order and had not depended for its continuance on revolutionary sympathies, which give just cause for anxiety to the rest of Europe, and may bring about conflicts in which it would be difficult to predict who will be the victor.

We are more and more decided to return to France immediately after Parliament rises, and perhaps even sooner.

Our more distant future is not yet to be foreseen, but Lord Grey's example is another proof that the great figures of history should themselves choose the circumstances of their retirement, and should not wait till it is imposed upon them by the mistakes or the perfidy of others.

Yesterday we received the two first volumes of a book, entitled M. de Talleyrand. I have hardly looked at it, but M. de Talleyrand has read it. He says that nothing could be more stupid, false, tedious, and ill-imagined, and that he would not pay five shillings to have it suppressed. I admit that I am less philosophic, and that on occasions of this sort—which in a libellous age like ours are so numerous—I always remember a saying of La Bruyère's, which seems to me remarkably true. "Excessive calumny," he says, "like excessive praise, always leaves a trace behind." As a matter of fact, the world is divided into the foolish and the malevolent, and so there are always people who will believe what is improbable, especially about an opponent.

London, July 18, 1834.—Fatuity in men is a thing which spreads from one point to all the rest. M. de Miraflorès, who is very pushing with women and rather ridiculous, is not less presumptuous in politics. He launches out madly and credits himself with successes which are only due to the personal passions of the people, and which will perhaps hardly be justified by the final result. Thus he proclaims himself the inventor of the Quadruple Alliance, the first idea of which was suggested to him by Lord Palmerston. Now that Don Carlos's reappearance on Spanish territory renews the old difficulties, the little Marquis, proprio motu, without waiting for orders from his Government, sends a perfect olla podrida of a note—a masterpiece of absurdity—appealing to France and England to extend the scope of the treaty whose object was believed to be accomplished.

The present circumstances are, however, very different. Three months ago the two Pretenders, Miguel and Carlos, were both penned up in a little corner of Portugal, and were thus more particularly the business of England. Now Don Carlos is in the north of Spain, near the French frontier. Will England carry her revolutionary tendencies so far as to allow a French army to enter the Peninsula? Would not that be the signal for Lord Palmerston's resignation? On the other hand, can France, after declaring against Don Carlos, allow him again to seize a power which he would use against her? It is not that the Government of the Queen-Regent, which becomes more and more decrepit, is likely to be a very good neighbour. King Louis Philippe finds himself in the dilemma of being faced on the other side of the Pyrenees either with the Republican or the Legitimist principle. The mezzo termine can only be maintained by armed force—in fact, by conquest!

This reminds me of a very true remark made by M. de Talleyrand which has often come back to my mind during the last four years. It was said in the midst of the intoxication of the great days of 1830. M. de Talleyrand found one of his friends full of hopes and illusions, patriotic phrases and emotion, over the scene at the Hôtel de Ville, the Lafayette accolades, and the popularity of Louis Philippe. "Monsieur," said he, "what is wanting in all this is a trifle of conquest."

They say that in Spain Martinez de la Rosa is passé, and can no longer maintain himself in power; he will be replaced by Toreno, and will become President of the House of Peers. It is also said that the Queen-Regent will create him Marquis de l'Alliance.

London, July 19, 1834.—Everything that is happening here reminds one of the first scenes of the French Revolution. The analogy is striking, the copy a trifle too servile. The aristocracy, the minority of the nobility, the tiers état, have each their counterparts in the Tories, the Whigs, and the Radicals. The Whigs are blinded by jealousy and personal ambition, and will not see that they have any other enemies than the Tories; they see no danger except on that side, and in order to keep their rivals out of office they are precipitating themselves and all their class into the abyss which has been dug for them by the Radicals.

In talking over all this yesterday M. de Talleyrand quoted a remark made to him by the Abbé Sieyès during the sittings of the Constituent assembly. "Yes, we get on very well now that we are discussing only Liberty; it is when we get on to Equality that we shall quarrel."

At the very lively sitting of the Lords of the day before yesterday Ministers very clearly marked out the line they mean to follow, and the very men who in Lord Grey's time, less than a fortnight ago, held the repressive clauses of the Coercion Bill to be indispensable, announced their abandonment amid the jeers and scoffs of the House. This was as much as to say that the Cabinet in order to survive was putting itself at the disposal of the Radical majority in the House of Commons, was flouting the opposition of the Lords and doing its best to make it of no account. As one might expect, the irritation which results from this is sharply expressed in the Upper House. All the consolation Ministers have is the approbation which O'Connell is good enough to bestow upon them.

London, July 20, 1834.—I much prefer Lord Grey's second speech delivered the day before yesterday in the House of Lords to make clear his position which had been misrepresented by both parties, to the first speech in which he announced his resignation. The latter I thought was too long and too tearful, and entered too minutely into his family affairs. The speech of the day before yesterday was more laconic, and more closely argued; its dignity was remarkable and, while avoiding any bitterness or personality, the speaker exposed the chicanery which had forced him to retire. He remains well disposed to the guiltiest parties and full of kindness to his successors as individuals, but he will have nothing to do with their policy. His retirement in accordance with his own instincts is greeted with the applause of all sensible people, the humiliation of those whom he has quitted, and the lively displeasure of all those who are the real enemies of social order.

A fortnight ago I confess Lord Grey seemed to me nothing more than an old man worn out, shaken to pieces, and on the point of being discredited. Since his resignation his last political acts have been illumined with a brilliant gleam. His fine talent for oratory which he exercised so long in opposition has recovered all its energy now that he is out of office again, and it may be truly said that Lord Grey who has had one fall after another has again reached the foremost place now that he has got free of the shameful ambuscades by which he has been overpowered. The Cabinet is now much afraid of him and would fall low indeed if Lord Grey was not compassionate enough to throw over it the mantle of his protection. His colleagues, who lately spoke of him with more pity than respect, tremble at his words to-day. Ah! how wise it is not to survive one's self in politics, and how necessary it is to choose time fitting for retreat.

A resignation which is both less important and less honourable is that of Marshal Soult.[26] The reasons for his disappearance which is accepted by the King and little regretted by the Cabinet, are said to be internal quarrels about the question whether Algeria shall have a military or a civil governor—about a speech from the Throne, more or less detailed, which is to be delivered on July 31 next, but above all the terror of the Army estimates which the Marshal is said to be afraid to face next session. They say that they will offer his place to Marshal Gérard.

Most fortunately for the Queen Regent of Spain some accident seems to have happened which will enable her to appear at the opening of the Cortès. She has much need of a piece of good luck to re-establish her position which she has so curiously compromised by her frivolity and inconsequence.

Lord Howick, eldest son of Lord Grey, who has no great reputation for either physical or intellectual merit, has just resigned his position as Under Secretary of State at the Home Office, thus following his father's example and fortunes. This is the only instance of fidelity which his father is likely to encounter.

Yesterday I saw Lady Cowper at her own house; she seemed to me depressed and preoccupied. With her intelligence it is difficult for her not to be afflicted by conduct in her relatives and friends which is so wanting in credit. She pointed out to me not without reason the change which has come over London life and society, the care people take to avoid each other, the hostile way in which they speak of each other, the unrest of every one, their distrust of the present, their gloomy forebodings for the future, the general disorganisation, the dispersion of the diplomatic corps, and the absence of all government and all authority. This was striking language from the sister of the Premier and the intimate friend of the Foreign Secretary.

She tried hard to persuade me that the offence given by the latter to the corps diplomatique, and in particular to M. de Talleyrand, should not be attributed to any evil intention but simply to a certain neglect of forms which may well be excused in a man overwhelmed with work. She seemed to be especially embarrassed by the thought that M. de Talleyrand might take Lord Palmerston's conduct to him as a reason for retiring. She used all her wit in fact, all her charm and good taste, and she has all these qualities in a high degree, to justify her friends and to mitigate the bitterness which they have provoked. I left her much pleased with her way of putting things but not at all converted on essential points.

London, July 21, 1834.—The great need in which the Ministry find themselves of some speaker in the House of Lords less discredited than the Chancellor and cleverer than the other Ministers who are peers, has led them to make a most extraordinary proposition, characteristic of the absolute want of sense and refinement which distinguishes Holland House. They seriously suggested that Lord Grey should remain, not as Prime Minister, but as Lord Privy Seal! He had the good taste to laugh at this proposal, taking it as a thing too grotesque to take offence at. But how could they have had the impudence to make such a request?

However, everything is so strange just now that one need be surprised at nothing. Here for example is the full story of how Lord Melbourne discharged the task committed to him by the King of doing his best to form a Coalition Ministry. No doubt the thing was impossible; still, Lord Melbourne chose a curious way of bringing it about. He wrote on behalf of the King to the Duke of Wellington and to Sir Robert Peel telling them of the commission with which he had been entrusted, and adding that in order to save them trouble he would send them a copy of the letter which he had just written to His Majesty showing how he himself regarded the question. This letter contained nothing but a strong argument against any attempt at agreement with the other side and an enumeration of all the difficulties which made coalition impossible. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel replied by acknowledging his letter and thanking him respectfully for the communication made to them on behalf of the King. The King was surprised that these gentlemen did not reply in greater detail and sent to ask for their observations. They answered: "They are all contained in Lord Melbourne's letter to His Majesty, we have nothing to add." Thus the curious negotiation terminated.

London, July 22, 1834.—The phase of calm and prosperity through which the French Government seemed again to be passing seems to be rather disturbed by the dissensions of the Ministers among themselves which have been caused by the resignation of Marshal Soult. It appears that people are anxious and divided in opinion on the length and the greater or less importance of the short session announced for July 31. It comes at an inconvenient time for discussing events in the Peninsula, and the flood of oratory will probably embarrass the Government. Were Don Carlos to prevail we should have a personal enemy on our frontiers; if the Queen-Regent triumphs, which she can only do by throwing herself more and more into the "movement," we shall have a revolutionary and anarchist neighbour. This could not be indifferent to our Government, which already has only too much of the same sort of thing to contend with. It seems, moreover, that the two armies were too near each other not to come to blows, and the first decisive success of either side will probably settle the subsequent course of the conflict. Thus the issue is awaited with great and anxious curiosity.

Now that the quarrel is no longer being fought out in Portugal, but in Spain, the English are drawing out of it, and will give only slight support to their dear Miraflorès. The burden of the business is reserved for France, and it bristles with difficulties.

In the City yesterday news was spread of the death of the Queen-Regent. Some said she had been poisoned; some that she had died of the results of the accident which had led to her retirement. The news is probably false, but in a country like Spain, in time of civil war, religious fanaticism, family jealousy and quarrels run riot; evil passions of all sorts are let loose, and no crime is more improbable than the daily spectacle of folly and disorder.

Mr. Stanley, who replaces Lord Howick as Under-Secretary of State at the Home Office, is quite different from the Mr. Stanley who was lately in office. He is a kind of would-be dandy, and a complete Radical of the worst and lowest sort. He was for a time private secretary to Lord Durham.

The latter has contemptuously refused the embassy at Paris, which, as he well knew, was only offered to him because he is not wanted here. He replied that he would accept no place from a Cabinet which would not receive him as one of themselves. Lord Carlisle has resigned the Privy Seal.