Memoirs of the Duchesse de Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1831-1835

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.

London, July 24, 1834.– It was generally said yesterday that the Infanta Maria Princess of Portugal and wife of Don Carlos, has also secretly left England to follow her husband to Spain, leaving her children here with her sister the Duchess of Beira. Princess Maria is said to be possessed of much courage and decision of character. Probably she thinks that she has more than her husband, and that her presence will inspire the Pretender with all the energy which he needs in his difficult situation. All these Portuguese Princesses are demons either in politics or in love, and sometimes in both. One of them, married to a Marquis de Loulé, had an adventure with a British naval officer, which caused much scandal at Lisbon. M. de Loulé was furious and sent away his wife, keeping the children. Dom Pedro required his brother-in-law to take her back, but I did not hear how the matter ended.

Princess Isabella also caused some talk while she was Regent, and Dom Miguel, it is said, tried to give her poison in a vegetable soup. She is now at Lisbon, reunited to the rest of her family, or, rather, her relatives, for love and hate are alike so perverse in the House of Braganza that they can hardly be said to respect in any way the natural family ties.

A propos of Pretenders and curious manners, Lord Burghersh yesterday told me a great deal about the Countess of Albany, whom he knew at Florence. There she had as cavaliere servente M. Fabre, the painter, who had lived with her since the death of Alfieri. They used to walk out alone, with only M. Fabre's big dog to keep them company. They also dined alone. From eight to eleven the Countess received all Florence. While this was going on M. Fabre retired to a mistress of an inferior order. At eleven he reappeared at the Countess's, and his arrival was the signal for the whole company to disperse in order that they might sup tête-à-tête. The one was never asked out without the other; this is the etiquette in Italy, and is carried to a naïve extreme. Here is an example: Lord Burghersh, who was British Minister at Florence, opened his house with a great ball, to which he thought that he had invited every one of importance. However, not being as yet very well up in the manners and customs of society, he forgot to invite a gentleman who was attached to a certain fair lady. On the morning of the ball my lord's steward came to him with an open letter which he had just received, and which he asked his master to read. Lord Burghersh read as follows: "Sapete, caro Matteo, che sono servita da il Cavaliere so-and-so; he is not invited to Lord Burghersh's, which, as you will understand, makes it impossible for me to go to his ball; please correct this mistake." The mistake was, in fact, corrected, and Lord Burghersh never forgot the lesson. "Sapete" to a servant, and "sono servita" are expressions of a naïveté which is almost beyond belief, yet quite according to Italian manners. But, to return to the Countess of Albany and M. Fabre, her ladyship having died, M. Fabre painted a portrait of the dog, the companion of their walks, had it engraved, and sent a proof to each of the Countess's friends with the following inscription: "To the friends of the Countess of Albany from M. Fabre's dog."

London, July 25, 1834. – The Ministry grows very bitter against Lord Grey, being incensed at his dignified retirement and his just disdain of the preposterous proposal of the Privy Seal. He is called weak, incapable and capricious, and insult is added to perfidy. The thin veil with which this treacherous conduct is covered does not conceal it sufficiently to prevent Lord Grey himself from beginning to be embittered by it. I know that he has said that if his successors went another step in the direction of revolution he would not only cease to vote for them but openly declare against them. Decidedly he has returned to his better instincts, and I believe he will have the courage to purge himself, so far as that is possible, of the imputation of having led England along a road to ruin.

Lord John Russell the mildest, the wittiest, and the most honourable of Jacobins, the most simple minded and the most candid of revolutionaries, the most agreeable, but also by the very reason of his virtue, the most dangerous of Ministers, was telling me yesterday that some months ago he had a violent argument with Lord Grey about a measure on which they did not agree. On this occasion, Lord Grey declared to him that he would never consent to put his name to a revolutionary measure. "After Reform," added Lord John in his mild little way, "this showed great weakness and want of logic." "You would be right," I replied, "if Lord Grey, when he allowed you to pass the Reform Bill, had foreseen all the consequences; but you will agree with me that he did not foresee them, and that you took good care not to point them out to him in time." Lord John laughed and said very charmingly, "You don't expect me to confess, do you?" If all the revolutionaries were of the type of Cobbett and O'Connell, or of the ill-bred and cynical nature of Lord Brougham, it would be easier to be on one's guard. But in the witty, fragile figure of the Duke of Bedford's son how could one suspect that there lurks so much perversity of judgment, how could one imagine that a body to all appearance so frail and exhausted could be capable of such persistence in thought and such violence in action?

London, July 29, 1834.– An expedition to Woburn Abbey has interrupted this journal. This, the third visit which I have paid to this splendid place, was much pleasanter to me personally than the two others, but it has furnished me with nothing to add to my previous descriptions of it. Nothing happened there at all out of the ordinary course of English country-house life. The hospitality dispensed is on a great and generous scale with a little more pomp and ceremony than one wants in country life, at least according to Continental ideas.

A party at Woburn in particular is as carefully arranged as a London dinner-party. Twenty or thirty persons who know each other, but not familiarly, are invited to be together for two or three days. The hosts go to their house for the special purpose of receiving their guests, and return to town after their departure. They have thus themselves the air of being on a visit. However, when all is said and done, there is so much to see and admire; the Duke of Bedford is so charming, such a perfect embodiment of the grand seigneur; the Duchess is so attentive, that it is impossible not to carry away with one the most pleasing impressions. My own impression was particularly so, and this in spite of the rather melancholy cloud on the countenances of some of the leading figures. Lord Grey, for instance, has collapsed in a rather startling way; he seems ill and worn out, and takes no trouble to conceal his attitude, which is becoming more and more bitter. The most voluntary of abdications are always followed by regrets; one may die of overwork; one flickers out when one is shelved. It is so difficult to be satisfied both with one's self and with others.

Madame de Lieven, also, despite all her efforts, was fainting under the burden of saying good-bye, of going away and staying away. She is really very unhappy, and I am very sorry for her. This is the more the case as no person of ability has ever found less resources within herself than she. She always relies for help on her surroundings. She must have the stir of news and conversation, and when she is alone there is nothing left for her to do but to go to sleep. She weeps to have to quit England; she fears St. Petersburg, but what she feels most is the journey – a week of solitude! Her husband and children don't count! She will stay a day at Hamburg solely for the purpose of exchanging a few words with new people. She seized with avidity the idea of arranging that the Baron and Baroness de Talleyrand should visit her, though she has never seen them and does not know whether they will amuse her. She was obviously consoled when she managed to persuade Lord Alvanley to go on his way to Carlsbad by Hamburg in the same packet as herself, and this though Lord Alvanley warned her that sea-sickness made him very bad company. For her, indeed, ennui is like a conscience; her one idea is to fly from herself.

When we got back to London we heard of the Madrid massacres – always the same horrible fable of the poisoned wells, which infuriates popular ignorance wherever there is an epidemic of cholera, and produces mad atrocities. The monks have been the victims on this occasion, and the convents have been pillaged in spite of religious fanaticism. The hand of authority was weak and impotent: the Government had retired to St. Ildephonse, terrified and irresolute, not knowing whether in these melancholy circumstances of plague, riot and civil war, the Cortès should be summoned or prorogued, or, if they should be summoned, to what place or under whose auspices! It is impossible to imagine a concourse of circumstances more melancholy in themselves, more fatal for Spain, or more unpleasing neighbours for France.

Louis-Philippe is very unwilling to interfere openly and directly in the destinies of Spain. He has even showed this unwillingness so clearly, that the Ambassadors at Paris have divined his secret and are taking great advantage of it. The attitude of the Ministry, which has to reckon more directly with the national vanity and susceptibility, is much less decided. This is the situation in which the Chambers will meet the day after to-morrow.

One of the chief ostensible motives for Marshal Soult's retirement was his insistence on the appointment of a soldier to govern Algiers in opposition to the rest of the Cabinet which demanded that the Governor should be a civilian. It appears that Marshal Gérard took the same line as his predecessor, and that his friendship with the King has enabled him to carry his point; anyhow, General Drouet d'Erlou has just been appointed to the post.

London, July 31, 1834.– Last year, when M. de Talleyrand left for the Continent, the King of England said to him, "When are you coming back?" The year before he had said, "I have told my Ambassador at Paris to say to your Government that I particularly wish to have you here." This year he says, "When are you going?" I think one can find in these varying expressions a trace of Palmerstonian influence.

Yesterday at the King's levée Lord Mulgrave received the Privy Seal which Lord Carlisle has resigned.

In our drawing-room the conversation turned on the talent of certain people for telling ghost stories. This reminded me of the interest with which two years ago at Kew27 I heard from the Duchess of Cumberland the story of an apparition seen by herself, the remembrance of which seemed to cause her much emotion. The impression she produced on us was the deeper as the hour was late and a terrifying thunderstorm was raging outside the house.

The story is as follows. The Duchess of Cumberland, then Princess Louise of Prussia, had gone to visit her mother's relatives at Darmstadt. She was lodged in a state apartment in a part of the castle which was rarely used, the furniture of which, though magnificent, had not been changed for three generations. Wearied with her journey she quickly fell asleep but all the same soon felt on her face a breath which awakened her. She opened her eyes and saw the face of an old lady who was leaning over her own face. Terrified by the sight she immediately drew the bed-clothes over her eyes and remained motionless for several moments. Want of air, however, made her change her position and impelled by curiosity she again opened her eyes and saw the same venerable face, pale and gentle, still staring at her. She then screamed loudly and the nurse of Prince Frederick of Prussia who slept with the child in the neighbouring room, the door of communication being open, rushed in and, finding her mistress bathed in a cold sweat, remained with her for the rest of the night. Next day the Princess related what had happened, and urgently requested that her room might be changed, which was done. No one was surprised for it was said in the family that whenever any descendant of the old Duchess of Darmstadt, who had occupied this apartment, slept there, this venerable ancestress would come and pay her posterity a visit. The Duke of Weimar and several other princes were cited as examples proving the truth of this story. Many years later the Duchess of Cumberland, then Princess Solms, and established at Frankfort, was invited by her cousin, the Grand Duke of Hesse Darmstadt, to a great festivity which he was preparing. The Princess went, intending to return to Frankfort the same night. Supper over she went to a room where her travelling dress had been laid out and was followed by the young Grand Duchess then recently married. The latter asked the Princess Solms whether the story of the ghost was true and asked that it might be told her in detail. She wished to discover whether the impression left had been strong enough to make the Princess remember the features of their venerable ancestress. The Princess was sure that it was so. "Very well," said the Grand Duchess "her portrait is in this very room with two others of the same period. Take the light and tell me which you think represents the spectre, I shall see if you are right." The Princess with some repugnance approached the portraits and had just recognised that of the old grandmother when the picture and its frame crashed to the ground with a terrible noise and, had the ladies not immediately fled, they would have been crushed by its weight.

I do not say that this story is particularly good in itself. I only know that it made a deep impression on me because it was very well told, and because, when in this style of narrative you hear some one say "I saw, I heard," it is impossible not to treat the matter seriously. The Duchess was perfectly serious and her emotion strong, so that I have never doubted the truth of what she told us.

The Duchess of Cumberland's absence has left, for me at least, a gap which is very noticeable in London. She is clever and well educated, her manners are most refined and very queenly, she is graceful and kindly and still beautiful, especially in figure. Her kindness to me has been enhanced by her again lately bestowing it on my second son. In fact, whatever judgment be passed on her character, which is not equally admired by everybody, it is impossible not to recognise that she possesses great qualities and not to be touched by her great affliction – the infirmity of her son Prince George. He is an amiable, good-looking youth, who at fifteen after terrible suffering has lost his sight. He is a fit object at once of pity and admiration; his resignation is angelic, he shows no impatience, no regrets, no ill temper, and he hides his sadness from his mother. He sustains the courage of his attendants by his own, and, young as he is, he already inspires all the respect due to a great character. His favourite occupation is improvising on the piano, and his favourite melodies are sad and serious; but when he recognises his mother's step he changes to a gay and animated theme to make her think he is happy. So long as it was hoped that remedies might check the inflammation and restore him his sight his education was suspended. After a time, however, his tutor – an excellent man – became convinced that his education was suffering and his sight not profiting by this and he proposed that the young Prince should resume the course of his studies and continue them as far as possible without the aid of sight, on a plan submitted by him. Prince George was silent for a time, then said with a serious air, "Yes sir, you are right, I shall follow your advice for I feel that as one door is being closed for me I must try all the harder to open another."

London, August 1, 1834.– What a melancholy dinner we had last night at Lord Palmerston's! It was a farewell party for the Princesse de Lieven. She went against her will, we simply for her sake. Lady Cowper was making visible efforts to appear at ease, Lady Holland wanted explanations of Lord Palmerston's latest offences against M. de Talleyrand; every one obviously felt that our approaching departure will be as final as that of the unfortunate Princess. M. de Bülow was pale and embarrassed and looked like a pickpocket caught in the act. Poor Dedel resembled an orphan at the funeral of both his parents. Lord Melbourne with his coarse Norman farmer style of build looked like anything rather than a Prime Minister.

The defeat which the Ministry purposely incurred yesterday in the House of Commons by letting the Radicals beat them on the question of the Irish Church did not make them look very happy, and in fact there was a melancholy sense of embarrassment in everything and on everybody, which oppressed me excessively.

I had not the courage this morning to go and say good-bye for the last time to poor Madame de Lieven, who is half dead with weariness and emotion. It was really kinder not to increase her agitation. I am distressed at her departure as it separates me from a personage of real distinction without much hope of seeing her again; but it also brings home to me in the most painful manner the changes which have taken place here during the last four years, and which have done so much to dim the brilliancy and splendour of England. What losses the Corps Diplomatique has suffered! Kind and gentle M. Falk with all his subtlety, his learning, and his wit, is replaced, first by the cross-grained M. de Zuylen, and now by the excellent but insignificant Dedel. Madame Falk's frank and simple high spirits are also much missed. M. and Madame de Zea were more intelligent by far than the liliputian Miraflorès, M. and Madame de Münster, were in every way much superior to the Omptedas. I can find no one to replace the excellent Madame de Bülow, and I believe that her absence has left her husband's evil tendencies far too much without the check which his wife's simple and honest nature imposed. Esterhazy is universally regretted. His perfect good-humour, the certainty of his social touch, the ease of his character, the magnificence of his way of life, the subtlety of his wit, the correctness of his judgment, and the kindness of his heart made him much beloved here, and not likely to be forgotten. Wessenberg has also left a vacant place which has not been filled. The departure of the Lievens enlarges the social breach, and our own will complete the ruin. The neutral ground afforded by diplomatic households is especially valuable in a country divided by party spirit, in which, politics having broken so many other ties, society can no long hold together in the old way.

We learned yesterday by telegraph that the Queen Regent of Spain had opened the Cortès in person at Madrid on the 24th; that order was restored in the city; that the cholera was diminishing a little; and that Don Carlos was retiring further and further towards the French frontier.

London, August 3, 1834.– Nothing, I think, shows more clearly the state into which the home policy of the English Government has fallen than a remark made to me yesterday by Lord Sefton. "Do you know," he said, "that, in spite of my admiration for Lord Grey, I think that we have come to a point at which it is not only fortunate for himself but a very good thing for the country that he has retired? He would never have consented to the slightest courtesy being shown to O'Connell and his friends, and yet we have no alternative but to satisfy them. It is urgently necessary to conciliate them by condescensions against which Lord Grey would have rebelled, and which are less repulsive to his successors, from my friend the Chancellor downwards. It is a good thing, you see, that we have a Government composed of people who have no objection to condescend as much as may be necessary!"