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

There seems to be general approval of the speech made by the Queen of Spain. In order to appreciate it properly one must know the condition of the country better than I do. The best wish I can send her Majesty is that she may not again have to deliver such a long one, and that the circumstances of her future speeches may be very different. They say that she spoke very gracefully. She deserves praise for having recovered her nerve, and run the risk of infection in coming back to address the Cortès.

The cholera is carrying off many people at Madrid. The sanitary arrangements are bad; the heat is torrid, and cleanliness is unknown. Twice as many women as men fall victims to the disease. The mother of Madame de Miraflorès is among those who have succumbed.

Don Carlos, it appears, is on the point of recrossing the frontier. It is said that he is so close to it that his outposts and the French outposts are in sight of each other.

I don't know what ill wind is blowing in Paris, but I incline to think that all is not so quiet there as it seems. Here is an extract from a letter from Bertin de Veaux on this subject: "It seems that you and the Prince de Talleyrand are fated never to come to Paris except during a Ministerial crisis, for our Ministry is no steadier than that in London. Here, moreover, people have made up their minds to live from hand to mouth and, except the actors, no one pays any attention to the play. However, when you do come your salon will soon be full, and it is before you and the Prince that all our actors, great and small, will come and try their 'poses,' as they call them nowadays."

In another letter there is a great deal about the dangers of to-day and to-morrow, of the obvious aspirations of some people, of under-currents and cross-currents, of the cabals, and the unmeasured ambition of certain small men, and the ill-temper and sullenness of the rest. A propos of the cruel disappointments experienced by M. Decazes, it is added: "Poor M. Decazes may strike the earth all round him as loudly as he likes; he can make nothing emerge. It is said that he now wants Semonville's place, and that he has perhaps some chance of getting it as Semonville is a convenient person to disoblige, being formidable to nobody. I do not at all like this habit of burying people before they are dead, and I thought that they had had enough of it since their attempt on MM. de Marbois and Gaëte, which was not a success with the public. One is quite delighted when one comes home to find that one has not been robbed of anything."

London, August 4, 1834.– It seems certain that on the eve of the opening of the Cortès, a very extensive Republican conspiracy was discovered, in which many important persons were concerned. Palafox and Romero have been arrested; they say that their supporters were chiefly in Galicia. In Aragon and Catalonia the Carlists are the dominating faction, and are making themselves troublesome. Thus there are two flags under which Spain divides and arrays herself.

When Mr. Backhouse went to see Don Carlos in the Donegal the latter said that he had heard of the treaty of Quadruple Alliance, but wished to see the text. Having read it, he returned it to Mr. Backhouse without remark but with an ironical smile, which became a disdainful laugh when Mr. Backhouse said to him that he believed the Prince to be mistaken about the strength of his party in Spain. Except for this the Prince was polite, gentle, and even kindly.

Parliament was to have risen on the 12th, and most members hoped to leave London even earlier. But the day before yesterday the Duke of Wellington called a meeting of his supporters at his house, and begged them to remain at their posts in the interest of the safety of the country, and to use their majority, which is admitted to be formidable, on the dissenting question, to strike another blow for the Church on the debate on the remaining measures which have still to be discussed. There is some reason to fear that the Irish Protestant clergy will be left without means of subsistence if O'Connell's Tithes Bill is rejected, and this makes it rather doubtful what course the Lords will take. The Bishops, however, seem to think that the Bill would be just as bad for them as even the absence of any financial provision. It is certain that this week marks the crisis of the affair: if the Bill is thrown out there will be a collision between the two Houses. Will the Ministry resign? Or will it demand carte blanche of the King? Will this be a further step in the direction of revolution? Or will they be satisfied, as the Chancellor said yesterday, to leave the Irish clergy to die of hunger? Lord Grey said that it would not be so easy to leave them to die of hunger, as there was a law which enacted that their subsistence must be provided for, whether by tithes or otherwise. As to a creation of Peers, it was observed that it would be necessary to create a hundred and fifty, and on this Lord Grey said that two hundred would not be enough, because all the old Peerage, and himself at their head, would revolt against any Government mad and wicked enough to proceed to such an extremity. Besides, it remained to be seen whether the King would consent. The King is ill, depressed and exhausted; he admits as much himself, and especially his mental preoccupation, which he does not attempt to conceal. He is obviously suffering from extreme oppression, and from great weakness of one eye, which he can hardly open.

This is what passed about the Garter vacant by the death of Lord Bathurst. The King sent it to Lord Melbourne as his Prime Minister. The latter respectfully declined it and begged that His Majesty would bestow it on the recipient Lord Grey would have chosen, that is to say, on the Duke of Grafton. The King did in fact send it to the Duke, but he, deeply affected by the death of his favourite son, and moreover feeling himself aged and averse from the world, begged His Majesty to give it to some one who would be able to show it more often, and who would be more active in his service. It is thought that it will go to the Duke of Norfolk, but he is a Catholic, and it would be the first instance of such a favour being conferred on a dissenter.

A heavy blow has just fallen on the Duke of Wellington in the midst of the heavy cares which devolve on him as Leader of the Opposition. Mrs. Arbuthnot, a clever and sensible woman, who was both discreet and devoted and the Duke's faithful friend, has just been carried off by a few days violent illness. She was in all the flower of her age, and hitherto her health had been robust. The Duke has thus lost in one week his old friend Lord Bathurst, and Mrs. Arbuthnot his confidante, his consolation, his home! Deaths and departures make London very dismal just now – every one is going about discomfited and with long faces. People are terrified at the run of bad luck in which every day brings forth some new catastrophe.

London, August 5, 1834.– It is certain that Dom Miguel has signed his protest. The Duke of Alcudia and M. de Lavradio are with him; they are all preparing to join Don Carlos whenever he gains the slightest success.

Lady Holland and Lady Cowper are doing all in their power to secure that M. de Talleyrand and Lord Palmerston part on good terms. I can understand that the friends of the latter should desire this. It is important to them that there should not be occasion to blame Lord Palmerston's personal incivility for the total dispersion of the more important part of the Corps diplomatique, and that the evil reputation of the English Ministry all over Europe should not be emphasised by what M. de Talleyrand says of it at Paris. They will succeed in securing an amicable parting without any overt rupture, but it is impossible that a ferment which has been going on so long should not issue in ill-feeling, embarrassment and rancour. M. de Talleyrand could never forget that he has been uncivilly treated by a man younger and less capable than himself. Lord Palmerston, not impertinent in form, would take every opportunity of being so in fact, and this would be all the easier as the age and indolence of M. de Talleyrand would make it every day more easy to lead him into some false step. Nothing, therefore, would be more ill-advised than to come back, and in spite of all the pleasant and gratifying memories which attach me to England, I confess that I shall be relieved on M. de Talleyrand's account when he is out of public life.

London, August 6, 1834.– It is confirmed that the Duke of Norfolk is to have the Garter.

Spain is asking for additional articles in the Treaty of April 22 called the "Quadruple Alliance." She asks for British cruisers on the coast of Biscaya, for a Portuguese army corps, for French money and munitions of war and for troops on the French frontier. She asks all her allies for the moral support of a declaration in favour of the Regency, extending and explaining more fully the object of the first treaty.

The prolonged uncertainty and ignorance regarding Rodil's movements are causing anxiety about his success, and to the resulting alarm is attributed the fall on the Stock Exchange at Paris. Ugly catastrophes have occurred as the result of the particular misfortunes of the moment. The Rothschilds who had flooded Europe with Spanish stock, and who are still encumbered with a good deal themselves, are very cross and extremely anxious.

Some clever people are saying that the Queen Regent's most serious danger does not come from Don Carlos, but from what is called the party of the "movement." One is much disposed to accept this view when one thinks of the horrible remark made by Romero Alpuende, who called the massacres at Madrid on July 17 "a slight measure of patriotic relief."

London, August 8, 1834.– Rodil, it seems clear, has gained a very distinct success all along the line of the Carlists. In a regular war this might end the struggle, but in a civil conflict ordinary rules do not apply, and a party which seems annihilated to-day comes to life again to-morrow.

M. de Talleyrand took leave of the King the day before yesterday. The King was very gracious to him and to me, regretting that in the absence of the Queen his bachelor establishment prevented him from asking me to Windsor, where he would have been charmed to see me before I left. This is more courteous than correct, for the Princess Augusta is doing the honours of the Castle; ladies have been invited, among others Lady Grey and her daughter. But it is nicely put and in Society that is all one has a right to ask.

The King talked much about the seriousness of the situation and observed that the cards were well shuffled, on which M. de Talleyrand replied, "for our part, sir, we play with our cards on Your Majesty's table."

London, August 9, 1834.– I know nothing more embarrassing for a host than obvious mutual hostility at close quarters among his guests. Yesterday we thought we had escaped the Chancellor, but he came at dessert and prolonged our dinner, eating much at his ease in his usual dirty manner. As he ate he talked, helping himself to all subjects, as he did to all the dishes, without stopping and without restraint. We suffered agonies, especially on account of Lord and Lady Grey, and, in fact, he put us all out completely, and increased, if possible, the contempt and loathing that I feel for him.

Lord John Russell, who was dining with us, is also a little Radical, but at least he has his father's good taste and good breeding.

Speaking of popularity and of the trouble which great people should take for the less exalted classes of Society, Lord John told me yesterday that nothing could overcome the Duke of Bedford's hatred of the lesser people with whom he is surrounded. One day his steward suggested that some of them should be asked to dinner and the Duke refused. The man of business said, "But Your Grace, this civility will perhaps save you fifteen thousand pounds at next election." "Perhaps," replied the Duke, "but if by spending money I can save myself boredom and annoyance I consider it well spent. I will pay the fifteen thousand pounds, but I will not give the dinner." Yet the Duke of Bedford is very free handed, very charitable, and undertakes works on a considerable scale solely in order to give employment to the poor. However, he is not popular, and the wounded vanity of the middle classes has more weight than the gratitude of the indigent whose necessities he has relieved.

Lord and Lady Grey and their family, having, as they said, need of change of scene and surroundings, wanted to come and pay us a visit in France. But the sort of triumphal progress which would have awaited Lord Grey there struck terror into the present Ministry, who would have shrunk from the comparison of the honour done to their victim and the contempt under which they themselves languish. So Lord Grey was persuaded that if he went to France now it would look as if he went on purpose to secure an ovation, which would be an improper thing to do. Thus we shall not have the pleasure of seeing him, which I regret on his account, as I fear that in his present irritable and painful mood he may suffer real harm from solitude and ennui, and his wife also, for she is even more deeply wounded than he is himself. Lord Grey has worn himself out, morally and physically, with his labours. How much better it would have been if he had resigned six weeks sooner – at the same time as the four really distinguished and honourable members of the Cabinet? He would then have marched out with all the honours of war instead of laying down his arms!

Every one is bitten with the taste for travel, and the Lord Chancellor, like the rest, had planned a holiday to be spent in a picturesque and amorous pilgrimage on the banks of the Rhine in the train of Mrs. Peter. But it seems from what he told me yesterday himself that the King would not allow him. Since Lord Clarendon's time no Chancellor of England has quitted the country, and the precedent is not a happy one, for Lord Clarendon only went on his travels because his master was in flight. Others say that the King has nothing to do with the change in Lord Brougham's plans, but that the necessity of paying fourteen hundred pounds out of his salary to arrange for a Commission of the Seals in his absence is the real reason why he is not going.

London, August 11, 1834.– Lord Palmerston has given us a farewell dinner. This is in his line; he loves to speed the parting guest. But he did not take much trouble about it. Besides several diplomatists of the second order there was no one there but Mrs. Peter – not a single person of eminence in English Society, no one of those who are known to be our friends. It was done as a duty, or, perhaps as an atonement – nothing more. Perhaps he hates the Lievens more than he does us, but he intends to advertise equally his contempt for both.

A propos of the Flahauts, he put in an attempt at an explanation of his never accepting a single one of our invitations. On this subject, half laughingly and half bitterly, I told him a few home-truths, which went off very well. There were many hints and double meanings and sly digs in our conversation, which reminded me of those that take place at the Opera ball, where the thought is all the freer for the appearance being veiled and dissimulated. I amused myself by frightening the "young man," as Madame de Lieven called him. He thought it necessary to pretend to be most desirous of our prompt return; I took him at his word, and said that I went further, and that in my opinion M. de Talleyrand should not go away at all. He then looked very foolish and went off on the other tack, saying that a change of air was necessary and, in fact, indispensable; that one required refreshment, both physical and mental – in short, all he wanted was to see the last of us.

I looked at him closely yesterday. It is seldom that a man has a face so expressive of his character. The eyes are hard and pale, the nose turned up and impertinent. His smile is bitter, his laugh forced. There is no dignity, or frankness, or correctness either in his features or his build. His conversation is dry, but, I confess, not wanting in wit. He has on him a stamp of obstinacy, arrogance, and treachery, which I believe to be an exact reflection of his real character.

London, August 12, 1834.– In spite of the slow progress made by Don Carlos it is difficult to be quite happy about the state of Spain. General Alava, who has gone back there after many years of exile, seems struck with the demoralisation and confusion which he sees. All natural bonds are broken by party spirit – the ferocity and violence of these Southern fanatics, no longer directed against the foreigner, have recoiled cruelly on themselves. Republicanism is gaining everywhere where religion is not on the side of the Legitimist party. It appears with all the tawdry emotion of revolutionary eloquence in the address of the Procuradores to the Queen-Regent. Already since the opening of the Cortès the Ministry is at variance with the Second Chamber, and one cannot think how a Regency with such a feeble Government can possibly overcome so many adverse circumstances.

I lately saw, at Lord Palmerston's, a portrait of little Queen Isabella II., sent by the Regent to his Lordship. To judge by this picture, she is not at all a pretty child. She seems to have insignificant eyes and her father's wicked mouth; and, on the whole, is an ugly little Princess. It is a pity; women destined to sit on a throne, especially a disputed one, find it a dangerous thing not to be beautiful.

The species of bankruptcy proclaimed by M. de Toreno, which has proved so fatal to a horde of small rentiers at Paris, is making the little Queen's cause unpopular there. It seems to me that this is in a way fortunate; for if vanity and the furia francese had rushed the Government into taking too prominent a part in promoting the success of their little neighbour, they would have found themselves drawn into a series of embarrassments and into a network of dangers the effect of which would have been incalculable. King Louis-Philippe is shrewd and alert enough, where his own dynastic interests are concerned, not to remain coldly aloof from this struggle, which cannot but end to his disadvantage, whether anarchy triumphs under Isabella II. or Legitimacy carries the day under Don Carlos. This being the case, it would not be advisable to ruffle our other neighbours (for they are neighbours and not allies) by too definite acts of intervention. England alone is allied with us, but, undermined as she is by so many internal wounds, can she still assert herself as she ought in the councils of Europe? Certainly not; and she must be well aware of the fact, for neither in the Eastern Question nor in any other question which has come up during the last two years has England made good in action the boasting of her language.

The cholera continues to ravage Madrid, attacking chiefly the upper classes and particularly women. It has also appeared again, though slightly, in Paris and London.

London, August 13, 1834.– The Irish Tithes Bill has been rejected by the House of Lords, as was expected, and by so large a majority that it would be difficult to create enough new Peers to redress the balance. And yet how can one imagine next Session opening with the same Upper House and the same Ministry? The Ministry say that they will not give in, that they care nothing for the House of Lords, and will get on with the Commons alone without caring at all about the Clergy or the Peers, and without paying much attention to the Crown. It is the Crown that should assert itself at this juncture; but, alas! the Crown is in a most benighted condition.

Lord Grey told me he did not agree with the Chancellor that the only obstacles came from the House of Lords. He thinks that there will be very serious trouble in the Commons, where Mr. Stanley, the ex-Minister, is preparing a most violent attack on the Government. Lord Grey has been staying away from the House of Lords; he feared he might perhaps be forced to speak and that, not being able to hide his distaste for the Cabinet's alliance with O'Connell, he might do an injury to the Ministry for which he does not wish to be responsible.

London, August 14, 1834.– Grandees of Spain, it seems, are allowed to behave in a very free and easy way with their sovereigns. They smoke cigars with them and often finish the cigar which the monarch has left half consumed. The Duke of Frias, who was once Ambassador here, is a curious, absurd, and absent-minded person who puts himself about for nobody; he came back some time ago on a few days visit to London. He went to the King's levée, and pushing forward his funny little face said to His Majesty: "You must know me." The King, who at first did not clearly remember him and was offended at the familiarity of his manner, said: "No, I don't know you." "I was Ambassador here," replied the little Duke, "when you were only Duke of Clarence." On this the King very nearly lost his temper, and, waving him on, repeated emphatically: "No, no, I don't know you." He then turned to the Minister of the Netherlands who came next and said to him aloud: "Who is that clown?" This was a curious scene.

London, August 18, 1834.– For several days I have been oppressed by the unwholesome atmosphere in which we live in London, profoundly agitated by the illness of my friends, and overwhelmed with all the preparations for my approaching departure. Thus my notes have been neglected. I should have liked to set down some of my last recollections of London, which are blurred with illness, anxiety and regret, but which are none the less precious.

I have seen the Duke of Wellington and Lord Grey, who came to say good-bye, and expressed a friendship and esteem which I consider a great honour. Lord Grey I leave trying to quiet his conscience and to deceive himself about the too rapid progress of his country's affairs, which he has placed in a train that his successors will accelerate.

The Duke of Wellington is not deceived about the seriousness of the situation, but he has made up his mind to struggle to the last and doesn't know the meaning of discouragement. It is not that he wishes to oppose all the proposals of the Ministry or to obstruct systematically all administration and stop the machinery of government. He is too honest a man for that. But he thinks it his duty and that of the Upper House to make themselves a bulwark for the protection of the ancient and fundamental bases of the constitution. The personality of the King spoils almost every chance of safety. His successor is a child with perhaps almost more against her, the more so as her mother, the future Regent, seems to be very obstinate and very narrow-minded.

It is impossible not to think with terror of the future of this great country, which was still so brilliant and so proud four years ago when I came to it, and whose glory is now so tarnished when I am leaving it perhaps for ever.

I do not admit the possibility of M. de Talleyrand's coming back. There are too many good reasons why he should not. I set them forth in a letter which I have written to him and which describes his position pretty correctly, so I insert it here.

"I have a serious duty towards you of which I am never more conscious than when your glory is at stake. When I speak to you you sometimes find me a little irritating, and then I am silent and do not tell you all that I think – the whole truth. Allow me therefore to write to you, and please forgive anything that may seem displeasing because of the devotion which inspires what I write. Without claiming a very great share of cleverness I don't think I am altogether at fault in forming an opinion about you whom I know so well, and whose difficulties and embarrassments I am in such a good position for observing. It is not therefore lightly that I press you to abandon public life and to retire from the scene where a disordered society is playing a sorry part. Do not remain any longer at a post in which you will necessarily be called upon to demolish the edifice which you have laboured so hard to sustain. You know what I feared last year, and how greatly, when you made up your mind to return to England. I foresaw all the repugnance which you would find in performing your task with the instruments at your disposal. Confess that my forebodings have to a great extent been realised. This year there are a thousand additional aggravating circumstances. Think of the circumstances in which you would find yourself. What do we see in England? A society divided by party spirit, and agitated by all the passions which arise from that spirit, losing every day something of its brilliancy, its breeding and its security, a King without firmness influenced chiefly by the very man of all his Cabinet who has most injured you, a frivolous, presumptuous, arrogant Minister, who pays you none of the respect due to your age and position. He obstructs and impedes business by every means in his power. His one thought is to secure the triumph of his own ideas; he has no thought of educating himself by studying yours. He leads you on from uncertainty to uncertainty, entraps you with contradictions, leaves you in ignorance and doubt, carries on independently of you things in which you ought to have a share, and then glories in the success of his treachery and scorn. Do you think you can preserve much longer with such a man, the dignity which befits you? Do you not feel that it is already compromised, in fact, and soon will be in the public eye? Moreover, do you think that an Ambassador who is a great personage, a man of your social gifts, can be acceptable to a Government which is being swept away by the current of Revolution, especially when you have already enough to do to struggle against a similar movement in your own country? You have founded an alliance on a common basis of good order, stable equilibrium, and conservation of existing institutions. Will it please you to continue it on the basis of common sympathy with anarchy?