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

Lord Durham passes for a wit. He is ambitious, irascible, a spoilt child of fortune; the most susceptible and the vainest of men. For all his pretensions to a nobility dating from the Saxons, while his father-in-law, Lord Grey, is content to trace his descent back to the Conquest, Lord Durham professes all the most Radical doctrines. This, they say, is only a device to obtain power. Heaven grant that it may not be his ruin.

London, May 13, 1834. Charles X. said to Madame de Gontaut on April 25: "Louise's education is finished. I should be glad if you would go the day after to-morrow – the 27th." Mademoiselle who is much attached to Madame de Gontaut was in despair.15

The Duchesse de Gontaut behaved with great courage, and spent the 26th in vain attempts to console Mademoiselle, whose new governess is said to be, provisionally, the Vicomtesse d'Agoult. This is to replace a clever woman by a Saint. All this happened before the Duchesse de Berry arrived; she did not get back till May 7.

I hear that Jerome Bonaparte played the King as much as he could. At the Opera he sits alone at the front of his box, and the gentlemen who accompany him stand behind his chair.

I spent an hour or more yesterday with the Princess Sophia of England. She is well read, a good talker and very animated, and yet on the plea of bad health she lives a very retired life. She is said to possess in a high degree the talent (if it can be so called) of mimicry in which she resembles his late Majesty George IV. I am told that they used to amuse each other very much and mutually drew each other out. Yesterday, indeed, the conversation turned on Mme. d'Ompteda, a good sort of woman, but, to say the least, eccentric, and the Princess was pleased to repeat for my benefit a complaint which Mme. d'Ompteda had made to her of someone at Court. It was the most comic imitation I have ever seen, and I was so convulsed with laughter that I had to beg the Princess's pardon. She did not appear, however, to be very much shocked at my unconventional behaviour.

London, May 14, 1834.– M. Dupin, the elder, has written to M. de Talleyrand to announce his arrival, and signs himself "votre affectionné Dupin." M. Dupin has often taken M. de Talleyrand's part, and I believe to good purpose, but his letters did not use to be so Royal in their terms.

It appears that the Quadruple Alliance Treaty has reached Lisbon and has been approved. The ratification is expected at any moment in spite of the violent anger of Dom Pedro, who is much incensed because France, England, and Spain thought fit to give the title Infante to Dom Miguel in spite of Dom Pedro's decree depriving him of it.

London, May 15, 1834.– It is asserted that M. Dupin is coming to London to show himself, wishing to accustom Europe to his greatness, for it seems that he hopes next session to combine the Presidency of the Council with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In a time like the present it is no longer safe to describe the most extravagant ideas as chimerical! This is not the first time that M. Dupin has aspired to the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. Two years ago he tried to take it by force, and when the King tried to make him see that he was perhaps not quite fit for this department, M. Dupin had a violent fit of temper, and taking one of his feet in both hands he showed the sole of his shoe to the King, saying, "Ah! Ah! is it because I have nails in my shoes that I am not considered fit to treat with Monsieur Lord Granville!" The King, in spite of his habitual indulgence, grew so angry at the increasing insolence of M. Dupin that he seized him by the collar and, pressing his closed fist against his chest, forced him out of the room. This I have from an eye-witness. They were soon reconciled however, and met again on friendly terms. The Parisians have thick skins.

The Quotidienne at first praised M. de la Mennais's textbook, but after some hesitation the Faubourg St. – Germain decided to dislike it. They even asked M. de Chateaubriand to undertake a refutation, but he replied that he admired every page and every line of it, and that if he said anything publicly about it at all he would give it the praise which it deserves. M. de Chateaubriand becomes, or affects to become, more and more Republican, and is saying that any form of monarchy has become impossible in France.

The Carlists are going to take part in the elections, and to send as many Republicans to the Chamber as they can when they can't succeed themselves. The words Republic and Republican are now current everywhere and no one is shocked. People's ears have got used to them.

London, May 16, 1834.– This is the most charming time at which to see London. The squares are green and full of flowers; the vegetation in the parks is extraordinarily rich; all the balconies of the houses are packed with plants. All this, with the creepers which cover many of the houses up to the second storey, makes such a pretty picture that one is the less inclined to regret the sun, which would soon put an end to all its freshness.

The same sort of reflection occurred to me yesterday morning at the Queen's Drawing-room, where the brilliancy of these splendid English complexions, the beautiful blonde hair falling in long ringlets on the rosiest cheeks and the whitest necks in the world, almost prevented one from lamenting the absence of expression and movement which accompanies these beauties. It is the fashion to criticise Englishwomen for their want of style. They walk badly, it is true, but in repose their nonchalance is not ungraceful. They are usually well made and less pinched in their toilettes than Frenchwomen. Their proportions are finer and more developed. They sometimes dress without much taste, but at least each pleases herself and there is a diversity in their dresses which brings out each one very well. The bare shoulders, the flat coiffures, and the long locks of the young girls here, would be very unsuitable in France, where very young girls are almost all small, dark and thin.

I am tempted to apply to Englishmen morally what I say of English gardens and of the beauty of Englishwomen. Their conversation is cold, reserved and unimaginative to a degree which, for a long time, is very tedious. But this feeling gives way to one of real pleasure if one takes the trouble to look for the good sense, the goodness, the learning, and the cleverness which are concealed under the shyness and embarrassment of their exterior. One has hardly ever any reason to regret having encouraged their timidity, for they never become either familiar or indiscreet, and they are so grateful to one for having divined them and for coming to the rescue of their mauvaise honte that this alone is a reward in itself. I only wish that they would not expose those miserable orange blossoms to the thick fogs of their atmosphere, that the women would not take the Paris Journal des Modes as a model of dress, and the men would not attempt the freer and more animated style of conversation which is current on the Continent. Detestable caricatures when they are copying others, the English are admirable when they are themselves; they are well fitted to their own territory, and they should be judged only on their own ground. An Englishman on the Continent is so much out of his element that he runs the risk of being taken either for an idiot or a coxcomb.

London, May 17, 1834.– The Swedish Minister, M. de Bjoerstjerna, who is always singing the praises of his sovereign even in the most trifling matters, was boasting to M. de Talleyrand the other day of the strength, the grace, and the youthfulness which King Charles-John has retained at his advanced age. He was particularly enthusiastic about the thickness of his Majesty's hair, which he asserted was all "as black as jet." "That seems indeed wonderful," said M. de Talleyrand, "but is it not possible that the King dyes his hair?" "No, I assure you," replied the Swede. "Then it is indeed extraordinary," said M. de Talleyrand. "Yes, indeed," continued M. de Bjoerstjerna, "the man who every morning pulls out the white hairs from his Majesty's head must have sharp eyes." This is worthy of the popular reputation of Sweden as the Gascony of the North.

Samuel Rogers the poet is, no doubt, a great wit; but he has a turn for malice and even brutality. Someone once asked him why he never opened his mouth except to speak evil of his neighbours. He replied, "I have a very weak voice, and if I did not say malicious things I should never be heard." He lives with Lady Holland, and amuses himself by exacerbating her fears of illness and death. During the cholera epidemic Lady Holland was a prey to indescribable terrors. She could think of nothing but precautionary measures, and on one occasion was describing to Rogers all that she had done. She numerated the remedies she had placed in the next room – the baths, the apparatus for fumigation, the blankets, the mustard plasters, the drugs of every sort. "You have forgotten the only thing that would be of any use," observed Mr. Rogers. "And what is that?" "A coffin," replied the poet. Lady Holland fainted.

Count Pahlen has returned from Paris. He saw the King privately one evening, not having with him the uniform necessary for a formal presentation. The King said he should like to see him at one of the great balls at the Palace, and, the Count having excused himself on the score of having no uniform, the King replied, "Never mind, come in an evening coat as a member of the opposition!" As a matter of fact, M. de Pahlen went to the ball, which was splendid in a material sense, and found himself and a group of opposition deputies in plain clothes among the Diplomatic Corps, and what is called the Court who were all in uniform.

Prince Esterhazy came to say good-bye yesterday. He was visibly moved on leaving M. de Talleyrand, who, on his side, was hardly less so. One cannot part from anyone so old as M. de Talleyrand without a feeling of anxiety, and when an old man says farewell he does so with a kind of self-consciousness which is unmistakable.

Prince Esterhazy is generally popular here, and will be justly regretted. Everybody wishes him very much to come back. The subtlety of his wit does not affect the uprightness of his character. The sureness of his manners is beyond praise, and in spite of a certain informality in his bearing, and his ways of behaving, he never ceases to be a great nobleman.

London, May 18, 1834.– This week the King of England seems better. The weather is not so hot, and his excitement has given place to a kind of exhaustion. He has often been seen with tears in his eyes. This, too, is a sign of want of balance, but it is less alarming than the irritability of last week.

Woburn Abbey, May 19, 1834.– This house is certainly one of the finest, the most magnificent, and the greatest in England. The exterior is without interest; the site is low and, I think, rather damp. English people, however, hate to be seen, and, to secure privacy, are quite willing to dispense with an extended view. It is rare that a great house in England has any prospect but that of its immediate surroundings, and you need not hope to amuse yourself by watching the movements of the passers by, the travellers, the peasants working in the fields, the villages or the surrounding country. Green lawns, the flowers round about the house, and splendid trees which block all the vistas – these are what they love and what you find almost everywhere. Warwick and Windsor are the only exceptions that I know at present.

The party at present at Woburn are almost the same as those I met on my first visit. There are Lord and Lady Grey with their daughter Lady Georgina, Lord and Lady Sefton, Mr. Ellice, Lord Ossulston, the Duke and Duchess, three of their sons, one of their daughters, M. de Talleyrand and I.

All these people are clever, well educated and well mannered, but, as I observed before, English reserve is pushed further at Woburn than anywhere else, and this in spite of the almost audacious freedom of speech affected by the Duchess of Bedford, who is a striking contrast to the silence and shyness of the Duke and the rest of the family. Moreover, in the splendour, the magnificence, and the size of the house, there is something which makes the company cold and stiff, and Sunday, though it was not kept very strictly, and they made M. de Talleyrand sit down to cards, is always rather more serious than any other day in the week.

Woburn Abbey, May 20, 1834.– Our party has been increased by the arrival of the Lord Chancellor. He talked to me of the great aristocrats of the country, and said that previous to Reform the Duke of Devonshire with his £440,000 sterling a year, his castles, and his eight boroughs, was as powerful as the King himself. This expression "previous to Reform" well expresses the blow which has been struck at the ancient constitution. I made Lord Brougham admit as much. He maintained that it was necessary, and though he began by saying that he had only clipped wings which had become rather too long, he ended by claiming that a complete revolution had been effected without bloodshed. "The great moment of our Revolution," he added with evident satisfaction, "was in 1831, when we dissolved the parliament which had dared to reject our Bill. The people is as imperishable as the soil, and all changes must in the end work for their benefit. An aristocracy which has lasted for five centuries has lasted as long as it can last!" This was the point in his conversation which chiefly struck me, the more so as he commenced with a sort of hypocrisy which evaporated sooner than mine. He began by sparing my aristocratic prejudices to some extent, and I returned the compliment by sparing his passion for levelling. Five minutes more of our tête-à-tête and he would have got to 1640 and I to 1660.

London, May 21, 1834.– They showed us a corner of the park at Woburn which I had forgotten. It is called the Thornery, because of the number of hawthorns which the enclosure contains. The blossom is very charming just now, and there is a cottage in the middle which is quite pretty.

Lord Holland told the Duke of Bedford that he should take us to Ampthill, which belongs to him and which lies only seven miles from Woburn. Lady Holland wanted us very much to see a fine portrait of herself as a Virgin of the Sun which is there, and which is, in fact, very pleasing; it must have been very like her.

The house at Ampthill is gloomy, damp, ill-furnished, and ill-kept – a sad contrast with one of the most delightful parks you could see anywhere. It is not, however, without some associations of interest. Katherine of Aragon retired here after her divorce, but there is no trace of the ancient castle which was on the mountains, and not at the bottom of the valley like the present house. A Gothic cross is placed on the site of the ancient building, and on the base are inscribed some bad verses, which have not even the merit of being contemporary, commemorating the cruelties of Henry VIII. Another of the curiosities of the place is a number of trees so old that, in the time of Cromwell, they were already past being used for shipbuilding. They have quite lost their beauty, and will soon be like what in Touraine are called "truisses."

Lord Sefton said yesterday in the presence of Lord Brougham that all Queen Caroline's defenders had risen to the highest positions in the State, and instanced Lord Grey, Lord Brougham, and others. On this, I said to the Chancellor that I supposed he would now be ready to admit that his cause was a very bad one. But he would not admit it, and tried to convince us that if the Queen did have lovers, Bergami was not among the number. He wished us to believe that he at least was convinced of this, and in support of this assertion, which neither he nor anyone else took seriously, he told us that during the last three hours of the Queen's life, when she was quite delirious, she spoke much of Prince Louis of Prussia, of Victorine Bergami's child, and of several other people, but never once mentioned Bergami himself. I thought that for a great lawyer, this style of proof was much too negative and inconclusive.

London, May 22, 1834.– On our return to town yesterday, we heard the news of the Prince de Lieven's recall. This is a political event of some importance; it is a very serious matter for London society. M. de Lieven's excellent character, his cleverness and perfect manners won him friendship and esteem everywhere, and Mme. de Lieven of all women is the most feared, respected, sought after, and courted. Her political importance, which was due to her wit and knowledge of the world, went side by side with an authority in society which no one dreamed of questioning. There were complaints sometimes of her tyranny, of her exclusiveness, but she maintained in this way a useful barrier between really good society and society of the second class. Her house was the most select in London, and the one the entrée to which was the most valued. Her grand air, which was perhaps a trifle stiff, was most appropriate on great occasions, and I can hardly imagine a Drawing-room without her. Except Lord Palmerston, who has brought it about by his obstinate arrogance, in the matter of Sir Stratford Canning, I am sure that no one is glad at the departure of M. and Madame de Lieven. M. de Bülow, however, is perhaps also rather relieved to be freed from the surveillance of the Princesse. The part he had to play before her was never a simple or an easy one.

M. de Lieven's appointment as Governor of the young Grand Duke may flatter and console him, but it can hardly give her much pleasure, and she will not care much for the frigidity and emptiness of St. Petersburg after twenty-two years spent in England amid political excitements of all kinds.

It would appear that the three Northern Courts, in opposition to the Southern Quadruple Alliance are disposed to conclude a separate engagement with Holland. Little is being said, but arms are being sharpened in silence.

The Cortes is summoned for July 24. The telegraphic news from Spain, which arrived the other day, only caused a flutter on 'Change and evaporated pitiably enough. I hear from Paris that General Harispe has been requested not to telegraph in future anything that is doubtful, and that the President of the Council has been made to promise not to spread news of this kind before it is confirmed.

Admiral Roussin has refused the Ministry of Marine. There was some question of appointing Admiral Jacob. M. de Rigny left the Council quite free to appoint him either Minister of Marine or Minister of Foreign Affairs. The decision is not yet known.

A propos of the departure of the Lievens, the Princesse tells me that some weeks ago when Lord Heytesbury came back from St. Petersburg, Lord Palmerston said to M. de Lieven that he intended to appoint Sir Stratford Canning as Ambassador. The Prince de Lieven wrote to his Government, and M. de Nesselrode replied in the name of the Emperor that the violent temper and unaccommodating disposition, and, indeed, the whole character of Sir Stratford, were personally disagreeable to him and that he desired that someone else might be sent – anyone but Sir Stratford. Lord Palmerston then explained his reasons for wishing to overcome this opposition, and M. de Lieven promised to lay them before the Emperor. The next day he sent a courier with despatches to this effect to St. Petersburg, but the courier had hardly embarked before the nomination of Sir Stratford Canning as Ambassador at St. Petersburg appeared in the London Gazette. This piece of discourtesy confirmed the Russian opposition on the one hand, and the obstinacy of Lord Palmerston on the other. The English Cabinet claimed to nominate whom it pleased to diplomatic positions, and the Emperor Nicolas, without contesting its right to do so, claimed an equal right on his part to receive only whom he pleased. The breach widens, and the opposition of the two political systems, coupled with the antagonism of individuals, makes one fear that in the present complicated state of international politics peace is neither well established nor likely to last for long.

London, May 23, 1834.– I believe the Cabinet is embarrassed by M. de Lieven's departure, and that Lord Grey is personally very sorry. Lord Brougham also seems to feel how regrettable it all is. I have long letters on the subject from them both, which are very interesting and which I shall carefully preserve.

M. de la Fayette is dead. Though he had all his life never given M. de Talleyrand cause to like him, his death has not been indifferent to the Prince. At eighty-four and upwards it must seem that all one's contemporaries are one's friends.

London, May 24, 1834.– Lord Grey has just paid me a long and very friendly visit. He was much grieved at the departure of the Lievens, but was at pains to refute the opinion that the rudeness of Lord Palmerston was the cause. I could see that he was most anxious that the germs of controversy between M. de Talleyrand and Lord Palmerston should not develop. He could not have shown more personal goodwill to us than he did.

We dined at Richmond with the poor Princesse de Lieven, who is really much to be pitied. I fear that things are really much worse for her than they seem. I think that she flatters herself that she will be able to keep up with things both by reason of the confidence of the Emperor and the friendship of M. de Nesselrode, as also through the favour enjoyed by her brother, General de Benckendorff. I fear, however, that she will soon lose touch with the map of Europe, or that she will only be able to look at it through some very small spy-hole, which would certainly be for her a living death. Her hopes and her regrets are all expressed with naturalness and vivacity, and she seemed to me even nicer than usual, for she was keeping nothing back, and was quite simple and unconstrained. Such communicativeness in persons usually reserved always produces a specially striking impression.

The abominable article about her in the Times, which is really a disgrace to the country, made her weep at first. She confessed that she was deeply hurt to think that these were the farewell words addressed to her by the people of a country which she was leaving with so much regret. But she soon felt that nothing could be more despicable or more generally despised. In the end she recovered her equanimity so completely that she described in her best manner (which is very good indeed) a ridiculous scene in which the Marquis de Miraflorès played a prominent part. This little creature, whom I have always considered an insupportable idiot, but whose face pleased Mme. de Lieven as it certainly did not please me, came and sat beside her at a Ball at Almacks. The Princess having asked him whether he were not struck with the beauty of the English girls, he replied with a sentimental air, a voice full of emotion, and a long and significant look, that he did not like women too young, and preferred those who had ceased to be so and whom people called passée.

The Duchess of Kent has a really remarkable talent for giving offence whenever it is possible to do so. To-day is her daughter's birthday, and she was to have taken her for the first time on this occasion to Windsor, where there was to be a family party in honour of the occasion. Owing to the death of the little Belgian Prince, who was less than a year old, and whom neither his aunt nor his cousin had ever even seen, the Duchess decided not to grace this mild festivity with her presence. Nothing could have annoyed the King more.

London, May 25, 1834.– King Leopold seems disposed to call his nephews to the succession to the Belgian Throne. Does this mean that he has ceased to count on direct descendants? They are annoyed about it at the Tuileries, but I fancy that no one minds very much anywhere else, as the new kingdom and the new dynasty are not taken very seriously as yet.

The exhibition of pictures at Somerset House is very mediocre, even worse than last year's. The sculpture is worse still. The English excel in the arts of imitation, but are behind everybody in those which require imagination. This is one of the most conspicuous results of the absence of sun. Surrounded as they are by masterpieces from the Continent British artists produce nothing which can be compared with these! All colour is lost in the fog which envelops them.