Lord Durham and Mr. Ellice are called here, comically enough, "the

Bear" and "the Pasha."

_London, June 7, 1834._--Lucien Bonaparte has at last reappeared here,

and is addressing the French electors from London. After his manifesto

to the Deputies last year he disappeared for several months, and is

said to have visited France secretly during the recent troubles at

Lyons and Paris. His new letter is more turgid than ever, and even

more full of literary affectations than the first; is in other ways a

most abject production and in very bad taste.

Lucien, whom I had never seen before his arrival in England, as he was

in disgrace with the Emperor, was said to be at least as able as his

brother, and to have more decision of character. I have heard it said

that it was he who saved Napoleon on the 18th Brumaire, and, in fact,

I had heard him greatly praised. My actual meeting with him, as often

happens, did not come up to my expectations. He seemed to me cringing

in his manners and false in his look. He is like Napoleon in the

outward shape of his features--not at all in expression. I saw him

last year, at a concert at the Duchesse de Canizzaro's, beg her to

introduce him to the Duke of Wellington, who was present. I saw him

cross the room, and come up bowing and scraping to be presented to the

victor of Waterloo, whose reception was as cold as such baseness

deserved.

As I live in a London house[17] celebrated for the great robbery

suffered by the old Marchioness of Devonshire, who is its owner, and

for a ghost which appeared to Lord Grey and his daughter during their

tenancy, I will relate here what Lord Grey and Lady Georgiana have

often told me in the presence of witnesses--Lord Grey quite seriously

and circumstantially, Lady Georgiana with repugnance and hesitation.

It seems, then, that Lord Grey was crossing the dining-room on the

ground floor, whose windows look into the square, to go to his own

room. He had a light in his hand, and he saw behind one of the pillars

by which the room is divided a pale face, which appeared to be that of

an old man, though the eyes and hair were very black. Lord Grey at

first started back, but on raising his eyes he again saw the same face

staring at him fixedly, while the body seemed to be hidden behind the

pillar. It disappeared as soon as he moved forward. He searched, but

found nothing. There are two small doors behind the pillars and a

large mirror between them, so there may well be some natural

explanation of the apparition. Lord Grey, however, denies that it was

either a burglar or the reflection of his own face in the glass. As a

matter of fact, at that time his hair was fair and his eyes are blue.

However that may be, he told his family next morning at breakfast what

he had seen the night before when he was going to bed. Lady Grey and

her daughter thereupon exchanged glances with a meaning look, and Lord

Grey asked what they meant. They told him that they had concealed the

thing from him till then for fear of being laughed at, but that one

night Lady Georgiana had been awakened by feeling some one breathe on

her face. She opened her eyes, and saw the face of a man bending over

her. She shut them, thinking she was dreaming, but when she opened

them again the face was still there. She screamed, and the face

disappeared. She then jumped out of bed and rushed into the next room,

locking the door behind her, and threw herself half dead with fright

on the bed of her sister, Lady Elizabeth. Lady Elizabeth wanted to go

and examine the haunted room, but Lady Georgiana would not allow her.

Next day the windows, doors, and bolts were found in good order, and

what she had seen was pronounced to be a ghost, though the fact that a

flat piece of roof comes close up under one of the windows might

suggest even to the credulous that some footman in love with one of

the maids was the hero of this nocturnal adventure.

[17] No. 21 Hanover Square, the French Embassy of the period.

Nevertheless, the house has a very bad reputation. I sleep in the room

from which Lady Devonshire's diamonds were stolen, and my daughter in

that in which Lady Georgiana's ghost appeared. When we came to the

house there were actually people who thought us astonishingly brave!

At first the servants were afraid to go about the house at night

except in couples. To be quite frank, the conviction with which Lord

Grey and his daughter described their experiences made me also a

little uncomfortable--a feeling which did not wear off for some time.

We have been here nearly three years, and nothing has been stolen and

there has been no apparition. Yet once, when we were away in France,

and when the door of my room was locked, the housemaid, the porter,

and the maids swore that they heard a violent ringing of a bell, the

cord of which is at the foot of my bed. They said that they went to

the room and found the door locked as it should have been, and when

they opened it they could find no explanation of the noise. They tried

to make me believe that the bell rang on July 27, 1832, at the very

time of my accident at Baden-Baden. A mouse was probably the real

cause of this incident.

It is said that Lord Grey's father had a similar and very curious

experience; and that Lord Grey himself, besides the Hanover Square

ghost, saw one at Howick, which was even more remarkable, but of which

he does not care to speak. Of course, this being so, I have not asked

any questions about it, but several versions of what happened are in

circulation, and the thing has lent itself to caricature.

_London, June 8, 1834._--Lord Radnor's extravagant pretensions have

put an end to the idea of admitting him to the Ministry. They are now

said to be thinking of Lord Dacre, whose appointment would, it is

believed, be satisfactory to the Dissenters. The Privy Seal, which is

held provisionally by Lord Carlisle, is destined for the newcomer.

When I called yesterday on Madame de Lieven she had just received

letters from St. Petersburg which have at last made clear what her new

position in Russia is to be. It seems to me to promise well. Instead

of being a puppet at Court and groaning under the burden of perpetual

ceremonial, the Princess is to have a house of her own. The Emperor

wishes that his son shall learn there to know society and how to

converse and conduct himself in the world.

This plan is set forth with infinite tact and kindness in a letter

from the Empress, which is very happily expressed, perfectly natural,

and full of cleverness and affection. Of course it has become a great

interest and a great consolation to Madame de Lieven. She sees herself

possessed of a direct influence on affairs, and in a position as

independent as is possible in Russia. Her imagination is busy

developing and improving this new sphere for her energies, and I must

say in justice to her that her projects have not a trace of

childishness or small-mindedness. She knows exactly what she wants to

do, and the lines of her scheme are broad and well thought out. The

pleasure she derives from the importance of her prospective position

was evident, but anything else would have been hypocritical, and I was

pleased that she did not think it necessary to pretend to sentiments

she did not feel before me. Her great desire is to render the young

Grand Duke the immense service of accustoming him to great and exalted

company, to make her house sufficiently distinguished and sufficiently

agreeable to accustom every one, including the Emperor and Empress, to

enjoy there the pleasures of conversation rather than amusements for

which they are perhaps growing too old. Her ambition is to restore to

the Russian Court the splendour and the intellectual culture which

were its glory under the Great Catherine. She hopes in this way to

attract foreigners by exciting their curiosity and providing it with a

worthy object. All this fully occupies the Princess, who has it in her

to play this part well, though it would be difficult anywhere, and is

doubly so in Russia, where thought is as much fettered as speech.

There was a reasonableness and a delicacy in the letters both of the

Empress and M. de Nesselrode which accords with all I hear of the Czar

Nicolas and which augurs well for the result of this second education

of the heir to the throne of ice. I was particularly glad to see that

the frankness with which Madame de Lieven had expressed her regret at

leaving England had been well received. She said to me _à propos_ of

this, "It proves to me that one can be sincere in our country without

breaking one's neck." I hope that she may find more and more reason to

think so, but it will be necessary to keep this sincerity in cotton

wool for some time to come.

She spoke to me with great admiration of the Emperor as a man with

great gifts who is destined to become the greatest figure in

contemporary history. On this I repeated to her a remark made by M. de

Talleyrand with which she was much pleased. This is what he said:

"The only Cabinet which has not made a single mistake during the last

four years is the Russian Cabinet, and do you know why that is so? The

Russian Cabinet is never in a hurry."

The Queen of England has shewn Madame de Lieven on the occasion of her

recall much of the kindness which is natural to her, though it must be

difficult for her Majesty to forget how little respect the Princess

showed her during the life of George IV. and that of the Duke of York,

and above all how discourteous the patronesses of Almack's with Madame

de Lieven at their head were to her on the only occasion she was there

when she was still Duchess of Clarence. I have even on one occasion

heard the Queen remind Madame de Lieven of this incident in such a way

as greatly to embarrass her. However all these old quarrels are

forgotten, and when the leave-taking came the Queen's conduct was

perfect. As to the King it is different; he has never even said either

to M. or Madame de Lieven that he was aware that they had been

recalled. They blame Lord Palmerston and I don't think they are far

wrong.

_London, June 9, 1834._--Yesterday I found the Duchess-Countess of

Sutherland very busy getting together twenty ladies to join in

offering Madame de Lieven some tangible token of the regret felt at

her departure by the ladies of her particular acquaintance. This idea

is particularly English, for the spirit of association is everywhere

in this country and enters even into matters of compliment and

civility. I thought that the Princess could not but be pleased and

flattered, and I was delighted to add my name to the list. Ten guineas

is the subscription and I believe the testimonial will take the shape

of a fine bracelet inside which our names will, if possible, be

inscribed.

M. de Montrond has returned from Paris. His wit is as ready and as

cutting as ever, and, though he is certainly anything but a bore, I

again feel with him the uneasiness which one has in the presence of a

venomous creature with a poisonous sting. The charm which used for a

long time to fascinate M. de Talleyrand is gone and has left behind a

sense of fatigue and oppression which is the more felt as their long

standing friendship and the remembrance of their past intimacy hardly

permit them to make an end of it.

I don't think there is anything new in what M. de Montrond tells me of

Paris. He speaks of the King's ability; no one contests it. It is

equally well known that the King is always talking, and always of

himself. M. de Montrond complains of the complete destruction of

Parisian Society, of the spirit of division which is breaking up

everything and which does not decrease. He gives amusing accounts of

the embarrassments of the Thiers family, of the high diplomatic

ambitions of Marshal Soult for his son, of the alarm of Rigny and

others at the kind of effect produced here by M. Dupin. They think

that it is ominous of a future premiership and are almost angry with

M. de Talleyrand for showing him attention. They do not see that M.

Dupin's reception here is only a compliment to us, he being a man who

is less fitted than any one in the world to shine in good English

society, and that our object is merely to turn the turgid stream of M.

Dupin's eloquence in favour of the English alliance of which he is a

bitter opponent.

I found Lord Grey yesterday in a state of depression which he did not

attempt to disguise. It is a contagious malady, and seems to have

attacked all his adherents. Lord Grey's lassitude and weariness is to

my thinking the most alarming symptom of the weakness of the Cabinet

as now constituted. Lord Durham's attacks on Lord Grey in the _Times_

wound him deeply. Conservatives and Radicals are alike speculating on

the succession of the Whigs, and it is impossible to disguise the fact

that this is a critical moment for every one.

While talking yesterday to a friend I remembered that when I was

seventeen, I, like many other women of the period in Paris, was

romantic or silly enough to consult Mlle. Lenormand who was then much

in vogue, taking what I thought sufficient precautions not to be

recognised by her. One had to fix the day and the hour beforehand and

this I arranged through my maid giving a false name and address. She

gave me an appointment and on the day named I went with my maid in a

cab, taken at a distance from my abode, to the Rue de Tournon where

the sorceress lived. The house was of good appearance and the rooms

clean and even rather pretty. We had to wait till a gentleman with

moustaches had left the chamber where the Sibyl delivered her oracles.

I made my maid go in first and my turn came next. After some questions

about the month, day and hour of my birth, and about my favourite

animal, flower and colour, and about the animals, flowers and colours

which I particularly disliked, she asked whether she should make the

great or the little cabala for me, the price being different. At last

she came to my fortune and told me what follows. I may have forgotten

some insignificant details but I give the main part of what she

predicted, and I have since repeated it to several persons, my mother

and M. de Talleyrand among the number.

She said that I was married, that I had a spiritual bond with an

exalted personage (my explanation of this is that the Emperor was my

eldest son's godfather), that after much pain and trouble I should be

separated from my husband, that my troubles would not cease till nine

years after this separation, and that during these nine years I should

experience all manner of trials and calamities. She also said that I

should become a widow when no longer young but not too old to marry

again which I should do. She saw me for many years closely allied with

a person whose position and influence would impose on me a kind of

political position and would make me powerful enough to save some one

from imprisonment and death. She said also that I should live through

very difficult and stormy times, during which I should have very

exciting experiences, and that one day even I should be awakened at

five o'clock in the morning by men armed with pikes and axes who would

surround my house and try to kill me. This danger would be the

consequence of my opinions and the part I was destined to take in

politics and I should escape in disguise. I should still be alive,

she said, at sixty-three. When I asked whether that was the destined

end of my days she answered, "I don't say you will die at sixty-three,

I only mean that I see you still alive at that age. I know nothing of

you or your destiny after that."

The leading circumstances of this prediction seemed to me then too

much out of the probable course of events to cause me any anxiety. I

told my friends about it as a sort of joke, and, though the most

improbable parts of it have come true, such as my separation from my

husband, my prolonged troubles, the interest in public affairs which

M. de Talleyrand's concern with them has imposed on me, I confess that

unless some one has mentioned some similar matter, I think very rarely

about what Mlle. Lenormand told me, and very little of herself though

she was a remarkable person. She seemed to be over fifty when I saw

her. She was rather tall and wore a loose, black, trailing gown. Her

complexion was ugly and confused, her eyes were small, bright and

wild; her countenance, coarse and yet uncanny, was crowned with a mass

of untidy grey hair. The whole effect was unpleasant, and I was glad

when the interview was over.

I thought of her prophecies in July 1830, when I was alone at

Rochecotte surrounded by conflagrations, and was receiving the news of

what was happening in Paris, and when I saw General Donnadieu's

regiments marching past my windows on La Vendée where it was thought

Charles X. would go. I heard some denouncing the Jesuits whom they

were silly enough to accuse of setting fire to their houses and

fields, and others crying out against "malignants" such as I. The Curé

came to my house for refuge and the Mayor asked whether I did not

think that the soutane, which according to him reeked of brimstone,

should be turned out of the commune. Already I saw myself surrounded

by pikes and axes, and escaping as best I could disguised as a

peasant. I escaped then, but I have sometimes said to myself that it

was only a postponement and that I should not get off in the end.

_London, June 10, 1834._--Lord Dacre, who was to have joined the

Ministry, has had a fit and fallen from his horse which puts him out

of the question. They are now thinking of Mr. Abercromby for the Mint

with a seat in the Cabinet.

Yesterday we had at dinner M. Dupin, the young Ney and Davoust, M.

Bignon and General Munier de la Converserie. If to speak ill of every

one is to praise one's self M. Dupin did it to perfection. He treated

with the utmost scorn the King and his Ministers and every man and

woman in Paris. Some are mean, dowdy chatterboxes, others are robbers,

smugglers, I know not what. Immorality was castigated and justice

brandished her flaming sword. M. Piron, the cicerone and the very

humble servant of M. Dupin, multiplied his formulæ of adulation. What

he chiefly praised was the lucid and detailed manner in which the

great man had explained to the English Ministers the embarrassment and

danger of their position. I think they would have been equally obliged

if he had not crossed the sea to tell them what they know only too

well already.

After dinner I had to endure the honeyed insincerity of M. Bignon. He

reminded me of Vitrolles' cloying and inferior manner, he is rather

like him in face, distinctly like him in his talk and above all in his

bearing. I think however, that M. de Vitrolles' conversation is more

vivacious, and his imagination more brilliant. As yesterday was the

first time I have spoken to M. Bignon it would be wrong to judge him

on one conversation, but one cannot fail to be struck with his calm

and submissive manner which at once puts one on one's guard.

_London, June 11, 1834._--Mr. Abercromby's appointment was in last

night's _Globe_. We shall see if this will mollify the tone of the

_Times_ which ill-treated poor Lord Grey shamefully yesterday morning.

Among the many sayings of M. de Talleyrand here is one which is very

good and not much known. M. de Montrond was saying to him last year

that Thiers was a good sort of man and not so impertinent as you would

expect from a parvenu. "I will tell you the reason," replied M. de

Talleyrand: "c'est que Thiers n'est pas _parvenu_, il est _arrivé_." I

fear that this remark is too subtle to be altogether true, but that is

the fault of M. Thiers. Impertinence is becoming a familiar method

with him. Since his marriage he has been living in a kind of

solidarity with the smallest sort of people, ill reputed pretentions,

_parvenus_ assuredly and not _arrivés_. It is impossible, in spite of

the floods of wit with which he deluges the mud which surrounds him,

that he should not be bespattered if not smothered. It is really a

great pity.

_London, June 12, 1834._--At Holland House yesterday I heard a story

of how the Abbé Morellet complained to the Marquis of Lansdowne that

at the Revolution he lost his pensions and his benefices though he had

written and spoken so much on the Revolutionary side, and of how the

Marquis answered: "My dear sir, how can you be surprised, there are

always a few wounded in the victorious armies."

_London, June 13, 1834._--There is a rumour that Dom Miguel has

escaped and that a conspiracy has broken out at Lisbon against Dom

Pedro; all kinds of sinister details are added. This, it seems, is

nothing but a Stock Exchange trick, the truth being that there were

some unpleasant demonstrations against Dom Pedro when he showed

himself at the play. The simultaneous expulsion of both the rivals

would be the most satisfactory conclusion of the great drama.

There is some surprise that Dom Miguel has not yet disembarked in

England. Don Carlos arrived yesterday at Portsmouth in the _Donegal_.

Spain is annoyed, and with reason, because the Duke of Terceira and

the English Commissioner who made Dom Miguel sign an undertaking not

to return did not exact a similar promise from Don Carlos. They now

wish England and France to take measures against Don Carlos so as to

make him an outlaw in Europe. This however is not admissible, in spite

of the notes of the Marquis de Miraflorès and the diatribes of Lord

Holland.

The conversation at Holland House is very curious. Little Charles

Barrington was there the other day and said he had been prevented from

riding a donkey because it was Sunday and because religious people

didn't ride donkeys on Sunday. Mr. Allen grunted in reply, "Never

mind: the religion is only for the donkeys themselves."

Mr. Spring Rice has just been elected at Cambridge, but by a small

majority, which is by no means pleasant for the Ministry.

Sir Henry Halford, M. Dedel and the Princesse de Lieven came back from

Oxford yesterday, moved, enchanted, intoxicated by the festivities on

the occasion of the installation of the Duke of Wellington as

Chancellor of the University. This occasion is really in its way

unique. The Duke's character and his past career--it is only four

years since he would have been stoned at Oxford for having passed

Catholic emancipation--the magnificence of the ceremony, the number

and the quality of the company, the immemorial traditions of the

scene, the excitement of everybody, the unanimous applause--everything

in fact was wonderful and the like will never be seen again. Even the

Duke of Cumberland, universally unpopular as he is, was well received

there. The Anglican spirit was in the ascendant, all personal

animosities vanished in the presence of the dangers with which the

Church is threatened, and this secured a favourable reception for

every one who is believed to be ready to rally to her defence. In the

Duke of Wellington it was less the great Captain whom they were

cheering than the Defender of the Faith.

It is annoying to record that the undergraduates used the licence

granted to them on such occasions to hoot the names of Lord Grey and

others, which they called out loudly in order to have the pleasure of

hissing them. The Duke of Wellington, on every occasion of their

occurrence, showed that these demonstrations displeased him, but in

spite of these signs of his disapproval they were several times

repeated.

They say that when the Duke shook hands with Lord Winchelsea, on whom

he had just conferred the Doctor's degree, every one recollected the

duel which had once taken place between the two, and that this gave

rise to a storm of cheering. The applause, however, was not less when

Lord Fitzroy Somerset approached the Duke, his faithful friend and

comrade, and being unable to give him his right hand, which he lost at

Waterloo, extended his left. But what excited the greatest and most

prolonged enthusiasm was an ode addressed to the Duke, the two final

lines of which were as follows:

Till the dark soul a world could not subdue

Bowed to thy genius, chief of Waterloo.

At this point the whole audience rose spontaneously; the cries, the

tears, the acclamations were thrilling; and, as Madame de Lieven said:

"The Duke of Wellington may die to-day, and I may depart in peace

to-morrow, for I have been present at the most marvellous scene that

there has been during the twenty-two years that I have spent in

England."

_London, June 14, 1834._--A German _improvisatore_ named Langsward has

been recommended to me by Madame de Dolomieu. I had to gather together

in his honour all the people here (few enough) who know a little

German. The entertainment was not bad. There were _bouts rimés_, which

he filled up very creditably; some verses about Inez de Castro; and,

later on, a prose piece--a scene of lower-class Viennese life--which

showed real verve and talent. The talent for poetic improvisation

almost always indicates faculties of an unusual order. This is the

case even with Southern people, whose language is naturally very

harmonious. Poetic inspiration is a proportionately greater

achievement in the less flexible accents of Northern countries. Still

_improvisatori_, even Sgricci, have always seemed to me more or less

frigid or more or less absurd. Their enthusiasm is overdone and false;

the close rooms in which they are confined inspire neither the poet

nor his audience. Nothing in them or their surroundings is in the key

of poetry. I think that if you are to produce an enthusiasm which

will really gain every one you must have a landscape for your stage,

the sun to light you, a rock for seat, a lyre for accompaniment, for

your subject great and immediate events, and a whole nation for

audience. Corinna if you like, Homer above all! But a gentleman in a

dress-coat in a little London drawing-room, posturing before a few

women who are trying to get away to a ball, and a few men, of whom

half are thinking of the Belgian protocols and the other half of Ascot

races, can never be more than a trifling little rhyming doll who is

tedious and quite out of place.

Madame de Lieven showed me yesterday a letter from M. de Nesselrode,

in which he complains of the ill-will and the troublesome, teasing

manner of Lord Ponsonby, who, he adds, is goading the poor Divan to

fury. Admiral Roussin appears charming by comparison.

Dom Miguel has really embarked, and is going to Genoa.

_London, June 15, 1834._--Dom Pedro is hardly relieved of his

brother's presence and free of the supervision of the Cortes, and he

has already begun to destroy convents, monks, and nuns. I do not know

whether this, too, will excite admiration at Holland House, but to me

it seems a piece of impious folly which may well bring speedy

repentance in its train.

The Rothschilds, who are by way of knowing everything, have been to M.

de Talleyrand to say that the Marquis de Miraflorés has just left for

Portsmouth to take money to Don Carlos on condition of his signing

guarantees similar to those given by Dom Miguel.

M. Bignon, the day he dined at Lord Palmerston's, when M. de

Talleyrand was there, said to the latter that he wished to have a word

with him, and with a mysterious and confidential air, added: "Now that

I have dined with Lord Palmerston they can no longer say at Paris that

I can't be Minister." This curious piece of reasoning was followed by

a series of indiscreet criticisms of the French Cabinet and

expressions of surprise that overtures of the same kind had not been

made to M. de Talleyrand by M. Dupin. Nothing assuredly can be more

presumptuous than this spirit, whether it takes the supple and

cringing form of M. Bignon or the didactic and crude shape of M.

Dupin.

_London, June 16, 1834._--_A propos_ of M. Dupin, when his mother died

some time ago, at Clamecy en Nivernais, he had cut on her tomb, "_Here

lies the mother of the three Dupins._"

There are some good stories here of him and the amiable Piron, his

cicerone. Mr. Ellice one day took them both to see some sight or other

in London. In the carriage M. Dupin unfolded a large-checked pocket

handkerchief, very vulgar in design, and holding it some distance from

his face, spat into it, aiming very precisely at the middle of the

handkerchief. On this M. Piron said to him aloud, with a very knowing

air, "Sir, in this country one does not spit in public."

The choice of Mr. Fergusson for a high legal appointment gives an even

more Radical tinge to the English Cabinet. Lord Grey, almost without

knowing it, has thus been dragged to the verge of an abyss, into which

his weakness is thrusting him, but from which all his instincts and

natural tendencies hold him back. Lord Brougham boasts that he has set

everything right; Lord Durham, on the contrary, says (no doubt in

order to prepare the way for himself) that it is he alone who has

persuaded all the new recruits to join. Meanwhile he has retired to

his villa near London, whence he declares, "I have made Kings and

refused to be one myself."

The Marquis of Conyngham is, they say, to go to the Post Office and

not to have a seat in the Cabinet. His selection is a social matter,

with which politics, it appears, have very little to do.

The Duke of Richmond has accepted an invitation to the High Tory

dinner to be given on the 22nd to the Duke of Gloucester. The Duke of

Wellington, who has sworn never to go to the City again after their

shameful conduct to him in 1830, refused, and did not conceal the

reason. And yet the Lord Mayor is not the same as in 1830, and

probably the Duke would now have a most flattering reception. However,

he has taken an oath and will not break it.

Mr. Backhouse, Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, has been

sent to Portsmouth to hold himself at the disposition of Don Carlos on

every point except that of offering him money. This reserve seems to

be the only way of assisting the negotiations which are being

conducted by the Marquis de Miraflorès, who is himself commissioned to

offer the Infante, on behalf of his Government, an annual allowance of

£20,000 sterling, on condition of his entering into obligations

similar to those contracted by Dom Miguel. It is thought that the

abject poverty to which the Prince himself, his wife and children, the

Duchess of Beïra, seven priests, and a suite of ladies (seventy-two

persons in all), who are with him in the _Donegal_, are reduced, will

smooth the course of the discussion. It is said that they have not so

much as a change of linen. It is not known what Don Carlos's plans

are. Some say that he wants to retire to Holland; others say Vienna;

others again talk of Rome. This last idea seems to be peculiarly

unpleasing to the present Government in Spain, but no one has the

right to dictate a choice.

M. de Palmella is expected here quite soon. He says he is coming on

private business, but it is generally supposed that it is in order to

concert measures for getting rid of Dom Pedro, whose absurd behaviour

is displeasing every one. Then would be the time to choose a husband

for Doña Maria da Gloria, and the opportunity, perhaps, of bringing

out this young Princess who is still somewhat elephantine in her

style.

Lord Palmerston, with his usual courtesy, sent Mr. Backhouse to

Portsmouth without so much as mentioning the matter to M. de

Talleyrand, who only heard of it by public rumour. This led to a

candid little conversation between Lord Grey and me. No one, it must

be admitted, is better, more frank, more sincere or better intentioned

than the Prime Minister. I am always as much touched by his good

qualities as a man as I am struck by his incompetence as a politician.

He ran downstairs after me at his house to exculpate Lord Palmerston,

to assure me that he had no ill-intention, and to beg me to make

excuses for him to M. de Talleyrand. I replied to him with the old

French proverb to the effect that hell is paved with good intentions,

and added in English, "Well, I promise you to tell M. de Talleyrand

that Lord Palmerston is as innocent as an unborn child, but I don't

believe a word of it." This made Lord Grey laugh, and he took what I

said in excellent part as he always does.

_London, June 17, 1834._--Don Carlos refused to see M. de Miraflorès

and would receive no one but Mr. Backhouse, whom he gave to understand

that he would not accept a penny if he had to sign away the smallest

fragment of his rights. He commissioned M. Sampaïo, formerly Dom

Miguel's Consul in London, to find him a house at Portsmouth, where he

wants to rest for a fortnight, and thereafter one near London, where

he will remain for some time.

The British Government attributes Don Carlos's refusal to a credit of

a million, which they are convinced has been opened on the Prince's

behalf with M. Saraiva, Dom Miguel's former Minister here. They even

say that the credit was opened for him by the Duc de Blacas, which is

very unlikely. The Bishop of Leon, who is said to be a bad man but

clever after the fashion of a Spanish monk, is with the Infante, and

is the leading spirit and the brain of this exiled Court.

The Marquis of Conyngham, son of George IV.'s celebrated favourite,

has been definitely appointed to succeed his brother-in-law, the Duke

of Richmond, as Postmaster-General. He is a young and good-looking man

of fashion with many love affairs, who writes and receives more

_billets-doux_ than serious letters, and is therefore called "the

Postmaster of the twopenny post."

_London, June 18, 1834._--At all meetings of ladies there is always

much confusion and controversy, so, in spite of the presidency of the

Duchess-Countess of Sutherland, there have been many discussions and

hesitations over the bracelet which is to be presented to Madame de

Lieven. Some ladies have retired from motives of economy, others

because the affair was not put under their charge; thirty remain. The

choice of the jewels and the fashion of the setting have also given

rise to difficulties. Opals are not to be thought of; the Princess

dislikes them. Rubies are too expensive. Turquoises come from Russia;

to give them would be to send coals to Newcastle. The same applies to

amethysts, and as to sapphires, the Princess already has magnificent

sapphires of her own. "Emeralds perhaps."--"No."--"Yes."--"Well

perhaps----."--"Why not?"--"It won't be what I expected."--"Peridots

are so common."--"Let's ask the Princess herself." This in the end is

what we did; the mystery was revealed, the surprise abandoned, and a

large pearl chosen.

Then came another question, more literary and more delicate in

character, the question of the dedicatory inscription. The committee

wished it to be in English, so, as a foreigner, I retired. They kindly

expressed regret, but of course I persisted and remained as a mere

spectator. It was very amusing. Twenty ways of putting the inscription

were tried. Poetry and allegory were suggested. Some wished for a play

of words suggesting that a pearl had been chosen because the Princess

was a pearl among women. Others thought that the image was not

sufficiently precise; they wanted some allusion to be made to the

Princess's talent for affairs, a suggestion which was declared out of

order. There was the further difficulty of putting on record the names

of the donors without offending other ladies in society. So I was

consulted. I said that I didn't know enough English to have an

opinion. They asked what I should put if it were in French. I told

them, and, weary of the struggle, they decided to translate it into

English and adopt it. The wording is very simple: "Testimony of

regard, regret and affection presented to the Princess Lieven on her

departure, by some English ladies of her particular acquaintance, July

1834."

_London, June 19, 1834._--Madame de Lieven called on me yesterday

morning. Her agitation grows as her departure draws nearer, and

carried away by a sort of feverish excitement which consumes her, she

said to me that she was sure there was one person besides Lord

Palmerston who was glad she was going, and that was the King of

England. He had refused to write an autograph letter, which while

saving the Minister's face, might have reversed the decision as to M.

de Lieven's recall. Palmerston had lectured the King on the objections

to foreign ambassadors staying too long in London, where they became

too much at home, and even came to acquire a real and important

influence. In short, the King is delighted at Madame de Lieven's

departure, and she blames Palmerston for it, which does not increase

her partiality for him. She may find some consolation in thinking of

the abyss which is opening at his feet. The whole Ministry is as shaky

as possible; and Lord Palmerston is the least secure of them all. His

colleagues think little of him. Lord Grey does not deny that his

speeches in the House of Commons are bad. The _Corps diplomatique_

detest his arrogance. English people think him ill-bred. His one

merit, when all is said and done, seems to consist in his remarkable

facility for speaking and writing French. The Lievens' departure,

which every one, and most certainly Lord Grey regrets, is so generally

attributed to Lord Palmerston's impudent obstinacy that no one even

pretends to conceal his conviction that this is the case, not even

Lord Palmerston's colleagues in the Ministry. Thus he is never invited

to the numerous farewell dinners and parties which are being given to

the Lievens, and this is the more remarkable, as of course Lady Cowper

is always there. This has not failed to give him great offence, and he

has especially resented Lord Grey's attitude. The latter has made a

merit of this with Madame de Lieven, saying to her, on one occasion:

"You see I have got all your friends and haven't asked Palmerston."

Poor Lady Cowper gets the benefit of all Lord Palmerston's ill-humour,

and they say he is very unkind to her.

The Duke of Saxe-Meiningen has arrived by the King's invitation to

escort the Queen, his sister, during her German tour. Her departure,

is fixed, they say, for July 4, but the King is pressing her to go on

the 2nd, and he is so strangely anxious to hurry her away, having made

all the arrangements himself, that many people think that he will not

be in such haste to let her come back. No one doubts that he expects

to enjoy himself very much in his renewed bachelorhood, and every one

trembles to think of the kind of enjoyment he may fancy. The nature of

his pleasures, no less than the type of person he is likely to ask to

share them, is a source of anxiety to decent people. There is no doubt

that he has singular projects in his head, for the other day at

dinner, he shouted out to an old admiral, who had been a great friend

of his long ago, to ask "whether he was as great a rascal as ever."

The admiral answered that the days of his follies were over; but the

King replied, "_that for his part he meant to begin again!_"

A letter from M. Royer-Collard is always an event for me: in the first

place, because I am very fond of him; and, secondly, because he says

so much in so few words, in a striking way, and in a tone which is

entirely individual, and gives much food for thought. Here is an

extract from one which I have just got; it is quite true and yet

malicious in a well-bred way: "He [Thiers] is very clever; what he

wants is Society and the experience which Society alone can give, a

little dignity and a little _principle_. As I write this it comes into

my mind that you will take me for a doctrinaire, which would be very

unjust, for principle is a weakness which doctrinaires don't

cultivate."

_London, June 20, 1834._--Intercepted letters show that the Duke of

Leuchtenburg, weary of the tumult caused by the design of the Duchess

of Braganza's sister to marry him to Doña Maria, asked the Duchess to

do no more in the matter, as too much suspicion had been aroused and

success was impossible. At the same time he begged his sister not to

forget their young brother Max, who has not been suspected, and who

might have a better chance. Now that this new plan is revealed it

will probably be as keenly opposed as the ex-Empress's first intrigue.

They say she is extraordinarily energetic and ambitious, though to

outward view she is all quietness, amiability, and simplicity.

Last night, in our drawing-room, the conversation turned on the

character and position of Mirabeau, and I heard M. de Talleyrand

repeat a curious story. It appears that at the time of the Restoration

he was entrusted during the Provisional Government with the most

confidential of the Revolutionary archives, and that he found among

them a receipt in due form, given by Mirabeau for a sum of money

received from the Court. This receipt was made out in detail, and

stated precisely the services which Mirabeau undertook to perform. M.

de Talleyrand added that in spite of this financial transaction it

would be unjust to say that Mirabeau was "bought," and that in

accepting the price of promised services he did not surrender his

independent opinion. He wished to serve France as much as to serve the

King, and reserved for himself liberty of thought and action as well

as liberty of choice of means to bring about the object which he

engaged to realise. It follows that, without deserving the extreme

imputations of baseness and vileness which some have made against him,

Mirabeau's moral character was very far behind his astuteness. He

belonged to a bad stock; his father, his mother, his brother and

sister were all either insane or criminal. Yet in spite of his

execrable reputation, of his being regarded everywhere much as a

convict let out of prison, of his hideous ugliness and constant lack

of money, what a marvellous influence his very memory has! The book

just published by his adopted son brings out very strikingly the power

of his prodigious personality and the charm of his superabundant

vitality, which imposes itself upon you in spite of the tedious

formality with which the author has sought to adorn his subject. The

authenticity of the sources, the abundance of quotations from the

original, and their extraordinary interest, often make up for the

awkwardness and heavy-handedness of the execution.

The book, moreover, has for me the great merit of enlightening my

ignorance. I had only the vaguest ideas on the subject of Mirabeau,

owing to my very imperfect knowledge of the Revolutionary period,

which is too near my own time for me to have studied it historically,

and which is yet too far off for me to have known it as a

contemporary. All I know is derived from M. de Talleyrand's stories

and the Memoirs of Madame Roland. Besides, I have such a horror of

this repulsive and terrible epoch that I have never had the courage to

think much about it, and have almost always leapt hurriedly across the

abyss which separates 1789 from the Empire. M. de Talleyrand's Memoirs

might no doubt have helped me, but I have always been too much

occupied with his individual fortunes to pay much attention to the

general situation. M. de Talleyrand in the Memoirs is much clearer

about the causes of the catastrophe than about its details, and he was

out of France during the most critical years. His sojourn in America

is one of the most agreeable episodes in his career, and for the

reader--as indeed it was in reality for himself--it is a period of

rest and relief, during which the horrors of the Convention are kept

out of sight, and you have time to take breath before coming to the

stirring events of the Empire.

M. de Talleyrand went on to say, as regards Mirabeau's receipt, that

he regarded it as a family paper which he had no right to keep, and

handed it over to Louis XVIII. himself, and knew nothing of what had

become of it.

_London, June 21, 1834._--M. de Talleyrand was over fifty-three when

he began to write the Memoirs, or rather a small volume on the Duc de

Choiseul. In 1809, when he was going to take the waters at Bourbon

l'Archambault, he asked Madame de Rémus to lend him a book to read on

the way. She gave him Lacretelle's _Histoire du dixhuitième Siècle_, a

work both inaccurate and incomplete. M. de Talleyrand, annoyed by the

errors and the ignorance of the author, employed his leisure while at

the waters in making a rapid sketch of one of the periods which

Lacretelle had particularly misrepresented. Those who came to know

this fragment were so much pleased with it, and M. de Talleyrand was

so much amused by writing it, that he formed the idea of grouping

subsequent events round another person whom he had known very well. He

then put together his study of the Duc d'Orléans, a piece no less

curious than the former, but since almost entirely rehandled and

incorporated in his own Memoirs. These, of course, contain

reminiscences of an even more personal character, and complete the

story of the two epochs, of which one saw the preparation and the

other the climax of the crisis in which M. de Talleyrand played a

historic part. Most of the Memoirs (and in my opinion the most

brilliant part) was written during the four years that he was in

disgrace with the Emperor Napoleon. From 1814 to 1816 he added almost

nothing to the Memoirs; later, and up to 1830, he devoted himself to

revision, correction, and amplification. He inserted the portion about

Erfurt, and another on the Spanish catastrophe, which brought

Ferdinand VII. to Valençay, in the main body of the narrative, and

brought it down to just after the Restoration; but as all the copies

of his despatches during the Congress of Vienna (of which the

originals are at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs) were stolen from

him, he was without materials or notes for this interesting period,

and this is sometimes obvious in the Memoirs.

It is indeed unfortunate that M. de Talleyrand never kept a journal or

took notes. He is abominably careless about his papers, and when he

set about collecting his reminiscences he had nothing to depend upon

for the details but his memory, which is no doubt very good, but of

course is too much overburdened not occasionally to leave regrettable

gaps.[18]

[18] Here we have a natural explanation of what astonished

readers of the Memoirs of the Prince de Talleyrand, which

appeared in 1891 under the supervision of the Duc de Broglie. The

controversy which then arose as to whether M. de Bacourt had not

cut down the text cannot be more authoritatively set at rest than

by this passage from Madame de Dino's journal.

I have often heard M. de Talleyrand tell most amusing stories, which

are omitted from the Memoirs because by the time he came to write he

had forgotten them. I myself was wrong not to write them down as I

heard them, and to trust, like him, to my memory, which is so often

deceptive for oneself and insufficient for others.

M. de Talleyrand has, unhappily, been too ready to read his Memoirs,

or parts of them, to all sorts of people. He has got sometimes one

person, sometimes another, to copy the manuscript, and has dictated

portions now and then. The result is that their existence has become

known, and has awakened political anxiety in some quarters and

literary jealousy in others. Treachery and cupidity have speculated on

their importance. It is said, and I am disposed to believe it to be

true, that several garbled copies exist, envenomed by the slanderous

and uncharitable temper of their possessors, and that these are some

day to be published. This would be a misfortune, not only because of

the evil passions which would be awakened, but also because these

unfaithful copies would deprive the authentic Memoirs, when they do

appear, of their merit, their freshness, and their interest. They

would be spoiled in the forestalling.

Nothing can be more free from slander than the real Memoirs. I do not

say that there are not occasional sallies of that gay and subtle

malice which is so characteristic of M. de Talleyrand's wit. But there

is nothing unkind, nothing insulting and less scandal than in any work

of this kind. M. de Talleyrand treats women with respect or at least

with politeness, restraint and indulgence though they have occupied so

large a place in his social existence. It is clear that he is grateful

for the charm which they have imparted to his life, and if some day

serious persons find the Memoirs incomplete as history, and curious

ones do not find all the revelations they expect, they may perhaps

blame M. de Talleyrand's careless indolence; women at least will

always be grateful to him for the good manners which inspired his

reticence and deprived the cynical publicists of to-day of new weapons

for calumny and evil speaking.

_London, June 22, 1834._ Sir Robert Peel with whom I dined yesterday

pointed out to me that M. Dupin, who was also present, was much more

like an American than a Frenchman. This is nearly the worst

compliment which could be paid any one by an Englishman of good

breeding. Sir Robert seemed to me to be in quite particularly good

spirits. His careful questions about the members of the French

Ministry, his insistence on his affection and admiration for M. de

Talleyrand made me think that he had some idea in his mind that he

would soon be in a position in which he would have direct dealings

with them. I asked him whether he thought that Parliamentary manners

and the tone of debate had changed since the Reform Bill was passed.

He said they had up to a certain point, but that what had particularly

struck him was the complete absence of any new talent, notwithstanding

the accession of new members to the House of Commons.

I thought him at least as much pleased as surprised by this. He has

certainly excellent reasons for not wishing that the old parliamentary

celebrities should be effaced.

His house is one of the prettiest, best arranged, and best situated in

London. It is full of fine pictures and valuable furniture, yet there

is nothing pompous or ostentatious about it. Everything is in the best

taste and nothing shows a trace of Sir Robert's humble origin. Lady

Peel's modest but distinguished countenance, her quiet and amiable

manner, the intelligent faces of the children, the wealth of flowers

which shed their perfume through the house, the great balcony opening

on the Thames, from which you can see both Westminster and St.

Paul's--everything combines to make the general effect both complete

and charming. Yesterday evening was fine and really hot, and the

combined brilliance of a lovely moon and of the gaslight on so many

bridges and buildings made one feel one's self anywhere rather than in

foggy England.

_London, June 23, 1834._--Lord Clanricarde, Mr. Canning's son-in-law

has resigned his place in the Household because he is angry at not

getting the Post Office which was given to Lord Conyngham.

The great Conservative dinner in the City the day before yesterday was

signalised by the presence of the Duke of Richmond, and by his

Grace's reply to the Lord Mayor when he proposed the toast of the Duke

of Wellington and the Peers who were present. The Duke of Richmond

made a sort of public profession of his attachment to Church and

State, and when the Lord Mayor proposed the health of the Earl of

Surrey, the eldest son of the Duke of Norfolk, who is a member of the

House of Commons, but who is not a Conservative and who is a Catholic,

the Earl replied that he was convinced that the House of Commons would

not be behind the Upper Chamber in maintaining the Church, yes, the

Church and the ancient constitution of the realm. The cheering was

immense.

Everything, it seems, tends to bring Mr. Stanley and Sir Robert Peel

closer and closer together. It is hoped that this alliance, already

far advanced, will bring about the fall of the present Cabinet, but a

sharp transition is not desired, for that might frighten John Bull who

doesn't like Coalition Cabinets.

_London, June 25, 1834._--In the large provincial towns of England

there are every year what are called "Musical festivals." At these as

a rule the great oratorios are given, and celebrated artists from all

countries are engaged at great expense. These festivals last for

several days; all the smart people from the various parts of the

county come into the town where the music is performed in the churches

in the mornings, the evenings being given up to diversions of a more

worldly character. Next to horse racing these functions draw the

greatest crowds.

In London a festival takes place only every fifty years, and yesterday

was one of these anniversaries. The whole Court was present in state

and will be on the three remaining days. Westminster Abbey was full,

and, though less imposing than at the King's coronation, the spectacle

was even more brilliant. The arrangements were excellent; there was no

crowding or embarrassment; everything went very well. The number of

musicians, vocal and instrumental, was enormous--seven hundred in all.

Unfortunately the Abbey is so high, and constructed on principles so

detrimental to all musical effect, that the prodigious numbers of

voices and instruments which, it was said, was enough to bring down

the building, hardly filled it. One felt this particularly during the

first part of Haydn's _Creation_. Handel's Samson, a broader and more

powerful composition, was more suited to the circumstances of the

occasion. The Funeral March made a deep impression on me and the final

air sung by Miss Stevens with a trumpet _obbligato_ was very fine. But

the general effect was marred by the great mistake of placing the

singers so low that their voices were lost before they could rise to

the roof, there to find the point from which they could re-echo. I

think the organ is the only instrument which can sufficiently fill a

great cathedral. In such a place all the orchestras in the world sound

thin and incongruous, and I was sorry yesterday that the organ was not

used in the concerted pieces as it would have made the effect richer

and more impressive. I even felt that this concert music was out of

place in a church. It was like the effect of an academic panegyric,

however beautiful and noble, being pronounced in a pulpit instead of a

funeral sermon.

_London, June 26, 1834._--_A propos_ of certain of our countrymen M.

de Talleyrand remarked yesterday: "It is extraordinary how much talent

vanity consumes." Nothing can be truer, especially as he applied it.

It is announced that the Greek Order of the Saviour and the Portuguese

Order of Christ have been conferred on M. de Talleyrand. On the

occasion of his receiving the latter he told me that under the Empire,

when Orders were raining upon him from every side, the Comte de Ségur,

Grand Master of the Ceremonies, seemed rather cast down because he had

not got any. M. de Talleyrand begged the Emperor to allow him to give

M. de Ségur the Order of Christ which he had just received. This was

done to M. de Ségur's great satisfaction, and he never afterwards

appeared without his broad ribbon.

_London, June 27, 1834._--The late Lord Castlereagh had a curious way

of speaking French. He said to Madame de Lieven that what gave him

most pleasure in her conversation was that his mind became "_liquide_"

when in her company, and one day, speaking of the union which

prevailed among the Great Powers, he said to her that he was delighted

to say that they were all _dans le même potage_, a rather too literal

translation of the English idiom "in the same mess."

Yesterday I had a long conversation with my cousin Paul Medem. He

understands very well the difficulties of his position, which begin

with the keen regret with which M. and Madame de Lieven are yielding

him the place. These difficulties will be removed in part by the very

wise advice of the Czar, that he should remain altogether outside the

internal politics of England, and become neither Whig nor Tory. He

told me that the real reason why he had been preferred to Matuczewicz,

was the marked and uncompromising character of the opinions which the

latter had adopted in England, where he went in for politics with the

vigour of John Bull himself.

_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.

[19] The Duc de Fleury, grand-nephew of the Cardinal.

_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.

[20] Almack's was an academy of fashion where all the best

society in London collected. The patronesses were six ladies of

high rank; every man of the world had to make his _début_ at

Almack's.

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."

[21] Through her mother Lady Jersey was the grand-daughter of

Robert Child, the banker.

_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.

[22] This house still belongs to the Hope family, and contains a

remarkable picture gallery. The park and the Italian garden are

among the finest in England.

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.

[23] Denbies now belongs to Mr. G. Cubitt; it is situated in the

county of Surrey, near Dorking.

_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]

[24] The following was the composition of Lord Grey's Cabinet:

First Lord of the Treasury, Earl Grey; Lord Chancellor, Lord

Brougham; Lord President of the Council, the Marquess of

Lansdowne; Lord Privy Seal, the Earl of Durham; Chancellor of the

Exchequer, Lord Althorp; Home Secretary, Viscount Melbourne;

Foreign Secretary, Viscount Palmerston; Colonial Secretary,

Viscount Goderich; President of the Board of Trade, Lord

Auckland; First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir James Graham;

Postmaster-General, the Duke of Richmond; Chief Secretary for

Ireland, Mr. Stanley; Paymaster-General, Lord John Russell;

President of the Board of Control, Mr. Charles Grant; Chancellor

of the Duchy of Lancaster, Lord Holland.

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.