Читать книгу Memoirs of the Duchesse de Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan) , 1831-1835 - Dorothée duchesse de Dino - Страница 8

The Ministry was represented by Lord Grey, Lord Lansdowne, and Lord Melbourne. The Cabinet is much embarrassed, for every day incidents are happening in the House of Commons which show up vividly the serious divisions in its ranks. Last night Lord Grey's face showed visible traces of this.

London, February 20, 1834.—A new and very ugly story is afloat concerning Count Alfred d'Orsay which is as follows: Sir Willoughby Cotton, writing from Brighton at the same time to Count d'Orsay and to Lady Fitzroy Somerset, cross-directed the letters so that M. d'Orsay on opening the letter which he received, instead of seeing the mistake and stopping at the first line, which ran "Dear Lady Fitzroy," read it through and found, among other Brighton gossip, some pleasantries about Lady Tullemore and one of her lovers, and a sharp saying about himself. What did he do but go to the club, read out the letter before every one, and finally put it under cover and send it to Lord Tullemore! The result very nearly was a crop of duels. Lady Tullemore is very ill, and the guilty lover has fled to Paris. Friends intervened, however, and the thing was hushed up for the sake of the ladies, but M. d'Orsay cut (and cuts) an odious figure.

London, February 27, 1834.—The latest joke is to spread rumours of Lord Palmerston's marriage with Miss Jerningham. She was at the Russian Embassy yesterday overdressed and bedizened as usual. Madame de Lieven made her a target for her wit, but couldn't quite get out of inviting her. No doubt, in order to avenge this constraint, she said quite loudly that Miss Jerningham reminded her of the usual advertisement in the Times: "A housemaid wants a situation in a family where a footman is kept." Clever and only too true, but most uncharitable! She was good enough to add that the comic papers had christened Lord Palmerston "the venerable cupid."

London, May 1, 1834.—Mr. Salomon Dedel arrived this morning from the Hague, bringing me a letter from General Fagel, which contained the following: "Someone has found out that Dedel had expressed the hope that he might reappear in London armed with instructions to bring the affair to a conclusion." Dedel mentioned the matter to the King, who replied: "The purpose of your absence was to see your relatives and friends of whom you can give news if anybody asks you." Further on the same letter runs: "We wish to be forced by the five powers, and will take no account of a partial coercion like that of 1832. If the powers are not unanimous we shall continue to refuse any definite arrangement. At the worst we prefer the road to Silesia to recognising Leopold."

Madame de Jaucourt, referring to the insane party spirit now in the ascendant in France, writes to M. de Talleyrand that her brother M. de Thiard said at her house the other day: "I would give my right arm to have Charles X. back in the place from which we deposed him."

Is it not curious that young Baillot, who has just been assassinated during the late troubles in Paris, should have often boasted of having killed several people during the days of July 1830 in exactly the same way as he was killed himself?

I have just heard of an amusing thing said by the old Marchioness of Salisbury. Last Sunday she was at church, a rare thing with her, and the preacher, speaking of the Fall, observed that Adam excusing himself had cried out, "Lord the woman tempted me." At this quotation Lady Salisbury, who appeared not to have heard of the incident before, jumped up in her seat saying, "Shabby fellow indeed!"

I have just been paying a morning call on the Queen, whom I found much agitated, anxious, and yet pleased, about her impending journey to Germany. The King arranged it without her knowledge and superintended the smallest details. It is he who has chosen the suite, engaged the servants, and selected the carriages. It has all been done in such a hurry that the Queen has not yet recovered from the shock. She doesn't know whether to be glad at the prospect of seeing her mother, who is aged and infirm, or to be worried about leaving the King alone for six weeks. She told me that the King wanted to invite M. de Talleyrand and me to Windsor during our stay at Salt Hill, but that she herself had dissuaded him as it would have led to other invitations, and they would have had to ask, among other people, the Princesse de Lieven, for whom the King does not care.

The Queen coughs and thinks herself quite ill, but she hopes to be restored by her native air.

It is impossible not to be struck, every time one sees her, with the perfect simplicity, truth and uprightness of her Majesty's character. I have rarely seen a person more devoted to duty or more self-consistent in all that she says and does. She is both kind and cheerful, and, though not beautiful, she is perfectly graceful. The tones of her voice are unfortunately nasal, but what she says is so full of good sense and real kindness that it is a pleasure to listen to her. The satisfaction she feels in speaking German is very natural, and I feel this every time she does so. I wish, however, that she indulged herself in this way more sparingly in the presence of English people. In her own interest it would be better for her if she had more of the Englishwoman in her; no one could have remained more characteristically German than she has, and I fear that this sometimes gives offence. How is a monarch to escape doing so nowadays? They are made responsible for everything and are always threatened with punishment merited or unmerited. The poor Queen has already a sad experience of the bitterness of unpopularity and of calumny. She has always faced attack with dignity and valour, and I am sure she has courage enough to confront any danger.

This is St. Philip's day; the Lievens and Lady Cowper dined with us, and Prince Esterhazy came in afterwards. I have noticed for some time a certain sharpness in his manner to the Lievens which is unusual in him. The pleasantries which he addresses to the Princess soon turn to irony. I suspect that on her side she will not regret his departure. She has never managed to subdue him; he slips through her fingers, and his jests, always subtle and sometimes malicious, embarrass her and put her out. They are constantly on their guard with one another, and they make up for the resulting constraint by frequent interchanges of pin pricks.

The Queen told me that Esterhazy, when lately at Windsor, spoke to her of M. de Talleyrand with the greatest enthusiasm, saying that one of his greatest pleasures was to listen to his conversation. He added, that when he got home he often made a note of what he had heard from M. de Talleyrand. It seems that Esterhazy keeps a journal in great detail. He told the Queen so, and explained that this habit was of such long standing that the journal already filled several large volumes, which he was fond of re-reading. The Queen was surprised, not unnaturally, to discover such a sedentary habit so consistently maintained by one whose manners were so restless and whose ideas were so often scattered.

Lord Palmerston since our return from France has never accepted an invitation to dinner with us, and has never come to a single one of our receptions. However, we invited him again to-night, and thought that the presence of Lady Cowper might attract him, but he sent excuses at the last moment.

London, Friday, May 2, 1834.—Alva writes that he hears from his nephew, the Marquis de Miraflorès the Spanish Minister in London, that Lord Palmerston never ceases praising the brilliancy of his diplomatic début here. The marquis, being a fool, does not perceive the cause of this eulogium, which is, of course, the treaty of quadruple alliance proposed by him at Lord Palmerston's own instigation, the results of which, though by no means apparent as yet, may be more embarrassing than pleasing to its author and to France.

M. de Montrond writes to M. de Talleyrand to say that he has caused his desire to come to London to be intimated to M. de Rigny, who, before allowing him to go, desires him to make sure whether M. de Talleyrand would like it. M. de Montrond is much annoyed at this obstacle, but I am grateful to M. de Rigny for having raised it. As a matter of fact, last year M. de Montrond professed to be charged with a secret diplomatic mission, and was simply a nuisance. The bad temper he felt and showed when he was not admitted to the secret concerns of the Embassy often made him forget his manners, annoyed M. de Talleyrand and was most unpleasant for everybody. For the last eighteen months M. de Montrond has had the management of a thousand Louis of the Foreign Affairs Secret Service money: I doubt if he ever gives them back the change!

In London all the workmen are in rebellion; the tailors have stopped work for want of hands. It is said that on the cards for Lady Lansdowne's ball there was inscribed: "The gentlemen to appear in their old coats." Now the laundries have caught the infection, and soon we shall have to wash our own linen like the princesses in the Odyssey.

London, May 3, 1834.—M. de Talleyrand speaks with as much truth as wit of the "dangerous benevolence" of Lord Holland. With the most perfect geniality, the most equable temper, the gayest pleasantries, and the most obliging manner in the world, his Lordship is always ready to set light to the revolutionary train, and he feels the greatest annoyance of which he is capable when he is unsuccessful.

Yesterday I dined with Sir Stratford Canning. His house is curious, beautiful, admirably planned and full of souvenirs of Constantinople and of Spain. He himself is full of courtesy and learning; his conversation is witty, and if it were not for a certain contraction of the lips which spoils an otherwise fine face, and for the oppressed air of his wife, one could hardly understand the bad accounts of him which one hears almost everywhere. This, at least, was the pretext on which the Czar refused to receive him last winter as Ambassador at St. Petersburg.

London, May 4, 1834.—Koreff is a braggadocious creature with a vein of indiscreet curiosity which I have sometimes noticed on the Continent, and which here inspires me with the most profound mistrust. His wit and his learning are lost among the bad features of his character, which often make him quite impossible. He lives on gossip of all kinds, public and private, and when he can get nothing else to talk about he talks about medicine. Then he assumes the physician and deifies his art. You hear of patients saved by him when all hope was gone; of his marvellous discoveries, of magnetism, homeopathy true and false, of things natural and supernatural, possible and impossible. Everything serves to magnify his importance, to surround the poor creature with an atmosphere of the marvellous, which covers his want of real dignity.

We had him to dinner with Sir Henry Halford, and I don't think they took to each other. What, indeed, could they have in common? Science perhaps, if by science they both understood the same thing. Sir Henry is a suave and polished person—measured, discreet, supple, and deferential; a perfect courtier, a man of fortune, highly respected, and a great practitioner. He has never sought to be anything to the great but their doctor, and consequently, without seeking it, he has found himself in all family and State secrets. Koreff, on the other hand, poses as a man of letters and a statesman, and has thus made persons in great places chary of having him as their doctor. This was how he came to grief at Berlin; he will find it difficult to regain his ground at Paris, and he won't, in my opinion, be a success in London.

A propos of gossip and indiscreet curiosity, I cannot forget a very true reflection which the Duke of Wellington has just imparted to me on the subject of Alava. "Whoever aims at being in everybody's confidence," said his Grace, "must necessarily give his own confidence to more than one person, and this he usually does at some one else's expense." The Duke's honest commonsense is admirable. I had a long talk with him to-day at dinner, and I should like to remember everything he said. Truth and simplicity are becoming so rare that one is anxious to gather up the crumbs.

The Duke of Wellington's memory is very sure. He never quotes inexactly; he forgets nothing and never exaggerates; and if there is something a trifle abrupt, a little dry and military in his conversation, what he says is nevertheless attractive owing to its naturalness, its fairness, and the perfect good manners with which he says it. His manners are indeed excellent, and a woman has never to be on her guard against a conversation taking an awkward turn. In this respect he is much more reserved than Lord Grey, though in many ways the latter's education is more elaborate and his intelligence more cultivated than the Duke's.

The Duke of Wellington made a rather striking remark to me about the English character, to the effect that no people have a greater hatred of crimes of violence. In England a murder is discovered with the greatest promptitude. Every one helps to discover the assassin; tracks him out and denounces him, and is eager that justice should be done. He assured me that the English soldier is the least cruel in the world, and that once a battle is over he hardly ever commits deeds of violence. He is a great robber, no doubt, but not a murderer.

The excessive and naïve vanity of Lady Jersey, which amuses the Duke, led us to talk of Madame de Staël, with whom he was well acquainted, and whose absurd pretensions struck him as much as her wit and eloquence dazzled him. Madame de Staël, who wished to appear to his Grace in every character—even in the most feminine—observed one day that what she liked most in the world to hear was a declaration of love. She was so elderly and so ugly that the Duke could not help replying, "Yes, when you can be sure that it is genuine."

Lady Londonderry, who is celebrated for her eccentricities, being near her time, and certain she would have a son, has ordered a little hussar costume—the uniform of her husband's regiment. When she was ordering it she told the tailor that it was for a child six days old. "Your ladyship means six years?" replied the tailor. "No, indeed," answered Lady Londonderry; "six days; it is for his baptism!"

In the last years of George IV. the Duke of Cumberland enjoyed a good deal of his favour. Yet it was then that the King said, in reply to the Duke of Wellington's inquiry why H.R.H. was so universally unpopular: "It is because there are no lovers, no brothers and sisters, no friends, whom the Duke of Cumberland would not set by the ears if he came among them." It is said, however, that the Duke is no fool, but so cross-grained that he spoils everything he touches.

The Queen's approaching departure for Germany is causing anxiety to the King's best friends. It appears that his Majesty, who is the best of men, is subject to occasional attacks of strange excitement, that he takes extraordinary ideas into his head, and that his condition is sometimes so abnormal that he threatens to lose his balance altogether. The Queen, with her watchful kindness and her excellent good sense, watches over him at these crises, cuts them short, exercises a calming and moderating influence, and brings him back to a proper frame of mind.

At the present moment the King is very angry with Dom Pedro about the last commercial decree, which was published in Portugal the very day before the signature of the treaty of quadruple alliance in London. His annoyance will probably not carry him so far as to refuse to ratify the treaty, for with all his goodness the poor King is not very "consistent," as they say here.

I am told that Lord Durham was so uplifted by the reception prepared for him two years ago at St. Petersburg by the efforts of Madame de Lieven, and by that which he obtained recently at Paris (thanks to M. de Talleyrand's letters), that he doesn't think that a private situation is any longer worthy of him. His plan, of which he makes no secret, is to turn out Lord Grey, his father-in-law, and to put himself in his place, or at least to get into the Cabinet, the result of which would be the resignation of all the other members. He would, perhaps, consent to be satisfied with the Viceroyalty of Ireland, or as a last resort to take the Embassy at Paris; but if all these fail, he declares that he will put himself openly at the head of the Radicals and declare a war to the knife on all existing institutions.

I know that Pozzo is writing hymns in honour of the King of the French, reminiscences of which occur in the speech he has just made on the occasion of the Feast of St. Philip. He doesn't mind M. de Rigny, for, as a matter of fact, it is the King who is now his own Minister of Foreign Affairs. Above all, he seems much pleased to be rid of M. de Broglie, whose passion for argument, scornful manners, and exclusive devotion to Lord Granville did not smooth or sweeten his relations with the rest of the diplomatic corps.

Pozzo, like many others, does not think that France has got through her revolutionary troubles. He seems anxious about the future, and I think this feeling is shared by all who are not blinded by preposterous over-confidence.

London, May 5, 1834.—I have just heard a piece of very sad news, my excellent friend the Abbé Girollet is very ill. I shall soon have no one left to love, no one in whose affection I can trust. The dear Abbé was so happy at Rochecotte in his pretty house among his books, his flowers, his poor, and his neighbours. It was a touching picture which I had few opportunities of enjoying, and which I shall probably never see again. It will remain to me as a dream cut short by my absence, but pleasant to remember while life lasts, for it will be consecrated to the purest and most faithful of God's servants, to the most faithful of friends, to the most tolerant of men.

The Duchess of Kent gave a reception last night in honour of her brother, Duke Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg. There was such a crowd that it was like one of the Queen's drawing-rooms. The young Princess Victoria struck me the moment I saw her as having grown a little and as being paler and thinner. By this she is much improved, though still too small for the fifteen years which she will complete in three weeks time. The little queen that is to be has a fine complexion and magnificent chestnut hair. In spite of her small stature she is well made; she will have pretty shoulders and fine arms, her expression and her manners are sweet and kindly, she speaks several languages fluently, and it is said that she is being very carefully educated. Her mother and the Baroness Lehzen, a German lady, take complete charge of the Princess. The Duchess of Northumberland only fulfils her functions as Governess on State occasions. I have heard the Duchess of Kent reproached for surrounding her daughter so much with Germans that her English accent is defective.

London, May 6, 1834.—Last night I dined at Lord Sefton's; he was just back from the House of Lords, where Lord Londonderry had been renewing his attack of a few years ago, and accusing the Government of being managed and duped by "that wily politician" M. de Talleyrand. His expressions are as unalterable as his opinions, for they are the very ones he used three years ago. On that occasion he was sharply taken up by the Duke of Wellington, who, though belonging to the same party as Lord Londonderry, made the rude speech of the latter the occasion for a most flattering reference to M. de Talleyrand. It seems that Lord Grey did the same yesterday. To him it came much easier, for it was his own cause that he was defending; still I am obliged to him, though I do not class what he did with the conduct of the Duke of Wellington.

I went with Lady Sefton to the opera of Othello. It used to be my favourite opera, but yesterday it did not impress me so favourably. Rubini, with all the grace and expressiveness of his singing, lacks the ringing force which made Garcia incomparable in the part of Othello. The orchestra was meagre, and the concerted pieces were not worked up enough. Mlle. Grisi acted and sang well; I thought her better than Mme. Malibran, but she fell short of the sublime simplicity and greatness of Mme. Pasta. There are more beautiful voices than hers and more beautiful women than she, but Mme. Pasta and no other is the true Tragic Muse, and no one can replace her in my admiration or in my recollection. When she was making her début at Paris, Talma, who was still alive, was transported by her words, her poses, and her gestures, and exclaimed: "That woman has discovered in a day what I have been seeking for thirty years."

London, May 8, 1834.—I have already spoken of the good action performed three years ago by the Duke of Wellington in answering Lord Londonderry's attack on M. de Talleyrand. He completed it the day before yesterday by showing openly by repeated exclamations of Hear! Hear! how thoroughly he agreed with the high opinion which Lord Grey expressed of M. de Talleyrand. Several people have been kind enough to seize the opportunity of expressing their regard for M. de Talleyrand. Prince de Lieven and Prince Esterhazy, at the King's levee yesterday, both thanked Lord Grey for doing justice to their veteran colleague.

M. de Rigny writes confidentially to M. de Talleyrand that the marriage of Princess Marie of Orléans to the second brother of the King of Naples has been decided, and that the contract will be prepared with Prince Butera, who has just arrived in Paris. The admiral seems to think that certain questions of interest will delay the conclusion of this affair. I should be sorry, for the Orléans Princesses—pleasant, well-mannered, well-dowered great ladies as they are, are none the less difficult to marry. There is about them a faint aroma of usurpation which deters certain princely families from an alliance with them. It is curious that King Louis-Philippe, who has for his children the sort of affection which it is the fashion to call bourgeois, is so stiff about helping the Princesses, his daughters, out of their difficult position by the large dowries to which they are entitled. Princess Marie would be better in Italy than anywhere else. She has any amount of imagination and vivacity, but her deportment is defective, and in spite of an education which should have assured her principles, she has a freedom of manner and conversation which might produce an idea (utterly mistaken as it would be) that they were not very solid in their foundations.

Yesterday we carried out our plan, formed more than a year ago, of visiting Eltham, a barn which once was a banqueting-hall of the Kings of England. From the days of Henry III. down to the time of Cromwell, they frequently occupied the palace of which this hall was a part. Its proportions are fine, but it is no longer possible to judge of its decoration. Several pieces of wall, the moat, now planted and watered by a pretty brook, and a Gothic bridge covered with ivy and very picturesque, show the former extent of the Royal manor.

Yesterday we dined with the Duchess of Kent. The strong scent of the flowers with which her small and low rooms were crowded, made them unwholesome without making them pleasant. Everything was stiff and sombre at this party to which a few of the nobility and the more important of the diplomatic corps were invited to meet the Royal family. The Princes present were on far from good terms. The King was cross with the Duchess of Kent. The Duke of Cumberland was absent for the good reason that he wasn't invited, not having called on his sister-in-law since his return from Berlin. Everything down to the arrangement of the chairs, which made conversation impossible, emphasised the weariness of the evening. The proceedings were interminable, the room was very hot, our hostess was visibly ill at ease. She is not uncivil, but has an unnatural sort of air, awkward and pedantic at the same time. The Duke of Somerset took the most sensible course and went to sleep, leaning against a pilaster, immediately after dinner.

Everybody was disposed to criticise, and hardly concealed their desire to do so. The Queen complained of the heat, and at dessert said to the Duchess that if she had eaten enough it would be a mercy if she might leave the table. The King said to his neighbours that the dinner was à l'entreprise, and pretended not to understand a word of what Duke Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg was saying. His Highness, who is the Duchess of Kent's brother, is ugly, awkward, and embarrassed; he has made no great impression here, especially not with the King, to whom he showed no great anxiety to be introduced. His Majesty, on the other hand, kept him waiting for a long time before receiving him, which made the Duchess of Kent very cross.

Madame de Lieven pointed out to me the familiarity with which Esterhazy addresses and treats the Royal Family. She professed to be much scandalised, and said that the fact that he was a relation (to which I referred) was no excuse at all. They are always rivals, and this, they say, was very marked in the late reign. The Princesse de Lieven by cultivating first Lady Hertford and then Lady Conyngham, and by reason of her thinness, which kept the favourite from fearing her as a rival, managed to get into the King's intimate circle, and thus she contrived to get even with the Esterhazys, whose pleasant manners, great position, and family connection, naturally brought them nearer to the throne.

The absence of Lord Palmerston, who should have been asked to meet the ambassadors, was much noticed. It is said that he is in the Duchess of Kent's black books, and that when he bows to her at Drawing-rooms she never says a word to him. It was a surprise, also, not to see the Saxon Minister, a sort of family envoy for the Queen, for the Duchess herself and, above all, for Duke Ferdinand, to whose person he is officially attached.

The Duchess of Gloucester could not deny herself the pleasure of ending a civil and apologetic phrase by a charitable remark on the innate awkwardness of the Duchess of Kent, and the Princesse de Lieven was bold enough to recall the fact that George IV. used to speak of his sister-in-law as "the Swiss Governess." Whatever be the faults of the Duchess of Kent, it must be admitted that her political conduct shows much prudence. As she will, no doubt, be called upon to act as Regent, this is not unimportant. No one knows what her political opinions are, or to what party she leans. She invites them all, mixes them well at her parties, and keeps everyone in a state of perfect balance. Her obstinate conduct towards the Fitzclarences is small-minded of her, and to explain it she affects a ridiculous prudery. I know that in answer to the remonstrances of Lord Grey on the subject, she said, stupidly enough: "But, my lord, you would not have me expose my daughter to hear people talking of bastards and have her asking me what it meant." "In that case, madam," replied Lord Grey, "do not allow the Princess to read the history of the country which she is destined to rule, for the first page will teach her that William of Normandy was called the Bastard before he was called the Conqueror." It is said that the Duchess was much annoyed with Lord Grey.

London, May 9, 1834.—M. de Talleyrand learns by telegraphic despatch from Paris that a Secretary of Embassy coming from Spain brings news that Don Carlos has left the Peninsula, and is embarking for England, which he wishes to choose as arbitrator in his family quarrel about the Crown. This seems very improbable, and before believing it everybody is awaiting confirmation.

The curiosity and interest aroused by M. de Talleyrand in England are as great as ever. As we were leaving our carriage at Kensington the other day, we saw women being lifted up by their husbands in order to see him better. Scheffer's portrait of him is now with Colnaghi, the print-seller, for the purpose of being engraved. It attracts many interested spectators, and the shops in front of which M. de Talleyrand's carriage stops are immediately surrounded by a crowd. The portrait at Colnaghi's is placed next to that of Mr. Pitt. "There is a man who made great events," said someone, pointing to the latter, "he" (indicating M. de Talleyrand) "was clever enough to foresee them and profit by them."

M. de Talleyrand told me yesterday that when he got rid of his priest's orders he felt an extraordinary desire to fight a duel. He spent two whole months diligently looking for a quarrel, and fixed on the Duc de Castries, who was both narrow-minded and hot-tempered, as the man most likely to gratify him. They were both members of the Club des Echecs, and one day when they were both there M. de Castries began to read aloud a pamphlet against the minority of the nobility. M. de Talleyrand thought he saw his chance, and requested M. de Castries to stop reading what was personally offensive to him. M. de Castries replied that at a club everybody might read or do what he pleased. "Very well!" said M. de Talleyrand, and placing himself at a tric-trac table near M. de Castries, he scattered the pieces lying on it with so much noise as to drown entirely the voice of the reader. A quarrel seemed inevitable, and M. de Talleyrand was delighted, but M. de Castries only flushed and frowned, finished his reading, and left the club without saying anything. Probably for him M. de Talleyrand could not cease to be a priest.

London, May 10, 1834.—Yesterday I read very hurriedly M. de Lamennais' book the Paroles d'un Croyant; it is the Apocalypse according to a Jacobin. It is, moreover, very tedious, which surprises me, as M. de Lamennais is a man of much intelligence and undeniably has talent. He has just reconciled himself with Rome, but this will break the peace, for his sworn enmity to all temporal power must be displeasing as much to the Pope as to any autocrat.

It was much whispered yesterday that the King of England was feeling more keenly than usual the influence of the spring season, during which every year his physical and mental equilibrium is markedly disturbed. When one thinks of the family history of the House of Brunswick one finds reason to be alarmed.

I never heard on the Continent of the malady known here as "Hay Fever," which shows itself at the time when the hay is cut. At this time many people, the Duke of Devonshire and Lady Grosvenor among the number, suffer from fever, insomnia, and much nervous trouble. Those who suffer from this disorder come back to town and avoid all meadows and the scent of hay.

The King's physical malaise, however, is accompanied by a curious mental agitation and a strange loquacity. If this unpleasant state of matters is not ended by July, I am convinced that the Queen will disregard his wishes, and will not go to Germany. She alone has any salutary and moderating influence on him at such times.

I hear from Paris of the marriage of Elisabeth de Béranger to Charles de Vogüé, one of my cousins, who is both well bred and well endowed. She was much sought after, for, besides her birth and fortune, she has both beauty and talent. I knew her well when she was a child—a charming creature, with much vivacity and a strong will of her own—a characteristic which has probably become more marked since her mother's death, as she is an only child and worshipped by her father.

Another marriage is also announced—that of my niece à la mode de Bretagne, the Princesse Biron, whose fiancé is Colonel Lazareff, an Armenian in the Russian service. He is said to be fabulously rich, and to possess palaces in the East, and gems and treasures of all kinds. I don't know what brought him to Dresden, where he made my niece's acquaintance while she was staying with her sister, the Comtesse de Hohenthal. She is said to be very much in love, but I confess that this Armenian origin, this splendour in the manner of the Arabian Nights, make me rather anxious. Sorcerers and swindlers often come from unknown countries; their jewels often turn to coal-dust; they can rarely face the light of day. In a word, I should have preferred for my niece a man who was rather better born, rather less wealthy, and rather less oriental.

London, May 12, 1834.—The febrile and nervous condition of the King of England becomes more and more marked; he really says the most bizarre things. At the State Ball he said to Madame de Lieven that people's minds had been rather unbalanced lately, and pointing to his cousin, the Duke of Gloucester, he added: "Now, for instance, he believes in the transmigration of souls, and he thinks that the souls of Alexander the Great and Charles the First have passed into his." The Princess replied rather flippantly: "The dear departed must be much astonished to find themselves there!" The King looked at her with an uncertain air and went on, "Fortunately he is not clever enough to bring his head to the block;" which for His Majesty is really not so bad.

What is more serious than these absurd speeches is that he sleeps ill, has frequent fits of anger, and has a childish military mania. Thus he goes to the barracks, gives the most preposterous orders without consulting the officers, reduces the regiments to disorder, and makes himself the laughing-stock of the troops. The Duke of Wellington and the Duke of Gloucester, both Field Marshals, and Lord Hill, the Commander-in-Chief, thought it their duty to make joint representations in respectful but serious terms. They were very ill received, Lord Hill being especially mishandled by his Majesty, who frightened him very much. If the poor King's mind were to give way they say it would certainly be on the subject of the army, for he thinks he has great military talent, or about women, with whom he thinks he is irresistible. They say that his only reason for hastening the Queen's departure is his desire to be a bachelor for six weeks.

He has already taken time by the forelock in handing to the Queen all the presents that she will find it necessary to give while on the Continent. The Royal Family is very anxious; they would like to prevent the King from exposing himself so much to the sun, from drinking so much sherry, from seeing so many people. They want him, in fact, to lead a more retired life till the present crisis, which is so much worse than its predecessors, has quite passed off, but he is very hard to manage.

Among his strangest remarks I must quote his inquiry addressed to Prince Esterhazy, "whether people married in Greece?" "I ask," he added, noticing that the Prince was rather astonished, "because, as of course you know, there are no marriages in Russia."

The good Duke of Gloucester, who is much attached to the King, is sincerely grieved. As to the Duke of Cumberland, he doesn't hesitate to proclaim in the clubs that the King is mad, and that it is his father's case over again. This is neither brotherly nor filial. Some people are already beginning to consider who would get the Regency if this sad state of matters should persist or become acute; it is still rather a feverish condition than absolute insanity. The Duchess of Kent doesn't count so long as the King lives and may have children. The Princess Victoria, heiress-presumptive, is not of age, and the question would therefore be between the Queen and the Duke of Cumberland, both of whom are almost equally unfavourable to the present Cabinet. Thus things will be allowed to go pretty far before the existence of the evil is admitted. Yesterday Lord Grey was saying with a great affectation of emphasis, that the King was never better in his life.

When it became known here that Jerome Bonaparte intended to come, the Court of Würtemberg was warned that it would be undesirable that he should bring the Princess, his wife, along with him, as, in spite of the near relationship, she could not be received. Jerome, therefore, came alone, and in spite of the hint he had received he sought an audience with the King which M. de Mendelsloh, the Würtemberg minister, was foolish enough to request. The moment the King heard of it, he said: "He may go to the Devil." He is so touchy about the Bonapartes that he very nearly forbade the Duke of Sussex to come to Court for having received Lucien, and took it very ill that the Lord Chancellor exposed the Duke of Gloucester to the chance of meeting the Prince de Canino at one of Lady Brougham's parties.

Lord Durham dined with us yesterday for the first time, and I had my first opportunity of a direct conversation with him. I watched the movements of his face, which is praised highly, and with reason; but I noticed that it does not improve when he is speaking, and his smile suits him ill. His lips express bitterness more than anything else, and all that comes from within seems to diminish his good looks. A face may remain beautiful even when it ceases to express kindness, but a laugh which is not genial impresses me most unfavourably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

London, May 26, 1834.—Lord Grey's Ministry is on the verge of breaking up, owing to the resignations of Mr. Stanley and Sir James Graham, which are threatened if he makes further concessions to the Irish Catholics at the expense of the Anglican Church. If he refuses these concessions in order to keep Mr. Stanley, whose parliamentary talents are of the first order, the Cabinet will probably find themselves in a minority in the House of Commons, and the fall of the whole Ministry will be the result. This, at least, is what was being said and believed yesterday, and Lord Grey's careworn face at Lord Durham's dinner-party, and some remarks which Lady Tankerville, with naïve silliness, let fall, gave ample confirmation to the rumour. The question will be settled to-morrow (Tuesday the 27th) on the occasion of Mr. Ward's motion.

Madame de Lieven has not concealed from me her hope that, if the Cabinet changes, either wholly or in part, and if Lord Palmerston is among those who go out, there may be a chance of her staying here. She flatters herself that the first act of the new Foreign Secretary would be to ask the Russian Government that M. de Lieven might not be removed. In these circumstances, she added, she would count on the influence of M. de Talleyrand with the new Minister, whoever he might be, to persuade him to take this step.

London, May 27, 1834.—It is a curious thing that Marshal Ney's son, who is in London, should wish to be presented at the Court of England who abandoned his father when they might have saved him. It is also curious that he should wish to get himself presented by M. de Talleyrand, who was Minister when the Marshal was arrested and tried, and that his presentation should take place on the same day as that of M. Dupin, who was his father's defender, and that all this should happen in the presence, as it were, of the Duke of Wellington who, without departing in the least from the terms of the capitulation of Paris, might have protected the prisoner, but did not think fit to do so. The young Prince de la Morkowa doubtless failed to make these reflections, but M. de Talleyrand knew very well that others would make them for him, that they would be unpleasant for everyone concerned, and by no means least for the young man himself. He, therefore, declined to make the presentation on the ground that the interval between his receiving the request and the date of the presentation was too short to fulfil the necessary formalities.

Yesterday, at seven o'clock in the evening, I received an interesting note from a confidential friend of the Prime Minister: "Nothing has changed since yesterday, and there is no improvement in the situation. We shall spend to-night in trying to keep the question open, that is to say, to keep it from being regarded as a Cabinet question, and to leave everyone free to vote as he likes. The Lord Chancellor is trying hard to secure the adoption of this expedient, but Lord Grey, who is evidently anxious to resign, may very likely wreck the plan."

London, May 27, 1834.—After much agitation and uncertainty Lord Grey has decided to let Mr. Stanley and Sir James Graham leave the Ministry; their example will probably be followed by the Duke of Richmond and Lord Ripon. Lord Grey remains, taking the side of Mr. Ward's motion. For a moment his better instincts suggested that he should resign, but Mr. Ellice, under whose influence he is at present, pushed him in the other direction, and the Chancellor was urgent with the King, who begged Lord Grey to remain.

Yesterday Ministers were singing the King's praises with tears in their eyes. The poor King, in spite of his scruples of conscience, has supported Reform, so the Lord Chancellor says he is a great King and joyfully adds, with that verbose intoxication which is so characteristic of him, that yesterday was the second great day in the annals of the beneficent English Revolution. This strange, undignified, unconventional Chancellor dined with us yesterday. He is dirty, cynical and coarse, drunk both with wine and with words, vulgar in his talk and ill-bred in his habits. He came to dine with us yesterday in a morning coat, ate with his fingers, tapped me on the shoulder and conversed most foully. Without his extraordinary gifts of memory, learning, eloquence and activity no one would be more anxious to have done with him than Lord Grey. I do not know any two characters more diametrically opposed. Lord Brougham who was wonderful in the House of Commons is a constant source of scandal in the Lords where he turns everything upside down. He, the Chancellor, is often called to order! He is always embarrassing Lord Grey by his eccentricities; in short he is wholly out of his element, and I believe that he would be only too glad to bury the whole Peerage with his own hands.

Yesterday we had M. Dupin at dinner to meet him, another of the coarser products of the age. He is loud and sententious as becomes a public prosecutor, and he has a heavy plebeian vanity which is always in evidence. The first thing he said to the Chancellor, who remembered meeting him some years before, was, "Oh yes, when we were both at the bar."

Lord Althorp, in the House of Commons yesterday, asked that Mr. Ward's motion might be adjourned in order that the Government might have time to fill the gaps left by the resignation of several members of the Cabinet. This was agreed to.

No one can understand what inspires the Duchess of Kent's continued ill-feeling against the Queen. In spite of the Duchess's refusal to take the Princess Victoria to Windsor, the Queen wished to go to Kensington to see her the day before yesterday evening. The Duchess of Kent refused, on some trifling pretext, to receive Her Majesty, who was much hurt. Nobody can understand what motive there can be for such conduct. Lord Grey yesterday attributed it to Sir John Conroy, the Duchess's Gentleman-in-Waiting, who is said to be very ambitious, very narrow-minded, and very powerful with the Duchess. He thinks that if the Duchess became Regent he will be called upon to fill a great position, which he is even now anticipating. He imagines that he has been insulted in some way or other by the Court of St. James's, and his revenge is to sow discord in the Royal family. I heard of the latest scene at Kensington from Dr. Küper, the Queen's German Chaplain, who, on leaving Her Majesty yesterday morning, came to tell me how unhappy the good woman is about it. Lord Grey, to whom I was talking about it at dinner, told me that King Leopold, when he left England, had told him that he was very sorry to leave his sister under such a bad influence as that of Sir John Conroy, but that, as the Princess Victoria was fifteen and would be of age at eighteen, the Duchess would either not be Regent at all or would be so only for a very short time.

London, May 29, 1834.—Princess Victoria as yet only appears at the two Drawing-Rooms which celebrate the respective birthdays of the King and Queen. I thought at yesterday's (which, by the way, lasted more than three hours, and at which more than eighteen hundred people passed the Presence) that this young Princess had made great progress in the last three months. Her manners are perfect, and she will one day be agreeable enough to be almost pretty. Like all Royalties, she will have acquired the art of standing for a long time without fatigue or impatience. Yesterday we all collapsed in turn, except the wife of the new Greek Minister, whose religion accustoms her to remain standing for long periods. She stood the ordeal very well, being further supported by curiosity and by the novelty of her surroundings. She is astonished at everything, asks the strangest questions, and makes naïve observations and mistakes. Thus, seeing the Lord Chancellor pass in his State robes and full-bottomed wig, and carrying the embroidered purse containing the Great Seal, she took him for a bishop carrying the Gospels, an error which, in the case of Lord Brougham, was particularly comic.

Yesterday the Princesse de Lieven, for the first time, appeared in the Russian national dress which has just been adopted at St. Petersburg for State occasions. This costume is so noble, so rich, and so graceful that it suits any woman, or rather it suits no woman ill. The Princess's dress was particularly well planned and showed her off well, as the veil concealed the thinness of her neck.

Nothing else was talked of yesterday at Court and elsewhere but the resignation of four members of the Ministry, which deprives it of much of its moral force. This is particularly so in the case of Mr. Stanley because of his great talents, and in the case of the Duke of Richmond because of his great position. The Conservatives are much pleased, their ranks being increased and those of their adversaries, if not numerically diminished, at least very ill-filled. Lord Mulgrave, Lord Ebrington, Mr. Abercromby, and Mr. Spring Rice are spoken of for the Cabinet, but nothing is settled yet.

At the big Diplomatic dinner for the birthday, which took place at the house of the Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston had for the first time invited ladies, and sat between the Princesse de Lieven and myself. He was chilly on the right and breezy on the left, and obviously ill at ease, though his embarrassment was not at all increased by the fact that he was not in his drawing-room ready to receive the ladies as they arrived, but came in afterwards without making the slightest excuse.

M. Dupin is being very well treated here by all that is brilliant and exalted in society, and likes it so much that he is quite out of conceit with Paris. He considers that the Court at the Tuileries is wanting in dignity, that the women are not well enough dressed there, that the company is too much mixed, and that King Louis-Philippe is not Royal enough! What with dinners and drawing-rooms, receptions at Court, routs, concerts, the Opera, races, &c., M. Dupin is launched on a course of dissipation which will make a grotesque dandy of him; and the result, if I am not mistaken, will astonish Paris.

Madame de Lieven is fond of talking about the late King George IV. She tells me that he hated common people so much that he never showed the least civility to M. Decazes, whom he saw only on one occasion—when he presented his credentials. As to Madame Decazes, as he held no drawing-room while she was in London, he avoided receiving her at all, and he could not be persuaded to grant her a private audience or to ask her to Carlton House. He behaved with almost equal incivility to the Princesse de Polignac, the obscurity of whose English origin was an offence to him. As to Madame Falk, the reason why she never saw the late King is even more curious. Madame Falk's exuberant Flemish charms are so well developed that they alarmed Lady Conyngham as being likely to be too much to the King's liking, and she always succeeded in preventing her from being received.