Chapter IV · 1834 (continued 3)

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]

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.

Last night it seemed as if everything in the greatness of England was dwindled, shrunken, and soiled. The Diplomatic Corps separated into groups, the expression of which was remarkable. The new Spain, the new Portugal, Belgium still in outline, everything which depends on the disorder and weakness of the Great Powers, looked at Lord Palmerston with great anxiety, which as the certainty grew that he would stay in office, changed into an expression of affection and triumph. Scorn and hatred contracted every fibre of the Princesse de Lieven. The French Ambassador, neither a reactionary like the North, nor a propagandist like the English, seemed full of care rather than annoyance, more sorry than surprised, and had the air of a man who, seeing the part of honest man played out, feels that his own is finished, and that the time has come for retiring with honour. The English themselves seemed humiliated, and under no illusions about the appearance of moderation which cloaks the feebleness of the present policy. In fact, the patch-up of the Ministry will lead more slowly perhaps, but by a process of disintegration equally sure, to the ruin which would have been the result had Lord Durham and Mr. O'Connell reached office at a single stride.

The more one examines Lord Brougham's conduct, the more one is struck with the shamelessness of his character. The day before yesterday the venerable Lord Harewood asked him where we were, and whether the Ministry would be reconstructed, and the Chancellor replied, "Where are we? Where do you suppose we can be when at a critical moment like this we have to deal with people who take it into their heads to talk of their honour? What have we to do with honour at such a time?"

If he is not troubled by considerations of his honour, he troubles himself equally little about his dignity. Yesterday when every one was so much agitated, in spite of the established custom that the Chancellor of England shall attend Divine Service at the Temple Church, he thought fit to accompany Madame Peter to Mass, and to sit beside this lady all the time, courting her not less assiduously than his colleague, Lord Palmerston.

This morning, it is said, they will throw a sop to Lord Durham, and will make him Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in order to get rid of him. At the same time, the revived Ministry will abandon the Coercion Bill. If this be done, they will have crowned Mr. O'Connell King of Ireland on the anniversary of the taking of the Bastille. July 14 is certainly the great day in the modern revolutionary annals.

I have just met a Conservative Peer, a clever and honourable man who moved me greatly. With tears in his eyes he lamented the degradation of his country, the ruin of this great and venerable fabric. He foresaw the terrible struggle which may immediately arise between the two Houses; the Radical spirit which, whether they like it or not, must control the present Ministry, and those which will rapidly succeed it. The present Cabinet in everybody's opinion is still-born, and people are surprised that so good and intelligent a man as Lord Melbourne should lend himself to such a farce. His sister tried to explain it by saying that one must sacrifice one's self for one's country, but Madame de Lieven answered, "The country cannot be saved by men who dishonour themselves."

Lord Melbourne's friends who know him well say that his indolence will very soon get the upper hand, and that with a vigorous "damn!" he will cast off everything. It is, indeed, strange to see the most nonchalant man in England called to the conduct of affairs at such a critical moment for the country.

London, July 15, 1834.—Lord Grey called and stayed a long time. We spoke of the recent crisis as if it were already ancient history, and with the same detachment and sincerity as of old. He argued feebly, and as it were to ease his conscience, against my melancholy forebodings, defended his successors collectively and abandoned them in detail; or at least he agreed that their position was difficult, and that they cut a sinister figure on their re-entry into power. He was silent when I told him that the public thought Mr. Littleton was the fool, Lord Althorp the weakling, the Chancellor the villain of the piece. He shrugged his shoulders when I quoted to him a curious remark made by his brother-in-law, Mr. Ellice, in Lady Grey's drawing-room the evening before, which was as follows. Replying to the regret expressed by some one at Lord Grey's retirement, "No doubt," he said, "it is a pity from many points of view, but it was bound to come. He was quite sick of the business, and, at any rate, this will have the advantage of giving us more scope, making our progress freer and getting us out of the policy of compromise, which is no longer possible."

Lord Grey said and repeated several times that he regretted neither power nor office, and that for several months past he had felt enfeebled, without interest in anything, and unable to do any business except with repugnance and lassitude. He confessed that what had made him feel most bitter was the conduct of some of his own people, especially Lord Durham, whose violence, hauteur, ambition and intrigues had afflicted him the more as his daughter had been the first to suffer. He could not doubt that Lady Durham's last miscarriage was due to her husband's brutality. He told me that in spite of the terror inspired by his character, it was proposed to give him, in the new Cabinet, the place left vacant by Lord Melbourne's transfer to the Treasury. Lord Durham's ambition and malevolent activity make him so inconvenient to any Ministry of which he is not a member, that it seems almost better to admit him, and to try in this way to neutralise his ill-will. Lord Grey was doubtful, however, whether they could make up their minds to do so, he was so much detested by every one.

Lord Grey was sure that he had persuaded Lord Althorp to resume his place in the Cabinet[25] in spite of the many embarrassments of his position. He says that without Lord Althorp they could never control the House of Commons. He flattered himself also that he has persuaded Lord Lansdowne to stay, but he was not sure of this. In fact, being persuaded that the accession to power of either the Tories or the Radicals would mean revolution, he did all he could with all the energy in his power to patch up the miserable Cabinet which has just betrayed him. He cannot or will not understand that it is Radicalism very thinly veiled just as much as if O'Connell or Cobbett were already in office.

I sat next the Chancellor at the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland's dinner. He was very genial, and invited me to drink the toast of the day, the 14th of July. "At dessert," I replied, well knowing that his restless mind would forget all about it. As a matter of fact, the matter quite slipped his memory. I could not, in any case, have drunk the toast, for this date, which has already such unhappy associations, was certainly not purified yesterday.

The Chancellor asked me if I had seen Lord Grey and if I was not struck with his simplicity, which he said was such that he could conceal, dissemble and contain nothing. "He is a child in candour and thoughtlessness, and he yields to the impressions of every moment." "His is a very noble nature," I replied. "Yes, yes, no doubt," said he, "it is the nature of a very nice child, which reminds me that Mr. Hare, a friend of Mr. Fox as well as of Fitzpatrick and Grey, used always to call him 'Baby Grey.'"

There is no doubt that Don Carlos is gone. Some say he embarked on the Thames when he was supposed to be at the Opera, and that he will land in Spain at one of the points where he is supposed to have a following. Others, and among them M. de Miraflorès, say that he has gone viâ France; that M. Calomarde managed the whole thing from Paris, instigated by him (Miraflorès) in order to entrap Don Carlos. Anyhow, he is gone, and whatever be the result of his enterprise it cannot be without effect.

London, July 16, 1834.—Lord Melbourne's successor at the Home Office is known; it is Lord Duncannon, who has been transferred from the Woods and Forests, which he leaves to Sir John Cam-Hobhouse. The latter is celebrated for his friendship with Lord Byron, his Eastern travels, and his very liberal opinions, in which, however, he is less extreme than Lord Duncannon, who is said to be quite violent. This shows that the Cabinet has taken on a more decidedly revolutionary character.

Yesterday it was certain that Don Carlos had left London; to-day his arrival in Spain is equally beyond doubt. The Tories say he has got to Navarre after having crossed all France; and this, too, is the version of M. de Miraflorès, who now perhaps regrets having boasted of having deceived the Prince and surrounded him with spies who were to deliver him up to the first Spanish outpost, while as a matter of fact he has arrived safe and sound among his own people, by whom, it is said, he has been enthusiastically received.

The English Ministry yesterday admitted knowing of Don Carlos's arrival in Spain, which is believed to have taken place on the 9th, but they say that he landed at a port in Biscaya attended only by a single Frenchman, and that his partisans eagerly welcomed him. It is asserted that he only went to Spain because the Northern provinces invited him, and threatened that they would declare their independence and constitute themselves a Republic if their natural leader did not come to them. It is clear that there must have been great hopes on the one hand and much to lose on the other before a man so timid and so incapable as Don Carlos could have been persuaded to run such a risk. Moreover, his conversation with the Duke of Wellington, which I set down above, shows that his mind has for several weeks been occupied with this plan of going to Spain.

London, July 17, 1834.—The friends of the new Ministry are wearing themselves out with assertions that the policy of the French alliance will not be altered in any way. I believe this is true; but, in the interests of both countries, I should have preferred that the alliance had been founded on social order and had not depended for its continuance on revolutionary sympathies, which give just cause for anxiety to the rest of Europe, and may bring about conflicts in which it would be difficult to predict who will be the victor.

We are more and more decided to return to France immediately after Parliament rises, and perhaps even sooner.

Our more distant future is not yet to be foreseen, but Lord Grey's example is another proof that the great figures of history should themselves choose the circumstances of their retirement, and should not wait till it is imposed upon them by the mistakes or the perfidy of others.

Yesterday we received the two first volumes of a book, entitled M. de Talleyrand. I have hardly looked at it, but M. de Talleyrand has read it. He says that nothing could be more stupid, false, tedious, and ill-imagined, and that he would not pay five shillings to have it suppressed. I admit that I am less philosophic, and that on occasions of this sort—which in a libellous age like ours are so numerous—I always remember a saying of La Bruyère's, which seems to me remarkably true. "Excessive calumny," he says, "like excessive praise, always leaves a trace behind." As a matter of fact, the world is divided into the foolish and the malevolent, and so there are always people who will believe what is improbable, especially about an opponent.

London, July 18, 1834.—Fatuity in men is a thing which spreads from one point to all the rest. M. de Miraflorès, who is very pushing with women and rather ridiculous, is not less presumptuous in politics. He launches out madly and credits himself with successes which are only due to the personal passions of the people, and which will perhaps hardly be justified by the final result. Thus he proclaims himself the inventor of the Quadruple Alliance, the first idea of which was suggested to him by Lord Palmerston. Now that Don Carlos's reappearance on Spanish territory renews the old difficulties, the little Marquis, proprio motu, without waiting for orders from his Government, sends a perfect olla podrida of a note—a masterpiece of absurdity—appealing to France and England to extend the scope of the treaty whose object was believed to be accomplished.

The present circumstances are, however, very different. Three months ago the two Pretenders, Miguel and Carlos, were both penned up in a little corner of Portugal, and were thus more particularly the business of England. Now Don Carlos is in the north of Spain, near the French frontier. Will England carry her revolutionary tendencies so far as to allow a French army to enter the Peninsula? Would not that be the signal for Lord Palmerston's resignation? On the other hand, can France, after declaring against Don Carlos, allow him again to seize a power which he would use against her? It is not that the Government of the Queen-Regent, which becomes more and more decrepit, is likely to be a very good neighbour. King Louis Philippe finds himself in the dilemma of being faced on the other side of the Pyrenees either with the Republican or the Legitimist principle. The mezzo termine can only be maintained by armed force—in fact, by conquest!

This reminds me of a very true remark made by M. de Talleyrand which has often come back to my mind during the last four years. It was said in the midst of the intoxication of the great days of 1830. M. de Talleyrand found one of his friends full of hopes and illusions, patriotic phrases and emotion, over the scene at the Hôtel de Ville, the Lafayette accolades, and the popularity of Louis Philippe. "Monsieur," said he, "what is wanting in all this is a trifle of conquest."

They say that in Spain Martinez de la Rosa is passé, and can no longer maintain himself in power; he will be replaced by Toreno, and will become President of the House of Peers. It is also said that the Queen-Regent will create him Marquis de l'Alliance.

London, July 19, 1834.—Everything that is happening here reminds one of the first scenes of the French Revolution. The analogy is striking, the copy a trifle too servile. The aristocracy, the minority of the nobility, the tiers état, have each their counterparts in the Tories, the Whigs, and the Radicals. The Whigs are blinded by jealousy and personal ambition, and will not see that they have any other enemies than the Tories; they see no danger except on that side, and in order to keep their rivals out of office they are precipitating themselves and all their class into the abyss which has been dug for them by the Radicals.

In talking over all this yesterday M. de Talleyrand quoted a remark made to him by the Abbé Sieyès during the sittings of the Constituent assembly. "Yes, we get on very well now that we are discussing only Liberty; it is when we get on to Equality that we shall quarrel."

At the very lively sitting of the Lords of the day before yesterday Ministers very clearly marked out the line they mean to follow, and the very men who in Lord Grey's time, less than a fortnight ago, held the repressive clauses of the Coercion Bill to be indispensable, announced their abandonment amid the jeers and scoffs of the House. This was as much as to say that the Cabinet in order to survive was putting itself at the disposal of the Radical majority in the House of Commons, was flouting the opposition of the Lords and doing its best to make it of no account. As one might expect, the irritation which results from this is sharply expressed in the Upper House. All the consolation Ministers have is the approbation which O'Connell is good enough to bestow upon them.

London, July 20, 1834.—I much prefer Lord Grey's second speech delivered the day before yesterday in the House of Lords to make clear his position which had been misrepresented by both parties, to the first speech in which he announced his resignation. The latter I thought was too long and too tearful, and entered too minutely into his family affairs. The speech of the day before yesterday was more laconic, and more closely argued; its dignity was remarkable and, while avoiding any bitterness or personality, the speaker exposed the chicanery which had forced him to retire. He remains well disposed to the guiltiest parties and full of kindness to his successors as individuals, but he will have nothing to do with their policy. His retirement in accordance with his own instincts is greeted with the applause of all sensible people, the humiliation of those whom he has quitted, and the lively displeasure of all those who are the real enemies of social order.

A fortnight ago I confess Lord Grey seemed to me nothing more than an old man worn out, shaken to pieces, and on the point of being discredited. Since his resignation his last political acts have been illumined with a brilliant gleam. His fine talent for oratory which he exercised so long in opposition has recovered all its energy now that he is out of office again, and it may be truly said that Lord Grey who has had one fall after another has again reached the foremost place now that he has got free of the shameful ambuscades by which he has been overpowered. The Cabinet is now much afraid of him and would fall low indeed if Lord Grey was not compassionate enough to throw over it the mantle of his protection. His colleagues, who lately spoke of him with more pity than respect, tremble at his words to-day. Ah! how wise it is not to survive one's self in politics, and how necessary it is to choose time fitting for retreat.

A resignation which is both less important and less honourable is that of Marshal Soult.[26] The reasons for his disappearance which is accepted by the King and little regretted by the Cabinet, are said to be internal quarrels about the question whether Algeria shall have a military or a civil governor—about a speech from the Throne, more or less detailed, which is to be delivered on July 31 next, but above all the terror of the Army estimates which the Marshal is said to be afraid to face next session. They say that they will offer his place to Marshal Gérard.

Most fortunately for the Queen Regent of Spain some accident seems to have happened which will enable her to appear at the opening of the Cortès. She has much need of a piece of good luck to re-establish her position which she has so curiously compromised by her frivolity and inconsequence.

Lord Howick, eldest son of Lord Grey, who has no great reputation for either physical or intellectual merit, has just resigned his position as Under Secretary of State at the Home Office, thus following his father's example and fortunes. This is the only instance of fidelity which his father is likely to encounter.

Yesterday I saw Lady Cowper at her own house; she seemed to me depressed and preoccupied. With her intelligence it is difficult for her not to be afflicted by conduct in her relatives and friends which is so wanting in credit. She pointed out to me not without reason the change which has come over London life and society, the care people take to avoid each other, the hostile way in which they speak of each other, the unrest of every one, their distrust of the present, their gloomy forebodings for the future, the general disorganisation, the dispersion of the diplomatic corps, and the absence of all government and all authority. This was striking language from the sister of the Premier and the intimate friend of the Foreign Secretary.

She tried hard to persuade me that the offence given by the latter to the corps diplomatique, and in particular to M. de Talleyrand, should not be attributed to any evil intention but simply to a certain neglect of forms which may well be excused in a man overwhelmed with work. She seemed to be especially embarrassed by the thought that M. de Talleyrand might take Lord Palmerston's conduct to him as a reason for retiring. She used all her wit in fact, all her charm and good taste, and she has all these qualities in a high degree, to justify her friends and to mitigate the bitterness which they have provoked. I left her much pleased with her way of putting things but not at all converted on essential points.

London, July 21, 1834.—The great need in which the Ministry find themselves of some speaker in the House of Lords less discredited than the Chancellor and cleverer than the other Ministers who are peers, has led them to make a most extraordinary proposition, characteristic of the absolute want of sense and refinement which distinguishes Holland House. They seriously suggested that Lord Grey should remain, not as Prime Minister, but as Lord Privy Seal! He had the good taste to laugh at this proposal, taking it as a thing too grotesque to take offence at. But how could they have had the impudence to make such a request?

However, everything is so strange just now that one need be surprised at nothing. Here for example is the full story of how Lord Melbourne discharged the task committed to him by the King of doing his best to form a Coalition Ministry. No doubt the thing was impossible; still, Lord Melbourne chose a curious way of bringing it about. He wrote on behalf of the King to the Duke of Wellington and to Sir Robert Peel telling them of the commission with which he had been entrusted, and adding that in order to save them trouble he would send them a copy of the letter which he had just written to His Majesty showing how he himself regarded the question. This letter contained nothing but a strong argument against any attempt at agreement with the other side and an enumeration of all the difficulties which made coalition impossible. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel replied by acknowledging his letter and thanking him respectfully for the communication made to them on behalf of the King. The King was surprised that these gentlemen did not reply in greater detail and sent to ask for their observations. They answered: "They are all contained in Lord Melbourne's letter to His Majesty, we have nothing to add." Thus the curious negotiation terminated.

London, July 22, 1834.—The phase of calm and prosperity through which the French Government seemed again to be passing seems to be rather disturbed by the dissensions of the Ministers among themselves which have been caused by the resignation of Marshal Soult. It appears that people are anxious and divided in opinion on the length and the greater or less importance of the short session announced for July 31. It comes at an inconvenient time for discussing events in the Peninsula, and the flood of oratory will probably embarrass the Government. Were Don Carlos to prevail we should have a personal enemy on our frontiers; if the Queen-Regent triumphs, which she can only do by throwing herself more and more into the "movement," we shall have a revolutionary and anarchist neighbour. This could not be indifferent to our Government, which already has only too much of the same sort of thing to contend with. It seems, moreover, that the two armies were too near each other not to come to blows, and the first decisive success of either side will probably settle the subsequent course of the conflict. Thus the issue is awaited with great and anxious curiosity.

Now that the quarrel is no longer being fought out in Portugal, but in Spain, the English are drawing out of it, and will give only slight support to their dear Miraflorès. The burden of the business is reserved for France, and it bristles with difficulties.

In the City yesterday news was spread of the death of the Queen-Regent. Some said she had been poisoned; some that she had died of the results of the accident which had led to her retirement. The news is probably false, but in a country like Spain, in time of civil war, religious fanaticism, family jealousy and quarrels run riot; evil passions of all sorts are let loose, and no crime is more improbable than the daily spectacle of folly and disorder.

Mr. Stanley, who replaces Lord Howick as Under-Secretary of State at the Home Office, is quite different from the Mr. Stanley who was lately in office. He is a kind of would-be dandy, and a complete Radical of the worst and lowest sort. He was for a time private secretary to Lord Durham.

The latter has contemptuously refused the embassy at Paris, which, as he well knew, was only offered to him because he is not wanted here. He replied that he would accept no place from a Cabinet which would not receive him as one of themselves. Lord Carlisle has resigned the Privy Seal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In our drawing-room the conversation turned on the talent of certain people for telling ghost stories. This reminded me of the interest with which two years ago at Kew[27] I heard from the Duchess of Cumberland the story of an apparition seen by herself, the remembrance of which seemed to cause her much emotion. The impression she produced on us was the deeper as the hour was late and a terrifying thunderstorm was raging outside the house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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