Chapter IV · 1834 (continued 4)

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do not forget that the support and consolation which you have found for several years in your relations with your colleagues will no longer be there, now that the face of the Diplomatic Corps in London has changed so much. The new Spain, the new Portugal, the shapeless form of Belgium, are the only conspicuous features, as impudent as they are vulgar. You would therefore be isolated in England and in the trying situation which would be the result, where would you find support? Not in the Government you represent, for pettiness, indiscretion, vanity, and intrigue dominate everything in Paris. Only the greatness of your position in London enabled you to hold them in check. Our little Ministers are more on Lord Granville's side than ours, and you would not have their support in dominating things here. You came here four years ago, not to make your fortune, your career or your reputation. All these were made long ago; you came, not out of affection for those who are conducting our government, for whom you have neither love nor affection. You came solely to render a great service to your country at a moment of the gravest peril. It was a perilous enterprise at your age! It was a bold thing to reappear to still the storm after fifteen years of retirement! You accomplished what you attempted; let that suffice you. Henceforth you can do nothing but diminish the importance of what you have done. Remember the truth of Lord Grey's words: 'When one has kept one's health, and one's faculties, one may still at an advanced age usefully occupy one's self with public affairs. But, in critical times like the present, a degree of attention, activity and energy is required which belongs only to the prime of life and not to its decline.' When one is young, one moment is as good as another for joining in the fray; when one is old the only thing to do is to choose a good time for leaving it. Here Lord Grey was the last, all too feeble barrier against the revolutionary spirit; here you have been the last barrier against the struggle of the powers with each other. Lord Grey realised too late that he was being carried away by the torrent; do you not also feel that your influence has become as inadequate as his? The noble and touching farewell words of Lord Grey threw a last fleeting ray of light on his career; his retirement became a triumph; another day and he was effaced! The last two champions of the old Europe should quit public life at the same time. May they carry with them into their retirement the consciousness of their efforts and their services, and may history one day show that the coincidence of their departures was honourable to both.

"This and only this I conceive to be the fitting close of your public life. All considerations which might lead you to think otherwise are unworthy of you. You cannot be influenced by the possibility of a little more amusement, a few more social resources. Are you to count the trifling excitements of dispatches, couriers, and news? The interest produced by such things is too often a child's plaything. Are we even to consider the more or less material tranquillity we enjoy? Is the epoch of shocks and revolutionary torments at an end in France? I do not know. Is it more or less distant in England? I cannot tell. Will solitude be trying? Shall we seek distraction in travel? What in a word will be the arrangement of our private life? What does it matter? I am younger than you, and might, perhaps, more naturally take some thought for that; but I should think myself unworthy of your confidence and of the truth which I am now venturing to tell you if the slightest consideration of my own comfort made me keep anything from you. When one is a historical personage as you are, one has no right to think of any other future than the future of history. History, as you know, judges the end of a man's life more severely than the beginning. If, as I am proud to believe, you think as highly of my judgment as of my affection, you will be as frank with yourself as I am with you now. You will have done with all self-created illusions, all specious arguments and subtle pieces of self-love, and you will put an end to a situation which would soon lower you in other eyes than mine. Do not bargain with the public. Dictate its judgment, do not submit to it. Confess that you are old in order that people may not say that you are aging. Say nobly and simply before all the world, 'The time has come!'"

Dom Miguel has left Genoa and has been seen at Savona. This is particularly displeasing to Lord Palmerston.

London, August 19, 1834.—It appears that while Dom Miguel was at Savona several vessels were seen in the offing which hoisted English colours and made many signals, following which Dom Miguel is said to have returned to Genoa. This is what was being said yesterday, but no explanation is forthcoming.

London, August 20, 1834.—M. de Talleyrand left London yesterday, probably never to return. That, at least, is what he said himself.

There is always something solemn and peculiarly painful in doing a thing for the last time, in departure, in absence, in saying good-bye, especially when one is eighty. I think he felt it, I know I feel it for him. Besides, surrounded as I am with illness, and ill myself, this being the anniversary of my mother's death, remembering all the pleasant things that have happened to me in England, I feel very weak and discouraged by the thought of departure. I said good-bye to M. de Talleyrand with a heart-sinking as great as if I was not to see him again in four days, and I might well have said to him as I said to Madame de Lieven, "I mourn my departure in yours."

M. de Talleyrand's last impressions of his public life here were not precisely agreeable. After many hours spent at the Foreign Office in the company of M. de Miraflorès, of M. de Sarmento, and of Lord Palmerston, who, as usual, kept everybody waiting a long time, the additional articles (which are of no great importance) of the Treaty of April 22, the Quadruple Alliance, were signed in the middle of the night. Lord Palmerston wanted to extend the scope of the Treaty. M. de Talleyrand, on the other hand, desired rather to narrow its obligations. Lord Granville's absence from Paris had left the French Government free from this source of obsession, so they held their ground and authorised M. de Talleyrand to maintain his position, and Lord Palmerston gained nothing by his wilfulness, Lord Holland by his draughtsmanship, or Miraflorès by his antics.

There are two stories which I have heard M. de Talleyrand tell so often that for me they have lost their freshness. They seemed very good when first I heard them, so I will set them down here. They both have to do with the campaigns of the Emperor Napoleon, which ended in the Peace of Tilsit.

At Warsaw, where he remained during part of the winter of 1806-7, the Emperor received an ambassador[28] from Persia, who seems to have been a man of wit. At any rate, M. de Talleyrand says that Napoleon asked the Persian whether he was not surprised to find a Western Emperor so near the East, and that the Ambassador replied, "No, sir, for Tah-masp-Kouli-Khan got even nearer." I have always had my doubts about the authenticity of this retort, which, I believe, to have been invented by M. de Talleyrand himself in one of his moments of irritation against the Emperor, an irritation to which he gave vent in malicious sayings usually attributed to other people. Some, however, he acknowledged as his own, and, indeed, I have heard them said for the first time; such, for instance, as his remark in 1812, "It is the beginning of the end" (C'est le commencement de la fin), which has been so often quoted since, which has received such numerous applications, and has become public property and almost a commonplace. The unfortunate campaign of 1812 inspired more than one of M. de Talleyrand's most mordant sayings. I remember one day M. de Dalberg came to my mother's, and said that all the matériel of the army was lost. "Not at all," said M. de Talleyrand, "for the Duc de Bassano has just arrived." The Duc de Bassano was at that particular time, and for a very good reason, the object of M. de Talleyrand's displeasure. The Emperor desired to recall M. de Talleyrand to office, and it had been agreed that he should follow His Majesty to Warsaw. This was to remain a secret until the day of his departure. The Emperor, however, told the Duc de Bassano who, being disturbed at the revival of a favour which might disturb his own position, told his wife. She took it upon herself to put an end to the affair, and used, for this purpose, a M. de Rambuteau, a talkative, pompous, and smooth-spoken person, pretentious and pliant at the same time, who fancied himself in love with the Duchess, and did her husband's dirty work. M. de Rambuteau, then, having been thoroughly coached by the Duchesse de Bassano, went about everywhere spreading the news of the journey to Warsaw, saying that M. de Talleyrand was boasting about it and telling every one. The Emperor was offended, and M. de Talleyrand remained in France preparing reprisals.

But to come to the second story which M. de Talleyrand so often tells—he says that the Persian Ambassador, who made such subtly witty replies to the Emperor Napoleon, was a very tall, handsome man, whereas another Oriental, the Turkish Ambassador,[29] was a little man, short, squat, common and ridiculous. At a great ball, given by Count Potocki, the two Ambassadors were ascending the staircase together, and the little Turk darted forward in order to enter the ball-room before his colleague. The latter, seeing himself passed, stretched out his arm so as to make a kind of yoke, under which he calmly allowed the Mussulman to pass.

London, August 22, 1834.—The English Ministers wished to insert in the King's Speech on the prorogation of Parliament a phrase very offensive to the Upper House, in revenge for the rejection of the Dissenters Bill and The Protestant Clergy in Ireland Tithes Bill. But the King opposed this with sufficient firmness to secure the abandonment of the phrase, after a very sharp struggle which rather delayed the hour of the sitting.

The Queen has returned from her journey and has been received with ceremonious cordiality by the City of London, the chief magistrates of which went out to meet her. Her health is better. I think with pleasure of all the consolations which Providence in its equity reserves for her.

M. de Bülow announces that he has applied for leave of absence on family affairs and that he is sure to obtain it. He says he wants to go to the Hague to face the storm there, and having dispersed it at the Hague, to face more boldly that which he foresees at Berlin. I believe he will in fact go to the Hague, but much more for the purpose of rehabilitating himself by a few platitudes than of fighting his quarrel to a finish. He does not wish to reach Berlin until he has received absolution at the Hague; that at least is my opinion.

London, August 23, 1834.—Here I end my London Journal with the regret that I did not begin it sooner. It would perhaps have possessed greater interest if I had. But four years ago when I arrived in this city I had neither pleasant memories of the past nor much interest in the present, nor much thought for the future. I then asked no more of each day as it succeeded its predecessor than a little distraction, and I paid little attention to the features which marked out each from the other....

Dover, August 24, 1834.—I was quite astonished to find myself expected here and all along the road. The Duke of Wellington who goes this way to Walmer Castle, his residence as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, had announced my arrival. A single family named Wright, who are very excellent people, keep almost all the inns on the road.

Last year after a storm I was received here by a very pretty Mrs. Wright, who kept the Ship Hotel. She had the manner of a Queen and it was only to-day that I learned that she had been one—on the stage, and that her husband had been ruined by her extravagance. The hotel is now kept by people called Warburton, who do it in great style. I was again struck by the respectful politeness with which one is received in English inns when one changes horses, and with the pleasant language and good manners of the humblest people. On the way I heard of the Duke of Wellington, of the death of Mrs. Arbuthnot, of the passage of M. de Talleyrand, of the desire to see us back in England, and all this in the most charming way possible.

I am to sail in a French packet—the weather is good and the sea calm. Farewell to England, but not to the memory of the four happy years which I have spent there, and which have passed with a rapidity to be explained by the interest of the events which have happened, and the particular sources of pleasure and contentment which I have found there! Farewell once more to this hospitable country which I leave with regrets and gratitude!

Paris, August 27, 1834.—I arrived here yesterday evening at ten o'clock to find M. de Talleyrand awaiting me. The general impression I got of him was that he was rather depressed and bored; yet he said he was very much pleased with the Tuileries where he seems to be much in fashion. He also says that he is so popular in Paris that the passers-by stop before his carriage and lift their hats to him; but in spite of all this he repeats that he knows no one here, that he is bored and that every one is aged and worn out.

Paris, August 28, 1834.—I was at Saint-Cloud yesterday. The King did me the honour to speak to me a great deal, perhaps too much, for I had to say something on my side, and at Court my one desire is to be silent. This conversation, however, was very interesting, for the King, who is witty on all subjects and intelligent about everything, talked about many things—the state of England at present, the break-up of which is so disquieting for her neighbours, Lord Grey's retirement which is greatly deplored here, Don Carlos's departure from England and the part great or small which the Duke of Wellington played in bringing it about. Here he is supposed to have arranged it all, a belief which I vigorously combated as I believed myself in duty bound to do. Then we talked of intervention in Spain, then of the Salic Law and in fact of everything that is occupying people just now. The King talked very well. He insisted much on the fact that he alone had opposed the immediate intervention demanded by his Ministers, and closing his large hand he showed me his fist and said, "Do you understand Madame? I had to hold back by the mane steeds which have neither mouth nor bridle!"

As regards the Salic law he said, "I am 'Salic law' to my finger tips; the Dukes of Orleans always have been, you will believe me when I say so. But when I struggled for the law they thought that I should have less chance if it were destroyed, so every one lent a hand in its destruction instead of helping me to maintain it. I was left alone to fight French ignorance and vanity and all the other difficulties of the situation, and now I am reproached with having abandoned my own cause in that of Don Carlos. I have no enmity against him, no love for Isabella, but people would have what has come to pass. The two years before I came to the Throne saw the preparation of the deplorable state of things which now prevails in the Peninsula. However, whether Anarchy triumphs under Isabella, or the Inquisition under Don Carlos, I may be troubled by them being my neighbours, but I cannot be shaken. We have made enormous internal progress, though I admit that much remains to be done, and with what instruments!"

The King then entered into many details relating to the troubles of his office and ended by saying, "Madame you must know that I have to be the Director in everything and the Master in nothing."

A propos of the state of England, and of the complications which will arise there owing to the age and sex of the heir to the throne, His Majesty said, "What a deplorable thing it is to see all these little girl Kings in a time like the present!" He went on to a dissertation full of real eloquence on the disadvantages of female rule, then suddenly stopped with a polite phrase and a sort of apology which was quite unnecessary. So I said that I thought that what M. de Talleyrand said of wits was true of women, "they were useful for anything but sufficient for nothing."

The King then talked for a long time about the restorations at Versailles and Fontainebleau. He has had Louis XIV.'s room at Versailles refurnished exactly as it was, that is with hangings embroidered by the Demoiselles de Saint-Cyr. One panel represents the Sacrifice of Abraham, a second that of Iphigenia, a third the loves of Armida. The King has had replaced in this room a portrait of Madame de Maintenon giving a lesson to Mlle. de Nantes. Versailles will be a true Museum of the history of France. I am grateful to the King for his respect for tradition; our historic monuments will owe him a great deal.

What a sad letter Alava writes from Milan! He paints a most melancholy picture of Spain, and can foresee only a series of circumstances, each of which will be more fatal than the other. He tells me that the ignorance and presumption there are beyond belief, and that the half-knowledge of things which comes from France and England is perhaps doing more harm than absolute ignorance. The state of bankruptcy there is flagrant; the cholera is more horrible than elsewhere, and is made worse by the stupidity of the people who at the funerals of cholera victims are seen eating tomatoes and cucumbers raw! At Segovia, on the other hand, the sanitary junta ordered that in each house visited by the epidemic all the effects of the deceased should be burned and all the survivors shut up in the hospital, including the priest present during the last moments of the departed!

Paris, August 29, 1834.—How excited and busy every one is at Paris! How their minds work! How completely tranquillity and calm are unknown here! Yet there is progress and amelioration everywhere, but without regularity or measure. There are so many small intrigues, small passions and small cabals to exhaust people that no one can enjoy what is good or rest his soul in the prospect of a quiet future. This feverish way of living consumes people, and I find the members of the French Cabinet appallingly aged. They are little old men with the saddest air in the world.

M. Thiers has passed through a series of disillusions and embarrassments which have made him wish for retirement; he feels humiliated and discouraged. The King has supported him, cheered him up and protected him, and has not been sorry to make this protection felt. He even said, "It is no bad thing that Messieurs les gens d'esprit should see from time to time that they have need of the King."

M. le Duc d'Orléans spent an hour with me. He is anxious to be married and is determined to be so. He is weary both of dissipation and of the youthful frivolities which are injuring and belittling him. He is also disgusted with the real inactivity of his public life. He desires a home, a house of his own. He wishes to take root, to form a circle, to settle down, in short, to get older. All these views are very proper.

The choice of a wife is the more difficult, as there are more prejudices than ever to overcome. The Russian Grand-duchess would be the most brilliant marriage, but would they have him? Then there are some sentimental regrets for Poland here which would make such a marriage unpopular in France and perhaps impossible in Russia. An Austrian Arch-duchess would not be very easy to get, and besides, alliances in that quarter always seem to be unlucky. The King of Prussia's niece, to whom Louis-Philippe inclines, seems to be insignificant in appearance and delicate in health. She has been brought up in habits of parsimony, and the possible subjects of quarrel which might arise between two Powers between whom the Rhine is in dispute, make the Duke somewhat averse from the Prussian Princess. From reports which are current it appears that the young Prince is more in favour of the second daughter of the King of Würtemberg, who is tall, well made, pretty, witty and vivacious. She takes it from her mother, the Grand-duchess Catherine of Russia, one of the most distinguished women of her time, and, when she wished to be so, very charming. She was, however, an ambitious, restless and intriguing person, and I hope that her daughter does not resemble her in everything. M. le Duc d'Orléans asked for M. de Talleyrand's advice and mine on the subject; we asked for time to reflect.

The Prince has invited himself to Valençay for the beginning of October to talk all this over at our ease. He has sense and a good judgment, and is not without ambition. There are excellent features in his character, but both his qualities and his defects make a distinguished wife essential.

They say that Marshal Gérard is not pleased with his post as Minister of War. It appears that he only took it on a promise of a portfolio for his brother-in-law M. de Celles—a foolish and impracticable idea. However, they promised in order to persuade the Marshal to accept, and then were not ashamed to break their word.

As to the marriage of the Prince Royal, I see that the question of religion is indifferent to him and of secondary importance to the King. The Queen alone would stand out for a preliminary conversion, but no rupture of negotiations would occur on this point.

The exaggerated ideas of the King of Naples on the subject of the Princess Marie's dowry have suspended all idea of a marriage in that quarter. There is general regret in the Royal Family except on the part of the Princess herself, who dreams of continuing here her aunt's existence, which she thinks charming.

Paris, August 30, 1834.—From what M. Thiers tells me, it seems that the King, on Marshal Soult's retirement, thought of summoning M. de Talleyrand to the Presidency of the Council. This idea is even now again in his mind when he thinks of Marshal Gérard's probable retirement. But M. de Talleyrand would not accept on any account and besides, as Thiers said to the King, "Madame de Dino does not wish it."

At dinner yesterday at Saint-Cloud the King spoke to me with much acrimony of the Duc de Broglie who, he said, had wished to keep him out of everything. He complained bitterly of the Duke's conduct. He complains of a good many people, but is arranging with Rigny and counting on M. Thiers.

M. de Talleyrand is very much the fashion indeed at the Palace because he is saying everywhere that the King should have a free hand. I am also the fashion because I am a good listener, and because I say, as I think, that the King is the cleverest man in France. The King speaks on all subjects very well, a great deal, and at great length. He listens to himself, and, at least, is conscious of his ability. He loves the memory of the Regent, of whom Saint-Cloud naturally reminds him. He told me that Louis XVIII. also loved his memory and appeared much shocked at the calumnies of which he had been the object. "I," he said, "am his best justification." But when Louis XVIII. said all this he ended curiously, for, having insisted on the outrageous character of these calumnies, he added, "Nevertheless, the verses of Lagrange-Chancel are so good that I have them by heart and like to say them over."[30] This was a curious conclusion to come to in a conversation with the present King.

Paris, September 1, 1834.—This morning I saw M. de Rigny, who told me that the news from Spain was most embarrassing. Martinez de la Rosa is beginning to say that without the armed intervention of France all will go to the devil. The King is very strongly against intervention, much more so than his Ministers, who seem to me to be much agitated by this terrible neighbour.

Hatred of Lord Palmerston is so general here that no one troubles to conceal it. M. de Rigny is deafened by it on all sides. A propos of this he told me that as Palmerston's exhibitions of arrogance and his hostile demonstrations were never, in fact, followed by any action, they had ceased to make any impression, and that people only said, "Ah, that's only one of Palmerston's little outbursts!" and then thought no more of it.

M. Guizot has succeeded to Rigny's place in this house; he is much pleased with the internal condition of the country, but he justly says that, if in addition to our domestic difficulties we had to interfere in a revolution in Spain, and were to be at the same time confronted with one in England we should indeed be undone. It seems certain that the new Chamber of Deputies is infinitely better than the last, and that it is recruited from a higher class. Material progress has also sensibly advanced. France left to herself without external embarrassments is evidently in a very good way indeed.

Prince Czartoriski, very languid as usual, also came in; he intends to establish himself definitely at Paris.

At last I have been able to go out and call on the Werthers, where I heard more complaints of Palmerston. When I came back M. de Talleyrand set me to arranging papers, and I turned up a curious letter, signed Ferdinand, Carlos, Antonio, which was written from Valençay by these three Princes to express their gratitude and affection.

Paris, September 2, 1834.—I have had a visit from M. Thiers, who told me what follows. All reports from Spain agree that Don Carlos will have just as many men as he can get muskets, and that he is only waiting for a consignment of arms to march on Madrid, where everything is going wrong. Dom Miguel in his turn is preparing to reappear in the Peninsula. If, therefore, the blockade is not effective enough to prevent the importation of arms the Queen's cause is desperate, unless France intervenes actively in Spanish affairs. The question may arise in an acute form at any moment and opinion is much divided. Bertin de Veaux and some others are in favour of armed intervention if it should become necessary to save the Queen, because, they say, if Don Carlos triumphs Carlism will become everywhere audacious, and France will have an implacable enemy on her frontiers. With so immediate a danger behind her here, every movement would be paralysed in a war, which would be all the more likely to be forced on her, and her chances of success the less. To this the King and M. de Talleyrand reply: "But if you intervene you will have war all the sooner! And, moreover, who is going to help you? Is England, undermined by her internal troubles, likely to be of any assistance?" To that the answer is: "Her neutrality is enough." "But can you count on her neutrality. Does it not depend on the duration and composition of the present Cabinet, whose existence is extremely doubtful?" M. de Rigny is much distracted by these conflicting opinions and is terribly embarrassed. Every one is racking their brains for an expedient.

Rochecotte,[31] September 7, 1834.—The weather, which had been wretched for two whole days, improved yesterday, and a veritable sun of Austerlitz pierced the clouds to welcome my arrival at Langeais.[32] All the town surrounded the carriage, and all along the road, till I reached this place. I received many greetings and saw many smiling faces which much pleased me.

The valley is very green, the Loire is full; the careful cultivation and the resulting richness are admirable; the hemp, which is one of the local industries, is as high as the vegetation of the Tropics, and in fact I am delighted with all I see.

Rochecotte, September 8, 1834.—My life here is neither political nor social, and can be of no general interest. I will, however, continue to note the little incidents which strike me.

Yesterday, after luncheon, while I was resting my poor head in a chaise longue in the salon, the Abbé Girolet sat beside me in a large arm-chair and told me he had a favour to ask. This was that I should undertake to be his sole executor. He has little of value to leave, and the charges on the succession will absorb at least the whole of it, but there was no one but me whom he could trust to look after his servants and his pensioners, and if I would do so he could die happy. I said he should do as he liked, and asked him to leave everything to me as he wished, but to spare me details then which would be painful to me, and which in any case I should learn only too soon. He took my hand and thanked me warmly for what he calls my kindness to him, and then after this momentary effort relapsed into the silent, almost somnolent condition from which he rarely emerges.

Valençay, September 11, 1834.—I arrived here yesterday evening, having stopped for a little on the way at Bretonneau's charming country house near Tours, and having admired the delightful road from Tours to Blois, which is so full of memories for me. It was dark, except for the moon, when I reached the post station of Selles, where I was expected. At the first crack of the postillion's whip every window was lit up with candles by the inhabitants, the effect of which was quite like an illumination. While they were changing horses the population surrounded the carriage with cries of welcome. Even the Sister Superior of the hospital, an old friend of mine, came to the door of the carriage to speak to me though it was nine o'clock. I was quite deafened and overwhelmed, but at the same time much touched. It was more than four years since I had passed that way, and I was far from expecting that they would remember the few services I rendered them in old times.

At last, at ten o'clock, under a magnificent moon, I reached my destination in the splendid courts of Valençay. M. de Talleyrand, Pauline, Mlle. Henriette,[33] Demion, and all the servants were under the arcades with many lights. It made a pretty picture.

Valençay, September 12, 1834.—Here is the principal passage in a letter from Madame Adélaïde to M. de Talleyrand: "You will no doubt remember the discussion which took place in my room on the absurdity, the danger, and the uselessness of declaring war on Don Carlos. It seems, nevertheless, that some people wish to raise the question again. You treated the question in my presence in a manner so lucid and convincing that one would hardly have thought that it would have come up again. However, I think it right to warn you that there is a danger of it, and you would do well to make clear in England the danger of taking this false step, which can only end in evil. It seems that England is embarrassed by a promise to furnish Spain with naval assistance, and that this absurd proposition is being entertained as a way out of that promise. I think, therefore, that it would be well if you at once wrote to England on the subject. I attach great importance to this, for no one can do it so well or so effectively as you."

Here now is M. de Talleyrand's answer.[34] "I implore the King to persist in his refusal to declare war against Don Carlos, for I think that this would be the most deplorable way of smoothing the embarrassment of the English Ministers. I am not surprised that they are embarrassed; I have been expecting that they would be so for a very long time. I have never been able to understand the levity with which during the last two years they have been throwing themselves into all the difficulties which have arisen in the Peninsula. In 1830 London was the appointed place, the only suitable scene for negotiations on a great scale. Now England gets nearer to disorder as France recedes further from it, and the negotiations should be brought back to Paris and conducted under the eagle eye of the King. England will not dare to venture alone, and the other Powers will range themselves on our side in disapproving a declaration of war. Thus we shall risk nothing in refusing to declare war. It will be a good thing to gain time, and Lord Granville's absence from Paris gives us a pretext for avoiding a peremptory answer. If I hesitate to obey the suggestion that I should write to England on the subject, it is that I have reason to believe that any letter would produce an effect contrary to that which I should desire. The English Cabinet has lately found me reserved and cold, and careful to avoid entangling my Government in any of the troublesome complications of the Peninsula. I cannot doubt that they distrusted me in all these transactions, and were offended at my lack of enthusiasm. Now that the English Ministers are embarrassed by promises which I allowed them to make without allowing France to participate, they are not likely to receive with goodwill either my advice or my warning."

Madame de Lieven writes most kindly from St. Petersburg; she will soon be left alone with her pupil, with whom she is much pleased. The Emperor goes to Moscow, the Empress to Berlin, and then the Lievens enter on their duties and go into their own house, about which she seems to me, very naturally, to be rather in a hurry. I think her teeth are on edge already, though she is consoled by her august hosts.

Valençay, September 16, 1834.—Labouchère, who arrived here yesterday, says nothing can be compared to M. de Toreno's conduct but that of the Rothschilds.[35] The former, before declaring the bankruptcy of the Spanish Government, sold out huge quantities of stock, speculating in the opposite sense from the Jews, and, as he was in the secret, he not only consolidated his personal position, which was very insecure, but made enormous profits, while almost every place in Europe has been very badly hit.

Valençay, September 25, 1834.—Here is an extract from a letter written by M. de Rigny to M. de Talleyrand: "Calm is restored at Constantinople, but Mehemet Ali is furious at the obstinacy of the Porte and talks of independence; we are going to try to soothe this feverish attack. Toreno, from being the adversary of the French creditors, has constituted himself almost their champion; we shall know to-morrow or the day after what resolution has been adopted by the Cortès. Meanwhile, however, things are going no better in Spain, and at Madrid they are beginning to talk loudly of the necessity for our intervention. They wished to replace Rodil by Mina, but they are being treated with great coolness at St. Petersburg for not being present at the inauguration of the column.

"I saw yesterday a letter from Lord Holland, who is congratulating himself on the stability of the English Ministry; I don't know what that is worth.

"Semonville has sent in his resignation in writing. He would have wished Bassano to be his successor; the place has actually been given to Decazes, which perhaps you won't think any better. Molé refuses to be Vice-President, being wounded at Broglie being put before him. That is his whole reason. Is it reasonable? Villemain refuses to be Perpetual Secretary. That would be, he says, to abandon his political future! On the other hand, Viennet would be quite ready to abandon his for the permanency.

"We have just had two or three bad elections. As for the amnesty, the decision is negative. I fear they will regret having taken this course when we are in the middle of a cross-fire of law-suits, lawyers, platform oratory, and newspaper articles. It is necessary in this country to look a few months ahead!"

A letter from Lady Jersey informs me that Palmerston has refused to be Governor-General of India, and that the Duchesse de Berry is about to have a child—legitimate this time.

Valençay, September 28, 1834.—When we got back yesterday from our walk we found the house full of visitors, male and female, who had driven here, and were inspecting everything with interest. The steward told us that it was Madame Dudevant, with M. Alfred de Musset and a party. At the name of Dudevant the Entraigues made several exclamations which I did not understand till they explained that Madame Dudevant is no other than the author of Indiana, Valentine, Leone Leoni—in fact, George Sand! She lives in the Berri when she is not running about the world, as she often does. She has a château near La Châtre, where her husband lives all the year round, and occupies himself with agriculture. He it is who looks after the two children he has by the woman of genius. She herself is the daughter of a natural daughter of Marshal de Saxe; she often appears in men's clothes, but was not so attired yesterday. When I entered my apartments I found the whole party parleying with Joseph[36] for permission to see them, which is not usually allowed when I am here. On this occasion I wanted to be civil to neighbours, so I myself threw open the doors, showed them everything, and explained things, and finally escorted them as far as the large drawing-room, where the heroine of the occasion, seeing my portrait by Prud'hon, thought herself obliged to pay me many compliments. She is small, dark, and insignificant in appearance, between thirty and forty. Her eyes are good, and her hair is dressed in a pretentious way, such as is described as "classical" on the stage. Her tone is dry and abrupt; her judgments on artistic matters are very positive. The bust of Napoleon and Canova's Paris, as well as Thorwaldsen's bust of Alexander and a copy from Raphael by Annibale Carraci (which the good lady took for an original) gave her many opportunities. Her language is very fine. On the whole, she is not elegant; the rest of the party were quite common, in appearance I mean, for not one of them opened his lips.

In the evening I had another visit after my own heart from a sister of the order of nuns at Valençay, who was a novice here. Though she is only thirty-three she is already the first assistant at the mother house, whence she comes to inspect here. She looks upon Valençay as her cradle. She came here at the time when I founded the small institution here, and was then remarkably fresh and beautiful. Now she is thin and pale, but still very sweet and gentle in appearance. In spite of her sanctity, which has advanced her so rapidly in the Order, she is very fond of me, and kissed me just as if I was worthy of it, expressing much joy at seeing me again, poor sinner that I am.

Valençay, October 7, 1834.—Yesterday I had a long conversation with M. de Talleyrand about his plans of retirement, which led me to speak to him frankly on several important features of his position. I had the courage to tell him the truth, as is always right when dealing with people of his great age.

Valençay, October 9, 1834.—M. de Montrond, who has been here some days, asked to see me yesterday about an important matter. I saw him, and after some pleasantries which I received rather coldly, he said that he had come to announce his departure, at which I should not probably be surprised, considering the extraordinary way in which M. de Talleyrand was treating him. He spoke for a long time and complained bitterly. He is deeply hurt, and that makes him say many nasty things. He added that he knew quite well that I didn't like him, but that I had always been kind and civil to him, and wished to thank me for it, and to say that, though he had no doubt I should not agree with him, I should be bored to death, and the life I was leading would certainly become insupportable, though it would be difficult for any one to live it more gracefully. In short, he took pains, for what reason I know not, to stand well with me.

I confess that I was very ill at ease during his remarks, which, though broken and abrupt in his usual style, lasted for some time. Here is a summary of my answer, or rather of my answers. I regretted all that might suggest a quarrel, for that would do no good to any one and would damage him (M. de Montrond) most. Society would side against him, as his rudeness to M. de Talleyrand would explain the latter's want of patience. To complain and explain his grievances by the existence of motives such as he had suggested to me would be in very bad taste, and there were some things which should not be said even when they seemed to be true, especially after forty years of a friendship which on M. de Talleyrand's part might be described as patronage. As far as I was concerned, I could not be dull in the midst of my duties and family interests; besides, my life, my habits, my whole existence had for long been bound up with M. de Talleyrand's interests. This was my destiny, with which I was well satisfied and desired no other.

On this he resumed: "It is clear that you are destined to bury him. Then you are very clever and have a great gift for speech and action. You are also enough of a great lady to know how to take things in a certain way. As for me, the only thing to do is to go."

I took him up then. "You have something more to do, and that is to go away civilly without a scene, and not to tell any one that you did so because you were angry. You have, above all, to avoid speaking, I do not say ill, but even lightly, of M. de Talleyrand." He said, "You make very pretty speeches this morning, but if I do as you wish, what will you do for me?"—"I will keep the true cause of your departure secret."—"You are too clever, Madame de Dino."—"I know what I am saying."

He asked me if I would shake hands with him and promise to be good natured about him. "Yes, if you do not speak amiss of M. de Talleyrand." "Very well. I shall not go straight to Paris. I shall go to d'Argenson at Ormes to get over this, and when I have got back my 'lamb-like temper,' I shall speak to the King and invent some business to excuse my not waiting for his son here." "Do what you like so long as you behave like a gentleman." He is gone. At luncheon he said that he had got a letter which obliged him to leave to-day.

The fact is, that I had been expecting something of the kind. M. de Talleyrand, after many years of too long suffering patience, has suddenly gone uncompromisingly to the other extreme, and the day before yesterday so clearly indicated to M. de Montrond that he was not wanted here, that the latter could not overlook it. It is possible that M. de Montrond will impose some restraint on his tongue, just sufficient that is to avoid an accusation of bad faith, but it seems to me impossible that he will not take some underhand way of revenging himself, for he is hurt and upset. To have to go on the eve of the arrival of a large and distinguished party of English people to whom he was preparing to do the honours of Valençay, not to be here when M. le Duc d'Orléans is expected—these are two real disappointments for which he will not forgive M. de Talleyrand.

In the first and most virulent part of his conversation with me he frequently referred to the King and to M. de Flahaut in such a way as to persuade me that he means to take the latter's part absolutely, in order that he may be able to injure M. de Talleyrand with His Majesty. What can one expect of a being like him? But also how childish to lose one's temper after forty years![37] M. de Montrond said to me, "He should treat me with the kindness and intimacy of an old friend, or else with the politeness of a host." To this I replied, "But would not M. de Talleyrand also be justified in saying to you that you give him neither the deference due to one's host, nor the attentions due to his age and to your former relations? In what other house would you have dared to run down everything as you do here? You have criticised his neighbours, his servants, his wine, his horses, in fact everything. If he has been rude you have given him provocation, and, indeed, there are too many witnesses of your habit of perpetual contradiction to make it possible for you to complain of the anger it has aroused."

Valençay, October 14, 1834.—We have staying here Lady Clanricarde, Mr. and Mrs. Dawson Damer, and Mr. Henry Greville. I went for a long drive yesterday with Lady Clanricarde, and talked to her a great deal about her father, the celebrated Mr. Canning, and of her mother, who was not less distinguished, but who did not appear to be much beloved by her daughter. Lady Clanricarde is clever; her manners are restrained, dignified, and in good taste; but, judging from what I saw, I consider her rather hard-hearted and intellectually stiff. Both her manners, however, and her character have, in my opinion, a real value. She never lets herself go and has no personal magnetism, but when all is said and done, she is a figure of real distinction and of the best and most exquisite breeding. Mrs. Damer is a good soul—nothing more.

Valençay, October 18, 1834.—Speaking to Lady Clanricarde of Lord Palmerston and Lady Cowper, we fell to wondering what it is that enables some people to retain so much influence over some others, and I made an observation on the subject against which she protested, to the effect that, "it is by what they demand that men preserve their influence over women, while it is by what they concede that women preserve their influence over men."

Valençay, October 21, 1834.—Yesterday the news came of the dreadful fire at Westminster. It is a terrible catastrophe and one which is distinctly ominous, as it suggests that the political edifice is crumbling along with the material one, and that the old walls refused any longer to be dishonoured by the profane doctrines of to-day. There is something in this which may well impress not only the imagination of the multitude, but the mind of every thinking person.

The English party here all believe that the fire was the work of an incendiary, because it began in the House of Lords. The Globe, which was sent to M. de Talleyrand, kept us all up very late, for we were anxious to know all the versions of the disaster. It appears that the loss in papers and documents of all kinds is enormous, and is due not only to the fire, but to their being scattered and blown away. What a pity! It is said that it will cause much confusion, and many gaps in the proceedings of the Courts.

Yesterday, I took Lady Clanricarde and Mrs. Damer to see the little convent, the school and all the small institution conducted by the Valençay sisters. This is the sort of thing which makes very little impression on English women. For all their cleverness and goodness, they are not charitable in the true sense of the word, and they have a singular unwillingness to come in contact with poverty, misery, misfortune, illness or suffering. This distant manner of theirs with lesser people, so useful in society, freezes and irritates me when I see it applied even to the poor. Thus Lady Clanricarde, so agreeable in society, found nothing to say to my poor sisters who are so simple and devoted. She hardly put her nose inside the door of the school, and gathered up her fine skirts, that they might not be rumpled by the little girls who were going to their places. The two ladies were much astonished that I found so much to say, and above all, when they saw me stopped several times in the village by people who wanted to consult me about their business. This way of living is incomprehensible to an Englishwoman, and at that moment, Lady Clanricarde, clever as she is, and well disposed to me, was surprised, I am sure, to think that I knew how to eat properly at table, and was wearing a dress made by Mlle. Palmyre!

Valençay, October 23, 1834.—All yesterday it rained in torrents, and it was impossible to go out. Our English friends made music barbarously enough all morning; and in the evening three letters came. One was from Lord Sidney to Henry Greville, saying that M. de Montrond had got back to Paris, and was telling everybody that Valençay had become quite uninhabitable, that Greville and the Damers were being bored to death, and that only Lady Clanricarde could put up with it. H. Greville read this in a low voice. Lady Clanricarde continued aloud, M. de Talleyrand asked what it was, and the whole passage was read to him.

The second letter was from M. de Montrond to Mr. Damer, and inquired how he was getting on at Valençay. The writer observed that he was not anxious about H. Greville who loved tittle-tattle, and would get what he wanted there. Mr. Damer read this also aloud.

The third letter was from M. de Montrond to myself, and was as cool as possible in tone. I passed it to M. de Talleyrand who, annoyed at what he had just heard, read it too aloud. It reminded me of Célimène's letter! I don't know what reflections this little scene may have provoked, for I went to bed immediately afterwards.

Valençay, October 26, 1834.—The weather improved a little yesterday; just now it is very cold but dry, with brilliant sunshine. Let us hope that it will last for the arrival of M. le Duc d'Orléans who is expected to-night! The populations of fourteen Communes are in motion and people are coming from Châteauroux and even from Issoudun which is ten or twelve leagues from here. The fact that it is Sunday makes it easier for them to gratify their curiosity and whatever the papers say there will be nothing else in the way of magnificence or festal preparations than a crowd. I believe that M. le Duc d'Orléans will be very well received by the country folk. Never since the days of la Grande Mademoiselle has any Prince of any dynasty come here. The whole country between Blois and Châteauroux, so well treated by the Valois, has been, as it were, disgraced and forgotten; none of the succeeding Governments would do anything for this corner of Berri. When I first came here everything in the way of civilisation was as it had been in the time of Louis XIII. M. de Talleyrand has done something to secure a little progress, and I too have done a little, but it is only this year that we have been able to organise a system of post horses. So far there is not even a diligence, and for many people, even in easy circumstances, the only means of conveyance is pataches, that is, carriages without springs. In such a remote part a Prince is still somebody. Our communes are flattered that one is about to wander into our solitudes, and they will cry out "Vive le Roi!" with all their might, which is the best thing that they can do.

Among those who arrived last night were the Baron de Montmorency and Madame la Comtesse Camille de Sainte-Aldegonde. The Baron de Montmorency was long ago on the point of being the Lauzun of the Mademoiselle of his day,[38] and though he declined the honour of the alliance he has remained very intimate with Neuilly. Madame de Sainte-Aldegonde lives in a very pretty house between here and Blois; she is one of the Queen's ladies and a great friend of the Baron de Montmorency. Her first husband was General Augereau. She is my own age and we came out at the same time. We were both ladies-in-waiting to the Empress Marie Louise, but we did not see much of each other, for she followed her husband to the front and never came to Court. On the fall of the Empire we lost sight of each other completely. Madame de Sainte-Aldegonde has been extremely beautiful, and if her expression were more agreeable she would be so still, but she never had a kindly air owing to her eyebrows which are very dark and turn up too much; and, as she has lost the softness of her first youth, there remains a certain crudity which is not attractive. Her voice is rather high-pitched, and, though polite and well-bred enough, she lacks that ease and smooth courtesy which can only be acquired at the time when one first learns the elegances of life. When one does not learn them in one's cradle one may be presentable, but one can never be distinguished, yet after all, considering everything, she will pass muster.

Valençay, October 27, 1834.—M. le Duc d'Orléans came yesterday, in very bad weather, an hour sooner than he was expected, which much upset both us and the sightseers. However, our little Garde Nationale was there to receive him. The Municipality were also assembled and a certain number of people were there to greet him as he passed. There were no speeches, for which I think he was thankful.

M. le Duc d'Orléans began by having some conversation in the salon with M. de Talleyrand, M. and Madame de Valençay and myself. He announced, much to my surprise, that Madame de Rigny, Thiers and Guizot were coming. My surprise was not lessened when Monseigneur told me that the King was strongly urging his Ministers to come here because it was a good excuse to suspend the Councils for a few days. These had become almost impossible owing to the outbursts of Marshal Gérard, and a crisis was inevitable. It was desired, however, to postpone it for a time, and, with this in view, not to call the Cabinet together. Marshal Gérard was in a minority of one, all the Ministers being united against him.

When Monseigneur retired to his apartments I went to dress and went down at once in order to be first in the salon. I found there General Petit commanding the 5th Division, General Saint-Paul commanding the Department of the Indre, and General Baudrand of the Prince's suite with his secretary M. de Boismilon.

After dinner there was a slight fit of solemnity, which I soon dissipated by taking up my work as usual. The Prince thanked me cordially for doing so. Then every one grouped and arranged themselves naturally. A little later M. de Talleyrand took his usual evening walk, and when he came back he found Lady Clanricarde, the Prince, Henry Greville and me playing whist gaily together. Music was playing in the vestibule, and in a word the ice was broken.

After tea the Prince vanished, and at eleven everybody went to bed.

Valençay, October 28, 1834.—Here is an account of yesterday. After breakfast M. le Duc d'Orléans went over the Château and its immediate neighbourhood, my son and I acting as his guides. All our guests who had not already seen what there is to see followed.

When we got back three carriages, a phaeton, and six saddle-horses were in attendance. Each member of the company took his place. M. le duc d'Orléans, the Marchioness of Clanricarde, the Baron de Montmorency and I were in the first carriage. M. de Talleyrand, Madame de Sainte-Aldegonde, General Baudrand, and M. Jules d'Entraigues were in the second, and so on. After crossing the park and an isolated piece of the forest, we stopped at a pretty pavilion, from which there is a fine view. The military band was concealed behind the trees, which still have much of their foliage. There was a considerable crowd, and the whole made a very pretty forest scene. We then plunged into the forest itself, and did not return till it was time to dress for dinner.

After dinner we took the Prince to a ball at the Orangerie. The courts, the keep, and the railings were illuminated, and the effect was very fine. The ball-room was very finely decorated, and so full of people that one could scarcely move. There was, however, no vulgar pushfulness, and if the cries of greeting were ear-splitting, they were such as always please a Prince. He walked all through the room, greeted every one, and talked a little. They were, in short, much pleased with him; so pleased, indeed, that, though he only stayed an hour, they were still shouting under his windows at two o'clock in the morning.

Valençay, October 29, 1834.—Yesterday before luncheon our Royal guest, with his aide-de-camp, my son, and the Baron de Montmorency, went to visit the spinning mill and the quarries from which came the stone of which the Château is built. He thought the quarries superb. After luncheon we took him to the ironworks. There was a cheering crowd; the men did their work well, both casting and forging. Inside the fine building they produced and repeated an effect of fireworks with the flaming molten metal which was very fine and much amused our English ladies. On the way back we made a slight detour to see the ruins of Veuil.[39]

The band was hidden in one of the old towers. A great fire had been lighted in the only room which remains intact, and in which we were served with refreshments. In the courtyard and through the half-ruined archways were seen national guards and peasants, who cheered and threw their hats up into the air. This little excursion was very pleasant in spite of the dull weather. The sun, or rather the moon, would have made it perfect.

At dinner, besides our guests of last night, we had the Prefects of Indre-et-Loire and of Loir-et-Cher, General Ornano, and Colonel Garraube, a Deputy, to whom we owe the band that has given so much pleasure. After dinner there was whist, a few turns of a waltz, &c.

Later on there was a real ball and supper for the servants, and in honour of the servants of the Prince Royal; it was really very pretty.

Yesterday at dinner I was a little surprised at something my Royal neighbour said to me. He asked me when we were going to Rochecotte.—"I don't know, Monseigneur."—"But you can't spend the winter here where it is so cold."—"Oh no, we never intended to do that."—"Are you coming to Paris?"—"I really don't know."—"For, of course, England is out of the question since Lord Palmerston won't go to India." I looked straight at the Prince with some surprise, and said: "I believe that Lord Palmerston's departure would certainly have recalled the Ambassadors to London, and that if he stays that will keep them away; but M. de Talleyrand's plans are very uncertain, and, moreover, depend on the King's wishes."—"Your uncle told me that he thinks we have got out of England all that we can, and that great affairs are no longer to be transacted in London, but in Paris, under my father's eye."—"Yes, that is M. de Talleyrand's idea, because the King's honesty and ability have inspired confidence in Europe in inverse ratio to the distrust which the policy carried on in England for the last months has aroused."—"My father very much wants M. de Talleyrand to return to England, but before talking to your uncle about it I told the King that I thought it was impossible."—"It certainly would be difficult, Monseigneur."—"But you, Madame, what are your wishes?"—"Whatever will be agreeable to the King, Monseigneur; and if M. de Talleyrand does not go back to London it will be because he is persuaded that, things being as they are, he would be of no use. Personally, I am extremely fond of England; a thousand ties of gratitude and admiration bind me to that country, especially the Queen's kindness, and the friendship of Lord Grey and the Duke of Wellington. But there are some friends whom one does not lose simply because one leaves them, and I hope in course of time to go and thank my English friends for all their kindness to me during the last four years."[40]—"But, to leave the question of the Embassy, what will M. de Talleyrand do?"—"Whatever the King wishes. If the King wishes to see him, he will go and pay his respects; if his Majesty will allow him to rest, he will remain in retirement, taking care of his legs, which, as you see, are very weak and very painful. In a word, Monseigneur, he will always be the King's most devoted servant." And at this point this somewhat curious conversation came to an end.

Valençay, October 30, 1834.—Yesterday morning all our neighbours from Tours, Blois, and the neighbourhood left rather early, as did M. Motteux, who left a charming English dog as a present for M. de Talleyrand. The excellent man left us with much regret, having greatly enjoyed his visit, most of which he spent in the kitchen, in the press house, or at market. He said very little, but was neither indiscreet nor in the way, nor spiteful with his tongue.

Before luncheon M. le Duc d'Orléans visited the two hosiery establishments,[41] made purchases, and gave orders. After luncheon he asked to be shown our schools and the establishment of the Sisters, and gave a large sum for the poor. He seemed much struck by the excellent management of the little convent, and particularly with the manners of the Superior. On this occasion he told me that one of his ancestors lent money to the Holy See and was not repaid at the appointed time. The Pope, however, by way of compensation sent a Bull creating all the male posterity of his family sub-deacons from their birth and canons of Saint-Martin of Tours, with the right to touch the sacred vessels without gloves, and to sit on the Gospel side of the church instead of the Epistle side. King Louis-Philippe was installed Canon of Tours at the age of seven.

Later on, we took the Prince to the ponds in the forest, by the side of which there was a great camp-fire.

Before dinner the Prince again desired some private conversation with M. de Talleyrand and then with me. Afterwards we played pool on the billiard-table. The scene was very animated, the ladies being of the party. Tea taken, the letters came, and announced the resignation of Marshal Gérard; and M. le Duc d'Orléans, retired, put on his travelling dress, and at half-past eleven, after saying many gracious things, he departed.

Although everything went off very well during his visit, and though the Prince was really perfectly charming to everybody, I am nevertheless much relieved now that he is gone. I feared every moment that some accident would happen, and for this reason opposed every idea of a shooting party; I feared disloyal cries, bad weather, a thousand things; and, besides, I was worn out with fatigue.

As I foresaw, the visit of M. le Duc d'Orléans has thrown some light on our future, for M. de Talleyrand said to him that there was no more for him to do in London. He pointed out Lord Palmerston's personal character, the line taken by the English Cabinet, the absence of all the haut corps diplomatique from London, and the evident tendency of all the Courts to cease acting in that capital and to choose another centre of high politics. Besides all this, the weariness of his legs made it impossible for him to return to England unless a reaction occurred which made him—M. de Talleyrand—a more suitable person than any other to conduct the affairs of France there. For the moment he thought that any one would do just as well, if not better, than he. M. le Duc d'Orléans said positively that he had been charged by the King to discover the intentions of M. de Talleyrand, and at the same time to express the King's desire to talk with him if he did not mean to return to London. His Majesty was most anxious that M. de Talleyrand should not abandon his interest and participation in the work at which he had laboured so much.

M. le Duc d'Orléans told me a curious thing—that eighteen months ago Lucien Bonaparte had written him a rather abject letter, begging him to obtain for him the post of French Minister at Florence!

I have just heard that the King has positively refused to call the Duc de Broglie to the Presidency of the Council in place of Marshal Gérard. It is clear that it was this Ministerial crisis which prevented the arrival of the three Ministers who were to have come here. I am quite glad it did, for this took away all political significance from the Prince's visit.

He spoke much of Rochecotte and of his desire to visit it again next summer.

Valençay, October 31, 1834.—M. le Comte de la Redorte is staying here. He is a man of undoubted erudition. He has studied a great deal, and travelled much. He remembers everything, but, unfortunately, instead of waiting till you knock at his door, as an Englishman would do, he throws it wide open and forces you to come in. Though his face is fine and his manners charming, and the sound of his voice delightful, he is simply a bore. He fills his conversation with facts, dates, and figures; he enters into the most minute details; he plunges head first into the heaviest economic topics, and wearies, extinguishes, and crushes his audience. His opinions, moreover, are cut and dried on every subject; his judgments are absolute; his expositions are all arranged beforehand. It is deadly dull! Our English party groaned under him! He left after luncheon, and as he was going M. de Talleyrand said: "There is a mind which stopped before it arrived." He said a rather sharp thing about Madame de Sainte-Aldegonde, who also left this morning. Speaking of her very dark eyebrows, which surmount rather expressionless eyes: "These," he said, "are bows without arrows."

Here is an extract from a letter from Paris, dated the 29th, which came yesterday: "The post-horses were waiting in M. de Rigny's courtyard on Sunday the 26th, and he was just about to leave with Bertin de Veaux, when the King sent for him and commanded him to put off his departure for a day. He never got another opportunity of getting away. Yesterday, at four, Marshal Gérard forced the King to accept his resignation. M. de Rigny has determined not to accept the Premiership which they wish to offer him. He thinks he has neither the talent nor the consistency necessary for the post. He cannot disguise from himself that the only reason for offering him the place is the difficulty of getting any one else; and if his refusal costs him his place he will console himself with the reflection that it is better to go out of office in this way than to go later on less honourably. And yet what will be the end of all this? What appears most probable is the addition of M. Molé to the Ministry. M. Thiers would much like to be Premier, but he does not yet dare to be openly a candidate. M. Molé would not remain long. His means, his character, his surroundings, will all combine to promote his speedy fall. This would be enough to enable M. Thiers to realise his ambition—at least he thinks so. He would, however, have been better pleased to see M. de Rigny undertake the part intended for M. Molé, but that even his eloquence could not achieve!"

Valençay, November 1, 1834.—I hear from Paris that an article in terms very insulting to M. de Talleyrand and myself has just appeared in a periodical review. For many years I have been afflicted with insults, libels, and gutter calumnies of all kinds, and I shall be so persecuted till the end of my days. Living as I have done in the house of M. de Talleyrand, and in his confidence, how could I escape the licence of the press and its attacks in the most libellous age of journalism? It was long before I got used to it. I used to be deeply wounded, very much upset, and very unhappy, and I shall never become quite indifferent. A woman never could be, and would, in my opinion, be the worse for becoming so. However, as it would be equally absurd to allow one's peace of mind to be at the mercy of people one despises, I have made up my mind to read nothing of this kind, and the more directly concerned I am the less I desire to know about it. I do not wish to know the evil people think or say or write about me, or about my friends. If they do wrong, or if I myself am not all I should be, I am quite aware of the fact, and want to forget it. As for calumny, it disgusts and enrages me, and I see no reason why I should acknowledge the dirt thrown at those nearest and dearest to me.

There are so many pains and mortifications in this life, and so many are inevitable, that my only thought is how to avoid as many as possible, for I am sure that enough remains to test my courage and resignation.

Another of my motives for not investigating these malevolent incidents is that I find it too hard to forgive them, for if gratitude is one of the most prominent characteristics of the good part of my nature, I am always afraid that I have a compensating amount of rancour. I have never forgotten a service or a friendly word, but I have perhaps too often remembered an insult or an unkind remark. Thank heaven, my rancour does not go the length of revenge, but I suffer for it all the same. I know nothing so miserable in the world as bearing malice, and, silent and inoffensive as I remain externally, the feeling rankles within and I am quite upset by it.

Unfortunately, I have had only too many occasions to scrutinise, analyse, and dissect my moral self. Who is there who has not a chronic moral malady, like a chronic physical one? And who is there who, having passed a certain age, is not or ought not to be well aware of the rules he should follow, for the good of his soul, no less than his body?

Valençay, November 4, 1834.—I have just returned from an expedition which we made to Blois and its neighbourhood with our English friends, who were going back to Paris. The day before yesterday, we visited Chambord which seemed, as it in fact is, bizarre, original, full of interest and rich in detail. It is situated in an ugly country, and is in a deplorable state. The window of the oratory of Diane de Poitiers, on which Francis I. wrote his impertinent couplet about women,[42] is still there, but the panes are broken. The verses were not creditable to a chivalrous monarch.

The place where the Bourgeois gentilhomme was first acted before Louis XIV. also exists, as well as the table on which the body of Marshal Saxe, who died at Chambord, was opened and embalmed. It is in fact the only piece of furniture left in the Château.

We got back to Blois rather late, and yesterday morning we visited the castle, which is now a barracks, and certainly one of the most interesting monuments of France. The four sides are in four separate styles of architecture. The oldest part dates from the time of Stephen of Blois, King of England of the Plantagenet stock. The second oldest dates from Louis XII. and bears his emblem, the hedgehog, with the motto: Qui s'y frotte s'y pique. Then comes the part built by Francis I. with its Renaissance elegance. It was here that the Duc de Guise was murdered, that Catherine de Medicis died, and here too is the hall where the celebrated States General of Blois assembled. You are shown the fireplace where the body of the Duc de Guise was consumed, and the dungeon where the Cardinal and the Archbishop of Lyons were imprisoned, the little niche where Henri III. placed the monks whom he ordered to pray for the success of the assassination, and the room where the widow of John Sobieski died. Lastly, the fourth side was built by Gaston d'Orléans in the style of the Tuileries, and was never finished. Near the castle is an old pavilion in which were the baths of Catherine de Medicis, and not far off is a shed which served as a retreat for the favourites of Henri III.

On returning here from this excursion, I heard the sad news of the death of Princess Tyszkiewicz, which took place the day before yesterday at Tours. I had to break the news to M. de Talleyrand. At his age such losses afflict the mind more than the heart, for they seem rather a personal warning than a sorrow. He was more startled than I; I was more affected than he, for I had a real affection for the Princess, and I was very grateful to her for all that she was to me long ago. Though she had survived herself, I cannot think without pain of the part of the past which is buried with her, for when one loses friends one loses not only them but a part of one's self.

M. de Talleyrand agreed with me that we could not allow this poor but illustrious lady, the niece of the last King of Poland, and only sister to the unfortunate Marshal Prince Poniatowski, to be laid to rest among strangers. She will be buried at Valençay.

A letter from Paris which came last night says, "nothing is settled about the Ministry. The thing grows ridiculous, and the intrigues show no signs of stopping. The day before yesterday it was thought that everything was settled, and that Thiers was going off to Valençay, but yesterday all was changed and things are as they were. There has never been such a dissolving force as Thiers; his oratorical gifts are costing us dear, but some conclusion must be reached. M. de Rigny is quite ready to retire, M. Guizot is still supporting Broglie for the Presidency of the Council, and Thiers is backing Molé."

Valençay, November 6, 1834.—The other day M. Royer-Collard told me something that is very amusing because it is so characteristic of him. He said that the second Madame Guizot was reproaching him vigorously with having repudiated all religion, and with having refused to be its patron and protector. She said that by complaining, as he did, that he was claimed by the religious party, he caused much embarrassment to its members. She therefore begged him to cease attacking them and turning them to ridicule on every occasion, as he was in the habit of doing. "Ah, Madame!" he replied, "you wish then that I should leave the public in error, and thus deprive myself of my only consolation, and my only chance of revenge." She was furious. The one thing which annoys M. Royer-Collard, (and it annoys him very much) is Guizot and all his works. This annoyance is perhaps not altogether unfounded. He has no love for M. de Broglie whose lofty virtue did not seem to him adequate to the circumstances which recently arose, and as for Madame de Broglie he likes her even less, because her piety does not preserve her from any of the agitations of public life, and is even compatible with political intrigue. The contrast involved in this is displeasing to him.

Valençay November 7, 1834.—Here is an anecdote which is quite authentic, having been told me by an eye witness, and which struck me very much. M. Casimir-Périer, as is well known, died of cholera. Besides this he was completely out of his mind during the last ten days of his life; a tendency to insanity had already revealed itself in several members of his family. Well, several hours before his death two of his colleagues in the Ministry, with two of his brothers, were talking in a corner of the room of the embarrassment which the arrival of Madame la Duchesse de Berry was causing in la Vendée, of the resulting difficulties for the Government, of what ought to be done, and of the responsibility involved in doing it, and of the fear and reluctance every one had in assuming this responsibility. This conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sick man who sat up in bed and exclaimed: "Oh if only the President of the Council were not mad!" Then he fell back on the pillow and was silent. He died shortly afterwards. Is not this striking, and does it not make one shudder as one does at King Lear?

Valençay, November 9, 1834.—I went to Châteauvieux yesterday to see M. Royer-Collard. He had received letters from several of the Ministers who have resigned. From these he understands that no sooner were the five resignations sent in than they were politely accepted. The King sent for M. Molé, and entrusted him with the Presidency of the Council, and the task of recomposing the whole Cabinet. M. Molé asked for twenty-four hours to consider matters, and to see whom he could persuade to act with him. However, as everybody declined to share the task, he was himself compelled to withdraw, and so the whole situation has again become vague, and perhaps impossible.

Almost all the papers have again broken out against M. de Talleyrand. Some say he is dead, some that he is ill in mind and body, others insult him grossly and foully. M. Royer-Collard explains this new access of savagery to the fear that the Presidency of the Council will be offered to M. de Talleyrand and accepted by him. It seems that many people, struck by the absence of good men, wish the King to look to us, and that the terror which this inspires in certain others envenoms all that they do, or say, or write. It is a melancholy privilege to be the last resort of some people and the object of the detestation of others, and that at an age when the need of rest should be the ruling consideration, and the one aim in all things should be to make a good end.

Valençay, November 10, 1834.—Here is an extract from a letter from M. Royer-Collard received yesterday: "I will say in all seriousness to M. de Talleyrand that, after four years absence, I am not surprised that he attaches more importance to newspaper articles than they now possess. He does not know how much the prestige of the press, like all other kinds of prestige, is worn out. Any one who replied to a newspaper after the lapse of a day or two, would not be understood; the occasion would be forgotten. Violent language can no longer either exalt or abase any one. Amid torrents of praise or abuse one remains exactly where one was before. It is the characteristic of this evil age.

"No, nothing is settled at Paris, because nothing that will pass muster is possible. Here are seen the natural consequences of the last revolution. M. de Talleyrand was clever enough and fortunate enough to turn it to his glory, but he could not repeat the miracle. His last piece of ingenuity must be to choose the right moment for the end, I had almost said for breaking both with England and France, as this year has made them. I often come back to the idea that last year was the time he should have gone and put himself in a position of safety. It was natural to make the mistake; I made it myself. You, Madame la Duchesse, alone were right. From this very arm-chair from which I am writing to you to-day, I was blind enough to combat you, knowing nothing about it. You alone were in a position to know and to judge. I was wrong; this is yet another piece of homage which I am anxious to pay you."

Valençay, November 11, 1834.—Mr. Damer writes from Paris as follows: "Have you heard a horrible story relating to Madame and Mlle. de Morell, the sister and the niece of M. Charles de Mornay, of something which happened at the Military School at Saumur. A young man of that town called M. de la Roncière, not a particularly high-minded person, fell in love with Madame de Morell, who may, or may not, have given him some encouragement. I don't know exactly whether she did or not, but finally she dismissed him. On this he vowed vengeance, and transferred his attentions to the daughter, a young girl of seventeen. He wrote her frequent threatening letters, saying he would kill her father and mother if she did not listen to him, and one night she was found in a condition which amounted to insanity. On hearing of her condition, the young man fled from the school, but has since been arrested. He then produced letters, whether genuine or not, which he says were written to him by the mother and daughter, and which are exceedingly compromising. They say Charles de Mornay has come to Paris about this affair."[43]

Valençay, November 12, 1834.—A letter written the day before yesterday from Paris, while the King was signing, in the next room, the order creating the new Ministry, which was too late to appear in the morning papers yesterday, arrived in the evening. The names are unexpected and almost new. If this were the case with all of them, it might not perhaps much matter, but one name is that of the Duc de Bassano, who grew grey in the splendours of the Empire, and who has been blamed for its fall. Another is that of M. Bresson, who will probably create a sensation and who, in the article of improbability, would have deserved the celebrated letter on the marriage of M. de Lauzun. I need not set down what we Londoners thought who witnessed the birth, ruin, and resuscitation of this person, all of which took place in such bewilderingly rapid succession. It is also needless to say that this arrangement of the Ministry puts an end to all M. de Talleyrand's irresolution, and will give wings to his resignation of the London Embassy.

Valençay, November 13, 1834.—Here is the impression produced on M. Royer-Collard by the new phase of the Ministry. "But this is a Polignac Cabinet! I expected anything rather than this adventure. I am much surprised that M. Passy, who is a man of parts with a future before him, should have enrolled himself in that troupe. The former Cabinet is now thrown into opposition, but whether it attacks or treacherously supports the new one, it is making a path for itself back to power. It seems inevitable to me that it will return." "Adventure" is indeed the right word!

Valençay, November 16, 1834.—We learned by last night's post that the fancy Ministry had literally lived "ce que vivent les roses, l'espace d'un matin." The comparison is not outrageous. On the evening of the 13th, MM. Teste and Passy handed the King their resignations, which they explained by a reference to the pecuniary position of the Duc de Bassano. It was inevitable that these resignations should be followed by others, and, as a matter of fact, M. Charles Dupin came and offered his the following morning. On this, M. de Bassano recognised that it was all up.

On the day before yesterday, the 14th, at four in the afternoon, nothing was arranged, or planned, or hoped. What a cruel and deplorable situation for the King! If one wanted to put this Ministerial crisis into a play, it would not be possible to apply the twenty-four hours rule!

I think the conduct of MM. Teste and Passy was unpardonable. It appears that it was they who had insisted at first that the Duc de Bassano should have the Presidency of the Council and the Ministry of the Interior, and certainly they did not then learn for the first time of M. de Bassano's financial position, which for two years has been well known to every one.

Valençay, November 18, 1834.—Here is the most important passage of a letter written yesterday by M. de Talleyrand to Madame Adélaïde. "What a relief! I cordially thank Marshal Mortier for having accepted the Presidency of the Council! I would fain follow his example and mount the breach once more, but for me England is out of the question. I should like Vienna doubtless in many ways, and, besides, it would suit Madame de Dino who, with all her devotion to me, is very sorry to leave London, where she was so much appreciated. But at my age one no longer seeks business so far afield. If it was only a question of a special mission to a congress, such as those of Verona or Aix-la-Chapelle, I should be delighted. And if such a case arises, as is by no means improbable, and the King thinks me still capable of representing France, let him issue his orders and I will leave instantly, only too happy to devote my last days to his service. A permanent mission, however, is now no longer possible for me, and especially not at Vienna where twenty years ago I represented the Restoration. Has Your Royal Highness thought of that circumstance, especially with reference to Charles X. and Madame la Dauphine, who often comes to Vienna, and who there receives all the honours due to her rank, her misfortunes and her near relationship to the Imperial family? In England, the Bourbons of the elder branch are merely private persons. In Austria they are Princes and almost pretenders. For the King's ambassador this makes an enormous difference which this or that person might not perhaps feel, but which is decisive for me, across whose career 1814 is written in large characters. No, Madame, there is now no other life for me but that of frank and complete retirement in privacy and simplicity. Perfidy alone can accuse me of any arrière pensée; at my age one occupies one's self only with memories.[44]..."

The Journal des Débats announces M. de Talleyrand's resignation,[45] and for its own purposes tries to connect it with the Bassano Ministry. Assuredly, of all explanations this might have been the most plausible, but it has nothing to do with any of the people whose names have occupied the attention of the public during the last fortnight. The event might have been recorded in a more sincere and dignified way, but party spirit distorts everything for its own ends. Never mind, we need bother our heads about it no longer!

It is stated that, during the Ministerial crisis, M. de Rigny behaved with great propriety, firmness and dignity. This was not so with everybody, and here is a detail the authenticity of which is certain. At the celebrated Council of ten days ago, when every one threw off the mask and M. Guizot tried to impose M. de Broglie on the King as Minister of Foreign Affairs, the King raised his hand and said, "this hand will never sign a decree recalling M. de Broglie to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs." Then M. Guizot called upon the King to state why he refused. "Because he nearly embroiled me with all Europe," was the reply, "and if any attempt is made to force my hand I will speak out." "And we, Sire," returned M. Guizot, "will write." Has the like ever been heard of? And after this is it possible that the same people can again assemble round the same green table to regulate the destinies of Europe?