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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Woburn Abbey, May 20, 1834.– Our party has been increased by the arrival of the Lord Chancellor. He talked to me of the great aristocrats of the country, and said that previous to Reform the Duke of Devonshire with his £440,000 sterling a year, his castles, and his eight boroughs, was as powerful as the King himself. This expression "previous to Reform" well expresses the blow which has been struck at the ancient constitution. I made Lord Brougham admit as much. He maintained that it was necessary, and though he began by saying that he had only clipped wings which had become rather too long, he ended by claiming that a complete revolution had been effected without bloodshed. "The great moment of our Revolution," he added with evident СКАЧАТЬ