Memoirs of the Duchesse De Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1841-1850
"Lord Beauvale had an attack of gout during the celebration of his marriage;15 he told the priest to hurry up, and was taken home very ill. The next day he was in bed and his wife had dinner at a small table at his bedside. They will come to Paris on their way to England.
"Adèle de Flahaut is dying; her father is behaving like a madman, but her mother shows a man's courage.
"I have decided to send you Lady Palmerston's letter so that Pauline may read the details that interest her."
The following is Lady Palmerston's letter to the Princess: "I must tell you that my daughter Fanny is engaged to Lord Jocelyn. He is a charming young man of twenty-eight, handsome, cheerful, loyal, clever and pleasant, and he has travelled in every part of the world. He has just come back from China, of which he gives very interesting accounts. We are all very pleased with the marriage, which is quite romantic. He sent his proposal in writing from Calcutta a year and a half ago but could not wait for an answer as he was obliged to start for Chusan; so he has been nearly two years wavering between hope and fear and reached Liverpool without knowing whether he would not find her married to some one else, for in the English papers which he sometimes saw he occasionally found announcements of Fanny's marriage with some other person. Lord Jocelyn's father is Lord Roden, a great Tory, but that, you know, is a trifle which does not disturb us, as Fanny's happiness is our first object, and love and politics do not go together. Moreover, he is not a fanatic like his father, but very reasonable and steady in his ideas.
"The news from America is pretty good upon the whole: it is all a matter of talk and party spirit; the out-goers wish to make the position difficult for the in-comers, almost in European style."
I now propose to copy a little romance which was composed by Henry IV. and which I have found in the Memoirs of Sully. It seems to me full of elegance and charm, and to be even more graceful than Charmante Gabrielle:
Dawn of dayCome, I pray,Gladden thou mine eyes;My shepherdessMy heart's distressIs redder than thy skies.She is fairPast compare;See her slender form,Eyes that areBrighter farThan the star of morn.Though with dewTouched anew,Roses are less bright,No ermineSo soft is seenNor lily half so white.
How pretty it is! Henry IV.'s letters are also charming; in fact his figure alone lends interest to this extraordinary work which is as heavy and diffuse as possible, though interesting to any one who has the patience to delve in it.
Rochecotte, March 27, 1841.– My son-in-law hears that the speech of M. Molé against the proposed fortifications has not answered the general expectation; that the speech of M. d'Alton Shée, which was said to have been written by M. Berryer, sparkled with wit and clever mockery and delighted the Chamber of Peers, which is really as much opposed to the law as the Chamber of Deputies was, though it will probably vote as the other Chamber has done.
Rochecotte, March 29, 1841.– I have now reached my last week of country life which will be filled with a thousand details, arrangements, accounts, and orders to be given. I shall greatly miss my solitude, my peace, the regularity of my daily life, the simplicity of my habits, the health-giving work without fatigue or agitation, which profits others and therefore myself. I cannot help feeling some anxiety at leaving the protecting haven where I have been taking shelter to set sail again. Society is a troublesome and stormy sea to sail, for which I do not feel in the least fitted. I have no pilot and cannot steer my ship alone, and am always afraid of running upon some reef. My wide experience has not given me cleverness, but has merely made me distrustful of myself, which does not conduce to the possibility of a good passage.
Rochecotte, April 2, 1841.– I see a notice in the newspapers of the death of the Vicomtesse d'Agoult, mistress of the robes to the Dauphine. The loss of so old and devoted a friend must be a severe blow to the Princess, especially during her exile. There are few griefs and trials through which she has not passed.
Rochecotte, April 3, 1841.– The newspapers announce that the amendment which would have sent back the law upon the fortifications to the Chamber of Deputies, has been rejected by the House of Peers by a considerable majority. This means that the law will pass in its original form. The Château will be delighted.
The Duchesse de Montmorency tells me that I shall find hypnotism again the rage in Paris: every one has his own medium, and little morning and evening parties are given at which experiments are performed. This fashion was introduced by Madame Jules de Contades, the sister of my neighbour, M. du Ponceau. Her brother, who has been three months in Paris, has obtained a woman of Anjou who is very susceptible to hypnotism. She was with him at Benais16 last autumn, and Dr. Orye tells me wonderful things about her. He was formerly very incredulous, but what he has seen of this woman has shaken his unbelief.
Rochecotte, April 4, 1841.– Certainly Paris is now to have its fortifications. The Duc de Noailles writes me a letter upon the subject which is very politic and probably very judicious, but which I found very wearisome. He adds, "I may tell you as a piece of news that the Princesse de Lieven is giving dinners; she has very fine silver and china, and invited me last Monday with M. Guizot, Montrond, M. and Madame de la Redorte, Mr. Peel (brother of Sir Robert Peel) and Mrs. Peel. This was the second dinner she has given. The first was to her Ambassador and his niece Apponyi. She also gave an evening reception for the Duchess of Nassau, the widow and the daughter of Prince Paul of Würtemberg, who came to spend a fortnight in Paris to see her father who has been at death's door and is still very ill. The Duchess of Nassau is deaf but she is very pleasant and agreeable. She did not wish to call at the Tuileries but her father insisted. The whole of the Royal Family, except the King, called upon her the next day. Three days later she was invited to dinner and refused, saying that she was obliged to go to Versailles on that day. She refused before mentioning the subject to her father, who is certainly not a supporter of the Philippe party, but felt the unpleasantness of the refusal. He has insisted that she should make an appointment with the Queen for her farewell call: the Queen replied that she was very sorry, but that the engagements of Holy Week would not allow her to receive her. As soon as she arrived, the Court placed its theatre boxes at her disposal; she refused, saying that she would not go to the theatre at all, though she has been to the Opera in the box of the Duchesse de Bauffremont. In our faubourg people are delighted with this conduct, which seems to me utterly stupid and in bad taste." I also think such pranks are ridiculous.
As you are reading the little Fenelon,17 remember that I especially recommend the third and fourth volumes; I consider it is equal to Madame de Sévigné and La Bruyère. The whole work is pervaded with the inimitable grace and the fine and gentle austerity of the Christian bishop, an aristocrat, a man of God and of the world, whose intellect was terrifying, as Bossuet said.
I was starting in an hour and am very sorry to go. When and how shall I return? The unforeseen plays too large a part in the life of each of us.
Paris, April 6, 1841.– At length I am in this huge Paris and my impressions are by no means favourable.
Paris, April 9, 1841.– Madame de Lieven wrote asking me to come and see her, and I asked her to a quiet dinner with myself. She accepted the invitation and appeared in full dress, less thin than before, and in good spirits. She told me that her Emperor is as unsociable as ever; that the little Princess of Darmstadt cannot endure the climate of St. Petersburg and that the cold has given her a red nose; the young heir is by no means in love with her, but will marry her. The Princess assures me that nothing has been settled as regards diplomatic changes; that Sainte-Aulaire will go to London and Flahaut to Naples and the rest remains a matter of chance. It is thought that Palmerston is secretly encouraging the strange actions of Ponsonby, as the Eastern Question is by no means settled. Lord Granville has been obliged to resign on account of his health. Lady Clanricarde is very anxious to come to Paris, but the little Queen and Lady Palmerston do not like her; however, she has been reconciled to Lord Palmerston, whom she used to hate. It is said that the Queen would like to appoint Lord Normanby to Paris, as he is a weak member of the Cabinet.
M. Decazes is so ill that people are thinking of his successor. Some mention M. Monnier as a possibility, and I have heard other names which I do not remember.
Paris, April 10, 1841.– I should be glad to have something interesting to say of Paris, where the clash and strife of interests is so strong, but I have nothing and seem to be more vacant and listless even than at Rochecotte. Many words buzz about my ears and leave no impression and merely prevent the quiet course of my reflections.
Yesterday after lunch I called upon Madame Adélaïde. She had heard through a third person that I was at Paris and had asked me to come. I had not proposed to appear at the Château until after Easter. I found her ill and strangely changed; thin, bent, tired and grown old. She was very pleasant, but really harassing with her interminable discourse upon the fortifications. I think she must have sent for me to discuss this subject, as if I had any opinion upon it or as if my idea could be of any importance. I was more interested by the portrait of Queen Christina of Spain which she showed me and which is an agreeable picture. This Queen did not go to Naples because her brother would not receive her. She should now be at Lyons, and it is thought that she will come back here where the Court seems to be favourably inclined to her. For the stout Infanta there seems to be less liking, and she has not increased her popularity recently by sending her three eldest daughters into a convent for no obvious reason. Since her arrival here she took the three Princesses to balls and other social functions, and now shuts them up in this way.
M. Molé came to see me towards the end of the morning, and is very depressed upon the subject of politics. The fact is quite clear that no one has gained either power or reputation. The Court seems to have been so entirely committed to these wretched fortifications which no one wants, not even those who have voted for them, that the consequences have been almost ridiculous. Many people's feelings have been hurt on this question and all who did not promise their vote were ridiculed and insulted point blank. It is said that the Prince Royal has not spared himself in the matter. I am very sorry, as I shall always be about anything that may injure his position. At the present moment he is at St. Omer.
Paris, April 12, 1841.– Some one has just come in to tell me a sad piece of news. The pretty Duchesse de Vallombrose, who was quite young, was confined of her second child a few days ago and was attacked with puerperal fever two days later. The servant whom I sent to inquire for her was told that she died last night. It is very dreadful. The little schoolmistress of Rochecotte was cured of this same disease by country doctors, while the Duchesse de Vallombrose, with the whole of the faculty about her, dies in spite of their supposed science. Life indeed realises but little of what it promises.
Paris, April 13, 1841.– The death of the Duchesse de Vallombrose was yesterday a general subject of conversation. The unfortunate woman seems to have had no suspicion of her danger. A priest was fetched who, fortunately on this occasion, was a capable man (the Abbé Dupanloup), and was obliged to prepare her mind for this terrible conclusion. Deaths of this kind in the time of Louis XIV. would have produced sudden conversions, but nothing can effect the worn-out emotions and the dead consciences of our age, where everything is flat and dull, at home and abroad.
Paris, April 14, 1841.– M. de Sainte-Aulaire came to lunch with me yesterday to ask some questions concerning the nature of the London Embassy and its social position, as he is preparing to move thither. M. Royer-Collard came in before he had gone and they talked of the French Academy and of a new Book which M. Nodier is preparing, The History of Words. People say that it will be a curious and serious work, excellently written by a clever man, and a book of real authority.
M. Royer-Collard told me that on the day of his daughter's death his study door opened three times in a quarter of an hour to admit M. Molé, who was quite simple; M. Thiers, who was less so; and M. Guizot, who was nothing of the kind. Their meeting made the incident stranger still. M. Guizot fell upon the neck of M. Royer-Collard, pale and in tears, and the bereaved father felt too weak to keep him back, and I think he was quite right. Two of M. Guizot's children had been dangerously ill, and had been saved by the care of M. Andral.18 M. Royer-Collard had called upon M. Guizot to congratulate him upon their recovery, and since that time when the two men met in the Chamber, they have shaken hands and exchanged a few words. As I am a supporter of peace in general, and think that the more we advance in life the more we should incline in that direction, I told M. Royer-Collard more than once that I was glad of the reconciliation.
My children came to dinner with me and after they had gone I went to bed. I might go into society if I pleased, or give receptions here, but I have an invincible dislike to these functions, and the hour during which I am at home to friends seems to me the longest in the day. Our dear M. de Talleyrand, whose insight was so profound and who spoke more truly of every one than I realised at the time, told me very correctly that when my children were married I should fall out of society. As a matter of fact I can no longer endure it. My priest, my White Sisters, my garden, my poor people and my workmen, are enough for me. What one knows as friends in society are quite uninteresting compared with them. Madame de Maintenon said, "My friends interest me, but my poor people touch my heart." I have often applied this phrase to my own case and understand its meaning fully.
Paris, April 16, 1841.– Yesterday the eldest daughter of the Duc de Rohan-Chabot, with whom we are connected, was married to the Marquis de Béthisy. It was a fine wedding, and all the high society of the Faubourg Saint-Germain were there. I was invited to the celebration. The Church of St. Thomas d'Aquin could hardly contain the crowd; the throng in the sacristy was overwhelming; people were elbowing one another on the steps, while the driving rain increased the confusion, far from diminishing the haste of the visitors to return home. The Abbé Dupanloup who daily baptizes, confesses, buries or marries some one from our quarter, uttered a discourse which was somewhat long, though it touched those who listened to it. But nearly every one was thinking of such wholly mundane affairs as dress and display. At Paris, and in our society, marriage is rarely an event of any solemnity, and the words of the priest are the only serious utterances amid the extreme frivolity, in which the marriage service can scarcely be heard. It was a sight which evoked more than one sad reflection, especially for those who remembered that in the same church the evening before the last prayers were said over the coffin of the young and beautiful Duchesse de Vallombrose.
Paris, April 17, 1841.– Yesterday I took advantage of the kindness of the Comte de Rambuteau, who offered me his box for the last performance of Mlle. Mars. There was a crowded audience and every one worth knowing was there, including the whole of the Royal Family. Mlle. Mars exhausted all the artifices of her dress with surprising success and all the resources of her talent with even greater success. Her voice was in no need of training or study: it was always fresh and perfectly modulated; if she would avoid parts that are too young for her and change her style she might have continued on the boards for a long time to come. Her farewell performance was a brilliant event and she was overwhelmed with flowers and applause. The Misanthrope was disgracefully murdered by the poor company and Mlle. Mars alone respected Molière. In les Fausses Confidences, there was more unity and vigour and Mlle. Mars was a triumphant success.
Paris, April 25, 1841.– M. Royer-Collard in the course of his last visit but one to my house told me that he had some twenty of M. de Talleyrand's letters which he would give me if I cared to have them. I accepted his offer, as I am glad to have as many of M. de Talleyrand's autographs as possible. He brought them to me the day before yesterday; yesterday I read them through and some are excellent for the gracious and studied simplicity which was peculiar to his style. Among them I found what I had long been seeking for, though I had never been able to put my hand upon it; a copy of the letter which M. de Talleyrand wrote to Louis XVIII. when the memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo on the subject of the Duc d'Enghien19 appeared. I knew that he had written it, but I had confused the dates and was under the impression that this letter had been addressed to Lord Castlereagh instead of to the King. M. de Talleyrand sent a copy of it to M. de Royer-Collard, which copy I am now delighted to find again.
M. de Villèle, who has not been at Paris since 1830 is now there. This is an event for the Legitimist party. They are keenly anxious that he should be reconciled to M. de Chateaubriand, and yet the two gentlemen have not met hitherto, simply for the reason that neither of them will make the first call, though both declare that they would be delighted to see one another again and to forget the past.
Paris, April 26, 1841.– Yesterday before the benediction I said good-bye to all my good friends of the Sacré Coeur. All these ladies are very proper and Madame de Gramont is quite an exceptional personage for her cleverness, her kindness and her graciousness combined with firmness. She is very kind to me and I am more at my ease with her than with any society personage. The fact is that I am out of touch with society and realise the fact daily; society not only disgusts me but irritates and displeases me. I am disturbed, wounded and agitated by it and go out less every day: the mental peace and balance which I have recovered with such difficulty in my retirement are lost here. I am dissatisfied with myself and by no means satisfied even with those concerning whom I have no complaint to make.
Paris, April 29, 1841.– Yesterday at the end of the morning I had an infinite number of callers who came to say farewell and all seemed equally tiresome; I can only make one exception in the case of the good and excellent Russian Ambassador,20 who proposes to spend part of the summer at Carlsbad. His Sovereign is certainly not going to Ems; it appears that the courts of St. Petersburg and of Berlin are not upon good terms and that the King of Prussia sent his brother William to be present at the wedding of the Hereditary Grand Duke merely in order to avoid an open breach. The strained relations between these two Courts are due to an opposition of commercial interests, to the unpopularity of the Russians in Germany which the Governments cannot overlook and especially to the behaviour of the States in the Grand Duchy of Posen and to the liberty there granted for the use of the Polish language. The Emperor Nicholas flew into a temper and said that he might as well be living next to the Chamber of French Deputies. These details are quite official. I have them from the King himself whom I saw for a long time yesterday at his sister's house, to whom I went to say good-bye. I found both of them much disturbed by the sentence of acquittal pronounced a few days ago in the notorious case of the false letters attributed to the King.21 The verdict is in fact wrong and unjust, for no one knows the foolishness of these letters better than myself. On this occasion we talked of many matters which prove that no one can ever write too little, that hardly anything should be entrusted to paper and that letters should above all be destroyed. I went home feeling really terrified on this question.
Paris, May 1, 1841.– Yesterday I called upon the Duchesse d'Orléans to receive certain messages for Berlin. She showed me her two children: the eldest, the Comte de Paris, is the very image of his grandfather, the King, though he is shy and delicate; the second is like his mother and seems to be livelier than his brother.
Paris, May 3, 1841.– The weather has grown cooler in consequence of a storm during the night, which fortunately did not break soon enough to disturb the fireworks and the illuminations in honour of the baptism of the young prince.22 The ceremony at Notre Dame passed off very well and was entirely noble and dignified. The little Prince was delightful. Every one noticed the admirable bearing of the Duchesse d'Orléans, her reverent bows and the care with which she crossed herself after entering the church. I should like to have gone, and the kindness of Madame Adélaïde had given me an excellent opportunity, but I was anxious about my daughter and did not go, as I did not wish to miss the doctor's visit.23
Paris, May 5, 1841.– M. Bresson, who came to say good-bye yesterday, seems destined to return to Madrid and is by no means pleased at the prospect. He evidently expected to go to Vienna. The King proposes to send Montebello to that capital, but M. Guizot, who is influenced by Madame de Lieven, wishes Vienna to be given to M. de Flahaut. Rumours are in wide circulation that Madame de Lieven is making the appointments to ambassadorial posts, and there is a violent outcry against her in the French diplomatic body.
Pauline is better, but not well enough to accompany me to Berlin. I am sorry to leave her, and the long journey weighs upon my mind. It is real isolation. I shall be truly glad when I find myself once more in Touraine; I feel that my real home is there, where I have my strongest interests, duties and a useful centre of work. Anywhere else I exist but do not put out roots.
Metz, May 6, 1841.– I am now far from Paris and regret nothing in it except my daughter, and have no great hopes that my journey will be a relaxation. I dread the annoyance of it and the wearing life of high roads and inns.
Mannheim, May 8, 1841.– I left Metz at midday, after a good rest. I then came on here without stopping, arriving at ten o'clock in the morning. I was not searched at the frontier, but a terrible storm in the night almost made me lose courage. However, I literally made head against the storm, and am now at Mannheim. The inevitable Schreckenstein was waiting for me and wished to take me to the castle where a room was ready for me. I declined, and think that I pleased others as much as myself by so doing. After dressing I called upon the Grand Duchess Stephanie who had placed a carriage at my disposal. She looks better than she did at Umkirch when she was suffering from her terrible illness, but she can hardly move her left arm and remains a little lame. It is whispered that what she considers to be rheumatism is something much more serious; the doctors wish to send her to Wildbad; she talks quite as usual. Princess Marie has grown rather heavy and is somewhat faded, not to any great extent, but there is no prospect that she will marry.
I called upon Baroness Sturmfeder, who is outwardly a great lady, and upon old Walsch, who was beguiling her old age with the Charivari, the Wasps and the Ready Made News, lampoons which are now fashionable; from such sources she derives her ideas and her kindly sentiments. After leaving the castle I was driven to the Duchess Bernard of Saxe Weimar whom I had seen in England; her husband is the loving and beloved uncle of the Duchess d'Orléans. This was a mark of respect upon my part, the more advisable as I am bound to meet them before long at dinner at the castle. I have now returned and am resting until dinner-time, which is at half-past four.