Memoirs of the Duchesse De Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1841-1850

Yesterday the weather was very fine and I took advantage of it to ascend with my son-in-law, on foot, an imposing mountain which separates old from new Nice; a winding path has been made by which the ascent is comparatively easy. From the summit the view over the sea at certain times discloses not only the island of Sainte Marguerite, but also Corsica; to right and left the old and new town are spread out as in a panorama, while at the back one sees a circle of hills which shut in Nice from the north; these hills are covered with villas, churches and convents and stand out against a background of fine rocks which are over-topped by snow-covered peaks. The variety and extent of the view make this walk interesting. On the top of the mountain upon a wide expanse are to be found the remains of an old ruined fort.

Nice, January 24, 1842.– Yesterday after dinner I went to the Grand Duchess Stephanie, to hear a new play by Scribe read; it is making some stir in Paris and is called The Chain. It was read to us by M. de Maistre, who is a good reader. The play is in five acts; the dialogue is witty, the plot well developed and the stage management perfect, in short it is distinctly interesting, but to me the triviality of style characteristic of the author was obvious and an excessive complication of incident spoils the rapidity of the action and fatigues the spectator for the moment. On the stage it should go very well.

Barante writes: "Our little quarrel with Russia seems to be composed; pinpricks have been answered by pinpricks. The Emperor is pleased to let the matter drop and perhaps will behave more carefully in future. It is said that Count Pahlen may be back in six weeks. The fears of all the Russians here that they may be recalled from their dear Paris are quite amusing.

"M. de Salvandy is to arrive to-day, after an extraordinary experience as ambassador. The result would have been the same with any one else, but I am assured that his language, his attitude and his despatches have been something unheard-of in the annals of diplomacy. I am sorry, for he is an upright and excellent man of talent and sound judgment." So much for Barante. I have also a letter from Salvandy himself dated January 16 and written from Tours on his way back to Paris: "For six weeks I have lived in the midst of constant annoyance and apprehension, and continual work, with more despatches than any energetic and permanent embassy ever produced, has filled my days and my nights. I have encountered difficulties which I pointed out and in the face of which I received the strongest reassurances, but hateful intrigues rendered them insurmountable. For sixteen days no written message reached me and even ordinary couriers have been stopped. I protracted negotiations as long as possible, and cut them short when I was bound either to flee or to be driven away. Now what is to be done? One point I will guarantee, that France can do what she wishes in Spain; Spain has offered me full satisfaction for the insolence suggested to her authorities. At Bayonne I found an excellent note from Lord Aberdeen, hoping that English influence was not to be found in this matter and pronouncing in favour of the principles supported by France. At Paris I shall learn what will be the result of the business."

Nice, January 26, 1842.– The Duchesse d'Albuféra writes telling me that M. de Salvandy has returned to Paris and says that a large number of ridiculous observations are attributed to him; for instance, he is said to have written from Tolosa, "The French Embassy is touching the Pyrenees and to-morrow will pass the Bidassoa." At every stage he sent his attachés one after the other, riding headlong to Paris to announce his progress. He has left the young son of M. Decazes at Madrid as Chargé d'Affaires. The unanimous assent of the Cortes to Espartero's demands further complicates the question.

The new Stabat by Rossini is now the rage at Paris; it is said to be superb but by no means religious, and I hear that secular words would suit the composition quite as well. In any case it is enough to show that this fine musical genius is not dead, as might have been feared in view of his long silence. Grisi is said to be admirable in the solos of this Stabat; her head has been turned by the singer Mario; her husband wishes to separate from her but she declines for some reason unknown, while the refusal obliges her at this moment, for some reason unknown to me, to pay her husband eight hundred thousand francs, which by no means pleases the lady. She expressed her grief to Lablache who advised her, with his inimitable Italian accent, to have the separation rather than to pay and said, "But what does it matter to you? Everybody knows that you are a bad lot!" In view of so excellent a quotation, I make no further comment.

Nice, January 28, 1842.– Yesterday I called upon Princesse Marie who is confined to the house by indisposition. She told me of several royal marriages: that of Princess Marie of Prussia, the king's cousin, with the Crown Prince of Bavaria; this is a mixed marriage, but all the children will be brought up as Catholics. One of the young princesses of Bavaria is to marry the Hereditary Archduke of Modena; the Crown Prince of Sardinia will marry one of the daughters of the Archduke, who is Viceroy of Milan; while the Princess of Nassau, the half-sister of the reigning duke, is to marry the Prince of Neuwied. I wish that some husband could be found for poor Marie herself. I think this would be the best remedy for her mother's terrible attacks of nerves.

Madame de Lieven writes as follows: "Salvandy has been wanting in tact, Aston in goodwill, and the Spanish Government in common sense; for all this is obviously against its interests. Attempts have been made to point this out through other powers. Recent events at Madrid regarding the point of etiquette remove all possibility that Espartero's regency will be of long duration. The English Cabinet has espoused the cause of France, but somewhat late, for Salvandy had then gone, while Aston had previously supported the claims of Espartero. However, English opinion has been noted and will have full weight.

"I need say nothing further concerning the so-called indisposition of Périer and Kisseleff, as it has come to an end. My brother tells me that our Ambassador will shortly return here.

"The King of Prussia has actually gone to England.52 Imagine that when he reached Ostend the English ships had not arrived. In general, people think that the King of Prussia has been more than obliging; certainly no great Sovereign ever did as much. Lord Melbourne will be present at the baptism, the Palmerstons have been invited for another day, and Lady Jersey I should think not at all. She has not seen the Queen since her husband was chief equerry. I do not know why King Leopold is not to be present at the baptism. It is strange."

Nice, February 2, 1842.– This is a day which used always to be kept as a festival in our house; M. de Talleyrand was born on February 2, 1754; he would now be eighty-eight years of age, and has been dead nearly four years. As one advances in life these painful anniversaries which mark progress with bitter memories become more frequent.

Yesterday I paid a visit to France with the Grand Duchess and a fairly numerous company, that is to say, we crossed the Var and went to the castle of Villeneuve which belongs to M. de Panis, a Provençal gentleman of considerable wealth and importance. I had met him before at the house of one of his cousins. He spends his winters at this residence near the Var: he has restored it and if he had not daubed the old walls and the great towers with yellow paint, it would be as remarkable for its architecture as it is for its position and the view.

Nice, February 7, 1842.– Yesterday in consequence of a headache I missed one of the chief amusements of Italy, the battle of confetti, which takes place on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. Everybody was upon the promenade throwing handfuls, and I met people in the evening who had thrown so energetically that they could not raise their arms. This festival is a great delight to all the street boys who yell so loudly that I could hear them in my bed. A little French warship is in the harbour here: the crew disembarked and came on to the promenade and the sailors in holiday attire danced a special dance of their own. It was said to be very pretty. My son-in-law has invited the officers of the brig to be present at an entertainment given at his house this evening.

There is a strange custom in force here during the carnival: in the morning all the streets are full of masks and gaiety reaches the height of insanity, but at nightfall the masks disappear and every member of a confraternity assumes the dress of a penitent; men and women alike with candles in their hands follow processions which emerge at the same moment from every church, to the sound of bells; the priest bearing the holy sacrament under a canopy concludes the procession. Wherever these processions go they produce a strange effect: there are penitents in grey, white, black and red and every one in the streets falls upon their knees; the penitents sing and wave their candles and the general spectacle is rather gloomy than edifying. When these processions are over the masked balls begin. The processions are intended to expiate or counterbalance the excesses of the carnival.

Nice, February 8, 1842 (Shrove Tuesday).– Yesterday morning was spent in preparing Pauline's costumes. The Grand Duchess lent her some diamonds and these with her own and mine looked very well. She was very pretty and gave an excellent reproduction of the difficult part of the Duchesse de Chevreuse in A Duel under Richelieu, which is a high-flown melodrama: this was followed by a duo-bouffe sung by two Italians and then came a little piece, The Heirs, in which my son-in-law took the part of Alain most creditably. The whole company acted very well, the room was pretty and all the accessories perfect. The actors came to supper at my house and the Grand Duchess surprised me by appearing. She insisted that my health should be drunk, as the entertainment was given for my birthday which was on the 6th of February but was put off to avoid falling upon a Sunday. The party did not break up until two o'clock in the morning; it was somewhat tiring but they all showed such kindness to me that I could not but be duly grateful and have an agreeable recollection of it.

Nice, February 9, 1842 (Ash Wednesday).– Yesterday I was able to take part in all the carnival absurdities in progress. First there was lunch with dancing at the house of a great Russian lady, which is situated in one of the finest gardens in Nice. We then went to Corso where the battle of confetti had already begun. I was with the Grand Duchess, Princesse Marie and Fanny: after driving round we halted upon a reserved terrace from which we were able to throw our handfuls upon the passers by; they replied from below and the most fashionable threw little bunches of violets or roses instead of confetti or sweets. Sweets are thrown with a kind of spoon with which they can be sent a long way; the women wear masks of iron wire, for if these sweets are thrown vigorously they can hurt when they strike the bare flesh. What is remarkable but real, is the kind of fury which comes over the coolest, and people lose their heads sooner or later. Pauline was more excited than any one in the Corso. I was told that the late Emperor of Austria, Francis II., who was certainly anything but a lively character, happened to be at Rome in carnival time and took part in the contest like a madman. Members of fashionable society show the greatest vigour; the common people only think of picking up the sweets. The military band was playing at the end of the promenade, the weather was superb and we stayed out of doors until nightfall without feeling cold. At half-past eight there was a ball given by some other foreigners, which was by far the prettiest, the best arranged and the most cheerful of all that have been given here.

The Grand Duchess has told me a piece of news which vexes her: Princess Alexandrina of Baden is to marry the Hereditary Prince of Coburg; it is hard for her to see possible husbands passing her daughter by, seeing that Princesse Marie is far pleasanter, more distinguished and richer than her cousin. The Grand Duchess is anxious to know what will become of her daughter after her, especially in view of the death of the Queen Dowager of Bavaria. She is also uneasy concerning the Wasa family, whose affairs are terribly involved.

Nice, February 10, 1842.– The weather yesterday was incomparable and the month of May is not more beautiful at Paris, so after hearing the office of the Ashes and lunching, we took advantage of the weather. The Castellanes in their little carriage drawn by two Corsican ponies, Fanny, Count Schulenburg, my brother-in-law, who had come from Milan to pay me a short visit, and myself, went to Villefranche, a picturesque little seaport; the road thither was not very easy, but the view was admirable. A Sardinian warship was leaving the harbour and from the top of the fort which serves as a state prison, we saw her setting sail and making the necessary manœuvres to catch the breeze before she left the harbour and entered the open sea. The slow and measured movements of the fine ship gliding over a sea of marble and diamonds, with the white sails shining in the southern sun, formed one of the most beautiful sights conceivable and one which strikes the mind even more than the eyes.

Nice, February 17, 1842.– Yesterday I received the following letter from poor Salvandy; "Since my return I have been overcome with a constant sense of deep depression, disgust and weariness; an attack of gout has come rather as a help than as an additional burden, as it has excused me from going out or seeing people; only for the last few days have I been in communication with the salons. I should need volumes to tell you all that has astonished or saddened me upon my return. My action has received entire approval, except as concerns my long delay before leaving Madrid; whereas society accuses me of acting with undue precipitation. In the comparatively narrow circle where I thought I had my friends, I have encountered most unwelcome malevolence. I find that my period of delay by which I hoped to facilitate the adoption of a policy, if any were possible, has been used to poison public feeling against me; society ladies can repeat numberless quotations from my despatches, naturally imaginary or distorted; ladies, moreover, whom I thought would be most likely to take my part, as they are those who are in closest touch with the chief officials of the department. However, as I have been obliged to send all my despatches to the great Courts, marks of flattering approval have been returned. Saint-Aulaire writes to say that they are imperishable memorials of public right, and Bresson sends me a similar message from the Prussian Court.

"The Ministerial position here seems to me very precarious. You will see the amount of our majority yesterday; only eight votes upon the question of incompatibility. I am inclined to think that we may do better upon the electoral question, but MM. de Lamartine, Passy, Dupin and Dufaure will speak against the Ministry; supposing that we are successful in spite of this effort, a shock remains which we shall probably not survive. What will happen then? A Cabinet without Thiers or Guizot is difficult to form and even more difficult to maintain in office, and if the one was not possible the other will not be yet; but I am entirely outside this movement. On the day of my arrival when I had an attack of gout, I hastened to pay my respects to the King, the Prince Royal, Queen Christina and M. Guizot, being convinced that I should not be able to do so the next day, and in fact I have been confined for several days to my armchair."

Madame de Lieven writes to-day as follows: "The King of Prussia has won golden opinions at London; he pleased the Court, the town, the clergy, the journalists and the people. Even that which we from a distance are inclined to think too sentimental has been successful in England; I mean his acts of worship with Mrs. Fry,53 &c. He is said to be seriously meditating a union of the Anglican and Lutheran churches, and it is thought that something will come of his journey to England from this point of view. I do not think that the idea will please his subjects and at Paris it is received with much opposition.

"The entertainment given to the King by the Duke of Sutherland was fairy-like; he is said to have been greatly struck by it. Some sign of boredom with Court life on his part is thought to have been perceived. The Queen's evening receptions do not amuse him nor is he interested by her conversation, or by her handsome husband playing chess like an automaton.

"Sainte-Aulaire pleases the English as much as ever and his wife will soon start to rejoin him. Barante is awaiting the return of Pahlen. Some people think that he will not return, but we shall see.

"The carnival was magnificent and the ball given by the Duc d'Orléans more magnificent than any ball under the Empire or the Restoration. People are now occupied with domestic matters; the Ministry combats all reforms and the reformers are fairly strong.

"Lehon will not return here as ambassador. The Cowleys open their house next week."

It is true that the King of Prussia's journey to London caused much displeasure at Berlin. It was thought that a great Sovereign was going to too much trouble and expense and showing too much courtesy to a Queen so distantly related. National pride and avarice were wounded. The presents brought by the King were magnificent and his fortnight's tour during which he was the Queen's guest in England, is said to have cost him a million crowns, which is an enormous sum for poverty-stricken Prussia. Moreover the religious reunion to which Madame de Lieven refers is exactly what Prussia does not want; the late King, who was greatly honoured, nearly brought confusion upon his country by interfering too constantly with religious practices and dogma, and the seeds of ill-temper still remain in the country to the inconvenience of the Government. If these should be restored to life, men's minds and, what is worse, their consciences will be in a ferment and an additional cause of discord will be introduced into a country where religious feeling is already very sensitive.

Nice, February 21, 1842.– Yesterday I went to the convent of Saint Barthélemy. It is customary here to go every Sunday during Lent to hear vespers in one of the many convents by which Nice is surrounded. The whole population goes out, eats and drinks in front of the churches, where toys and flowers are sold. Music and dancing are forbidden during Lent, and popular pleasures are therefore reduced to eating. The crowds of people, the carriages, the donkeys, and the riding horses of strangers make the scene animated and pretty.

Nice, February 23, 1842.– I have just heard of the death of poor Pozzo di Borgo. It was best for him and for his family that his life should end, as he merely vegetated. He leaves an income of four hundred thousand francs; half to his nephew Charles, the husband of Mlle. de Crillon, with his residence in Paris and his villa at Saint Cloud, and the remainder to his relatives in Corsica.

Nice, February 25, 1842.– Yesterday there was a heartrending scene in front of my windows; a terrible storm arose which has not even to-day sunk to rest; the unfortunate ships were struggling with the fury of the waves the whole day, and we sat for a long time watching their fate. Fortunately none were lost.

In spite of the terrible weather I went out to take my offering to a collection which was being made for the Sisters of Saint Vincent de Paul, at the hospice which they conduct. There I saw Mlle. de Maistre, the eldest daughter of the Governor, who is twenty-one years of age and is spending her novitiate as a Sister of Charity in the hospice. She has a definite call to the work, and seems happy; she is said to be clever and well educated, as all the family are; she has a pleasant face, intelligent and calm.

M. Pasquier, I am told, is being complimented on his nomination to the French Academy. M. Molé will introduce M. de Tocqueville, and M. de Barante will do the same for M. Ballanche; I do not know who will introduce M. Pasquier. M. de Tocqueville is taking the place of M. de Cessac, formerly director of the Ministry of War under the Empire, and not a promising subject for a eulogy; indeed, it will be difficult for any one to treat it, and especially so for M. de Tocqueville, who does not belong to that time either in point of age or mental habits. He mentioned his difficulty to M. Thiers, who told him that he might perhaps be able to help him and would give him some interesting information, as he possesses letters from the Emperor to M. de Cessac which he would send him. M. de Tocqueville, in fact, received the next day, in an envelope, a letter from Napoleon to M. de Cessac, which began as follows: "My dear Cessac, you are a fool." M. de Tocqueville himself related this amusing incident to his cousin, the Marquis d'Espeuil, who is here. M. d'Espeuil married Mlle. de Chateaubriand, a near relation of M. de Tocqueville.

Nice, February 27, 1842.– I have a letter from M. de Barante who seems less certain concerning the return of Count Pahlen to Paris; probably the return will be indefinitely delayed until some incident settles the matter one way or the other. Meanwhile Périer is at St. Petersburg and his official position is quite correct, but society continues to regard him as an outcast, wishing to show that its sense of patriotism and self-respect has been wounded.

Barante gives me better news of the domestic situation. The majority of forty-one seems to be really important, as the opposition, which combined every shade of opinion, had set all their hopes upon this discussion. The Minister himself hardly expected so large a majority. The speeches of M. Dufaure and M. de Lamartine were received by the Centres with the strongest censure; every word which seemed to conform to the doctrines of the Left aroused opposition; in short, there is a certain reaction in favour of order and conservatism. We have now to see if it will have any influence upon the elections. If this hope were realised, France would be in a better position than for the last ten years. Such at least is the idea of Barante, though he is rather optimistic.

He also tells me that M. de Chateaubriand, whom he met at Madame Récamier's house at the Abbaye-au-Bois, has grown surly, taciturn and displeased with everybody and everything. Madame Récamier has a difficult task, as her business is to soothe the touchiness of wounded pride and to provide a series of the successes for which alone M. de Chateaubriand cares to live. I could never feel the smallest sympathy for this barren and vain character.

Nice, March 3, 1842.– This evening we are to celebrate Mid-Lent by an entertainment from which I would gladly be excused, not that I anticipate any bad results, but because I think pleasure of this kind, if it is not to result in a fiasco, demands more time and trouble than it is worth. Moreover the Castellanes have given me the task of sending out the invitations, and my fingers are worn out with writing addresses: further, I myself and none other have to make the four costumes of Pauline and those of Charles de Talleyrand: then they want me to coach them in their parts; I am to receive the company; I have also to play in a wretched little scene in the second piece, which is trifling, but I have to learn my part and repeat it, and finally I have to provide supper for the actors. This is too much. However, I have spent my life in being tyrannised over by somebody, and to give way is, I think, a part that I have least forgotten in my past life, and I have sometimes obeyed more reluctantly than now.

Nice, March 4, 1842.– I feel somewhat stupid this morning: yesterday's performance was too long, and the supper which followed it prolonged the evening still further. I think people were amused. The prettiest part of the entertainment was the prologue composed by my son-in-law. It was a clever criticism of the previous performance, in which a handsome young boy satirised the different actors and suggested a young débutante to take the place of the prima donna, who was supposed to be suddenly indisposed: then two boys dressed as lacqueys of the last century brought in a little sedan chair, gilded and surmounted by a crown of lighted candles; from this chair came out my little girl, Marie, in full dress of the time of Louis XV., powdered wig, long dress and many diamonds. Nothing could have been prettier, more dignified, more stately and gracious. On leaving her chair she went round the stage exactly like a great lady. The prologue was charming and was greatly appreciated; I foolishly began to weep with emotion on seeing the gracefulness of this dear child. The melodrama was very well played: the Malade Imaginaire was not sufficiently well known or taken sufficiently briskly; moreover it made the entertainment much too long. The costumes of the melodrama were magnificent, and in the Malade Imaginaire were precisely those of Molière's age. To conclude, the three couplets at the end, composed by the Grand Duchess, were charming and in the best of taste.