Kitabı oku: «Memoirs of the Duchesse De Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1841-1850», sayfa 4

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.

Since leaving Paris I have been reading a great deal, first a novel by Bulwer, Night and Morning; it is not uninteresting, but not equal to the early works of the same writer; then a short but delightful book, The Letters of the Princesse de Condé, sister of the last Duc de Bourbon, who died in the Temple as a nun. These letters were written in her youth to one who is still living, and of whom she was very fond, and quite unselfishly so. This was M. Ballanche, the friend of Madame Récamier, who published the letters without appearing as the hero of them. They are authentic, marked by simplicity, tenderness and loftiness of thought, full of devotion, delicacy, sentiment, reason and courage, and written at a time and in a society when the author, her style and her sentiments were quite exceptional. The book is most delightful.²⁴ Finally I have a small work by Lord Jocelyn, now the husband of Fanny Cowper, concerning the English campaign in China. I was attracted by the author's name, but found the book quite uninteresting.

Mannheim, May 9, 1841.– Yesterday I dined with the Grand Duchess, who afterwards showed me over the castle, which I pretended to see for the first time. She told me so many things that I can hardly remember any of them. One point has remained in my mind, the fact that Princess Sophia of Würtemberg, who married the Hereditary Prince of the Low Countries, is on very bad terms with her mother-in-law, who will not even see her son's children. This Queen has introduced the strictest etiquette and an infinite variety of Court dress.

I also learnt that the King of Prussia had passed a law making divorce very difficult in his states. It certainly was scandalously easy to procure; but the Grand Duchess, who was expecting the divorce of Prince Frederick of Prussia, was greatly vexed by this disappointment. The fact is that poor Prince Frederick, whose wife is mad, ought to be provided with some means of breaking so sad a tie. The first use he would make of an opportunity would be to marry Princess Marie.

The Duchess of Weimar told me that her sister, the Dowager Queen of England,²⁵ had lost the use of one of her lungs and that the other was very delicate. The sight of the Duchess of Weimar reminded me of London, Windsor and the best time of my life. Her likeness to her sister, which extends even to her voice, though this was not their best feature, quite overcame me, as it reminded me of those years that are now so far away.

Mannheim, May 10, 1841.– I am about to leave Mannheim after a very kind reception. The poor Grand Duchess constantly talks of her death, though this does not prevent her making many plans. I wish she could realise her idea of marrying her daughter. She took me for a drive yesterday along a pretty part of the bank of the Rhine. A port has been made at Mannheim which attracts commerce and brings some life to this town where life has long been dormant. On the whole, I think the town preferable to Carlsruhe. I had a letter from my son-in-law written the day after my departure from Paris. Pauline was going on fairly well, though her nerves were still shaken and she was very weak. He also says: "At the Prince's baptism the register was signed in the following order: the King and his family, then the Cardinals, the President and officials of the Chamber of Peers, then the President of the Chamber of Deputies. Then came the turn of M. de Salvandy, the vice-president, who publicly refused to sign on the ground that the Chamber of Deputies should not be represented as inferior to the Cardinals. He wishes to make a public matter of it, which will produce a bad effect, the more so as the Chamber, with reference to the law concerning secondary education, showed itself quite unfavourable to the religious reaction which is obviously in progress; moreover, such susceptibility might easily cause an unpleasant outburst.

Gelnhausen, May 11, 1841.– I travelled faster than I had thought possible, and instead of sleeping at Frankfort as I had intended I went ten leagues further, and am now lodged in a little inn which at any rate is clean; this will allow me to reach Gotha to-morrow without spending part of the night in my carriage. I had lunch at Darmstadt. Frankfort aroused many memories as I passed through it, for it is a town that I have crossed at different times, and in very different circumstances. The first of these was the most important, for at Frankfort I was married. Afterwards I saw my good friend Labouchère there for the first time; he has often reminded me of the incident since.

The Grand Duchess Stephanie has given me a book which has just been published at Stuttgart; obviously the publication was inspired by Austria, for the documents which the book contains seem to me to come from Vienna, and probably from the study of Prince Metternich or its neighbourhood. This little volume contains notes in French by Gentz upon several political questions, all treated in a spirit of great opposition to France. Their publication at this moment and the editor's preface seem to me to show that they have been produced with a purpose. The most interesting part of the book to me is the journal of Gentz kept during his stay at the Prussian headquarters the week before the battle of Jena. He was a close observer and a lively writer, and the result is quite interesting. There are also commentaries upon a correspondence between Mr. Fox and M. de Talleyrand at the time when the peace of Amiens was broken. The book can certainly offer several forms of attraction.

Gotha, May 12, 1841.– I had proposed to arrive here yesterday evening but the outskirts of Fulda and Eisenach are so complicated that I had to sleep at Eisenach, where I naturally dreamt of St. Elizabeth. I am staying here for a few hours to see the Dowager Duchess who was a great favourite of my mother and was quite vexed with me last year because I left Germany without paying her a visit here. Apart from this, my monotonous travels are proceeding without incident and in fairly fine weather.

Wittenberg, May 13, 1841.– The Dowager Duchess of Gotha received me with the utmost kindness, asked me to dinner and hurriedly invited five or six people from the town who had known me in my youth. She dines at three o'clock and at six o'clock I asked leave to continue my journey. I would have stayed longer if the poor duchess had not grown so deaf that the honour of replying to her questions was literally exhausting. I preferred to spend the night in my carriage, for if I had slept at Gotha, I should certainly have had to spend the evening at the Castle. I am therefore going to take my rest here that I may not reach Berlin entirely exhausted. I have borne the journey very well so far and my little halt at Mannheim was a pleasant interruption to the monotony of my life on wheels.

For the last two days I have been reading a life of Queen Blanche of Castile by a certain lady whose work was well reviewed; the facts are interesting but the style is poor and the tone of the work is very anti-Catholic. While I am reading I cannot help conducting a silent course of refutation against the author; silence is very appropriate here at Wittenberg, the old cradle of the Reformation. From the convent of the Augustine monks, the ruins of which are now before my eyes, Luther launched his first firebrand, and he was buried in the church by the side of the inn.

Berlin, May 15, 1841.– I arrived here yesterday evening but have seen no one yet except my business man, Herr von Wolff. At midday I called upon the Countess of Reede, the Queen's chief lady and an old friend of my mother, and then upon the chief lady of the Princess of Prussia, to deliver the numerous parcels which the Duchesse d'Orléans had asked me to take to this Princess. I then went to the Werthers, to Countess Pauline Neale and Madame de Perponcher and I found no one at home.

Berlin, May 16, 1841.– No one would guess who gave me his arm to the mass from which I have just come. It was Peter von Arenberg who has come to ask that his property on the right bank of the Rhine should be made an hereditary fief for one of his sons.

Berlin, May 17, 1841.– To-day is a day of sad and grievous memories, being the third anniversary of the death of our dear M. de Talleyrand. It is a day which always arouses many recollections and I am sure that these will not be without their influence upon others. I wish I could spend it in quiet thought, but that is impossible here.

Yesterday was an unusually busy day for me and I am quite wearied. Mass was followed by the necessary calls upon the great ladies of the country; dinner with the Wolffs; tea with Princess William, the King's aunt; a prima sera with the Radziwills; while I spent the latter part of the evening with the old Prince of Wittgenstein. Besides all this I had a long call from Humboldt who is starting for Paris in a few days. It was impossible to breathe. The worst part of it is that everything here begins so early and that the day is divided in an unusual and very disagreeable manner.

Berlin, May 18, 1841.– Yesterday I dined with the King and Queen who had come to spend a few hours in town. They were both most kind and pleasant. I saw Prince Frederick arrive from Dusseldorf, who is also one of the old acquaintances of my youth. He still looks surprisingly young. His wife is expected here; she seems to have become totally insane.

I heard yesterday, while dining with the King, that one of the unfortunate Infantas of Spain whom their mother so cruelly placed in a convent, had escaped with a Polish refugee, but had been caught at Brussels; a fine escapade for a princess! It seems impossible to repress Spanish blood at the age of twenty. The King also said that Espartero had been proclaimed sole regent and dictator in Spain.

Berlin, May 20, 1841 (Ascension Day).– Yesterday I went from Berlin to Potsdam by the first train. The King had asked me to be present at a great parade. It was a fine spectacle. The weather was propitious, the troops splendid, and the music magnificent, but the day was somewhat fatiguing.

The day before yesterday I dined with the Princess of Prussia and in the evening I went to a rout given by Countess Nostitz, the sister of Count Hatzfeldt. All that I have to do is to go about, to show good temper, kindliness and gratitude for my many kind receptions; at the same time, when I can return to my idle life I shall be delighted.

Berlin, May 21, 1841.– There is a great monotony about life here; dinners with princes, etc. Yesterday I dined with Princess Charles, after spending an hour with the Princess of Prussia, whose conversation is lofty and serious. In the evening I spent some time by the arm-chair of the old Countess of Reede and with her daughter Perponcher. I was then obliged to show myself at the Werthers, who are at home on Thursdays.

Berlin, May 22, 1841.– Yesterday evening I went to the Wolffs to meet various learned men, artists and literary people. At Berlin the upper-middle-class society provides the pleasantest opportunities for conversation.

The present King has great ideas for adorning his capital, and is giving a remarkable stimulus to Art.

Life proceeds much as usual. Yesterday I dined with Princess William the aunt, and spent the first part of the evening with the Princess of Prussia and the latter part of it with Madame de Perponcher, where a distinguished artist, Hensel, showed us his sketch-book, which was full of strange portraits. The heat was unusual.

Princess Frederick of Dusseldorf, who is not quite right in her head at times, was dining with Princess William. She must have been rather pretty, and there is nothing unusual about her.

Pauline writes from Paris that she is going to Geneva for change of air and to try her strength, and that if she feels better, she will travel through Bavaria and meet me at Vienna.

I am returning this morning to Potsdam, where I have promised to spend the day, and shall come back to-morrow. How pleasant it would be to find myself once more in my little manor house at Touraine.

Berlin, May 24, 1841.– As the evening party at Potsdam was over at ten o'clock, I was able to return here in the evening by the last train, after spending the day with the Queen. She improves greatly upon close acquaintance, as is usually the case with persons who are simple and somewhat reserved. We had a pleasant drive in the evening, and an interesting conversation at tea-time under the portico of the Charlottenhof, when the King talked much upon the state of Art in Germany.

Berlin, May 25, 1841.– Yesterday I went to the manœuvres with the Princess of Prussia, her young son and Princess Charles. The King's staff was most brilliant, our position was excellent, the weather was perfect, and the sight of the troops, of the spectators who had come from the town in crowds, of the ladies' carriages, and in short of the whole gathering, made the subject worthy of the brush of Horace Vernet; nor did the business last long, an hour and not more. The Princess of Prussia took me back to lunch with her and kept me talking almost until dinner-time. Madame Perponcher came to fetch me to dine near her mother's chair, as her gout still keeps her somewhat of a prisoner. I then went to the Radziwills to the jubilee festival of the Academy of Singing. The Academy is composed of four hundred and fifty members, amateurs of every class: by their rules they are not allowed to use any instrument but a piano and may perform only sacred music. The institution thus resembles the Ancient Music at London, but the performance here was infinitely better, and was marked by a unity, an accuracy and a majesty truly remarkable. None but Germans could thus sing the most complicated fugues without the help of an orchestra and with such tremendous tone.

I then went to an evening reception given by the Countess Neale, where Lord William Russell told me that his Ministry had suffered a heavy defeat in Parliament, but he did not seem to think they would resign. He told me that poor Mitford, whom I recently met unexpectedly as he was leaving the diligence at Fulda to meet his wife at Wiesbaden, found that she had deserted him with Francis Molyneux of all people. She is not very young or very beautiful, and she has several children.

My son, Valençay, writes that the races at Chantilly were most brilliant and fashionable. He stayed at the Château, and is loud in his praises. He says that the Infanta who was caught and brought back, is now staying with Madame Duchâtel, the wife of the Minister of the Interior, as she positively refuses to return to her mother, whom she fears would beat her. She persists in saying that she married the Pole, but refuses to disclose the name of the priest who married them.

Berlin, May 26, 1841.– The old King of the Low Countries, who is here incognito as the Comte de Nassau, is in very bad health, and is said to be attacked by senile gangrene. His wife,²⁶ who is very kindly treated by the Prussian Royal Family, takes great care of the King who cannot do without her for a moment. She never leaves his side. People say that she is really very bored and disgusted by this illustrious marriage which Holland will not recognise in spite of the old King's fury. The refusal to give recognition in Holland is based upon the fact that the marriage banns were not published, nor did any one venture to publish them, as the most violent public demonstrations were feared.

Yesterday morning I accompanied the Wolffs and Herr von Olfers, the Director of the School of Fine Arts, to the studio of Wichmann, to whom I had given an order to copy a charming model that I had seen of a nymph drawing water. It will be finished in a year.

The Prince of Prussia paid me a long and interesting visit. He talked a great deal about the state of the country and the difficulty of government. Difficulties there certainly are, but there is also here a solid basis on which to rest.

Berlin, May 28, 1841.– Yesterday morning was spent with Herr von Wolff discussing business. Our conversation was interrupted by the Court High Marshal, who brought me a very touching present from the King. It is a copy in iron of a statue which I had admired last year at Charlottenhof; a young faun upon a pillar in the midst of a basin pouring water out of an urn upon which he is crouched. The whole work is six feet high and very pretty. The King told me that he would ask me to have it placed upon one of the terraces of Rochecotte, which shall certainly be done.

I dined with Princess Albert. Her father is better, and she is starting with him shortly for Silesia. Her husband wearied me, and she herself is like a colt broken loose. In fact the whole household was not to my taste. Herr and Frau von Redern, who were also dining there, took me to their box to hear Seidelmann in the part of the Jew.²⁷ He is now the fashionable actor, but he compares unfavourably with my recollections of Iffland.

Berlin, May 30, 1841.– The Radziwills most kindly arranged a musical matinée at their house in a pretty vaulted room opening on to their splendid garden. Goethe's Faust was performed which had been set to music by the late Prince Radziwill, the father of the present generation. Devrient, the first tragedian from the Berlin theatre, declaimed certain passages to musical accompaniments, and a large body from the Conservatoire gave the choruses. The general effect was excellent and gave me real pleasure.²⁸

Berlin, May 31, 1841.– I propose to leave here to-morrow for Dresden and to proceed thence to Vienna.

Yesterday I went to the High Mass of Pentecost which was very well performed and sung in the Catholic church, but the church was so crowded and the heat so suffocating that I thought I should be ill. However, on leaving Mass I had to appear at the farewell audiences of the Princess of Prussia and of Princess Charles, and then to dine with an old friend. While we were at table I received an invitation to go to tea at Schönhausen, the summer residence of the King, two leagues from Berlin. I was fortunately able to reach Schönhausen in time, and after tea I stayed on to supper which was served in the open air under a verandah lighted by lamps. Apart from the Royal Family and the officials on duty there were the Duke and Duchess of Leuchtenberg, Herr von Arenberg, myself, Rauch, Thorwaldsen and the chief director of the museum, Herr von Olfers. It was an agreeable and interesting party. Thorwaldsen has a fine head resembling that of Cuvier, but he wears his hair in a strange manner, long white locks falling over his shoulders. I prefer the features of Rauch which are better proportioned, and in my opinion nobler and simpler. The Duchess Marie of Leuchtenberg is extremely like her father, the Emperor Nicholas, though with a very different expression: her head is classical in form, but too long for her body which is small; she is as white as a lily, but her finical and fantastic manners did not charm me. The Queen had mentioned me to her, and the King introduced me to the Duke of Leuchtenberg, who is strikingly like his sister, the Duchess of Braganza, though his general appearance is common and does not justify the marriage he has made. At Schönhausen I paid my last farewells.

Dresden, June 2, 1841.– The day before yesterday I left Berlin overwhelmed and spoilt with kindness, but wearied by the dreadful heat. The Baron von Werther whom I saw on my last day at Berlin, told me he feared that M. Bresson had not been entirely happy during the last years of his stay; that his speech had caused much displeasure and inspired great distrust; that he was ill-informed if he thought the contrary; and that all his reliable sources of information had been closed since the death of the old King. The Princess of Prussia and Madame Perponcher spoke to the same effect. I also learnt that when the treaty of July 15 was made known here, M. Bresson committed an inconceivable outburst, drove down the Unter den Linden and shouted war in the wildest manner. I am really sorry that he should re-enter upon a position that he has spoilt.

Dresden, June 3, 1841.– Yesterday evening I went to the theatre to see the new auditorium which has a great reputation throughout Germany. It is, in fact, of considerable size, pretty and well decorated. The boxes are convenient, the seats comfortable and there is an air of grandeur about the whole. The decorations are fresh, the costumes brilliant and the orchestra good, but the singers so bad that I could only stay for half an hour.

Prague, June 5, 1841.– Prague is not without interest for me. I there spent the year of mourning for my father with my mother and sisters and afterwards revisited the town upon two occasions shortly after the Congress of Vienna. I have been spending to-day there and think I have driven round to every object of interest: the chief churches, the tomb of Tycho Brahé and his observatory; all the offerings in honour of St. John Nepomucenos, his relics, the old castle, the Calvary from whence Prague is to be seen as a panorama; Wallenstein's war horse, which has been stuffed, and the various traces of the Hussite war and of the Thirty Years War; the bombs thrown by Frederick II.; the chapel where Charles X. prayed twice a day and which was restored by him, bears the arms of France and of Navarre. Prague, like Nuremburg, is one of the oldest towns in Germany: the latter may be more interesting to artists, but the former is more attractive to the archaeologist, and I am one of the latter class. Prague contains sixteen convents, every class of monk is to be found there, and though upon a much larger scale it reminds me of Friburg in Switzerland. Especially characteristic are the large residences, almost all kept by the great Bohemian lords who own them and who are generally deserting Prague in favour of Vienna. I was curious enough to look in at the theatre of the Leopold Stadt to see a local farce played by a Vienna company. The auditorium which was by no means beautiful, was crowded and the laughter was loud and long; I stayed only a short time as it was too hot and the Vienna lazzi are not to my taste. I do not understand them.

Vienna, June 8, 1841.– I had a most unpleasant journey from Prague hither. The weather had broken: it was cold, stormy, and damp; I spent the first night in my carriage and the second in a small inn, eventually arriving here at three o'clock this afternoon. I am staying in rooms which my sisters had engaged for me. I have already seen my quondam brother-in-law, the Count of Schulenburg, whom I shall make my major-domo, for which position he is exactly suited.

It is strange to be once more at Vienna.²⁹ The whole of my destiny is contained in the name of this city, and here my life of devotion to M. de Talleyrand began and that strange and unusual association was formed which could only be broken by death, though broken is the wrong word; I should have said interrupted, for I have constantly felt during the past year that we shall meet elsewhere. At Vienna I entered upon that troublesome and attractive life of publicity which rather wearies than flatters me. I found much amusement here and many occasions for tears: my life became complicated and I was involved in the storms which have so long roared about me. Of the many who turned my head and provided me with amusement and excitement, none remain. Old and young, men and women, all have disappeared; indeed the whole world has undergone two changes since that time. My poor sister with whom I was to live, is also dead. Prince Metternich alone remains; he has sent me very pleasant messages and I shall probably see him to-morrow.

I doubt if I shall sleep to-night; I am greatly disturbed by the ghosts which haunt these scenes and which all speak with one voice of the vanity of the things of this world.

Vienna, June 10, 1841.– The choice of M. de Flahaut as French ambassador here, which recent news from Paris represents as increasingly possible, has aroused general dissatisfaction. Madame de Flahaut wrote to Lord Beauvale, the English ambassador, to try and disarm this opposition and said that people need not be afraid of her husband's appointment as she would not be able to follow him for a long time. This is certainly an unusual method of seeking popularity.

I went back to my house yesterday at two o'clock in the afternoon to await Prince Metternich who had sent word to say that he would come at that time. He kept his appointment and I did not find him greatly changed. It is a real pleasure to see him again and to find him in possession of all his freshness of mind, his power of judgment, his wide knowledge of men and affairs and his genial kindness to myself which has never varied. He stayed for two hours upon which I look back with great pleasure. As a rule he never pays personal visits. His wife sent to say that she would have come if she had not been afraid of wearying me, as she was extremely anxious to make my acquaintance. No one could have been kinder; I am dining with them to-day in their suburban villa where they are spending the spring.