January 19th, 1833
I have at last succeeded in stimulating Lord Lansdowne to something like resistance (or rather the promise of it) to Brougham’s Bill. I have proved to him that his dignity and his interest will both be compromised by this Bill, which intends to make the Chancellor President of the Court, and ergo of the Council, and to give him all the patronage there will be. Against these proposals he kicks; at least he is restive, and shows symptoms of kicking, though he will very likely be still again. I sent the Bill to Stephen, who instantly and currente calamo drew up a series of objections to it, as comprehensive and acute as all his productions are, and last night I sent it to Leach (who hates the Chancellor), and he has returned it to me with a strong condemnatory reply. Stephen having told me that Howick would be too happy to oppose this Bill, on account of the influence it would have on Colonial matters, particularly about Canada, I took it to him, but he declined interfering, though he concurred in Stephen’s remarks.
January 22nd, 1833
Dined with Talleyrand the day before yesterday. Nobody there but his attachés. After dinner he told me about his first residence in England, and his acquaintance with Fox and Pitt. He always talks in a kind of affectionate tone about the former, and is now meditating a visit to Mrs. Fox at St. Anne’s Hill, where he may see her surrounded with the busts, pictures, and recollections of her husband. He delights to dwell on the simplicity, gaiety, VISIT TO HARTWELL. childishness, and profoundness of Fox. I asked him if he had ever known Pitt. He said that Pitt came to Rheims to learn French, and he was there at the same time on a visit to the Archbishop, his uncle (whom I remember at Hartwell,[5] a very old prelate with the tic-douloureux), and that he and Pitt lived together for nearly six weeks, reciprocally teaching each other French and English. After Chauvelin had superseded him, and that he and Chauvelin had disagreed, he went to live near Epsom (at Juniper Hall) with Madame de Staël; afterwards they came to London, and in the meantime Pitt had got into the hands of the émigrés, who persuaded him to send Talleyrand away, and accordingly he received orders to quit England in twenty-four hours. He embarked on board a vessel for America, but was detained in the river off Greenwich. Dundas sent to him, and asked him to come and stay with him while the ship was detained, but he said he would not set his foot on English ground again, and remained three weeks on board the ship in the river. It is strange to hear M. de Talleyrand talk at seventy-eight. He opens the stores of his memory and pours forth a stream on any subject connected with his past life. Nothing seems to have escaped from that great treasury of bygone events.
[5] [Mr. Greville had paid a visit with his father to the little Court of Louis XVIII. at Hartwell about two years before the Restoration, when he was eighteen years of age. His narrative of this visit has been printed in the fifth volume of the ‘Miscellany of the Philobiblon Society,’ but it may not be inappropriately inserted here.]
A VISIT TO HARTWELL.
April 14th, 1814.
I have often determined to commit to paper as much as I can remember of my visit to Hartwell; and, as the King is about to ascend the throne of his ancestors, it is not uninteresting to recall to mind the particulars of a visit paid to him while in exile and in poverty.
About two years ago my father and I went to Hartwell by invitation of the King. We dressed at Aylesbury, and proceeded to Hartwell in the afternoon. We had previously taken a walk in the environs of the town, and had met the Duchesse d’Angoulême on horseback, accompanied by a Madame Choisi. At five o’clock we set out to Hartwell. The house is large, but in a dreary, disagreeable situation. The King had completely altered the interior, having subdivided almost all the apartments in order to lodge a greater number of people. There were numerous outhouses, in some of which small shops had been established by the servants, interspersed with gardens, so that the place resembled a little town.
Upon entering the house we were conducted by the Duc de Grammont into the King’s private apartment. He received us most graciously and shook hands with both of us. This apartment was exceedingly small, hardly larger than a closet, and I remarked pictures of the late King and Queen, Madame Elizabeth, and the Dauphin, Louis XVII., hanging on the walls. The King had a manner of swinging his body backwards and forwards, which caused the most unpleasant sensations in that small room, and made my father feel something like being sea-sick. The room was just like a cabin, and the motions of his Majesty exactly resembled the heaving of a ship. After our audience with the King we were taken to the salon a large room with a billiard table at one end. Here the party assembled before dinner, to all of whom we were presented—the Duchesse d’Angoulême, Monsieur the Duc d’Angoulême, the Duc de Berri, the Prince and Princess de Condé (ci-devant Madame de Monaco), and a vast number of ducs, &c.; Madame la Duchesse de Serron (a little old dame d’honneur to Madame d’Angoulême), the Duc de Lorges, the Duc d’Auray, the Archevêque de Rheims (an infirm old prelate, tortured with the tic-douloureux), and many others whose names I cannot remember. At a little after six dinner was announced, when we went into the next room, the King walking out first. The dinner was extremely plain, consisting of very few dishes, and no wines except port and sherry. His Majesty did the honours himself, and was very civil and agreeable. We were a very short time at table, and the ladies and gentlemen all got up together. Each of the ladies folded up her napkin, tied it round with a bit of ribbon, and carried it away. After dinner we returned to the drawing-room and drank coffee. The whole party remained in conversation about a quarter of an hour, when the King retired to his closet, upon which all repaired to their separate apartments. Whenever the King came in or went out of the room, Madame d’Angoulême made him a low curtsy, which he returned by bowing and kissing his hand. This little ceremony never failed to take place. After the party had separated we were taken to the Duc de Grammont’s apartments, where we drank tea. After remaining there about three quarters of an hour we went to the apartment of Madame d’Angoulême, where a great part of the company were assembled, and where we stayed about a quarter of an hour. After this we descended again to the drawing-room, where several card tables were laid out. The King played at whist with the Prince and Princess de Condé and my father. His Majesty settled the points of the game at ‘le quart d’un sheling.’ The rest of the party played at billiards or ombre. The King was so civil as to invite us to sleep there, instead of returning to the inn at Aylesbury. When he invited us he said, ‘Je crains que vous serez très-mal logés, mais on donne ce qu’on peut.’ Soon after eleven the King retired, when we separated for the night. We were certainly ‘très-mal logés.’ In the morning when I got out of bed, I was alarmed by the appearance of an old woman on the leads before my window, who was hanging linen to dry. I was forced to retreat hastily to bed, not to shock the old lady’s modesty. At ten the next morning we breakfasted, and at eleven we took leave of the King (who always went to Mass at that hour) and returned to London. We saw the whole place before we came away; and they certainly had shown great ingenuity in contriving to lodge such a number of people in and about the house—it was exactly like a small rising colony. We were very much pleased with our expedition; and were invited to return whenever we could make it convenient.