London, May 9, 1834.—M. de Talleyrand learns by telegraphic despatch from Paris that a Secretary of Embassy coming from Spain brings news that Don Carlos has left the Peninsula, and is embarking for England, which he wishes to choose as arbitrator in his family quarrel about the Crown. This seems very improbable, and before believing it everybody is awaiting confirmation.
The curiosity and interest aroused by M. de Talleyrand in England are as great as ever. As we were leaving our carriage at Kensington the other day, we saw women being lifted up by their husbands in order to see him better. Scheffer's portrait of him is now with Colnaghi, the print-seller, for the purpose of being engraved. It attracts many interested spectators, and the shops in front of which M. de Talleyrand's carriage stops are immediately surrounded by a crowd. The portrait at Colnaghi's is placed next to that of Mr. Pitt. "There is a man who made great events," said someone, pointing to the latter, "he" (indicating M. de Talleyrand) "was clever enough to foresee them and profit by them."
M. de Talleyrand told me yesterday that when he got rid of his priest's orders he felt an extraordinary desire to fight a duel. He spent two whole months diligently looking for a quarrel, and fixed on the Duc de Castries, who was both narrow-minded and hot-tempered, as the man most likely to gratify him. They were both members of the Club des Echecs, and one day when they were both there M. de Castries began to read aloud a pamphlet against the minority of the nobility. M. de Talleyrand thought he saw his chance, and requested M. de Castries to stop reading what was personally offensive to him. M. de Castries replied that at a club everybody might read or do what he pleased. "Very well!" said M. de Talleyrand, and placing himself at a tric-trac table near M. de Castries, he scattered the pieces lying on it with so much noise as to drown entirely the voice of the reader. A quarrel seemed inevitable, and M. de Talleyrand was delighted, but M. de Castries only flushed and frowned, finished his reading, and left the club without saying anything. Probably for him M. de Talleyrand could not cease to be a priest.
London, May 10, 1834.—Yesterday I read very hurriedly M. de Lamennais' book the Paroles d'un Croyant; it is the Apocalypse according to a Jacobin. It is, moreover, very tedious, which surprises me, as M. de Lamennais is a man of much intelligence and undeniably has talent. He has just reconciled himself with Rome, but this will break the peace, for his sworn enmity to all temporal power must be displeasing as much to the Pope as to any autocrat.
It was much whispered yesterday that the King of England was feeling more keenly than usual the influence of the spring season, during which every year his physical and mental equilibrium is markedly disturbed. When one thinks of the family history of the House of Brunswick one finds reason to be alarmed.
I never heard on the Continent of the malady known here as "Hay Fever," which shows itself at the time when the hay is cut. At this time many people, the Duke of Devonshire and Lady Grosvenor among the number, suffer from fever, insomnia, and much nervous trouble. Those who suffer from this disorder come back to town and avoid all meadows and the scent of hay.
The King's physical malaise, however, is accompanied by a curious mental agitation and a strange loquacity. If this unpleasant state of matters is not ended by July, I am convinced that the Queen will disregard his wishes, and will not go to Germany. She alone has any salutary and moderating influence on him at such times.
I hear from Paris of the marriage of Elisabeth de Béranger to Charles de Vogüé, one of my cousins, who is both well bred and well endowed. She was much sought after, for, besides her birth and fortune, she has both beauty and talent. I knew her well when she was a child—a charming creature, with much vivacity and a strong will of her own—a characteristic which has probably become more marked since her mother's death, as she is an only child and worshipped by her father.
Another marriage is also announced—that of my niece à la mode de Bretagne, the Princesse Biron, whose fiancé is Colonel Lazareff, an Armenian in the Russian service. He is said to be fabulously rich, and to possess palaces in the East, and gems and treasures of all kinds. I don't know what brought him to Dresden, where he made my niece's acquaintance while she was staying with her sister, the Comtesse de Hohenthal. She is said to be very much in love, but I confess that this Armenian origin, this splendour in the manner of the Arabian Nights, make me rather anxious. Sorcerers and swindlers often come from unknown countries; their jewels often turn to coal-dust; they can rarely face the light of day. In a word, I should have preferred for my niece a man who was rather better born, rather less wealthy, and rather less oriental.
London, May 12, 1834.—The febrile and nervous condition of the King of England becomes more and more marked; he really says the most bizarre things. At the State Ball he said to Madame de Lieven that people's minds had been rather unbalanced lately, and pointing to his cousin, the Duke of Gloucester, he added: "Now, for instance, he believes in the transmigration of souls, and he thinks that the souls of Alexander the Great and Charles the First have passed into his." The Princess replied rather flippantly: "The dear departed must be much astonished to find themselves there!" The King looked at her with an uncertain air and went on, "Fortunately he is not clever enough to bring his head to the block;" which for His Majesty is really not so bad.