The Duke of Richmond has accepted an invitation to the High Tory dinner to be given on the 22nd to the Duke of Gloucester. The Duke of Wellington, who has sworn never to go to the City again after their shameful conduct to him in 1830, refused, and did not conceal the reason. And yet the Lord Mayor is not the same as in 1830, and probably the Duke would now have a most flattering reception. However, he has taken an oath and will not break it.
Mr. Backhouse, Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, has been sent to Portsmouth to hold himself at the disposition of Don Carlos on every point except that of offering him money. This reserve seems to be the only way of assisting the negotiations which are being conducted by the Marquis de Miraflorès, who is himself commissioned to offer the Infante, on behalf of his Government, an annual allowance of £20,000 sterling, on condition of his entering into obligations similar to those contracted by Dom Miguel. It is thought that the abject poverty to which the Prince himself, his wife and children, the Duchess of Beïra, seven priests, and a suite of ladies (seventy-two persons in all), who are with him in the Donegal, are reduced, will smooth the course of the discussion. It is said that they have not so much as a change of linen. It is not known what Don Carlos's plans are. Some say that he wants to retire to Holland; others say Vienna; others again talk of Rome. This last idea seems to be peculiarly unpleasing to the present Government in Spain, but no one has the right to dictate a choice.
M. de Palmella is expected here quite soon. He says he is coming on private business, but it is generally supposed that it is in order to concert measures for getting rid of Dom Pedro, whose absurd behaviour is displeasing every one. Then would be the time to choose a husband for Doña Maria da Gloria, and the opportunity, perhaps, of bringing out this young Princess who is still somewhat elephantine in her style.
Lord Palmerston, with his usual courtesy, sent Mr. Backhouse to Portsmouth without so much as mentioning the matter to M. de Talleyrand, who only heard of it by public rumour. This led to a candid little conversation between Lord Grey and me. No one, it must be admitted, is better, more frank, more sincere or better intentioned than the Prime Minister. I am always as much touched by his good qualities as a man as I am struck by his incompetence as a politician. He ran downstairs after me at his house to exculpate Lord Palmerston, to assure me that he had no ill-intention, and to beg me to make excuses for him to M. de Talleyrand. I replied to him with the old French proverb to the effect that hell is paved with good intentions, and added in English, "Well, I promise you to tell M. de Talleyrand that Lord Palmerston is as innocent as an unborn child, but I don't believe a word of it." This made Lord Grey laugh, and he took what I said in excellent part as he always does.
London, June 17, 1834.—Don Carlos refused to see M. de Miraflorès and would receive no one but Mr. Backhouse, whom he gave to understand that he would not accept a penny if he had to sign away the smallest fragment of his rights. He commissioned M. Sampaïo, formerly Dom Miguel's Consul in London, to find him a house at Portsmouth, where he wants to rest for a fortnight, and thereafter one near London, where he will remain for some time.
The British Government attributes Don Carlos's refusal to a credit of a million, which they are convinced has been opened on the Prince's behalf with M. Saraiva, Dom Miguel's former Minister here. They even say that the credit was opened for him by the Duc de Blacas, which is very unlikely. The Bishop of Leon, who is said to be a bad man but clever after the fashion of a Spanish monk, is with the Infante, and is the leading spirit and the brain of this exiled Court.
The Marquis of Conyngham, son of George IV.'s celebrated favourite, has been definitely appointed to succeed his brother-in-law, the Duke of Richmond, as Postmaster-General. He is a young and good-looking man of fashion with many love affairs, who writes and receives more billets-doux than serious letters, and is therefore called "the Postmaster of the twopenny post."
London, June 18, 1834.—At all meetings of ladies there is always much confusion and controversy, so, in spite of the presidency of the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland, there have been many discussions and hesitations over the bracelet which is to be presented to Madame de Lieven. Some ladies have retired from motives of economy, others because the affair was not put under their charge; thirty remain. The choice of the jewels and the fashion of the setting have also given rise to difficulties. Opals are not to be thought of; the Princess dislikes them. Rubies are too expensive. Turquoises come from Russia; to give them would be to send coals to Newcastle. The same applies to amethysts, and as to sapphires, the Princess already has magnificent sapphires of her own. "Emeralds perhaps."—"No."—"Yes."—"Well perhaps——."—"Why not?"—"It won't be what I expected."—"Peridots are so common."—"Let's ask the Princess herself." This in the end is what we did; the mystery was revealed, the surprise abandoned, and a large pearl chosen.
Then came another question, more literary and more delicate in character, the question of the dedicatory inscription. The committee wished it to be in English, so, as a foreigner, I retired. They kindly expressed regret, but of course I persisted and remained as a mere spectator. It was very amusing. Twenty ways of putting the inscription were tried. Poetry and allegory were suggested. Some wished for a play of words suggesting that a pearl had been chosen because the Princess was a pearl among women. Others thought that the image was not sufficiently precise; they wanted some allusion to be made to the Princess's talent for affairs, a suggestion which was declared out of order. There was the further difficulty of putting on record the names of the donors without offending other ladies in society. So I was consulted. I said that I didn't know enough English to have an opinion. They asked what I should put if it were in French. I told them, and, weary of the struggle, they decided to translate it into English and adopt it. The wording is very simple: "Testimony of regard, regret and affection presented to the Princess Lieven on her departure, by some English ladies of her particular acquaintance, July 1834."
London, June 19, 1834.—Madame de Lieven called on me yesterday morning. Her agitation grows as her departure draws nearer, and carried away by a sort of feverish excitement which consumes her, she said to me that she was sure there was one person besides Lord Palmerston who was glad she was going, and that was the King of England. He had refused to write an autograph letter, which while saving the Minister's face, might have reversed the decision as to M. de Lieven's recall. Palmerston had lectured the King on the objections to foreign ambassadors staying too long in London, where they became too much at home, and even came to acquire a real and important influence. In short, the King is delighted at Madame de Lieven's departure, and she blames Palmerston for it, which does not increase her partiality for him. She may find some consolation in thinking of the abyss which is opening at his feet. The whole Ministry is as shaky as possible; and Lord Palmerston is the least secure of them all. His colleagues think little of him. Lord Grey does not deny that his speeches in the House of Commons are bad. The Corps diplomatique detest his arrogance. English people think him ill-bred. His one merit, when all is said and done, seems to consist in his remarkable facility for speaking and writing French. The Lievens' departure, which every one, and most certainly Lord Grey regrets, is so generally attributed to Lord Palmerston's impudent obstinacy that no one even pretends to conceal his conviction that this is the case, not even Lord Palmerston's colleagues in the Ministry. Thus he is never invited to the numerous farewell dinners and parties which are being given to the Lievens, and this is the more remarkable, as of course Lady Cowper is always there. This has not failed to give him great offence, and he has especially resented Lord Grey's attitude. The latter has made a merit of this with Madame de Lieven, saying to her, on one occasion: "You see I have got all your friends and haven't asked Palmerston." Poor Lady Cowper gets the benefit of all Lord Palmerston's ill-humour, and they say he is very unkind to her.