The departure of her Majesty, which takes place to-morrow, will be a really splendid spectacle. Besides her own vessel the two great steam-boats and all the Yacht Club, the Lord Mayor, and all the City Companies will escort the Queen in their State barges as a mark of respect up to the point on the river at which their jurisdiction ends. It is said, too, that a Dutch fleet is to be sent to meet her.
Almack's, the celebrated Almack's,[20] which for twenty years has been the despair of the middle classes, the object of the emulation and the desire of so many young ladies in the provinces, Almack's, which gives or withholds the stamp of fashion, Almack's, the despotism par excellence, ruled with a rod of iron by six of the most exclusive ladies in London; Almack's, like all modern institutions, carries in its bosom the seeds of its own destruction! Following on a relaxation of internal regulations came a violation of its privileges, for the Duke of Wellington dared to give a ball on Wednesday, the day devoted and consecrated exclusively to Almack's. Finally, there has been disunion and a conflict of jurisdiction in the Council of Six, and like the constitution of Church and State, so much shaken at present, Almack's also threatens to fall to pieces, and we fear for the safety of an institution where young ladies find husbands, women of position an exercising ground for their pretentions, novelists the most brilliant scenes in their stories, foreigners their introduction to society, and everybody a more or less legitimate interest to occupy them in the height of the season.
Lady Jersey is accused of being the subversive spirit. The counts in the indictment against her are numerous. She would not allow the appointment of younger patronesses, who being livelier than their elders might have revived the fading interest people took in the place. She had been much to blame in giving tickets carelessly to people who were anything but elegant, and had refused to submit her lists to the inspection of her colleagues. Further, having herself introduced an undesirable element at the balls, she had decried them, and in spite of the fact that she was a patroness had ceased to go herself, and had persuaded the Duke of Wellington to give a ball on Wednesday. She had tried to force the other patronesses to change the day, and finally, not content with having set at naught in this way all the most sacred traditions of the institution, she had written an arrogant and preposterous letter, or rather manifesto, to Lady Cowper, complaining that, as her advice had been disregarded, Almack's had clashed with the Duke of Wellington's Ball, and threatening that, as she was very angry at this, she would resign her position as a member of the Committee. It is expected that at the next meeting there will be a great row. I confess that if the public were admitted I should certainly be present.
It must be admitted that Lady Jersey carries blind vanity to a degree which is beyond all bounds. She is absolutely stupid, and her origin is bourgeois.[21] Her husband is too indulgent, and she is beautiful with a beauty which is imperfect but very well preserved. Her health is robust, her energy untiring, and the possession of all these advantages has convinced her that she has enough money to excuse all her caprices, enough beauty to be the despair or the rapture of all the men about her, enough wit to rule the world, and enough authority to be always paramount without question in the favour of princes, in the confidence of statesmen, in the hearts of the young men, and even in the opinion of her rivals. She thinks her superiority so incontestable that modesty is unnecessary and would be merely hypocritical, so she does without it perfectly. She speaks of her beauty, which she exhibits with all the complacency of Helen of Troy, of her wit, her virtue, and her sensibility each in its turn. Piety arrives punctually on Sunday and departs on Monday. She has neither restraint nor ability, nor generosity, nor kindness, nor honesty nor dignity. She is either mocked or hated, either avoided or feared. In my opinion her heart is bad, her head empty, her character dangerous, her society tedious, but when all is said and done she is as they say, "the best creature in the world."
London, July 6, 1834.—The rather violent altercation in the House of Commons between Mr. Littelton, Chief Secretary for Ireland, and Mr. O'Connell has not been well received, and has brought out in a strong light both the indiscretion of the former and the want of principle of the latter. After such a scene it was expected that the two champions would have a mutual explanation not without arms, and that Mr. Littelton would resign or be dismissed. But the political epidermis is neither very fine nor very sensitive; the manners and customs of Parliament make people callous very quickly, and ambition and intrigue promptly dethrone every sentiment of delicacy, and sometimes every sentiment of honour.
Mr. Stanley made another long speech the day before yesterday on the eternal question of the Irish Church, launching defiance at the Government of which he was so lately a member. This was so easy to foresee that I was astonished at the stupidity of Ministers and their friends, who maintained breathlessly that Mr. Stanley would remain their friend and defender after his resignation as he had been before. As if between politicians there could be any other bond of union except common ambition?
The Neapolitan Minister thought it his duty to present himself before Don Carlos, who sent for him. He made up his mind, however, not to commit his Court without instructions, and to give Don Carlos no higher title than "Monseigneur." However, when he got to Gloucester Lodge, he was solemnly introduced into the presence of the Prince, who received him standing in the midst of his Court, the Princesses at his side so black and ugly, with eyes of such an African cast, that poor old Ludolf became confused, and hearing every one cry "the King," and feeling these four terrible black eyes fixed on him with the fury of wild beasts, he felt that if he did not go beyond "Monseigneur" his last hour was come; and so he scattered "King" and "Majesty" right and left, and was glad to escape alive from that den of brigands!
The Princesse de Lieven gave us a charming day in the country yesterday. The company showed both good humour and good taste, and consisted of the Princess, Lady Clanricarde, M. Dedel, Count Pahlen, Lord John Russell, and myself. The weather was splendid, except for two thunder-showers, which we all took in good part. We dined at Burford Bridge, a pretty little inn at the foot of Box Hill, only half of which we were able to climb owing to the heat. We also visited Deepdene, a country house which belongs to Mr. Hope,[22] and well deserves its name. The vegetation is fine, but the place is low-lying and melancholy; the house is in a pretentious Egyptian style, which is grotesque and ugly.
Mr. Denison's property of Denbies,[23] which we next visited, is admirably situated; the view is rich and varied, but the house is insignificant, at least from the outside. All this country is quite picturesque—remarkably so, in fact, when one thinks how near it is to a great city like London. The party was undoubtedly very pleasant, and I like to look back on it.
London, July 7, 1834.—The Duke of Cumberland has announced his intention of visiting Don Carlos, which much displeases the King. The Duke of Gloucester would be tempted to go too, but he was unwilling to do so without telling the King, who begged him not to do so.