Paris, October 20, 1838.—Yesterday I went with Pauline to the Comédie-Française to hear Mlle. Rachel, who is now causing so great a sensation. I was not at all pleased. They all acted very badly, though Mlle. Rachel is not so bad as the rest. They played Andromaque, in which she took the part of Hermione, the part of irony, scorn, and disdain. She went through it accurately and intelligently, but there is no sympathy or attraction in her acting. She has a thin voice, is neither pretty nor beautiful, but very young, and might become an excellent actress if she had good training. The rest of the company is wretched. I was very bored, and returned home benumbed.

Paris, October 21, 1838.—The Duchesse de Palmella, whom I saw yesterday, told me a strange thing. She said that the Duke of Leuchtenberg, the first husband of Queen Doña Maria, had never been her husband; that on his arrival in Portugal he was attacked with scurvy, which made him contagious and greatly disgusted his wife, who adores the little Coburg. She is now expecting her confinement.

With Pauline I called upon the Duchesse d'Orléans, who seemed to have recovered very well from her confinement. Her child, which she was kind enough to show us, is really charming. She has every reason to be as proud of him as she is.

We came home for an audience granted me by the Infanta Carlotta, the wife of Don Francisco. Like myself, they are both staying in the Galliffet residence.[ [99] It was a curious interview. The Infanta is a much bolder figure than Madame de Zea, and much taller. She is very fair, with a face which, though washed out, is none the less stern, with a rough manner of speaking. I felt very ill at ease with her, although she was very courteous. Her husband is red-haired and ugly, and the whole tribe of little Infantas, boys and girls, are all utterly detestable. The eldest of the princesses is well brought up, inclined to talk, and graciously took notice of Pauline. In my opinion, this Infanta would be a most unpleasant Sovereign.

Paris, October 31, 1838.—During the last two days I have seen a great deal of the Comtesse de Castellane. She speaks of only one thing which she wants, and for which she is working with incredible energy. I cannot complain, as her efforts show how much she thinks of my daughter, to whom she wishes to marry the young Henri de Castellane. Yesterday I went to consult the Archbishop on the point. He, as well as the Abbé Dupanloup, seems to think that of all the possible openings that have hitherto appeared Henri de Castellane would offer the best chance of domestic happiness, by reason of his personal merits. Both of them say that Pauline ought to choose for herself, after due examination. Examination requires acquaintanceship; to become acquainted they must see one another; and to see one another they must meet. And so I have reached a new phase in my life, when I am obliged to give a young man the run of my house in order to see what he is worth. I have known M. de Castellane personally for many years, but I have lost sight of him for a long time; besides, he is going to marry Pauline, and not me. He is clever and well-educated, hard-working, and, I think, ambitious. He is very correct and polite, lives a retired life, and goes only into the best society; he is a good son and a good brother, has an excellent name, but no title at present, and no prospect; has few family ties, and wishes to live in the same house as myself at Paris, though with a separate establishment. He is respectful to his mother, but not on confidential terms with her; wishes to have a religious wife, though he does not practise the forms of religion himself. He is to have twenty thousand francs income when he marries, and thirty thousand more from his grandmother. He has a childless uncle who is worth forty-two millions. For the moment the uncle will not give or promise or guarantee anything, but he is very anxious for the marriage, and as he is eccentricity personified he may come down handsomely some day. The Abbé Dupanloup advises me to speak to Pauline on the subject without any constraint, and also to tell her of other proposals made for her hand. She does not like Jules de Clermont-Tonnerre, and thinks he looks vulgar; the Duc de Saulx-Tavannes horrifies her—as a matter of fact he has the figure of an elephant, while there is madness in the family on both sides. The Duc de Guiche is not yet nineteen years of age, has no property whatever, a number of brothers and sisters, a rather foolish mother, while his family are always in extremities. The Marquis de Biron is very rich and a good fellow; he is a childless widower, but extremely stupid, and a red-hot Carlist. Pauline has recently seen M. de Castellane on two occasions, and likes him greatly; but she says she would like to know more of him, to make certain of his principles and belief. I tell her that there is no hurry, that she can very well wait, and that in any case I shall not consent to any marriage taking place until our business affairs have been wound up, the will declared, and the anniversary of the 17th of May over. This is understood, though the parties would like a promise to be given before that date, without celebrating the marriage. I can also understand that they would like to make certain of Pauline, but I do not propose to have our throats cut in that way. Madame Adélaïde, who is much afraid that Pauline's marriage might prevent her from going to the Tuileries, is a warm supporter of M. de Castellane. She let me know that M. de Talleyrand, to her knowledge, had thought of him. This is true, but he was more inclined to M. de Mérode, though family arrangements made the proposal impossible; besides, Pauline likes M. de Castellane much better than M. de Mérode. Another who has been mentioned to me is Elie de Gontaut, the younger brother of the Marquis of Saint-Blancard, but he is a young fop, and, though rich, his position as younger brother is very pronounced, and that would not please Pauline. In short, there is a perfect crowd of suitors, and I do not know to whom I should listen. One point is certain, and I shall make it perfectly clear: that Pauline herself will have to make the choice.[ [100]

CHAPTER IV
1840

The Duchesse de Sagan, eldest sister of the Duchesse de Talleyrand, had died in the winter of 1840. A number of business difficulties were involved by the disposal of her property, and the Duchesse de Talleyrand resolved upon a journey to Prussia, which she had not visited since her marriage. She was accompanied by her eldest son, M. de Valençay, while her correspondent, M. de Bacourt, who had been appointed French Minister to the United States, went to take up his new post at Washington, where he remained for several years.

Amiens, May 16, 1840.—I cannot say with what fear I think of my departure from Paris this morning and of the real trials upon which we are to enter. I am now on the way to Germany, while you are starting for America.[ [101] But to return to my journey of to-day: the roads are heavy, the postillions brought us along rather badly, and we did not arrive here until nine o'clock in the evening. I have read a good deal of the life of Cardinal Ximenes. It is a sober and a serious book, correctly written, but cold, and progress in it is difficult. I do not, however, regret my trouble with it, for I know but little of this great character, and he is worth studying.

The country is beautifully green and fresh, with bushy vegetation. We had pleasant weather, in spite of a few showers, but twenty times I told myself that travelling was the most foolish of all professions; to be carried along these interminable roads, bumped upon their rough surface, delivered to the tender mercies of postillions, fleeing from all one loves, going as rapidly as possible towards things and people who are quite uninteresting; thus spending one's life as though it were eternal, and only realising its shortness when it is at an end.