Madame de Lieven writes as follows: "Salvandy has been wanting in tact, Aston in goodwill, and the Spanish Government in common sense; for all this is obviously against its interests. Attempts have been made to point this out through other powers. Recent events at Madrid regarding the point of etiquette remove all possibility that Espartero's regency will be of long duration. The English Cabinet has espoused the cause of France, but somewhat late, for Salvandy had then gone, while Aston had previously supported the claims of Espartero. However, English opinion has been noted and will have full weight.
"I need say nothing further concerning the so-called indisposition of Périer and Kisseleff, as it has come to an end. My brother tells me that our Ambassador will shortly return here.
"The King of Prussia has actually gone to England.[ [52] Imagine that when he reached Ostend the English ships had not arrived. In general, people think that the King of Prussia has been more than obliging; certainly no great Sovereign ever did as much. Lord Melbourne will be present at the baptism, the Palmerstons have been invited for another day, and Lady Jersey I should think not at all. She has not seen the Queen since her husband was chief equerry. I do not know why King Leopold is not to be present at the baptism. It is strange."
Nice, February 2, 1842.—This is a day which used always to be kept as a festival in our house; M. de Talleyrand was born on February 2, 1754; he would now be eighty-eight years of age, and has been dead nearly four years. As one advances in life these painful anniversaries which mark progress with bitter memories become more frequent.
Yesterday I paid a visit to France with the Grand Duchess and a fairly numerous company, that is to say, we crossed the Var and went to the castle of Villeneuve which belongs to M. de Panis, a Provençal gentleman of considerable wealth and importance. I had met him before at the house of one of his cousins. He spends his winters at this residence near the Var: he has restored it and if he had not daubed the old walls and the great towers with yellow paint, it would be as remarkable for its architecture as it is for its position and the view.
Nice, February 7, 1842.—Yesterday in consequence of a headache I missed one of the chief amusements of Italy, the battle of confetti, which takes place on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. Everybody was upon the promenade throwing handfuls, and I met people in the evening who had thrown so energetically that they could not raise their arms. This festival is a great delight to all the street boys who yell so loudly that I could hear them in my bed. A little French warship is in the harbour here: the crew disembarked and came on to the promenade and the sailors in holiday attire danced a special dance of their own. It was said to be very pretty. My son-in-law has invited the officers of the brig to be present at an entertainment given at his house this evening.
There is a strange custom in force here during the carnival: in the morning all the streets are full of masks and gaiety reaches the height of insanity, but at nightfall the masks disappear and every member of a confraternity assumes the dress of a penitent; men and women alike with candles in their hands follow processions which emerge at the same moment from every church, to the sound of bells; the priest bearing the holy sacrament under a canopy concludes the procession. Wherever these processions go they produce a strange effect: there are penitents in grey, white, black and red and every one in the streets falls upon their knees; the penitents sing and wave their candles and the general spectacle is rather gloomy than edifying. When these processions are over the masked balls begin. The processions are intended to expiate or counterbalance the excesses of the carnival.
Nice, February 8, 1842 (Shrove Tuesday).—Yesterday morning was spent in preparing Pauline's costumes. The Grand Duchess lent her some diamonds and these with her own and mine looked very well. She was very pretty and gave an excellent reproduction of the difficult part of the Duchesse de Chevreuse in A Duel under Richelieu, which is a high-flown melodrama: this was followed by a duo-bouffe sung by two Italians and then came a little piece, The Heirs, in which my son-in-law took the part of Alain most creditably. The whole company acted very well, the room was pretty and all the accessories perfect. The actors came to supper at my house and the Grand Duchess surprised me by appearing. She insisted that my health should be drunk, as the entertainment was given for my birthday which was on the 6th of February but was put off to avoid falling upon a Sunday. The party did not break up until two o'clock in the morning; it was somewhat tiring but they all showed such kindness to me that I could not but be duly grateful and have an agreeable recollection of it.
Nice, February 9, 1842 (Ash Wednesday).—Yesterday I was able to take part in all the carnival absurdities in progress. First there was lunch with dancing at the house of a great Russian lady, which is situated in one of the finest gardens in Nice. We then went to Corso where the battle of confetti had already begun. I was with the Grand Duchess, Princesse Marie and Fanny: after driving round we halted upon a reserved terrace from which we were able to throw our handfuls upon the passers by; they replied from below and the most fashionable threw little bunches of violets or roses instead of confetti or sweets. Sweets are thrown with a kind of spoon with which they can be sent a long way; the women wear masks of iron wire, for if these sweets are thrown vigorously they can hurt when they strike the bare flesh. What is remarkable but real, is the kind of fury which comes over the coolest, and people lose their heads sooner or later. Pauline was more excited than any one in the Corso. I was told that the late Emperor of Austria, Francis II., who was certainly anything but a lively character, happened to be at Rome in carnival time and took part in the contest like a madman. Members of fashionable society show the greatest vigour; the common people only think of picking up the sweets. The military band was playing at the end of the promenade, the weather was superb and we stayed out of doors until nightfall without feeling cold. At half-past eight there was a ball given by some other foreigners, which was by far the prettiest, the best arranged and the most cheerful of all that have been given here.
The Grand Duchess has told me a piece of news which vexes her: Princess Alexandrina of Baden is to marry the Hereditary Prince of Coburg; it is hard for her to see possible husbands passing her daughter by, seeing that Princesse Marie is far pleasanter, more distinguished and richer than her cousin. The Grand Duchess is anxious to know what will become of her daughter after her, especially in view of the death of the Queen Dowager of Bavaria. She is also uneasy concerning the Wasa family, whose affairs are terribly involved.