The pleasant remembrance of this morning must diffuse itself over the rest of the day, which was filled by a dinner at Lady P——’s, distinguished for her love of good cheer; two balls at residences of British and foreign diplomacy; and a concert at Lord Grosvenor’s. This was given, it is true, in a gallery of fine pictures; but on such an occasion they hardly give one more pleasure than any other hangings.
June 6th.
One of the most interesting houses to me is that of a noble Scot, the Earl of W——, a lineal descendant of Macduff. In his armoury is a branch of a tree said to be of Birnam Wood; probably a relic of the same quality as most others. Blessed is he who can believe in them! The family is most accomplished, and the Scotch mind is more nearly akin to the German than the English is. The amiable daughters taught me a new manner of preserving faithful and lasting portraits of feathered favourites:—the feathers are pulled off, and pasted on card-board or varnished wood, together with the legs and beak; this produces a bas-relief of great truth, and not exposed to destruction.
Charles the Tenth spent some time in Scotland, at Lord W——’s and left him an old maitre d’hotel, who, drolly enough, is called Bonneau, like him of the Pucelle; and is one of that nearly extinct domestic race of ‘hommes de confiance’ who are now never seen but on the stage, and hardly there. As such, and having been twenty-five years ‘en fonction,’ he is allowed occasionally to put in a word,—quite contrary to English manners, which do not permit servants to make the slightest approach to their masters, except in the way of their service. I have really found few things more amusing than this old Frenchman’s stories about Court and society; his world, in fact, terminated with those times of which we can now scarcely form an idea. That the singular old man is only a ‘a maitre d’hotel’ detracts nothing from the interest; for he has seen more of the great world, and observed it better, than many of higher rank.
When I paid my visit to Lady W—— this morning, she had just received a great cargo of curiosities from one of her sons, who is travelling in South America. Among them was a lion-monkey, with a tail and mane like those of the king of beasts, on a body not larger than that of a rat. Instead of the disagreeable smell of most of his tribe, this little fellow exhales musk and cinnamon; and, like the knight I lately mentioned, perfumed the room like a pastile. A very complete collection of serpents, and another of butterflies, exhibited colours such as are only painted by the rising and setting sun.
I dined at Lady F——’s, where a curious incident occurred. Her husband was formerly Governor of the Isle of France, where a black-woman sold her a fortune-telling book, which, as she asserted, had belonged to the Empress Josephine before her departure for France, and in which she had read her future greatness and subsequent fall. Lady F—— produced it at tea, and invited the company to interrogate Destiny according to the prescribed method.—Now listen to the answers it gave, which are really remarkable. Madame de Rothschild was the first: she asked, whether her wishes would be fulfilled? She received for answer, “Weary not Fate with wishes; one who has received so much ought to be satisfied.”
Mr. Spring Rice, a distinguished member of Parliament, and one of the most zealous champions of Catholic emancipation, (a subject in which everybody here takes a strong interest, either for or against,) next asked if this Bill would pass the Upper House, in which it was to be finally debated on the morrow?—I must interrupt my narrative to tell you that it is well known that it will not pass, but it is as universally believed that next session the desired object must be attained. “You will have no success this time,” was the laconic reply. A young American lady was now urged to inquire whether she would soon be married. The answer was, “Not in this hemisphere.” Next came my turn, and I asked whether what now so strongly agitated my heart were for my happiness. “Let the inclination drop,” replied the magic book, “for you will find it is neither real nor permanent.” The company who of course had no guess at my real meaning in this question, made themselves very merry about the answer I had received, and insisted upon my proposing another. I therefore asked, “Will Fortune be more favourable to me in more serious projects?” “Seek,” was the reply, “and you will find; persevere, and you will obtain.”
Without seeking, I found this evening something very agreeable; for I was presented by the Duchess of Clarence to her mother, the Duchess of Meiningen; a most amiable woman, of true German character; whom neither years nor rank have been able to rob of her ‘naïf’ natural manners,—perhaps the surest proof of a pure and lovely mind. This worthy mother of an honoured daughter must be a welcome guest to the English, who are much attached to their future Queen, and accordingly they pay her the greatest attentions. Pity, that high as well as low are generally too deficient in grace of manners, or felicity of address, to be able to act the drama of society on such occasions, so as to render the whole a pleasing or elegant spectacle! a drawing-room and a presentation at Court here are as ludicrous as the levée of a Bürgermeister of the ancient Free Imperial cities of our fatherland; and all the pride and pomp of aristocracy disappears in the childish ‘embarras’ of these ‘ladies,’ loaded,—not adorned,—with diamonds and fine clothes. In ‘negligé,’ and when they move at ease in their own houses and their accustomed circle, young Englishwomen often appear to great advantage: in ‘parure’ and large parties, scarcely ever; for an uncontrollable timidity, destructive of all grace, so paralyses even their intellectual powers, that a rational conversation with them would certainly be a most difficult matter to obtain.
Of all the women of Europe, I therefore hold them to be the most agreeable and ‘comfortable’ wives; and at the same time the most incapable of presenting themselves with grace, address, or presence of mind; and the least fitted to embellish society. In this judgment the praise manifestly far outweighs the censure.
June 16th.