At this point the whole audience rose spontaneously; the cries, the tears, the acclamations were thrilling; and, as Madame de Lieven said: "The Duke of Wellington may die to-day, and I may depart in peace to-morrow, for I have been present at the most marvellous scene that there has been during the twenty-two years that I have spent in England."

_London, June 14, 1834._--A German _improvisatore_ named Langsward has been recommended to me by Madame de Dolomieu. I had to gather together in his honour all the people here (few enough) who know a little German. The entertainment was not bad. There were _bouts rimes_, which he filled up very creditably; some verses about Inez de Castro; and, later on, a prose piece--a scene of lower-cla.s.s Viennese life--which showed real verve and talent. The talent for poetic improvisation almost always indicates faculties of an unusual order. This is the case even with Southern people, whose language is naturally very harmonious. Poetic inspiration is a proportionately greater achievement in the less flexible accents of Northern countries. Still _improvisatori_, even Sgricci, have always seemed to me more or less frigid or more or less absurd. Their enthusiasm is overdone and false; the close rooms in which they are confined inspire neither the poet nor his audience. Nothing in them or their surroundings is in the key of poetry. I think that if you are to produce an enthusiasm which will really gain every one you must have a landscape for your stage, the sun to light you, a rock for seat, a lyre for accompaniment, for your subject great and immediate events, and a whole nation for audience. Corinna if you like, Homer above all! But a gentleman in a dress-coat in a little London drawing-room, posturing before a few women who are trying to get away to a ball, and a few men, of whom half are thinking of the Belgian protocols and the other half of Ascot races, can never be more than a trifling little rhyming doll who is tedious and quite out of place.

Madame de Lieven showed me yesterday a letter from M. de Nesselrode, in which he complains of the ill-will and the troublesome, teasing manner of Lord Ponsonby, who, he adds, is goading the poor Divan to fury. Admiral Roussin appears charming by comparison.

Dom Miguel has really embarked, and is going to Genoa.

_London, June 15, 1834._--Dom Pedro is hardly relieved of his brother's presence and free of the supervision of the Cortes, and he has already begun to destroy convents, monks, and nuns. I do not know whether this, too, will excite admiration at Holland House, but to me it seems a piece of impious folly which may well bring speedy repentance in its train.

The Rothschilds, who are by way of knowing everything, have been to M.

de Talleyrand to say that the Marquis de Miraflores has just left for Portsmouth to take money to Don Carlos on condition of his signing guarantees similar to those given by Dom Miguel.

M. Bignon, the day he dined at Lord Palmerston's, when M. de Talleyrand was there, said to the latter that he wished to have a word with him, and with a mysterious and confidential air, added: "Now that I have dined with Lord Palmerston they can no longer say at Paris that I can't be Minister." This curious piece of reasoning was followed by a series of indiscreet criticisms of the French Cabinet and expressions of surprise that overtures of the same kind had not been made to M. de Talleyrand by M. Dupin. Nothing a.s.suredly can be more presumptuous than this spirit, whether it takes the supple and cringing form of M. Bignon or the didactic and crude shape of M.

Dupin.

_London, June 16, 1834._--_A propos_ of M. Dupin, when his mother died some time ago, at Clamecy en Nivernais, he had cut on her tomb, "_Here lies the mother of the three Dupins._"

There are some good stories here of him and the amiable Piron, his cicerone. Mr. Ellice one day took them both to see some sight or other in London. In the carriage M. Dupin unfolded a large-checked pocket handkerchief, very vulgar in design, and holding it some distance from his face, spat into it, aiming very precisely at the middle of the handkerchief. On this M. Piron said to him aloud, with a very knowing air, "Sir, in this country one does not spit in public."

The choice of Mr. Fergusson for a high legal appointment gives an even more Radical tinge to the English Cabinet. Lord Grey, almost without knowing it, has thus been dragged to the verge of an abyss, into which his weakness is thrusting him, but from which all his instincts and natural tendencies hold him back. Lord Brougham boasts that he has set everything right; Lord Durham, on the contrary, says (no doubt in order to prepare the way for himself) that it is he alone who has persuaded all the new recruits to join. Meanwhile he has retired to his villa near London, whence he declares, "I have made Kings and refused to be one myself."

The Marquis of Conyngham is, they say, to go to the Post Office and not to have a seat in the Cabinet. His selection is a social matter, with which politics, it appears, have very little to do.

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 a.s.sisting the negotiations which are being conducted by the Marquis de Miraflores, 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 d.u.c.h.ess of Bera, 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 Dona 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 a.s.sure 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 h.e.l.l 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 Miraflores 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. Sampao, 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 d.u.c.h.ess-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 amba.s.sadors 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 att.i.tude. 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.

The Duke of Saxe-Meiningen has arrived by the King's invitation to escort the Queen, his sister, during her German tour. Her departure, is fixed, they say, for July 4, but the King is pressing her to go on the 2nd, and he is so strangely anxious to hurry her away, having made all the arrangements himself, that many people think that he will not be in such haste to let her come back. No one doubts that he expects to enjoy himself very much in his renewed bachelorhood, and every one trembles to think of the kind of enjoyment he may fancy. The nature of his pleasures, no less than the type of person he is likely to ask to share them, is a source of anxiety to decent people. There is no doubt that he has singular projects in his head, for the other day at dinner, he shouted out to an old admiral, who had been a great friend of his long ago, to ask "whether he was as great a rascal as ever."

The admiral answered that the days of his follies were over; but the King replied, "_that for his part he meant to begin again!_"

A letter from M. Royer-Collard is always an event for me: in the first place, because I am very fond of him; and, secondly, because he says so much in so few words, in a striking way, and in a tone which is entirely individual, and gives much food for thought. Here is an extract from one which I have just got; it is quite true and yet malicious in a well-bred way: "He [Thiers] is very clever; what he wants is Society and the experience which Society alone can give, a little dignity and a little _principle_. As I write this it comes into my mind that you will take me for a doctrinaire, which would be very unjust, for principle is a weakness which doctrinaires don't cultivate."

_London, June 20, 1834._--Intercepted letters show that the Duke of Leuchtenburg, weary of the tumult caused by the design of the d.u.c.h.ess of Braganza's sister to marry him to Dona Maria, asked the d.u.c.h.ess to do no more in the matter, as too much suspicion had been aroused and success was impossible. At the same time he begged his sister not to forget their young brother Max, who has not been suspected, and who might have a better chance. Now that this new plan is revealed it will probably be as keenly opposed as the ex-Empress's first intrigue.

They say she is extraordinarily energetic and ambitious, though to outward view she is all quietness, amiability, and simplicity.

Last night, in our drawing-room, the conversation turned on the character and position of Mirabeau, and I heard M. de Talleyrand repeat a curious story. It appears that at the time of the Restoration he was entrusted during the Provisional Government with the most confidential of the Revolutionary archives, and that he found among them a receipt in due form, given by Mirabeau for a sum of money received from the Court. This receipt was made out in detail, and stated precisely the services which Mirabeau undertook to perform. M.

de Talleyrand added that in spite of this financial transaction it would be unjust to say that Mirabeau was "bought," and that in accepting the price of promised services he did not surrender his independent opinion. He wished to serve France as much as to serve the King, and reserved for himself liberty of thought and action as well as liberty of choice of means to bring about the object which he engaged to realise. It follows that, without deserving the extreme imputations of baseness and vileness which some have made against him, Mirabeau's moral character was very far behind his astuteness. He belonged to a bad stock; his father, his mother, his brother and sister were all either insane or criminal. Yet in spite of his execrable reputation, of his being regarded everywhere much as a convict let out of prison, of his hideous ugliness and constant lack of money, what a marvellous influence his very memory has! The book just published by his adopted son brings out very strikingly the power of his prodigious personality and the charm of his superabundant vitality, which imposes itself upon you in spite of the tedious formality with which the author has sought to adorn his subject. The authenticity of the sources, the abundance of quotations from the original, and their extraordinary interest, often make up for the awkwardness and heavy-handedness of the execution.

The book, moreover, has for me the great merit of enlightening my ignorance. I had only the vaguest ideas on the subject of Mirabeau, owing to my very imperfect knowledge of the Revolutionary period, which is too near my own time for me to have studied it historically, and which is yet too far off for me to have known it as a contemporary. All I know is derived from M. de Talleyrand's stories and the Memoirs of Madame Roland. Besides, I have such a horror of this repulsive and terrible epoch that I have never had the courage to think much about it, and have almost always leapt hurriedly across the abyss which separates 1789 from the Empire. M. de Talleyrand's Memoirs might no doubt have helped me, but I have always been too much occupied with his individual fortunes to pay much attention to the general situation. M. de Talleyrand in the Memoirs is much clearer about the causes of the catastrophe than about its details, and he was out of France during the most critical years. His sojourn in America is one of the most agreeable episodes in his career, and for the reader--as indeed it was in reality for himself--it is a period of rest and relief, during which the horrors of the Convention are kept out of sight, and you have time to take breath before coming to the stirring events of the Empire.

M. de Talleyrand went on to say, as regards Mirabeau's receipt, that he regarded it as a family paper which he had no right to keep, and handed it over to Louis XVIII. himself, and knew nothing of what had become of it.

_London, June 21, 1834._--M. de Talleyrand was over fifty-three when he began to write the Memoirs, or rather a small volume on the Duc de Choiseul. In 1809, when he was going to take the waters at Bourbon l'Archambault, he asked Madame de Remus to lend him a book to read on the way. She gave him Lacretelle's _Histoire du dixhuitieme Siecle_, a work both inaccurate and incomplete. M. de Talleyrand, annoyed by the errors and the ignorance of the author, employed his leisure while at the waters in making a rapid sketch of one of the periods which Lacretelle had particularly misrepresented. Those who came to know this fragment were so much pleased with it, and M. de Talleyrand was so much amused by writing it, that he formed the idea of grouping subsequent events round another person whom he had known very well. He then put together his study of the Duc d'Orleans, a piece no less curious than the former, but since almost entirely rehandled and incorporated in his own Memoirs. These, of course, contain reminiscences of an even more personal character, and complete the story of the two epochs, of which one saw the preparation and the other the climax of the crisis in which M. de Talleyrand played a historic part. Most of the Memoirs (and in my opinion the most brilliant part) was written during the four years that he was in disgrace with the Emperor Napoleon. From 1814 to 1816 he added almost nothing to the Memoirs; later, and up to 1830, he devoted himself to revision, correction, and amplification. He inserted the portion about Erfurt, and another on the Spanish catastrophe, which brought Ferdinand VII. to Valencay, in the main body of the narrative, and brought it down to just after the Restoration; but as all the copies of his despatches during the Congress of Vienna (of which the originals are at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs) were stolen from him, he was without materials or notes for this interesting period, and this is sometimes obvious in the Memoirs.

It is indeed unfortunate that M. de Talleyrand never kept a journal or took notes. He is abominably careless about his papers, and when he set about collecting his reminiscences he had nothing to depend upon for the details but his memory, which is no doubt very good, but of course is too much overburdened not occasionally to leave regrettable gaps.[18]

[18] Here we have a natural explanation of what astonished readers of the Memoirs of the Prince de Talleyrand, which appeared in 1891 under the supervision of the Duc de Broglie. The controversy which then arose as to whether M. de Bacourt had not cut down the text cannot be more authoritatively set at rest than by this pa.s.sage from Madame de Dino's journal.

I have often heard M. de Talleyrand tell most amusing stories, which are omitted from the Memoirs because by the time he came to write he had forgotten them. I myself was wrong not to write them down as I heard them, and to trust, like him, to my memory, which is so often deceptive for oneself and insufficient for others.

M. de Talleyrand has, unhappily, been too ready to read his Memoirs, or parts of them, to all sorts of people. He has got sometimes one person, sometimes another, to copy the ma.n.u.script, and has dictated portions now and then. The result is that their existence has become known, and has awakened political anxiety in some quarters and literary jealousy in others. Treachery and cupidity have speculated on their importance. It is said, and I am disposed to believe it to be true, that several garbled copies exist, envenomed by the slanderous and uncharitable temper of their possessors, and that these are some day to be published. This would be a misfortune, not only because of the evil pa.s.sions which would be awakened, but also because these unfaithful copies would deprive the authentic Memoirs, when they do appear, of their merit, their freshness, and their interest. They would be spoiled in the forestalling.

Nothing can be more free from slander than the real Memoirs. I do not say that there are not occasional sallies of that gay and subtle malice which is so characteristic of M. de Talleyrand's wit. But there is nothing unkind, nothing insulting and less scandal than in any work of this kind. M. de Talleyrand treats women with respect or at least with politeness, restraint and indulgence though they have occupied so large a place in his social existence. It is clear that he is grateful for the charm which they have imparted to his life, and if some day serious persons find the Memoirs incomplete as history, and curious ones do not find all the revelations they expect, they may perhaps blame M. de Talleyrand's careless indolence; women at least will always be grateful to him for the good manners which inspired his reticence and deprived the cynical publicists of to-day of new weapons for calumny and evil speaking.

_London, June 22, 1834._ Sir Robert Peel with whom I dined yesterday pointed out to me that M. Dupin, who was also present, was much more like an American than a Frenchman. This is nearly the worst compliment which could be paid any one by an Englishman of good breeding. Sir Robert seemed to me to be in quite particularly good spirits. His careful questions about the members of the French Ministry, his insistence on his affection and admiration for M. de Talleyrand made me think that he had some idea in his mind that he would soon be in a position in which he would have direct dealings with them. I asked him whether he thought that Parliamentary manners and the tone of debate had changed since the Reform Bill was pa.s.sed.

He said they had up to a certain point, but that what had particularly struck him was the complete absence of any new talent, notwithstanding the accession of new members to the House of Commons.

I thought him at least as much pleased as surprised by this. He has certainly excellent reasons for not wishing that the old parliamentary celebrities should be effaced.

His house is one of the prettiest, best arranged, and best situated in London. It is full of fine pictures and valuable furniture, yet there is nothing pompous or ostentatious about it. Everything is in the best taste and nothing shows a trace of Sir Robert's humble origin. Lady Peel's modest but distinguished countenance, her quiet and amiable manner, the intelligent faces of the children, the wealth of flowers which shed their perfume through the house, the great balcony opening on the Thames, from which you can see both Westminster and St.

Paul's--everything combines to make the general effect both complete and charming. Yesterday evening was fine and really hot, and the combined brilliance of a lovely moon and of the gaslight on so many bridges and buildings made one feel one's self anywhere rather than in foggy England.

_London, June 23, 1834._--Lord Clanricarde, Mr. Canning's son-in-law has resigned his place in the Household because he is angry at not getting the Post Office which was given to Lord Conyngham.

The great Conservative dinner in the City the day before yesterday was signalised by the presence of the Duke of Richmond, and by his Grace's reply to the Lord Mayor when he proposed the toast of the Duke of Wellington and the Peers who were present. The Duke of Richmond made a sort of public profession of his attachment to Church and State, and when the Lord Mayor proposed the health of the Earl of Surrey, the eldest son of the Duke of Norfolk, who is a member of the House of Commons, but who is not a Conservative and who is a Catholic, the Earl replied that he was convinced that the House of Commons would not be behind the Upper Chamber in maintaining the Church, yes, the Church and the ancient const.i.tution of the realm. The cheering was immense.

Everything, it seems, tends to bring Mr. Stanley and Sir Robert Peel closer and closer together. It is hoped that this alliance, already far advanced, will bring about the fall of the present Cabinet, but a sharp transition is not desired, for that might frighten John Bull who doesn't like Coalition Cabinets.

_London, June 25, 1834._--In the large provincial towns of England there are every year what are called "Musical festivals." At these as a rule the great oratorios are given, and celebrated artists from all countries are engaged at great expense. These festivals last for several days; all the smart people from the various parts of the county come into the town where the music is performed in the churches in the mornings, the evenings being given up to diversions of a more worldly character. Next to horse racing these functions draw the greatest crowds.

In London a festival takes place only every fifty years, and yesterday was one of these anniversaries. The whole Court was present in state and will be on the three remaining days. Westminster Abbey was full, and, though less imposing than at the King's coronation, the spectacle was even more brilliant. The arrangements were excellent; there was no crowding or embarra.s.sment; everything went very well. The number of musicians, vocal and instrumental, was enormous--seven hundred in all.

Unfortunately the Abbey is so high, and constructed on principles so detrimental to all musical effect, that the prodigious numbers of voices and instruments which, it was said, was enough to bring down the building, hardly filled it. One felt this particularly during the first part of Haydn's _Creation_. Handel's Samson, a broader and more powerful composition, was more suited to the circ.u.mstances of the occasion. The Funeral March made a deep impression on me and the final air sung by Miss Stevens with a trumpet _obbligato_ was very fine. But the general effect was marred by the great mistake of placing the singers so low that their voices were lost before they could rise to the roof, there to find the point from which they could re-echo. I think the organ is the only instrument which can sufficiently fill a great cathedral. In such a place all the orchestras in the world sound thin and incongruous, and I was sorry yesterday that the organ was not used in the concerted pieces as it would have made the effect richer and more impressive. I even felt that this concert music was out of place in a church. It was like the effect of an academic panegyric, however beautiful and n.o.ble, being p.r.o.nounced in a pulpit instead of a funeral sermon.

_London, June 26, 1834._--_A propos_ of certain of our countrymen M.

de Talleyrand remarked yesterday: "It is extraordinary how much talent vanity consumes." Nothing can be truer, especially as he applied it.

It is announced that the Greek Order of the Saviour and the Portuguese Order of Christ have been conferred on M. de Talleyrand. On the occasion of his receiving the latter he told me that under the Empire, when Orders were raining upon him from every side, the Comte de Segur, Grand Master of the Ceremonies, seemed rather cast down because he had not got any. M. de Talleyrand begged the Emperor to allow him to give M. de Segur the Order of Christ which he had just received. This was done to M. de Segur's great satisfaction, and he never afterwards appeared without his broad ribbon.

_London, June 27, 1834._--The late Lord Castlereagh had a curious way of speaking French. He said to Madame de Lieven that what gave him most pleasure in her conversation was that his mind became "_liquide_"

when in her company, and one day, speaking of the union which prevailed among the Great Powers, he said to her that he was delighted to say that they were all _dans le meme potage_, a rather too literal translation of the English idiom "in the same mess."