Transcriber’s Note:
In this work, all spellings and punctuation were reproduced from the original work except in the very few cases where an obvious typo occurred. These typos are corrected without comment.
In the original volumes in this set, each even-numbered page had a header consisting of the page number, the volume title, and the chapter number. The odd-numbered page header consisted of the year of the diary entry, a subject phrase, and the page number. In this set of e-books, the year is included as part of the date (which in the original volume were in the form reproduced here, minus the year). The subject phrase has been converted to sidenotes located below the relevant page number.
In the original book set, consisting of three volumes, the master index was in Volume 3. In this set of e-books, the index has been duplicated into each of the other volumes. Navigation links were created to the entries for the current volume.
The Greville Memoirs
A JOURNAL OF THE REIGNS
OF
KING GEORGE IV.
AND
KING WILLIAM IV.
BY THE LATE
Charles C. F. Greville, Esq.
CLERK OF THE COUNCIL TO THOSE SOVEREIGNS
EDITED BY
HENRY REEVE
REGISTRAR OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. III.
Second Edition
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1874
Contents of the Third Volume
Dinner at Greenwich — Monk Lewis — The King’s Letter — Lord Althorp’s Finance — Salutes to the Royal Family — Death of Lord Dover — His Character — Lyndhurst and Brougham on the Local Courts Bill — Charles Napier captures the Miguelite Fleet — The Irish Church Bill — The Duke of Wellington and the Bonapartes — Blount’s Preaching — Sir Robert Peel on Political Unions — Mr. George Villiers appointed to Madrid — Duke of Richmond — Suspension Clause in Irish Church Bill — Apprenticeship Clause in West India Bill — State of House of Commons — Lucien and Joseph Bonaparte — Lord Plunket — Denis Lemarchant — Brougham and Sugden — Princess Lieven — Anecdotes of the Emperor Nicholas — Affairs of Portugal — Don Miguel at Strathfieldsaye — Prorogation of Parliament — Results of the Reform Bill.
The Speaker a Knight of the Bath — Lord Wellesley Lord Lieutenant of Ireland — M. Thiers in England — Prince Esterhazy’s Opinion of the State of England — Queen of Portugal at Windsor — The Duke of Leuchtenberg — Macaulay and Sydney Smith — Brougham’s Anecdotes of Queen Caroline — Judicial Committee of the Privy Council — Sir Stratford Canning and M. Dedel — Sydney Smith and the ‘Siege of Saragossa’ — Edward Irving — The Unknown Tongues — Tribute to Lord Eldon — W.J. Fox — Lord Tavistock on the Prospects of his Party — Moore at the State Paper Office — Russia and England — Belvoir Castle — The Duke of Wellington at Belvoir — Visit to Mrs. Arkwright — Sir Thomas Lawrence and the Misses Siddons — A Murder at Runton — Sandon — Lord and Lady Harrowby — Burghley — Railroads talked of — Gloomy Tory Prognostications — State of Spain — Parliament opens — Quarrel of Sheil and Lord Althorp — Unpopularity of Lord Palmerston — Mrs. Somerville — O’Connell’s Attack on Baron Smith — Lord Althorp’s Budget — The Pension List — Lord Althorp as Leader of the House — Sir R. Peel’s Position in the House — Meeting of Supporters of Government — Mr. Villiers on the State of Spain — Predicament of Horne, the Attorney-General
Spain — Russia and Turkey — Sir R. Peel’s Pictures — Peel and Stanley — Lord Brougham’s Judicial Changes — Lord Brougham’s Defence — Admission of Dissenters to the Universities — Lord Denman’s Peerage — Growing Ascendancy of Peel — An Apology for Lord Brougham — Personal Reflections — Crime in Dorsetshire — Spain and Portugal — Procession of the Trades’ Unions — Lady Hertford’s Funeral — Petition of the London University for a Charter — Repeal of the Union — Excitement of the King — Brougham and Eldon at the Privy Council — Duke of Wellington’s Aversion to the Whigs — Lord Brougham and Lord Wynford — Fête at Petworth — Lord Brougham’s Conduct on the Pluralities Bill — Crisis in the Cabinet — Prince Lieven recalled — Stanley, Graham, and the Duke of Richmond resign on the Irish Church Bill — History of the Crisis — Ward’s Motion defeated by moving the previous Question — Affairs of Portugal — Effects of the late Change — Oxford Commemoration — Peel’s Declaration — Festival in Westminster Abbey — Don Carlos on his way to Spain — Stanley’s ‘Thimble-rig’ Speech — Resignation of Lord Grey — Mr. Greville’s account of the Causes of his Retirement — The Government reconstituted by Lord Melbourne — Lord Duncannon Secretary of State
Taylor’s ‘Philip Van Artevelde’ — Goodwood — Earl Bathurst’s Death — Death of Mrs. Arbuthnot — Overtures to O’Connell — Irish Tithe Bill — Theodore Hook’s Improvisation — Lord Westmeath’s Case in the Privy Council — First Council of Lord Melbourne’s Government and Prorogation — Brougham’s Vagaries — Lord Durham’s Exclusion — The Edinburgh Dinner — Windsor and Meiningen — Spencer Perceval — Lord Grey’s Retirement — The Westmeath Case again — The Queen’s Return — Melbourne and Tom Young — Holland House — Reflections — Conversation on the Poets — Miscellaneous Chat — Lord Melbourne’s Literary Attainments — Lord Holland’s Anecdotes of Great Orators — Execution of Charles I. — Lord Melbourne’s Opinion of Henry VIII. — The ‘Times’ attacks Lord Brougham — His Tour in Scotland — His Unpopularity — Cowper’s Secret — Canning on Reform — Lord Melbourne on Palmerston and Brougham — Canning and Brougham in 1827 — Senior — Lord Melbourne and the Benthamites — His Theology — Spanish Eloquence — The Harley Papers — The Turf — Death of Lord Spencer — The Westmeath Case heard — Law Appointments — Bickersteth — Louis Philippe’s Position.
Fall of Lord Melbourne’s Government — History and Causes of this Event — An Intrigue — Effect of the Coup at Holland House — The Change of Government — The two Camps — The King’s Address to the New Ministers — The Duke’s Account of the Transaction — And Lord Lyndhurst’s — Difficult Position of the Tories — Their Policy — The Duke in all the Offices — Negotiation with Mr. Barnes — Power of the ‘Times’ — Another Address of the King — Brougham offers to be Lord Chief Baron — Mr. Barnes dines with Lord Lyndhurst — Whig View of the Recent Change — Liberal Views of the Tory Ministers — The King resolved to support them — Another Account of the Interview between the King and Lord Melbourne — Lord Stanley’s Position — Sydney Smith’s Preaching at St. Paul’s — Lord Duncannon and Lord Melbourne — Relations of the four Seceders to Peel — Young Disraeli — Lord Melbourne’s Speeches at Derby — Lord John Russell’s Speech at Totness — The Duke of Wellington’s Inconsistencies and Conduct
Sir R. Peel arrives — The First Council — The King’s Address — Lord Stanley and Sir J. Graham decline to join the Government — Lord Wharncliffe and Sir E. Knatchbull join — The Ministers sworn in — Peel’s Address to his Constituents — Dinner at the Mansion House — Offer to Lord Roden — Prospects of the Election — Stanley’s Want of Influence — Pozzo di Borgo’s Views — Russia and England — Nomination of Lord Londonderry to St. Petersburg — Parliament dissolved — State of the Constituencies — A Governor-General for India — Sebastiani and St. Aulaire — Anecdote of Princess Metternich — The City Elections — Lord Lyndhurst’s View of the Government — Violence of the Opposition — Close Contest at Rochester — Sydney Herbert — Sir John Hobhouse’s Views — Anecdotes — County Elections — The Queen supposed to be with Child — Church Reform — Dinner of Ministers — Story of La Roncière — The King’s Crotchets
The Speakership — Temporary Houses of Parliament — Church Reform — Dissenters’ Marriage Bill — Peel’s False Position — Burke — Palmerston’s Talents as a Man of Business and Unpopularity — Sympathy of Continental Courts with the Tories — Abercromby elected Speaker — Defeat of the Government — Tactics of the Opposition — The Speaker does not dine with Peel — Meeting of Stanley’s Friends — Debate on the Address — Lord John Russell leads the Opposition — The Stanley Party — Second Defeat of the Government — Peel’s Ability — The Lichfield House Meeting — Debate on Lord Londonderry’s Appointment — His Speech in the Lords and Resignation — Sir E. Sudgen resigns the Great Seal of Ireland — Lady Canterbury — Brougham in the House of Lords — Peel’s Readiness and Courage — Lord Canterbury and Stratford Canning proposed for Canada — Approaching Fall of the Peel Government — Meetings of the Opposition — Further Defeat — Sir Robert Peel’s own View of the State of Affairs — He resigns
Lord Grey and Sir James Graham express Conservative Views — Opinions of Lord Stanley — Lord Grey sees the King, but is not asked to resume Office — Lord Melbourne’s Second Administration — His Moderation — A Difficulty — Spring Rice — A Joyless Victory — Exclusion of Brougham — The New Cabinet — Lord John Russell defeated in Devonshire — Lord Alvanley and O’Connell — Duel with Morgan O’Connell — Lord Wellesley resigns the Lord Stewardship — The Eliot Convention — Swift v. Kelly — The Kembles — London University Charter discussed at the Privy Council — Corporation Reform — Formation of the Conservative Party — The King’s Habits — Secretaryship of Jamaica — Lord Melbourne’s Tithe Bill — The Pope rejects the Recommendation of the British Government — Relations with Rome — Carlists and Christinos in Spain — Walcheren — The King’s Address to Sir Charles Grey — Stanley and Graham cross the House — Failure of Stanley’s Tactics — Alava and the Duke of Cumberland — A Sinecure Placeman — Lord Glenelg and the King — Concert at Stafford House — The King’s Aversion to his Ministers and to the Speaker — Decision on the Secretaryship of Jamaica — Archbishop Whateley — Irish Church Bill — Payment of Catholic Clergy — Peel and Lord John Russell — Factious Conduct of Tory Peers — The King’s Violence — Debate on the Corporation Bill
Resistance of the Lords — Duke of Richmond — Happiness — Struggle between Lords and Commons — Peel keeps aloof — Inconsistency of the Whigs on the Irish Church Bill — Violent Language in the Lords — Lord John Russell and Peel pass the Corporation Bill — Dissolution of the Tory Party foreseen — Meeting of Peers to consider the Amendments — King’s Speech in Council on the Militia — Lord Howick’s Bitterness against the Lords — Lord Lyndhurst’s Opinion of the Corporation Bill — The King’s Language on the Regency — Talleyrand’s View of the English Alliance — Comparison of Burke and Mackintosh — The St. Leger — Visit of Princess Victoria to Burghley — O’Connell’s Progress through Scotland — Mackintosh’s Life
Emperor Nicholas’s Speech at Warsaw — His Respect for Opinion in England — Burdett proposes the Expulsion of O’Connell from Brooks’s — Club Law — George Villiers at Madrid — Lord Segrave Lord-Lieutenant of Gloucestershire — Dispute between France and America — Allen’s Account of Mackintosh and Melbourne — Prolongation of a Patent — Should Dr. Arnold be made a Bishop? — Frederic Elliot — O’Connell’s mischievous Influence — Bretby — Chesterfield MSS. — The Portfolio — Lord Cottenham and Lord Langdale — Opening of Parliament — The Judicial Committee — Poulett Thomson at the Board of Trade — Mr. Perceval’s Interviews with the Ministers — Prospects of the Tories — Lord Stanley’s Relations to them — Holland House Anecdotes — Mischievous Effects of the Division on his Address — The Youth of Macaulay — Brougham and Macaulay — Lord William Bentinck — Review of Sir R. Peel’s Conduct — Dr. Hampden’s Appointment — The Orange Lodges
Moore and O’Connell — Defeat of the Opposition — The Carlow Election — Lord Alvanley’s Speech to the Tory Peers — Norton v. Lord Melbourne — Catastrophe after Epsom — Mendizabal and Queen Christina — Lord John Russell’s Moderation in the Ecclesiastical Commission — Theatricals at Bridgewater House — Irish Church — Ministerial Difficulties — Deplorable State of Spain — What was thought of Lord Palmerston in 1836 — Weakness of Government — Lord Lyndhurst’s Summary of the Session — Balance of Parties — Lady Augusta Kennedy’s Marriage — King’s Speech to Princess Victoria — Revolution of La Granja — Rudeness of the King to Ministers — Irritation of the King at the Duchess of Kent — Scene at Windsor on the King’s Birthday — Prince Esterhazy’s View of the Affairs of Europe — Emperor Nicholas at Vienna — A Crisis in Trade — State of the Court at Vienna — Duc de Reichstadt
Crisis in the City — The Chancellor of the Exchequer — A Journey to Paris — Lord Lyndhurst in Paris — Princess Lieven — Parties in France — Berryer — The Strasburg Conspirators — Rotten State of France — Presentation at the Tuileries — Ball at the Tuileries — Bal Musard — Lord Granville — The Due de Broglie — Position of the Duc d’Orleans — Return to England — Conservative Reaction — Sheil’s Tirade against Lord Lyndhurst — Lyndhurst as a Tory Leader — Angry Debate on Church Rates — The Government on the Brink of Resignation — Sir R. Peel’s Prospects — The King and Lord Aylmer — Death of Mrs. Fitzherbert — Ministerial Compromise — Westminster Election — Majority of the Princess Victoria — The King’s Illness — The King’s Letter to the Princess — Preparations for the Council — Sir E. Peel on the Prospects of the New Reign — Prayers ordered for the King’s Recovery — Affairs of Lord Ponsonby — Death of King William IV. — First Council of Queen Victoria — The Queen proclaimed — Character of William IV
A JOURNAL
OF THE
REIGN OF KING WILLIAM THE FOURTH
CHAPTER XXI.
Dinner at Greenwich — Monk Lewis — The King’s Letter — Lord Althorp’s Finance — Salutes to the Royal Family — Death of Lord Dover — His Character — Lyndhurst and Brougham on the Local Courts Bill — Charles Napier captures the Miguelite Fleet — The Irish Church Bill — The Duke of Wellington and the Bonapartes — Blount’s preaching — Sir Robert Peel on Political Unions — Mr. George Villiers appointed to Madrid — Duke of Richmond — Suspension Clause in Irish Church Bill — Apprenticeship Clause in West India Bill — State of House of Commons — Lucien and Joseph Bonaparte — Lord Plunket — Denis Lemarchant — Brougham and Sugden — Princess Lieven — Anecdotes of the Emperor Nicholas — Affairs of Portugal — Don Miguel at Strathfieldsaye — Prorogation of Parliament — Results of the Reform Bill.
June 29th, 1833
I am going, if not too lazy, to note down the everyday nothings of my life, and see what it looks like.
We dined yesterday at Greenwich, the dinner given by Sefton, who took the whole party in his omnibus, and his great open carriage; Talleyrand, Madame de Dino, Standish, Neumann, and the Molyneux family; dined in a room called ‘the Apollo’ at the Crown and Sceptre. I thought we should never get Talleyrand up two narrow perpendicular staircases, but he sidles and wriggles himself somehow into every place he pleases. A capital dinner, tolerably pleasant, and a divine evening. Went afterwards to the ‘Travellers,’ and played at whist, and read the new edition of ‘Horace Walpole’s Letters to Sir Horace Mann.’ There is something I don’t like in his style; his letters don’t amuse me so much as they ought to do.
A letter this morning from Sir Henry Lushington about Monk Lewis. He is rather averse to a biographical sketch, because he thinks a true account of his life and character would not do him credit, and adds a sketch of the latter, which is not flattering. Lord Melbourne told me the other day a queer trait of Lewis. He had a long-standing quarrel with Lushington. Having occasion to go to Naples, he wrote beforehand to him, to say that their quarrel had better be suspended, and he went and lived with him and his sister (Lady L.) in perfect cordiality during his stay. When he departed he wrote to Lushington to say that now they should resume their quarrel, and put matters in the ‘status quo ante pacem,’ and accordingly he did resume it, with rather more acharnement than before.
Charles Wood came into my room yesterday, and talked of the King’s letter, said he understood the Archbishop had imparted it to the seven Bishops who had voted, that nothing would come of it, for it was a private letter which nobody had a right to take up. I see the Government are not displeased at such an evidence of the King’s goodwill. The King and Taylor both love letter-writing, and both are voluminously inclined. Wood told me that last year Lord Grey got one letter from them (for Taylor writes and the King approves) of seven sheets; what a mass of silly verbiage there must have been to wade through.[1]
[1] [This is not just. The published correspondence of King William IV. and Earl Grey proves that the King’s letters were written by Sir Herbert Taylor with the greatest ability.]
July 3rd, 1833
Nothing to put down these last two days, unless I go back to my old practice of recording what I read, and which I rather think I left off because I read nothing, and had nothing to put down; but in the last two days I have read a little of Cicero’s ‘Second Philippic,’ Voltaire’s ‘Siècle de Louis XIV.,’ Coleridge’s ‘Journey to the West Indies;’ bought some books, went to the opera to hear Bellini’s ‘Norma,’ and thought it heavy, Pasta’s voice not what it was. SALUTES TO THE ROYAL FAMILY. Everybody talking yesterday of Althorp’s exhibition in the House of Commons the night before (for particulars of which see newspapers and Parliamentary debates). It is too ludicrous, too melancholy, to think of the finances of this country being managed by such a man: what will not people endure? What a strange medley politics produce: a wretched clerk in an office who makes some unimportant blunder, some clerical error, or who exhibits signs of incapacity for work, which it does not much signify whether it be well or ill done, is got rid of, and here this man, this good-natured, popular, liked-and-laughed-at good fellow, more of a grazier than a statesman, blurts out his utter ignorance before a Reformed Parliament, and people lift up their eyes, shrug their shoulders, and laugh and chuckle, but still on he goes.
July 4th, 1833
At Court yesterday, and Council for a foolish business. The King has been (not unnaturally) disgusted at the Duchess of Kent’s progresses with her daughter through the kingdom, and amongst the rest with her sailings at the Isle of Wight, and the continual popping in the shape of salutes to Her Royal Highness. He did not choose that this latter practice should go on, and he signified his pleasure to Sir James Graham and Lord Hill, for salutes are matter of general order, both to army and navy. They (and Lord Grey) thought it better to make no order on the subject, and they opened a negotiation with the Duchess of Kent, to induce her of her own accord to waive the salutes, and when she went to the Isle of Wight to send word that as she was sailing about for her amusement she had rather they did not salute her whenever she appeared. The negotiation failed, for the Duchess insisted upon her right to be saluted, and would not give it up. Kemp told me he had heard that Conroy (who is a ridiculous fellow, a compound of ‘Great Hussy’ and the Chamberlain of the Princess of Navarre[2]) had said, ‘that as Her Royal Highness’s confidential adviser, he could not recommend her to give way on this point.’ As she declined to accede to the proposals, nothing remained but to alter the regulations, and accordingly yesterday, by an Order in Council, the King changed them, and from this time the Royal Standard is only to be saluted when the King or the Queen is on board.
[2] See Sir C. Hanbury Williams’ Poems.
Friday, July 12th, 1833
Went to Newmarket on Sunday, came back yesterday, got back at half-past nine, went to Crockford’s, and heard on the steps of the house that poor Dover had died that morning. The accounts I had received at Newmarket confirmed my previous impression that there was no hope; and, indeed, the sanguine expectations of his family are only to be accounted for by that disposition in the human mind to look at the most favourable side, and to cling with pertinacity to hope when reason bids us despair. There has seldom been destroyed a fairer scene of happiness and domestic prosperity than by this event. He dies in the flower of his age, surrounded with all the elements of happiness, and with no drawback but that of weak health, which until within the last few months was not sufficiently important to counterbalance the good, and only amounted to feebleness and delicacy of constitution; and it is the breaking up of a house replete with social enjoyment, six or seven children deprived of their father, and a young wife and his old father overwhelmed with a grief which the former may, but the latter never can get over, for to him time sufficient cannot in the course of nature be allotted. Few men could be more generally regretted than Lord Dover will be by an immense circle of connections and friends for his really amiable and endearing qualities, by the world at large for the serious loss which society sustains, and the disappointment of the expectations of what he one day might have been. He occupied as large a space in society as his talents (which were by no means first-rate) permitted; but he was clever, lively, agreeable, good-tempered, good-natured, hospitable, liberal and rich, a zealous friend, an eager political partisan, full of activity and vivacity, enjoying life, and anxious that the circle of his enjoyment should be widely extended. George Agar Ellis was the only son of Lord Clifden, and obtained early the reputation of being a prodigy of youthful talent and information. CHARACTER OF LORD DOVER. He was quick, lively, and had a very retentive memory, and having entered the world with this reputation, and his great expectations besides, he speedily became one of the most conspicuous youths of the day. Having imbibed a great admiration for Lord Orford (Horace Walpole), he evinced a disposition to make him his model, and took pains to store his mind with that sort of light miscellaneous literature in which Lord Orford delighted. He got into the House of Commons, but never was able to speak, never attempted to say more than a few words, and from the beginning gave up all idea of oratorical distinction. After running about the world for a few years he resolved to marry, and as his heart had nothing to do with this determination, he pitched upon a daughter of the Duke of Beaufort’s, who he thought would suit his purpose, and confer upon him a very agreeable family connection. Being on a tour in the North, he intended to finish it at Badminton, and there to propose to Lady Georgiana Somerset, with full assurance that he should not be rejected; but having stopped for a few days at Lord Carlisle’s at Castle Howard, he there found a girl who spared him the trouble of going any further, and at the expiration of three or four days he proposed in form to Lord Morpeth’s second daughter, Georgiana Howard, who, not less surprised than pleased and proud at the conquest she found she had so unconsciously made, immediately accepted him. There never was a less romantic attachment, or more business-like engagement, nor was there ever a more fortunate choice or a happier union. Mild, gentle, and amiable, full of devotion to, and admiration of her husband, her soft and feminine qualities were harmoniously blended with his vivacity and animal spirits, and produced together results not more felicitous for themselves than agreeable to all who belonged to their society. Soon after his marriage, Ellis, who had never been vicious or profligate, but who was free from anything like severity or austerity, began to show symptoms of a devout propensity, and not contented with an ordinary discharge of religious duties, he read tracts and sermons, frequented churches and preachings, gave up driving on Sundays, and appeared in considerable danger of falling into the gulf of methodism; but this turn did not last long, and whatever induced him to take it up, he apparently became bored with his self-imposed restrictions, and after a little while he threw off his short-lived sanctity, and resumed his worldly habits and irreverent language, for he was always a loose talker. Active and ambitious in his pursuits, and magnificent in his tastes, he devoted himself to literature, politics, and society; to the two first with greater success than would be expected of a man whose talents for composition were below mediocrity, and for public speaking none at all. He became the patron of various literary institutions and undertakings connected with the arts, he took the chair at public meetings for literary or scientific purposes, he read a good deal and wrote a little. The only work which he put forth of any consequence was ‘The Life of Frederick II.,’ which contained scarcely any original matter, and was remarkably barren of original ideas; but as it was a compilation from several very amusing writers, was not devoid of entertainment.[3] Though unable to speak in Parliament, he entered warmly into politics, formed several political intimacies, especially with the Chancellor (Brougham), and undertook much of the minor Government work of keeping proxies, making houses (in the House of Lords), and managing the local details of the House itself. But however contracted his sphere both in literature and politics, in society his merits were conspicuous and his success unquestionable. Without a strong understanding, destitute of fancy and imagination, and with neither eloquence nor wit, he was a remarkably agreeable man. He was hospitable, courteous, and cordial; he collected about him the most distinguished persons in every rank and condition of life. He had a constant flow of animal spirits, much miscellaneous information, an excellent memory, a great enjoyment of fun and humour, a refined taste and THE LOCAL COURTS BILL DEFEATED. perfect good breeding. But his more solid merit was the thorough goodness of his heart, and the strong and durable nature of his friendships and early attachments. To the friends of his youth he was bound to the last moment of his life with unremitting kindness and never-cooling affection; no greater connections or more ambitious interests cancelled those early ties, and though he was not unnaturally dazzled and flattered by the later intimacies he contracted, this never for a moment made him forgetful of or indifferent to his first and less distinguished friends.
[3] [Lord Dover’s volume on the ‘Man in the Iron Mask’ deserves not to be altogether forgotten, though more recent researches have proved that his theory identifying the ‘Iron Mask’ with Mathioli, the captured agent of the Duke of Parma, cannot be supported.]
The Local Courts Bill was thrown out by twelve. His party made the amende honorable to Lyndhurst, and went down in a body to back him. He and Brougham each spoke for two hours or more, and both with consummate skill, the latter especially in his very best style, and with extraordinary power and eloquence. It would not perhaps be easy to decide which made the ablest speech; that of Lyndhurst was clear, logical, and profound, replete with a sort of judicial weight and dignity, with a fine and cutting vein of sarcasm constantly peeping from behind a thick veil of complimentary phraseology. Brougham more various, more imaginative, more impassioned, more eloquent, and exceedingly dexterous. Unable to crush Lyndhurst, he resembled one of Homer’s heroes, who, missing his great antagonist, wreaked his fury on some ignominious foe, and he fell upon Wynford with overpowering severity. As somebody told me who heard him, ‘He flayed him alive, and kept rubbing salt upon his back.’ It appears to have been a great exhibition. There was Lyndhurst after his speech, drinking tea, not a bit tired, elated and chuckling: ‘Well, how long will the Chancellor speak, do you think, eh? we shall have some good fun from him. What lies he will tell, and how he will misrepresent everything! come, let’s have done our tea, that we mayn’t miss him, eh?’ The truth seems to be that the Bill is not a good Bill, and is condemned by the lawyers, that some such measure is required, but that this is nothing more than a gigantic job, conferring enormous patronage upon the Chancellor. The debate, however, appears to have afforded a grand display of talent.[4]
[4] [The successful efforts of the Tories to prevent the establishment of a system of Local Courts of limited jurisdiction, retarded for many years that important measure to which we, at last, owe the County Courts—now an institution of the utmost social utility. Nothing can be more characteristic of the blind bigotry of the Tory party at that time, and the party spirit of Lord Lyndhurst; for the measure had no bearing upon politics, and was simply a cheap and easy mode of recovering small debts.]
Macaulay is said to have made an admirable speech last night on the Indian question in the House of Commons. I observe, by the bye, that very few of the Bishops voted the other night, but all who did voted with Government; even Exeter went away before the division, so the King’s letter seems to have produced some effect. I have had a squabble with Lady Holland about some nonsense, but she was insolent, so I was fierce, and then she was civil, as she usually is to those who won’t be bullied by her.
July 12th, 1833
It is extraordinary how little sensation the defeat of Government in the House of Lords has caused. Everybody talks of the debate, nobody thinks of the event, but I find several people expect that the Church Bill will be thrown out, which would be a much more serious thing. I betted Stanley five pounds to one yesterday that they were not beaten on the second reading of the Irish Church Bill. I have concluded a bargain with Murray for Lewis’s journal and sold it him for 400 guineas, the MSS. to be returned to Lushington, and fifteen copies for him, and five for me, gratis.
July 14th, 1833
Wharncliffe told me yesterday that the Duke and the Opposition do not mean to throw out the Irish Church Bill on the second reading. He had been in great alarm himself after the Duke’s speech lest they should, but had since heard what satisfied him they would not; he said that Sir John Wrottesley’s motion for a call of the House had given them great offence, and was an extreme piece of folly, for it was obviously for the purpose of bullying the House of Lords, who would not be bullied, and this species of menace only increased the obstinacy of the majority there, but that IRISH CHURCH BILL. the Duke could command the greater number, and though there might be a division (as some cannot be restrained from dividing) there would be no endeavour to throw it out. Thus it is that one folly produces another: the Duke’s silly speech about the Coronation Oath (a piece of nonsense quite unworthy of his straightforward, manly sense) produced Wrottesley’s bravado in the other House. But Wharncliffe says he is persuaded nothing can prevent a collision between the two Houses ultimately. There is a great idea that the Government will fall to pieces before the end of this year. Tavistock told me that Althorp would certainly go out in a very few months, and that he would go on the turf! Tom Duncombe is found guilty at Hertford (of a libel), and recommended to mercy, to the infinite diversion of his friends.
July 15th, 1833
Yesterday came the news of Captain Napier having captured the whole of Don Miguel’s fleet, to the great delight of the Whigs, and equal mortification of the Tories. It appears to have been a dashing affair, and very cowardly on the part of the Miguelites. The day before the news came, Napier had been struck out of the British Navy.
Met Duncannon in the morning, who was very gloomy about Wednesday, at the same time saying he rather hoped the Tories would throw out the Irish Church Bill, for it was impossible to go on as they were now doing; that if they did, two motions would infallibly be made in the House of Commons, an address to the Crown to make Peers, and a vote for the expulsion of the Bishops, and that both would be carried by great majorities. He talked much of the Irish Church, and of the abominations that had been going on even under his own eyes. One case he mentions of a man who holds a living of 1,000ℓ. a year close to Bessborough, whom he knows. There is no house, no church, and there are no Protestants in the parish. He went there to be inducted, and dined with Duncannon at Bessborough the day after. Duncannon asked him how he had managed the necessary form, and he said he had been obliged to borrow the clerk and three Protestants from a neighbouring parish, and had read the morning and evening service to them within the ruined walls of the old Abbey, and they signed a certificate that he had complied with the forms prescribed by law; he added that people would no longer endure such things, that no existing interests were to be touched, and that if remedial measures were still opposed, the whole fabric would be pulled down. He was still persuaded that the Opposition meant to throw out the Bill.
In the evening I dined at the Duke of Richmond’s, and found Stanley informed of the result of the meeting at the Duke of Wellington’s in the morning, which was decisive on the question. The Duke, after his extraordinary speech in the House of Lords, when he mounted the old broken-down hobby of the Coronation Oath and cut a curvet that alarmed his friends and his enemies, assembled the Tories at Apsley House, and there, resuming his own good sense, though not very consistently, made them a speech, and told them that some such measure must be passed, for nothing else could save the Irish Church: that there were things in this Bill that he did not approve of at all, but he could not resist its going into committee, and he finished by announcing that he should either vote for it or not vote at all, according to circumstances. Lyndhurst goes on the circuit on Wednesday, so that though there will be a division there will be a large majority for the Bill, which is the best thing that could happen. Stanley said there would be a great speech from Lord Grey, talked of his power in that line, thought his reply at five in the morning on the Catholic question the most perfect speech that ever was made. He would rather have made it than four of Brougham’s. He gave the following instance of Lord Grey’s readiness and clear-headed accuracy. In one of the debates on the West India question, he went to Stanley, who was standing under the gallery, and asked him on what calculation he had allotted the sum of twenty millions. Stanley explained to him a complicated series of figures, of terms of years, interest, compound interest, value of labour, etc., after which Lord Grey went back to his place, rose, and went through the whole with as much DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND THE BONAPARTES. clearness and precision as if all these details had been all along familiar to his mind. It is very extraordinary that he should unite so much oratorical and Parliamentary power with such weakness of character. He is a long way from a great man altogether.
I met the Duke in the evening at the Duchess of Cannizzaro’s, talked of Napier’s affair, at which he was extremely amused, though he thinks it a very bad thing, and not the least bad part of it that Napier should be lost to the service, so distinguished as he is. It was he who in 1803 (I believe) was the cause of the capture of a French squadron by Sir Alexander Cochrane. The English fell in with and cleared the French fleet, but Napier in a sloop outsailed the rest, and firing upon the stern of the French Admiral’s flagship, so damaged her (contriving by skilful evolutions to avoid being hurt himself) that the rest of the ships were obliged to haul to, to save the Admiral’s ship, which gave time to the British squadron to come up, when they took four out of the five sail. The Whigs all talk of this action as decisive of the Portuguese contest; the Duke says it is impossible to say what the moral effect may be, but in a military point of view it will not have much influence upon it. Lucien Bonaparte was there, and was introduced to the Duke. He laughed and said, ‘He shook hands with me, and we were as intimate as if we had known each other all our lives!’ He said he had likewise called on Joseph, who had called on him, but they had never met: he added that some civilities had passed between them in Spain. Before the battle of Salamanca he had regularly intercepted the French correspondence, and as one of the King’s daughters was ill at Paris, and daily intelligence came of her health, he always sent it to him. He did not forward the letters, because they contained other matters, but he sent a flag every day to the outposts, who said, ‘Allez dire au Roi que sa fille se porte mieux,’ or as it might be. There was Lucien running downstairs to look for his carriage, one brother of Napoleon who refused to be a king, and another who was King of Naples, and afterwards King of Spain, both living as private gentlemen in England!
July 16th, 1833
The Cabinet met at the instance of Lord John Russell to take into consideration Lord Hill’s not voting on Brougham’s Local Courts Bill. Nothing came of it, and it is extremely absurd when their own people continually vote as they please—Duncannon, Ellice, Charles Grey, etc. On Sunday I went to hear Mr. Blount preach. He is very popular, and has a great deal of merit, not so clever as Thorpe, not so eloquent as Anderson, but with a great appearance of zeal and sincerity, and he is very conscientious and disinterested, for he refused the living of Chelsea (which Lord Cadogan offered him) because he thought he could not discharge the duties belonging to it together with those of his present cure. Went last night to hear Malibran in the ‘Sonnambula,’ a fine piece of acting and fine singing.
July 18th, 1833
I fell in with Sir Robert Peel yesterday in the Park, and rode with him for an hour or two, never having had so much conversation with him before in my life. He was very agreeable, told me that he had just come from the Police Committee, when a member of one of the political unions had been under examination, who had acknowledged that they were provided with arms, and exercised themselves in their use, to be ready for the struggle which they thought was fast approaching. This evidence will appear in the Report to the House of Commons, but what will not appear is that an attempt was made (by Mr. Charles Buller especially) to prevent its being elicited, and the aforesaid gentleman endeavoured to put down Peel, who drew it out. The room was cleared, and they had an angry discussion, but Peel insisted upon asking his question, and carried his point, even in this Radical Committee. It seems to have been very curious, and the man was nothing loth to say all he knew. Peel thinks very ill of everything. I asked him if there was no way of putting down the Repeal Union. He said none, and that they had found the impossibility of doing so in Ireland, except by investing the Lord Lieutenant with extraordinary powers; talked of the Government and its strange way of going on, spoke highly of Stanley in all ways.
Althorp’s retirement seems certain, and if the Government STANLEY AND ALTHORP. goes on Stanley will be leader, but unless he puts it all on a different footing it must break up, and unless the Government people can be brought under better discipline it will fall to pieces, for nobody will support it on that motion of Wrottesley’s for a call of the House. Both Stanley and Althorp deprecated it in the strongest way, in the name of their colleagues as well as their own, with whom Stanley said they had consulted, and that they felt it would materially embarrass the Government if persisted in, and after this Duncannon, Kennedy, and Charles Grey voted for the call, Ellice and Poulett Thomson stayed away. The other night (I forget on what question) Ellice voted one way and Stanley the other, and the former said to the latter as he was going out of the house, ‘You will see if the boys don’t go with me instead of with you.’ The vote of the night before last against sinecures was carried in a thin house, only one Cabinet Minister present (Althorp), no pains taken to secure a majority, and he (Althorp) saying that it signified more to the Tories than to him, and they ought to have come down and rejected it. Peel thinks it of great importance, and very difficult to get out of. However, it will be got out of by some particular case being tried, on which Hume, or whoever brings it forward, will be beaten, and then it will sleep for a time; but there stands and will stand the resolution on the journals, and the House of Commons has admitted the principle of dealing with actual vested interests, and not confining their operation to the future.
There seems every probability of Stanley’s West India Bill being thrown out. The Saints, who at first had agreed to support it, object to pay the twenty millions for emancipation to take place twelve years hence, and the present condition of the question seems to be that all parties are dissatisfied with it, and there is nearly a certainty that it will be received with horror by the planters, while the slaves will no longer work when they find the fiat of their freedom (however conditional or distant the final consummation may be) has at length gone forth.
July 20th, 1833
I dropped into the House of Lords last night, and heard the Bishop of London reply severally to the Duke of Newcastle and Lord Winchilsea, the first of whom muttered, and the latter bellowed something I could not hear, but I gathered that the last was on the subject of the King’s letter to the Bishops. The Bishop made very pertinent answers to both, but the Duke of Wellington got up after Winchilsea, and entreated nothing might be said upon the subject, and put down discussion with that authority which the Tories dare not resist, and which he exercised on this occasion with the good sense and, above all, consideration for public convenience and disdain of party rancour which distinguish him above all men I have ever seen, and which compel one to admire him in spite of the extraordinary things he occasionally says and does.
George Villiers is going Minister to Madrid, instead of Addington, who is so inefficient they are obliged to recall him, and at this moment Madrid is the most important diplomatic mission, with reference to the existing and the prospective state of things. The Portuguese contest, the chance of the King of Spain’s death and a disputed succession, the recognition of the South American colonies, and commercial arrangements with this country, present a mass of interests which demand considerable dexterity and judgment; besides, Addington is a Tory, and does not act in the spirit of this Government, so they will recall him without ceremony. There is another Ambassador (Frederic Lamb) whose principles are equally at variance with those of Palmerston, and who is completely be-Metternich’d, but his removal is out of the question; he knows it, and no doubt conducts himself accordingly. George Villiers told me that he touched incidentally one day with Palmerston on Lamb’s conduct in some matter relating to Lord Granville, and he found that it was sacred ground, and he only got, ‘Ah, aw—yes, Metternich is, I suppose, too old to mend now.’
July 21st, 1853
The Duke of Wellington did not vote on Friday night, but he made a bitter speech against Government, and attacked Lord Anglesey very unnecessarily, when Melbourne retorted on him very well. Lord Grey’s reply DUKE OF RICHMOND. appears to have been exceedingly good. I met the Duke of Richmond last night, and talked to him about the prospects of Government, and suggested that if Stanley (when Althorp retires) does not make it a sine quâ non that better discipline should be observed in their ranks, the Government cannot go on. He agreed, and said Stanley would, but he thought the House of Lords were going on in such a way that before three years there would be none. It appears to me totally impossible for Stanley or anybody to go on without remodelling the Government, and one of his difficulties would be in getting rid of Richmond himself. He is utterly incapable, entirely ignorant, and his pert smartness, saying sharp things, cheering offensively, have greatly exasperated many people against him in the House of Commons, and these feelings of anger have been heightened by his taking frequent opportunities of comporting himself with acrimony towards the Duke of Wellington, though he always professes great veneration for him, and talks as if he had constantly abstained from anything like incivility or disrespect towards him. It is remarkable certainly that his colleagues appear to entertain a higher opinion of him than he deserves, and you hear of one or another saying, ‘Oh, you don’t know the Duke of Richmond.’ He has, in fact, that weight which a man can derive from being positive, obstinate, pertinacious, and busy, but his understanding lies in a nutshell, and his information in a pin’s head. He is, however, good-humoured, a good fellow, and personally liked, particularly by Stanley and Graham, who are of his own age, and have both the same taste for sporting and gay occupations. The Tories threaten mighty things in the Committee, but I don’t think they will attempt much.
July 24th, 1833
Divisions in both Houses last night. The Duke of Wellington proposed an important amendment (which he would afterwards have withdrawn, but his friends would not let him), and he was beaten by fourteen. A great division for Government in the House of Lords. In the Commons 166 minority for triennial Parliaments, and by every sort of whipping and Billy Holmes’s assistance a majority, but only of sixty or seventy; fine work this.
July 25th to 26th.—Half-past two in the morning
Just come home, having heard of the division in the House of Lords, in which Ministers were beaten on what they call the Suspension clause by two. Alvanley, Belhaven, and Clanricarde got there too late. Gower could not attend, nor Lord Granville. Lyndhurst came all the way from Norwich (being on the circuit) to vote. The question is, what Ministers will do—go on with the Bill, or throw it up, resign, make Peers, or what? Nothing can be more silly than the amendment, although it may be questioned whether it signifies very materially; but the light in which Ministers see it is this: are they to submit night after night to the vexatious insolence of the Tories, who are constantly on the watch to find some vulnerable point, and without intending or daring to throw over their great measures, to mangle their details as much as they can venture to do, and hold the Government in a sort of subjugation and in a state of sufferance? The Tory lords are perfectly rabid, and reckless of consequences, regardless of the embarrassment they cause the King, and of the aggravation of a state of things they already think very bad, they care for nothing but the silly vain pleasure of beating the Government, every day affording fresh materials for the assaults that are made upon them by the press, and fresh cause for general odium and contempt. The Duke of Wellington has no power over them for good purposes, and they will only follow him when he will lead them on to some rash and desperate enterprise. This event has affected people differently according to their several views and opinions, but all are in eager curiosity to see what the Government will do.
In the House of Commons things are no better than in the House of Lords. Stanley was nearly beaten on the Apprenticeship clause in the West Indian Bill on Wednesday night, Macaulay opposing him; so yesterday morning he came down to the House and gave it up. It is remarkable that he made an admirable speech in defence of his clause, GOVERNMENT DEFEATED. was unusually and enthusiastically cheered, Macaulay’s speech falling very flat, and to all appearance the whole House with Stanley, yet upon division he only carried it by some seven or eight votes. It is said that after the vote he could not do otherwise than give it up, but that if he had taken a higher tone in his speech, and treated it as a compact fixed and agreed upon, which nothing could shake, and to which he was irrevocably pledged, he would have carried the House with him, and have got a larger majority. But the truth is that the House of Commons is in such a state that it is next to impossible to say what Ministers can or ought to do, or what the House will do. There is no such thing as a great party knit together by community of opinion, ‘idem sentientes de republicâ.’ The Government conciliate no attachment, command no esteem and respect, and have no following. Althorp is liked, Stanley admired, but people devote themselves to neither; every man is thinking of what he shall say to his constituents, and how his vote will be taken, and everything goes on (as it were) from hand to mouth; by fits and starts the House of Commons seems rational and moderate, and then they appear one day subservient to the Ministers, another riotous, unruly, and fierce, ready to abolish the Bishops and crush the House of Lords, and to vote anything that is violent. The Tories in the House of Commons are lukewarm, angry, frightened: they say, Why should we come and support a Government that won’t support itself? the Government from weakness or facility, or motives of personal feeling and partiality, suffers itself to be bearded and thwarted by its own people, and does nothing. Duncannon, on the triennial motion the other night, stayed in the House of Lords and would not vote, there are some half-dozen of them whose votes the Ministerial bench cannot count upon. Then it is no small aggravation to the present difficult state of things that Stanley does not appear to be a man of much moral political firmness and courage, a timid politician, ignavus adversum lupos. He is bold and spirited against individuals, but timid against bodies, and with respect to results. Labouchere went to him some time ago, and told him that it was evident a feeling was growing up in the House of Commons against this Apprenticeship clause, and that he had better make up his mind early what course he should pursue, that if he meant to stand to it they would support him, but if not, he had better give it up early and from foresight rather than from necessity at last, but above all, not to drag them through the mire by making them support him, and then throwing them over. He declared he would stand to his clause. They supported him, and he threw them over. This will not do for a man who aspires to be leader, and Sandon told me last night that men would not be led by him, in spite of his talents, that when Althorp went under Stanley’s banner the friends of Government would not enlist. God only knows how it all will end, and out of such a mass of confusion, of so much violence and folly and weakness, and the working of so many bad passions, what will result, but any day the chance becomes less of the elements of disorder being resolved into a state of tranquillity and good government. It is every day more apparent that with such a House of Commons, so elected, so acted upon, no Government can feel secure; none can undertake with confidence to carry on the affairs of the country. It is difficult to describe the state of agitation into which the minds of people of all persuasions are thrown by the continual recurrence of these little events, of the feeling of insecurity, of doubt, of apprehension which pervades all classes. Nobody thinks the present Government can go on, at the same time they can see no party and no individual who could go on as well if they were to retire. The present House of Commons it is found impossible to manage, but it is believed that in the event of a dissolution another would be much worse; in short, all is chaos, confusion, and uncertainty, and the only thing in which all parties agree is that things are very bad, and every day getting worse.
I dined the day before yesterday with old Lady Cork, to meet the Bonapartes. There were Joseph, Lucien, Lucien’s daughter, the widow of Louis Bonaparte, Hortense’s son,[5] the THE BONAPARTES. Dudley Stuarts, Belhavens, Rogers, Lady Clarendon, and Lady Davy and myself; not very amusing, but curious to see these two men, one of whom would not be a King, when he might have chosen almost any crown he pleased (conceive, for instance, having refused the kingdom of Naples), and the other, who was first King of Naples and then King of Spain, commanded armies, and had the honour of being defeated at Vittoria by the Duke of Wellington. There they sat, these brothers of Napoleon, who once trampled upon all Europe, and at whose feet the potentates of the earth bowed, two simple, plain-looking, civil, courteous, smiling gentlemen. They say Lucien is a very agreeable man, Joseph nothing. Joseph is a caricature of Napoleon in his latter days, at least so I guess from the pictures. He is taller, stouter, with the same sort of face, but without the expression, and particularly without the eagle eye. Lucien looked as if he had once been like him, that is, his face in shape is like the pictures of Napoleon when he was thin and young, but Lucien is a very large, tall man. They talked little, but stayed on in the evening, when there was a party, and received very civilly all the people who were presented to them. There was not the slightest affectation of royalty in either. Lucien, indeed, had no occasion for any, but a man who had ruled over two kingdoms might be excused for betraying something of his former condition, but, on the contrary, everything regal that he ever had about him seemed to have been merged in his American citizenship, and he looked more like a Yankee cultivator than a King of Spain and the Indies. Though there was nothing to see in Joseph, who is, I believe, a very mediocre personage, I could not help gazing at him, and running over in my mind the strange events in which he had been concerned in the course of his life, and regarding him as a curiosity, and probably as the most extraordinary living instance of the freaks of fortune and instability of human grandeur.
[5] [This must have been the Emperor Napoleon III.]
The Duke of Sutherland is dead, a leviathan of wealth. I believe he is the richest individual who ever died, and I should like to know what his property amounts to, out of pure curiosity.
July 27th, 1833
This affair in the House of Lords blew over. The Patriots at Brookes’ were loud in their indignation, and talked nonsense about dignity and resignation, and so forth, but Lord Grey took the better course, and came down to the House with a lecture, conceived in mild yet firm language, and announced his intention of going on with the Bill. Accordingly they got through the Committee last night without further obstructions. The amendment is in fact so trivial that I don’t think he will attempt to re-establish the original clause on the report, and if he does not, the Commons (I am told) will not either.
August 7th, 1833
At Goodwood from Saturday se’nnight to Saturday last. Magnificent weather, numerous assemblage, tolerable racing, but I did not win the great cup, which I ought to have won, a most vile piece of ill luck, but good fortune seems to have deserted me, and the most I can do is not to lose.
George Villiers is appointed to Madrid, but he tells me that he can neither see nor hear from Palmerston, that though his appointment is in everybody’s mouth it has never been notified to him. All this negligence is because our Foreign Secretary is engaged in the conferences, in which, however, he gives no greater satisfaction to those he is concerned with, for Talleyrand complains that he invariably makes them wait from one to two hours, and Dedel says that his manner is so insulting towards the Dutch nation and King, and that on every occasion he acts with so much partiality towards Belgium, that it is with the greatest difficulty he can transact business with him at all. They say the Duke of Wellington has scarcely missed a day during this session in his attendance on the House of Lords, always in his place from the beginning to the end of the debates, speaking and evidently preparing himself on every subject, doing duty as the head of a party.
August 8th, 1833
Met Lord Grey in the street; he said this session had nearly done him up, and he must have repose, GEORGE VILLIERS MINISTER AT MADRID. he talked of Portugal, of the desirableness of getting rid of Pedro, and of putting Palmella at the head of the Government. I said he must take care they did not establish too liberal a Government. He replied the Portuguese certainly were not fit for any such thing, and that the constitution had undoubtedly done all the mischief; spoke of the Duke of Wellington, and of his being always in the House of Lords, speaking on anything, and generally not well, that he had made a most tiresome bad speech on the India Charter question, etc. Brougham’s Privy Council Bill has, I perceive, passed the House of Commons, having gone through both Houses without a syllable said upon it in either.
George Villiers is at last acknowledged Minister to Madrid. He told me he was with Palmerston at his house yesterday morning, and was much struck with his custom of receiving all his numerous visitors and applicants in the order in which they arrive, be their rank what it may. Neumann told him he had never known him vary in this practice, or deviate from it in anybody’s favour. It is a merit. There seems little danger of any movement on the part of Spain, for Zea Bermudez (Palmerston told George Villiers) is struck to the earth by the events in Portugal, and only anxious to curry favour with England.
August 15th, 1833
At Council yesterday to swear in James Parke and Bosanquet (who did not come) Privy Councillors, in order to carry into operation the Chancellor’s new Bill for the establishment of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council.
August 20th, 1833
To Stoke on Saturday with Creevey and Lemarchant, the Chancellor’s secretary. The Chancellor and others of the Ministry were to have come, but they all dined at Blackwall. Brougham, Plunket, and John Russell came the next day. Brougham is not so talkative as he was; his dignities, his labours, and the various cares of his situation have dashed his gaiety, and pressed down his once elastic spirits; however, he was not otherwise than cheerful and lively. Plunket I never met before, he was pretty much at his ease, and talked sufficiently without exhibiting anything remarkable. Lemarchant is a clever, industrious fellow, whom I remember at Eton. The Chancellor’s secretaryship must be no sinecure, and he has particularly distinguished himself by his reports of the debates in the House of Commons. He goes there every night, and forwards to the Chancellor from time to time an account of the debate, and the manner of it, very well executed indeed. He talked to me of Brougham’s labours and their intensity, which put me in mind of his gasconading to Sefton a year or two ago about his idleness, and finding the Great Seal a mere plaything; Lemarchant said that by severe and constant application he had made himself very tolerably acquainted with equity law, and very extensively with cases. I find from Sefton that he means to propose next year that his salary should be reduced to 8,000ℓ. a year, and that the new Equity Judges should be paid out of what he now has. I believe he is liberal about money, and not careless, but I have some doubts whether this project will be executed. Lemarchant told me that the cause of Sugden’s inveterate animosity against Brougham was this—that in a debate in the House of Commons, Sugden in his speech took occasion to speak of Mr. Fox, and said that he had no great respect for his authority, on which Brougham merely said, loud enough to be heard all over the House, and in that peculiar tone which strikes like a dagger, ‘Poor Fox.’ The words, the tone, were electrical, everybody burst into roars of laughter, Sugden was so overwhelmed that he said afterwards it was with difficulty he could go on, and he vowed that he never could forgive this sarcasm.
Sefton talked to me of Brougham’s reluctance when the Government was formed to take the Great Seal; after they had offered him the Attorney-Generalship, which he so indignantly refused, they sent Sefton to cajole him and get him to take the Seal. He wanted to be made Master of the Rolls, and left in the House of Commons, the Seal being put in Commission. This they would not hear of, naturally enough not choosing to exist at his mercy in the House of Commons, and rely upon his doubtful and capricious support. It was very well for him to act the part of Atlas, and bear LORD BROUGHAM AS CHANCELLOR. the Government on his shoulders, but they shrewdly enough guessed that they would not ride on them very comfortably, that they would be considerably jolted, and perhaps at last shoved off. He, on the other hand, would not suffer anybody to be Chancellor but himself; and at last, with many misgivings, he yielded to the gentle violence which would make him the first officer of the Crown. Great was his lamentation at this necessity. ‘How,’ he said, ‘am I fallen! As member for Yorkshire in the House of Commons, what a position was mine.’ Sefton tried to comfort him by representing that ‘the fall’ upon the woolsack was somewhat of the softest, and that a few years ago he would not have considered it so grievous a misfortune if it had been foretold him that he should be seated there at such a time.
After dinner on Sunday Brougham talked of the Reform Bill and its first appearance in the House of Commons. He said that once allowed to take root there it could not be crushed, and that their only opportunity was thrown away by the Tories. Had Peel risen at once and declared that he would not even discuss such a measure, that it was revolution, and opposed its being brought in, he would have thrown it out, and if he had then come down with a moderate measure, it would have satisfied the country for the time. This is exactly what William Banks said to me last year, and the very thing Peel had intended to do, and from which he was deterred by Granville Somerset. The Duke of Wellington has continued to attend in the House of Lords day after day, proposing alterations and amendments to all the Bills, evidently reading hard, and preparing himself for each occasion, always loaded with papers. Lyndhurst said to somebody, ‘I shall attend no more, what’s the use of it? The Duke comes down every day, and tries to make the Bills better; if I could make them worse, I would come too.’
August 22nd, 1833
Called on Madame de Lieven yesterday, who is just come back from Petersburg, rayonnante at her reception and treatment. The Emperor went out to sea to meet her, took her into his own boat, when they landed he drove her to the palace, and carried her into the Empress’s room, who was en chemise. She told me a comical anecdote illustrative of the good humour of the Emperor (who, she says, is an angel), and of the free and frank reception he gives to strangers. In the midst of some splendid military fêtes, which terminated with a sham siege by 50,000 of his guards the last day, word was brought him that two strange-looking men had presented themselves at the lines, and requested to be allowed to see what was going on. They said they were English, had come from Scotland on purpose to see the Russian manœuvres, and had started from Petersburg under the direction of a laquais de place, who had conducted them to where they heard the firing of the cannon. The Emperor ordered them to be admitted, received them with the greatest civility, and desired apartments to be prepared for them in the palace (Peterhof), at the same time inviting them to dine with him, and be present at a ball he gave at night. She said that one was a Don Quixote sort of figure; they called themselves Johnstone. The Emperor asked her if she knew them. She said no, but that there were many of that name in England. There they remained, enchanted, astonished, behaving, however, perfectly well. After seeing all the sights, they were one evening led into a great hall, where all sorts of pastimes were going on, and among others a Montagne Russe (of which the Emperor is passionately fond). He is a very tall powerful man, and his way is to be placed at the top of the machine, when a man mounts astride on his shoulders, and another on his, and so on till there are fourteen; when a signal is given, with the rapidity of lightning down they go. On this occasion the Emperor took the Johnstones on his back, and she says their astonishment at the position they occupied, and at the rapidity of the descent, was beyond everything amusing. They were asked how they liked it, and they said they thought it ‘very good fun,’ and should like to begin again. So they were allowed to divert themselves in this way for an hour. Bligh told her afterwards that these men returned to Petersburg their heads turned, and utterly bewildered with, such an unexpected reception.
AFFAIRS OF PORTUGAL. In her serious talk the Princess said that the Emperor was full of moderation and desire for peace, ‘s’il y a des orages ce ne sera pas de ce côté qu’ils viendront,’ that he could not comprehend the English Parliament, nor the sort of language which was held there about him, that he was ‘le plus généreux, le plus humain, le meilleur des hommes,’ that they believed all the lies which were ‘débités sur les affaires de Pologne, qui enfin est notre affaire, qu’il était peu connu ici, qu’elle avait vu en Russie beaucoup de respects, beaucoup d’amour pour l’Empereur, et voilà tout.’ In short, she is returned in a state of intoxication, and her adoration for the Emperor is only exceeded by that which she has for the Empress.
August 24th, 1833
Matters have taken a bad turn in Portugal. Bourmont is marching on Lisbon with 18,000 men, ‘regna il terror nella citta.’ William Russell, in a fit of enthusiasm, says, ‘the capital must be saved even at the hazard of a war.’ Admiral Parker says he shall land 1,200 marines and make them occupy the forts. Our Government are in great confusion and alarm, and have despatched a swift steamer to Parker to desire him to do no such thing; but the steamer will probably arrive too late, and if Bourmont is really there, we shall cut a pretty figure with our non-intervention, for Parker will probably have to surrender the forts to Miguel. I dined with Talleyrand yesterday, who is furious, laughing non-intervention to scorn; and he told me he had for the last ten days been endeavouring to get the Government to take a decided part. What he advised was that we should recognise Donna Maria and the Regency appointed by the Charter; that is, Donna Isabella Regent, with a Council to be comprised of Palmella, Villa Flor, and any other; that our Minister should be directed to acknowledge no other government, and at the same time concert with Palmella that Pedro should be sent away, and the constitution be suspended till the Queen shall be of age. Pedro has committed, since he was in Lisbon, every folly and atrocity he could squeeze into so small a space of time; imprisoning, confiscating, granting monopolies, attacking the Church, and putting forth the constitution in its most offensive shape. I suspect we shall have made a sad mess of this business.
Just come from the Duke of Wellington; talked about Portugal and the intercepted letters; the writer said that he (the Duke) had told Neumann he approved of Bourmont’s going, whereas he thought it an objectionable nomination, because he had formerly deserted from the Portuguese service.[6] He had never had any communication with these agents, and did not believe Aberdeen had had any either: he said Lisbon was more defensible than Oporto, but required more men. Talking of Miguel, the Duke related that he was at Strathfieldsaye with Palmella, where in the library they were settling the oath that Miguel should take, Miguel would pay no attention, and instead of going into the business and saying what oath he would consent to take (the question was whether he should swear fidelity to Pedro or to Maria) he sat flirting with the Princess Thérèse Esterhazy. The Duke said to Palmella, ‘This will never do, he must settle the terms of the oath, and if he is so careless in an affair of such moment, he will never do his duty.’ Palmella said, ‘Oh, leave him to us, we will manage him.’ He had no idea of overturning the constitution and playing false when he went there, but was persuaded by his mother and terrified by the lengths to which the constitutional party was disposed to go. The Duke said the Government would be very foolish to interfere for Pedro, who was a ruffian, and for the constitution, which was odious, and that Pedro would never have more than the ground he stood on; talked of our foreign policy, his anxiety for peace, but of France as our ‘natural enemy!’ and of the importance of maintaining our influence in Spain, which so long as we did we should have nothing to fear from France.
[6] Bourmont was an emigrant, and went into the Portuguese service. When Junot came to Portugal he joined him, was taken into the French service, in which he continued to rise, till he deserted just before the battle of Waterloo from Napoleon to Louis XVIII.
September 3rd, 1833
On Wednesday last when the King’s speech was read there was no Council. Brougham brought RESULTS OF THE REFORM BILL. Sir Alexander Johnston, formerly Chief Justice in Ceylon, to be sworn a Privy Councillor without giving any notice, consequently I was not there. The King, therefore, comes again to-morrow on purpose, and, what is unpleasant, desired a Clerk of the Council might always be in attendance when there was anything going on. This, I suppose, His Majesty will repeat to me himself to-morrow. The Parliament is at last up; it was a fine sight the day the King went down, the weather splendid, and park full of people, with guards mounted and dismounted, making a picturesque show. He was very coolly received, for there is no doubt there never was a King less respected. George IV., with all his occasional unpopularity, could always revive the external appearance of loyalty when he gave himself the trouble.
The Parliament is up, and not before people were dead sick of it, and had dropped out of town one by one till hardly any Parliament was left. It may be worth while to take a little survey of the present condition of things as compared with what it was a few months ago, and consider at this resting time what has been the practical effect of the great measure of Reform, without going very deeply into the question. The Reform Bill was carried in toto, the Tories having contrived that everything that was attempted should be gained by the Reformers. No excuse, therefore, was left for the Parliament, and if ‘the people’ did not choose a good one it was their own fault. It was chosen, and when it met was found to be composed of a majority of supporters of the present Government, a certain number of Tories, not enough to be powerful, and many Radicals, who soon proved to be wholly inefficient. It speedily became manifest that in point of ability it was not only inferior to the last, but perhaps to any Parliament that has sat for many years. There were 350 new members (or some such number), but not one man among them of shining or remarkable talent; Cobbett, Silk, Buckingham, Roebuck, and such men soon found their level and sunk into insignificance. The House appeared at first to be very unruly, not under the command of Government, talkative, noisy, and ill-constituted for the transaction of business. After a little while it got better in this respect, the majority, however, though evidently determined to support Government, would not be commanded by it, and even men in place often took up crotchets of their own, and voted against Government measures; but whenever the Ministers seemed to be in danger they always found efficient support, and on the Malt Tax the House even stultified itself to uphold them. As the session proceeded the men who gained reputation and established the greatest personal influence were Peel and Stanley; Macaulay rather lost than gained; Althorp lost entirely, but the weight of his blunders and unfitness could not sink him, his personal character and good humour always buoyed him up. The great measures, some of the greatest that any Parliament ever dealt with, were got through with marvellous facility. They did not for the most part come on till late in the session, when the House had got tired, and the East India Charter Bill was carried through most of the stages in empty Houses. The measures have generally evinced a Conservative character, and the Parliament has not shown any disposition to favour subversive principles or to encourage subversive language. It has been eminently liberal in point of money, granting all that Ministers asked without the slightest difficulty; twenty millions for the West Indians, a million for the Irish clergy, were voted almost by acclamation. Hume cut no figure in this Parliament. Notwithstanding apprehensions and predictions the Government has contrived to carry on the business of the country very successfully, and great reforms have been accomplished in every department of the State, which do not seem liable to any serious objections, and in the midst of many troubles, of much complaining and bickering; the country has been advancing in prosperity, and recovering rapidly from the state of sickly depression in which it lay at the end of last year. It is fair to compare the state of affairs now and then, merely reciting facts, and let the praise rest where it may, whether it be due to the wisdom of men or the result of that disposition to right itself which SURVEY OF THE STATE OF AFFAIRS. has always appeared inherent in the British commonwealth. Some months ago there appeared every prospect of a war in Europe; the French were in Belgium, whence many predicted they would never be got away; Ireland was in a flame, every post brought the relation of fresh horrors and atrocities; in England trade was low, alarm and uncertainty prevalent, and a general disquietude pervaded the nation, some fearing and others desiring change, some expecting, others dreading the great things which a Reformed Parliament would do. The session is over, and a Reformed Parliament turns out to be very much like every other Parliament, except that it is rather differently and somewhat less ably composed than its predecessors. The hopes and the fears of mankind have been equally disappointed, and after all the clamour, confusion, riots, conflagrations, furies, despair, and triumphs through which we have arrived at this consummation, up to the present time, at least, matters remain pretty much as they were, except that the Whigs have got possession of the power which the Tories have lost. We continue at peace, and with every prospect of so being for some time, we are on good terms with France, and by degrees inducing the French to extend their incipient principles of free trade, to the benefit of both countries. In Ireland there never has been a period for many years when the country was so quiet; it may not last, but so it is at the present moment. In England trade flourishes, running in a deep and steady stream, there are improvement and employment in all its branches. The landed interest has suffered and suffers still, but the wages of labour have not fallen with the rents of landlords, and the agricultural labourers were never better off. Generally there is a better spirit abroad, less discontent, greater security, and those vague apprehensions are lulled to rest which when in morbid activity, carrying themselves from one object to another, are partly the cause and partly the effect of an evil state of things. We hear nothing now of associations, unions, and public meetings, and (compared with what it was) the world seems in a state of repose.
CHAPTER XXII.
The Speaker a Knight of the Bath — Lord Wellesley Lord Lieutenant of Ireland — M. Thiers in England — Prince Esterhazy’s Opinion of the State of England — Queen of Portugal at Windsor — The Duke of Leuchtenberg — Macaulay and Sydney Smith — Brougham’s Anecdotes of Queen Caroline — Judicial Committee of the Privy Council — Sir Stratford Canning and M. Dedel — Sydney Smith and the ‘Siege of Saragossa’ — Edward Irving — The Unknown Tongues — Tribute to Lord Eldon — W. J. Fox — Lord Tavistock on the Prospects of his Party — Moore at the State Paper Office — Russia and England — Belvoir Castle — The Duke of Wellington at Belvoir — Visit to Mrs. Arkwright — Sir Thomas Lawrence and the Misses Siddons — A Murder at Runton — Sandon — Lord and Lady Harrowby — Burghley — Railroads talked of — Gloomy Tory Prognostications — State of Spain — Parliament opens — Quarrel of Sheil and Lord Althorp — Unpopularity of Lord Palmerston — Mrs. Somerville — O’Connell’s Attack on Baron Smith — Lord Althorp’s Budget — The Pension List — Lord Althorp as Leader of the House — Sir R. Peel’s Position in the House — Meeting of Supporters of Government — Mr. Villiers on the State of Spain — Predicament of Horne, the Attorney-General.
September 5th, 1833
At Court yesterday, the Speaker[1] was made a Knight of the Bath to his great delight. It is a reward for his conduct during the Session, in which he has done Government good and handsome service. He told them before it began that he would undertake to ride the new House, but it must be with a snaffle bridle. Bosanquet and Sir Alexander Johnston were made Privy Councillors to sit in the Chancellor’s new Court. The Privy Council is as numerous as a moderate-sized club, and about as well composed. Awful storms these last few days, and enormous damage done, the weather like the middle of winter.
[1] [Rt. Hon. Manners Sutton, afterwards Viscount Canterbury.]
September 6th, 1833
Yesterday the announcement of Lord LORD WELLESLEY. Wellesley’s appointment to be Lord Lieutenant of Ireland was received with as great astonishment as I ever saw. Once very brilliant, probably never very efficient, he is now worn out and effete. It is astonishing that they should send such a man, and one does not see why, because it is difficult to find a good man, they should select one of the very worst they could hit upon. It is a ridiculous appointment, which is the most objectionable of all. For years past he has lived entirely out of the world. He comes to the House of Lords, and talks of making a speech every now and then, of which he is never delivered, and he comes to Court, where he sits in a corner and talks (as those who know him say) with as much fire and liveliness as ever, and with the same neat, shrewd causticity that formerly distinguished him; but such scintillations as these prove nothing as to his fitness for business and government, and as he was quite unfit for these long ago, it is scarcely to be supposed that retirement and increased age and infirmities should have made him less so now.[2] They have judiciously waited till Parliament is up before the appointment was made known. Lord Wellesley is said to be in the hands of Blake the Remembrancer, a dangerous Jesuitical fellow.
[2] [This opinion of Lord Wellesley was, however, speedily changed by his successful and vigorous administration of Ireland. See infra, November 14th.]
September 10th, 1833
At Gorhambury on Saturday till Monday. Dined on Friday with Talleyrand, a great dinner to M. Thiers, the French Minister of Commerce, a little man, about as tall as Sheil, and as mean and vulgar looking, wearing spectacles, and with a squeaking voice. He was editor of the ‘National,’ an able writer, and one of the principal instigators of the Revolution of July. It is said that he is a man of great ability and a good speaker, more in the familiar English than the bombastical French style. Talleyrand has a high opinion of him. He wrote a history of the Revolution, which he now regrets; it is well done, but the doctrine of fatalism which he puts forth in it he thinks calculated to injure his reputation as a statesman. I met him again at dinner at Talleyrand’s yesterday with another great party, and last night he started on a visit to Birmingham and Liverpool.
After dinner on Friday I had rather a curious conversation with Esterhazy, who said he wanted to know what I thought of the condition of this country. I told him that I thought everything was surprisingly improved, and gave my reasons for thinking so. He then went off and said that these were his opinions also, and he had written home in this strain, that Neumann had deceived his Government, giving them very different accounts, that it was no use telling them what they might wish to hear, but that he was resolved to tell them the truth, and make them understand how greatly they were deceiving themselves if they counted upon the decadence or want of power of this country; a great deal more of the same sort, which proves that the Austrian Court were all on the qui vive to find out that we are paralysed, and that their political conduct is in fact influenced by their notion of our actual position. They probably hardly knew what they would be at, but their hatred and dread of revolutionary principles are so great that they are always on the watch for a good opportunity of striking a blow at them, which they know they can only do through England and France. They would therefore willingly believe that the political power of England is diminished, and Neumann, who wrote in the spirit of a disappointed Tory rather than of an impartial Foreign Minister, no doubt flattered their desires in this respect. Last night I sat by Dedel, the Dutch Minister, who told me he knew Neumann had given very false accounts (not intentionally) to his Government, that Wessenberg took much juster views, and he (Dedel) agreed with Esterhazy, who said that nobody could understand this country who had not had long experience of it, and that he found it impossible to make his Government comprehend it, or give entire credit to what he said. Dedel told me that Holland is ruined, that the day of reckoning will come, when they will discover what a state of bankruptcy they are in, that the spirit of the nation had QUEEN OF PORTUGAL IN ENGLAND. been kept up by excitement, and that therein lay the dexterity of the King and his Government, but that this factitious enthusiasm was rapidly passing away. They now pay fifty millions of florins interest of debt, about four millions sterling, and their population is not above two millions.
The young Queen of Portugal goes to Windsor to-day. The King was at first very angry at her coming to England, but when he found that Louis Philippe had treated her with incivility, he changed his mind, and resolved to receive her with great honours. He hates Louis Philippe and the French with a sort of Jack Tar animosity. The other day he gave a dinner to one of the regiments at Windsor, and as usual he made a parcel of foolish speeches, in one of which, after descanting upon their exploits in Spain against the French, he went on: ‘Talking of France, I must say that whether at peace or at war with that country, I shall always consider her as our natural enemy, and whoever may be her King or ruler, I shall keep a watchful eye for the purpose of repressing her ambitious encroachments.’ If he was not such an ass that nobody does anything but laugh at what he says, this would be very important. Such as he is, it is nothing. ‘What can you expect’ (as I forget who said) ‘from a man with a head like a pineapple?’ His head is just of that shape.
The history of the French King’s behaviour is that he wanted the young Queen of Portugal to marry the Duke de Nemours, and when he found that impossible (for we should have opposed it) he proposed Prince Charles of Naples, his nephew. This was likewise rejected. The Emperor Don Pedro wants the Duke of Leuchtenberg, his wife’s brother, to marry her.[3] This Duke went to Havre the other day, where the Préfet refused to admit him, though he went with (or to) his sister, pleading the law excluding Napoleon’s family. He went to the Préfet to say that he protested against such application of the law, but, as he would not make any disturbance there, desired to have his passports visé for Munich, and off he went. At the same time he wrote a letter to Palmerston, which George Villiers, to whom Palmerston showed it, told me was exceedingly good. He said that though he did not know Palmerston he ventured to address him, as the Minister of the greatest and freest country in the world, for the purpose of explaining what had happened, and to clear himself from the misrepresentations that would be made as to his motives and intentions in joining his sister; that it was true that Don Pedro had wished him to marry his daughter, and that he had written him a letter, of which he enclosed a copy. This was a very well written letter, begging the Emperor to pause and consider of this projected match, and setting forth all the reasons why it might not be advantageous for her; in short, Villiers says, exhibiting a very remarkable degree of disinterestedness, and of longsighted views with regard to the situation of Portugal and the general politics of Europe.
[3] [Queen Donna Maria did eventually many the young Duke of Leuchtenberg, son of Prince Eugène Beauharnais and a Bavarian Princess. But he survived his marriage only a few months, and died of a fever at Lisbon.]
He told me another anecdote at the same time. Palmerston showed him a letter he had received from Charles Napier, in which, talking of the possible interference of Spain, he said; ‘Your Lordship knows that I have only to sail with my fleet (enumerating a respectable squadron of different sizes) to Cadiz, and I can create a revolution in five minutes throughout the whole South of Spain.’ Palmerston seems to have been a little amused and a little alarmed at this fanfaronade, in which there is, however, a great deal of truth. He said that of course they should not allow Napier to do any such thing, but as nothing else could prevent him if we did not, the Spaniards may be made to understand that we shall not be at the trouble of muzzling this bull-dog if they do not behave with civility and moderation.
London, November 13th, 1833
Nothing written for nearly two months. I remained in town till the end of September, when I went to Newmarket, and afterwards to Buckenham, where I met Sir Robert Peel. He is very SYDNEY SMITH AND MACAULAY. agreeable in society, it is a toss up whether he talks or not, but if he thaws, and is in good humour and spirits, he is lively, entertaining, and abounding in anecdotes, which he tells extremely well. I came back to town on Friday last, the 8th, dined with the Poodle, and found Rogers, Moore, and Westmacott (the son); a very agreeable dinner. On Sunday dined with Rogers, Moore, Sydney Smith, Macaulay. Sydney less vivacious than usual, and somewhat overpowered and talked down by what Moore called the ‘flumen sermonis’ of Macaulay. Sydney calls Macaulay ‘a book in breeches.’ All that this latter says, all that he writes, exhibits his great powers and astonishing information, but I don’t think he is agreeable. It is more than society requires, and not exactly of the kind; his figure, face, voice, and manner are all bad; he astonishes and instructs, he sometimes entertains, seldom amuses, and still seldomer pleases. He wants variety, elasticity, gracefulness; his is a roaring torrent, and not a meandering stream of talk. I believe we would all of us have been glad to exchange some of his sense for some of Sydney Smith’s nonsense. He told me that he had read Sir Charles Grandison fifteen times!
Not a word of news, political or other; the Ministers are all come, Spain and Portugal potter on with their civil contests and create uneasiness, though of a languid kind. I came to town for a meeting at the Council Office, the first under Brougham’s new Bill, to make rules and regulations for the proceedings of the Court. All the lawyers attended, not much done, but there do not seem to be any great difficulties. There was Brougham, with Leach next him, and Lyndhurst opposite, all smirks and civility, he and Leach quite fondling one another. Dined yesterday with Stanley, who gave me a commission to bet a hundred for him on Bentley against Berbastes for the Derby, and talked of racing after dinner with as much zest as if he was on the turf. Who (to see him and hear him thus) would take him for the greatest orator and statesman of the day?
November 14th, 1833
Dined with Sefton yesterday; after dinner came in the Chancellor in good humour and spirits; talked of Lord Wellesley, who, since he has been in Ireland, has astonished everybody by his activity and assiduity in business. He appeared, before he went, in the last stage of decrepitude, and they had no idea the energy was in him; but they say he is quite a new man, and it is not merely a splash, but real and bonâ-fide business that he does. The Chancellor talked over some of the passages of the Queen’s trial, to which he loves to revert. It was about the liturgy. The negotiations which had taken place at Apsley House between the Duke of Wellington and Lord Castlereagh on one part and Brougham and Denman on the other were broken off on that point. It was then agreed to refer the matter to others; the Duke and Castlereagh were to meet Lord Fitzwilliam and Sefton; a queer choice, old Fitzwilliam a driveller, and Sefton, with all his sharpness, totally unfit for the office of negotiator in a grave matter. He can’t be grave, life itself is to him a plaything; but the night before they were to meet, Fitzwilliam took fright, and backed out. Notice was sent to the other party, but they did not get it, owing to some mistake. In the morning Brougham came to Sefton and asked him to drive him up to the Queen’s house, and as they passed through Grosvenor Square, to their amazement they saw Wellington and Castlereagh alighting (full dressed for the levée) at Lord Fitzwilliam’s door. Sefton went into the house, and found them already in the dining-room, the table covered with papers, when an explanation ensued, on which they had to bundle up their papers again and trot off.
When the deputation from the House of Commons went up with the address to the Queen, entreating her to come to terms (Banks, Wortley, Acland, and Wilberforce), she had got all her Council assembled, and before receiving the deputation from the Commons, she asked their advice. Brougham said that she was disposed to acquiesce, but wanted them to advise her to do so, and that her intention was, if they had, to act on that advice, but to save her popularity by throwing the odium on them, and devoting them to popular execration. He therefore resolved, and his brethren BROUGHAM’S ANECDOTES OF QUEEN CAROLINE. likewise, to give no advice at all; and when she turned to him, and said, ‘What do you think I ought to do?’ he replied, in a sort of speech which he gave very comically, ‘Your Majesty is undoubtedly the best judge of the answer you ought to give, and I am certain that your own feelings will point out to you the proper course.’ ‘Well, but what is your opinion?’ ‘Madam, I certainly have a strong opinion on the subject, but I think there cannot be a shadow of doubt of what your Majesty ought to do, and there can be no doubt your Majesty’s admirable sense will suggest to you what that opinion is.’ ‘Humph,’ said she, and flung from him; turning to Denman, ‘And Mr. Solicitor, what is your opinion?’ ‘Madam, I concur entirely in that which has been expressed by the Attorney-General;’ and so they all repeated. She was furious, and being left to herself she resolved not to agree. Sefton was on horseback among the crowd which was waiting impatiently to hear the result of the interview and her determination. He had agreed with Brougham that as soon as she had made up her mind he should come to the window and make him a sign. He was to stroke his chin if she refused, and do something else, I forget what, if she agreed. Accordingly arrived Brougham at the window, all in gown and wig, and as soon as he caught Sefton’s eye began stroking his chin. This was enough for Sefton, who (as he declares) immediately began telling people in the crowd who were wondering and doubting and hoping that they might rely upon it she would ‘stand by them,’ and not accept the terms.
November 21st, 1833
Another meeting at the Council Office the day before yesterday. The Chancellor arranging everything, but proposing many things which meet with opposition, wants people to be allowed to plead in formâ pauperis before the Privy Council, which they object to. I have doubts whether this Court will work well after all, and foresee great difficulty about the rota; everybody had something to prevent their attendance; however we meet on the 27th for the despatch of business. I have just finished ‘Clarissa;’ never was so interested or affected by any book.
November 28th, 1833
Yesterday the first meeting under Brougham’s new Bill of ‘the Judicial Committee,’ the Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Baron Parke, Justice Bosanquet, and Erskine (Chief Judge in Bankruptcy). I can’t perceive that matters are likely to go on a bit better than when one Judge sat there, though the Chancellor endeavours to confer all the importance he can on his Committee, that he may hereafter figure there himself. There has been a lively controversy between the Whig and Tory papers, of which he has been the object, the former lauding his law reforms, the latter attacking his judicial incompetence. It is actually true that hardly any original causes are brought before him, and he has little business except appeals which must come into his Court. He feels himself every day in a more unpleasant predicament, and of course has a growing impatience to get rid of his judicial duties. That he will by a series of tricks wriggle out of them there can be no doubt, for just now he can do whatever he pleases. What he wants is to be Prime Minister; his restless and versatile mind will then find sufficient occupation, and there is no department of Government which he does not think himself capable of presiding over, leaving as he would do all troublesome details to be worked out by others.
November 30th, 1833
A long sitting of our Court yesterday. The Chancellor comes regularly. Jenner (the King’s Advocate) told me that he believed the Chancellor’s object was to transfer all appeals from the House of Lords to the Privy Council. Lyndhurst (whom I met at Mrs. Fox’s) said that it was quite true that he had no business in his own Court, for nobody would plead there, that he wanted to be Prime Minister, retaining the emoluments and patronage of the Great Seal, and getting rid of its duties. There can be no doubt that he does, and if Lord Grey dies, or is ill (in which case he will resign), he probably will succeed. It is amusing to see Brougham’s tricks in small things; his present object is to raise the Judicial Committee as much as he can, and bring all the business there he can collect; in order to increase the appeals he proposed to allow of them from the STRATFORD CANNING AND DEDEL. Indian Courts in formâ pauperis. This, however, was strenuously resisted by all the Judges and others present, and as he always takes the lead in all discussions relating to rules and regulations, when he found that the unanimous opinion of the Committee was the other way, he turned himself round and argued against his own proposal, stating or anticipating the objections of the others, just insinuating incidentally counter-arguments, and ending by letting the question remain in abeyance.
Madame de Lieven told me an anecdote of Stratford Canning which highly delighted her, because it justified the resistance which the Court of Russia made to his nomination to that Embassy. The other day Dedel called on Palmerston. When shown into the waiting-room, he said, ‘Tell Lord Palmerston that the Dutch Minister will be glad to see him,’ when a man who was there, and whom he did not know, jumped up and said, ‘And I desire you will tell Lord Palmerston that I have been waiting here these two hours, and that I expect to see him before anybody else;’ and then, turning to Dedel, ‘Sir, this is too bad; two persons have been already shown in to Lord Palmerston, both of whom came after me, and I expect that you will not go in to his Lordship till after me.’ Dedel, who is the mildest and civillest of men, replied, ‘Sir, far be it from me to dispute your right, and I assure you I have no desire to go in before you, but I only beg that if Lord Palmerston should send for me first you will understand that I cannot help going;’ and then the other, ‘Sir, I am Sir Stratford Canning.’ ‘And I am Mr. Dedel.’ This extraordinary scene he told Madame de Lieven, not knowing what had passed about the mission. Touching that affair, there is an understanding that he shall not go there, and no other Ambassador is to be named till it is quite convenient to Palmerston.
The day before yesterday I met Sydney Smith at dinner at Poodle Byng’s, when a conversation occurred which produced a curious coincidence. We were talking of Vaughan, the Minister in America, how dull he appeared, and yet how smart and successful had been ‘The Siege of Saragossa,’ which he published at the time of the Spanish war. Sydney Smith said that the truth was he had not written a word of it, and on being questioned further said that he was himself the author. Vaughan, who was a friend of his, had given him the materials, and he had composed the narrative. He then went on to say that it was not the only instance of the kind, for that the celebrated pamphlet which had been attributed to Lady Canning had not been written by her, not a word of it, that it had been written by Stapleton. I said that I had it in my power to contradict this, for that I had been privy to the composition of it, had seen the manuscript, and had at her request undertaken the task of revising and correcting it. Thus were two mistakes accidentally cleared up, by the circumstance of the only persons who could have explained them being present.
December 2nd, 1833
I went yesterday to Edward Irving’s chapel to hear him preach, and witness the exhibition of the tongues. The chapel was formerly West’s picture gallery, oblong, with a semicircular recess at one end; it has been fitted up with galleries all round, and in the semicircle there are tiers of benches, in front of which is a platform with an elevated chair for Irving himself, and a sort of desk before it; on each side the chair are three arm-chairs, on which three other preachers sat. The steps from the floor to the platform were occupied by men (whether peculiarly favoured or not I don’t know), but the seats behind Irving’s chair are evidently appropriated to the higher class of devotees, for they were the best dressed of the congregation. The business was conducted with decency, and the congregation was attentive. It began with a hymn, the words given out by one of the assistant preachers, and sung by the whole flock. This, which seems to be common to all dissenting services, is always very fine, the full swell of human voices producing a grand effect. After this Irving delivered a prayer, in a very slow drawling tone, rather long, and not at all striking in point of language or thought. When he had finished, one of the men sitting beside him arose, read a few verses from THE UNKNOWN TONGUES. the Bible, and discoursed thereon. He was a sorry fellow, and was followed by two others, not much better. After these three Spencer Perceval stood up. He recited the duty to our neighbour in the catechism, and descanted on that text in a style in all respects far superior to the others. He appeared about to touch on politics, and (as well as I recollect) was saying, ‘Ye trusted that your institutions were unalterable, ye believed that your loyalty to your King, your respect for your nobility, your’—when suddenly a low moaning noise was heard, on which he instantly stopped, threw his arm over his breast, and covered his eyes, in an attitude of deep devotion, as if oppressed by the presence of the spirit. The voice after ejaculating three ‘Oh’s,’ one rising above the other, in tones very musical, burst into a flow of unintelligible jargon, which, whether it was in English or in gibberish I could not discover. This lasted five or six minutes, and as the voice was silenced, another woman, in more passionate and louder tones, took it up; this last spoke in English, and words, though not sentences, were distinguishable. I had a full view of her sitting exactly behind Irving’s chair. She was well dressed, spoke sitting, under great apparent excitement, and screamed on till from exhaustion, as it seemed, her voice gradually died away, and all was still. Then Spencer Perceval, in slow and solemn tones, resumed, not where he had left off, but with an exhortation to hear the voice of the Lord which had just been uttered to the congregation, and after a few more sentences he sat down. Two more men followed him, and then Irving preached. His subject was ‘God’s love,’ upon which he poured forth a mystical incomprehensible rhapsody, with extraordinary vehemence of manner and power of lungs. There was nothing like eloquence in his sermon, no musical periods to captivate the ear, no striking illustrations to charm the imagination; but there is undoubtedly something in his commanding figure and strange, wild countenance, his vehemence, and above all the astonishing power of his voice, its compass, intonation, and variety, which arrests attention, and gives the notion of a great orator. I daresay he can speak well, but to waste real eloquence on such an auditory would be like throwing pearls to swine. ‘The bawl of Bellas’ is better adapted for their ears than quiet sense in simpler sounds, and the principle ‘omne ignotum pro magnifico,’ can scarcely find a happier illustration than amongst a congregation whose admiration is probably in an inverse ratio to their comprehension.
December 6th, 1833
The Vice-Chancellor, Parke, Bosanquet, and Erskine met yesterday to consider a judgment, and took three hours to manage it; business does not go on so quickly with many Judges as with one, whether it be more satisfactory or not. The Chancellor, the last time we met, announced to the Bar (very oddly) that for the future their Lordships would give judgment in turn. (He had himself delivered the only judgment that had been given.) The Vice-Chancellor, who I thought was his friend, laughed at this yesterday with me, and said that he wanted to throw off from himself as much as he could. I asked him (he had said something, I forget what, about the Chancery Bill) what would be left for the Chancellor to do when that Bill was passed. He said, ‘Nothing, that he meant to be Prime Minister and Chancellor, and that it was what he had been driving at all along, that the Bill for regulating the Privy Council was only a part of his own plan, and that all his schemes tended to that end.’ Setting political bias aside, it is curious, considering his station, to hear the lawyers talk of him, the contempt they universally have for him professionally, how striking the contrast with the profound respect which is paid to Lord Eldon. The other day, in the action brought against the Chancellor for false imprisonment, Lord Eldon was subpœnaed, and he appeared to give evidence; when he entered the Court, while he was examined, and when he departed, the whole Bar stood up, and the Solicitor-General harangued him, expressed in the name of his brethren the satisfaction they felt at seeing him once more among them. There is something affecting in these reverential testimonials to a man from whom power has passed away, and who is just descending into the grave, and I doubt LORD TAVISTOCK ON THE LIBERAL PARTY. if, at the close of his career, Brougham will ever obtain the same.
December 9th, 1833
Went yesterday with Frederic Elliot and Luttrell to hear Fox, a celebrated Unitarian preacher, at a chapel in South Place, Finsbury Square. He is very short and thick, dark hair, black eyes, and a countenance intelligent though by no means handsome; his voice is not strong, and his articulation imperfect, he cannot pronounce the s. His sermon was, however, admirable, and amply repaid us for the trouble of going so far. He read the whole of it, the language was beautiful, the argument clear and unembarrassed, the reasoning powerful, and there were occasionally passages of great eloquence. The conclusion, which was a sort of invocation to the Deity, was very fine. I like the simplicity of the service: hymns, a prayer, and the sermon, still I think a short liturgy preferable—our own, much abbreviated, would be the best.
December 13th, 1833
Met Tavistock at dinner the other day, and talked about the Government; from his intimacy with Althorp and connection with the others he knows their sentiments pretty accurately. He said that Lord Grey had so high an opinion of Althorp that he made his remaining a sine quâ non, and accordingly he does remain. He thought Lord Grey would be glad to retire, but that he will go on as long as he can, because the Government would be placed in such great embarrassment by his retreat. He did not think Brougham could succeed him, though he believed his popularity in the country to be great; that all depended on the part Peel took in the next session, for in the event of Lord Grey’s resignation he looked to the King’s sending for Peel to form a Government (much as Canning did when Lord Liverpool died), principally composed of course of the purest materials, but not exclusively, and that he did not think the great body of the Liberal party would make any difficulty of accepting office under Peel; that Stanley would not. He (Tavistock) thinks that Peel could not come into office with the Duke of Wellington; the Tories (Irvine, e.g.) think he would not come in without him.
December 18th, 1833
Went with Moore yesterday morning to the State Paper Office, and introduced him to Lemon.[4] It was at the new office, where the documents are in course of arrangement, and for the future they will be accessible and useful. John Allen told Moore the other day that he considered that the history of England had never really been written, so much matter was there in public and private collections, illustrative of it, that had never been made use of. Lemon said he could in great measure confirm that assertion, as his researches had afforded him the means of throwing great light upon modern history, from the time of Henry VIII. The fact is, that the whole thing is conventional; people take the best evidence that has been produced, and give their assent to a certain series of events, until more facts and better evidence supplant the old statements and establish others in their place. They are now printing Irish papers of the time of Henry VIII., but from the folly of Henry Hobhouse, who would not let the volume be indexed, it will be of little service. In the evening dined with Moore at the Poodle’s. He told a good story of Sydney Smith and Leslie the Professor. Leslie had written upon the North Pole; something he had said had been attacked in the ‘Edinburgh Review’ in a way that displeased him. He called on Jeffrey just as he was getting on horseback, and in a great hurry. Leslie began with a grave complaint on the subject, which Jeffrey interrupted with ‘O damn the North Pole.’ Leslie went off in high dudgeon, and soon after met Sydney, who, seeing him disturbed, asked what was the matter. He told him what he had been to Jeffrey about, and that he had in a very unpleasant way said, ‘Damn the North Pole.’ ‘It was very bad,’ said Sydney; ‘but, do you know, I am not surprised at it, for I have heard him speak very disrespectfully of the Equator.’
[4] [Robert Lemon, Esq., F.S.A., was the Deputy Keeper of the State Papers, who rendered the greatest services in the classification of the Records, which at this time were but little known and had not been opened to literary investigation.]
December 21st, 1833
There is great talk of war with Russia, HOSTILITY TO RUSSIA. which I don’t believe will take place. I had a long talk with Madame de Lieven the day before yesterday, and was surprised to find her with such a lofty tone about war. She said that it was ‘chance égale;’ that they neither desired nor feared it; that our tone had latterly been so insulting that they had no option but that of replying with corresponding hauteur; that if we sent ships to the Mediterranean they would send ships: that if those measures were pursued, and such language held, it was impossible to say that circumstances might not bring about war, though equally against the wishes and interests of all parties. In such a case we might destroy their fleet and burn their harbours, but we could not exclude them from Turkey, nor once established there get them out again. That we must not fancy we should be able, in conjunction with France, to keep the rest of Europe in check; for it was the opinion of the wisest heads, and of Louis Philippe himself, that a war would infallibly bring about his downfall. (This latter opinion is likewise, I find, that of the French ultra-Radicals; but they think the war must be a war of opinion, and that the extreme Liberals, who would thereby gain the ascendency, would make the King the first victim.) She complained bitterly of the language of our newspapers, and of our orators in Parliament, described the indignation of the Russian Court, and the dignified resentment mixed with contempt of the Emperor; in short, talked very big, but still there will be no war.—I met Dedel afterwards, and he told me that at Broadlands, where they all met, some explanations in a tolerably friendly tone did take place. The truth is that we have divested ourselves of the right of objecting to Russia’s measures with regard to Turkey, although we do not dare acknowledge what we have done, nor our motives. We were (and we are) in a false position, and she has played her cards with great dexterity; but the Treaty[5] is another thing, and is justly calculated to excite our jealousy and suspicions. We have held this language to Russia with regard to the Treaty: ‘We do not remonstrate, because we admit your right to make what treaties you think fit; but we give you notice, that if any attempt is made to enforce the stipulations of it against us, we shall not endure it, and you must be prepared for the consequences.’
[5] The treaty of Unkiar Skelesi.
1834.
Belvoir Castle, January 7th, 1834
After many years of delay, I am here since the 3rd, to assist at the celebration of the Duke of Rutland’s birthday. The party is very large, and sufficiently dull: the Duke of Wellington, Esterhazy, Matuscewitz, Rokeby, Miss d’Este (afterwards Lady Truro), and the rest a rabble of fine people, without beauty or wit among them. The place is certainly very magnificent, and the position of the castle unrivalled, though the interior is full of enormous faults, which are wholly irretrievable. This results from the management of the alterations having been entrusted to the Duchess and Sir John Thurston (the former of whom had some taste but no knowledge), and they have consequently made a sad mess of it. There is immense space wasted, and with great splendour and some comfort the Castle has been tumbled about until they have contrived to render it a very indifferent house; no two rooms communicating, nor even (except the drawing-room and dining-room, the former of which is seldom or never inhabited) contiguous. The gallery, though unfinished, is a delightful apartment, and one of the most comfortable I ever saw. The outside of the Castle is faulty, but very grand; so grand as to sink criticism in admiration; and altogether, with its terraces and towers, its woods and hills, and its boundless prospect over a rich and fertile country, it is a very noble possession. The Duke lives here for three or four months, from the end of October till the end of February or March, on and off, and the establishment is kept up with extraordinary splendour. In the morning we are roused by the strains of martial music, and the band (of his regiment of militia) marches round the terrace, awakening or quickening the guests with lively airs. All the men hunt or shoot. At dinner there is a different BELVOIR CASTLE. display of plate every day, and in the evening some play at whist or amuse themselves as they please, and some walk about the staircases and corridors to hear the band, which plays the whole evening in the hall. On the Duke’s birthday there was a great feast in the Castle; 200 people dined in the servants’ hall alone, without counting the other tables. We were about forty at dinner. When the cloth was removed, Esterhazy proposed His Grace’s health, who has always a speech prepared in which he returns thanks. This time it was more simple than usual, and not at all bad. To-night there is a ball for the servants, which could not take place on the real birthday, as it fell on a Saturday.
I have had snatches of talk with the Duke of Wellington, and yesterday morning he retired with Matuscewitz, and had a long conference with him. The absolute Courts have a great hankering after the Duke, though their Ministers here can hardly look for his return to office; nor do I believe that if he was to come back he would be found indulgent to the projects of Russia, though he might be disinclined to continue so very intimate as we now are with France. He told me this morning he thought the French King’s speech to his Chambers exceedingly good. He of course disapproves of all our foreign policy, particularly in the Peninsula. He says he sees no daylight whatever through the Portuguese affair. The Spanish may terminate in the success of the Queen, but only by her opposing Liberalism. He is convinced that if she introduces Liberal principles she will be lost. He says that the Spanish Government will be too happy to interfere in the Portuguese contest (as in fact I know that they have offered to do), but that we never can allow this, which besides the consequences of interference (as a principle) would necessarily make Portugal dependent on Spain. Arbuthnot, who is here, told me (and he hears these things from the Duke) that Matuscewitz had expressed the greatest contempt for Palmerston, and not the less for Lord Grey; and that, with regard to the latter, he had been much struck with his ignorance. I do not know on what points he meant, but it must be in history or diplomacy, which I am surprised at, because I thought he was a man of a cultivated mind and general information, who would be found, as far as knowledge goes, competent to any discussion. He likewise said that he found him slow of comprehension.
Belvoir, January 8th, 1834
There was a ball for all the servants and tenants on Monday, which the Duke of Rutland opened with Lady Georgina Fane, and the Duke of Wellington followed with Lady Brownlow. Yesterday half the people went to Belton; it was nearly impossible to get any talk with the Duke. He told me that the Russians were in no hurry to do any overt act in Turkey, and that their policy was as it had always been—to work very gradually. I asked him if he thought they really intended a permanent occupation of Turkey. He said certainly not; that they could not bear the expense of a war, which in that case would ensue; that the difference of the expense between their own and a foreign country was as between 10d. and 4s. a man.
To-day I have been all over this Castle; the arrangements are admirable, and the order and cleanliness of every part of the offices and the magnitude of the establishment are very remarkable, and such as I have never seen elsewhere. This afternoon Gosh [Mr. Arbuthnot] came and sat with me, and talked over all matters, which I have heard from him before, though he has forgotten it, which he well may, for his intellect, never very bright, seems to be almost entirely obscured. I daresay I have put down these things before, but as they are curious scraps of history they may as well go down again. It all relates to the break-up of Lord Grey’s Government in ’32, and the abortive attempts of the Duke to form an administration.
The King had given his word that he had never promised to make a single peer. Doubts arose whether he had not told a lie; they pressed him on this point (Wellington and Lyndhurst); he persisted in his denial, upon which they requested Taylor might be sent for, and all the correspondence produced, when they found he was pledged up to the throat, and without reserve. The King then attempted to get out of it by saying he had consented to call up the sons of DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MR. PEEL. Scotch peers and give to Irish peers English peerages, which he did not consider a creation of peers!
When the Duke accepted the commission to form a Government, it was resolved to prorogue Parliament, and Lyndhurst was desired by the King to go to Lord Grey and tell him such was his pleasure. Lyndhurst forgot it! In after times, those who write the history of these days will probably discuss the conduct of the great actors, and it will not fail to be matter of surprise that such an obvious expedient was not resorted to, in order to suspend violent discussions. Among the various reasons that will be imagined and suggested, I doubt if it will occur to anybody that the real reason was that it was forgotten.
Arbuthnot says they know that Lyndhurst was intriguing with the Whigs when the Duke was turned out in ’30, and that it had been settled that he was to remain their Chancellor; and so he would have been if Brougham would have consented to be Attorney-General, and had not run restive, and given clear indications of his resolution to destroy the Government if he was left out of it. He says that notwithstanding the duplicity of Peel’s conduct in 1832, he and the Duke are always on good terms, and no great question is ever agitated without Peel’s coming to the Duke and talking it over with him; that Peel is determined to have nothing to do with the Whigs, and told him (Arbuthnot) so very lately, but the High Tories are just as unmanageable as ever. Chandos came to the Duke the other day, and told him he thought they ought to get up petitions against the malt tax. The Duke said he would countenance no such thing; that he thought the revenue of the country should be supported; for if it failed, recourse must be had to a property tax, which would fall on the aristocracy; and so he persuaded him to let the malt tax alone.
January 26th, 1834
I left Belvoir on Friday, the 10th, and went to Mrs. Arkwright’s,[6] at Stoke, where I found nobody but her own family. I was well enough amused for two days with her original conversation and her singing, and her cousin, Miss Twiss, who, with a face of uncommon plainness and the voice of a man, is sensible and well informed. Then they both liked to have me, and that is a great charm; a little agreeableness goes a great way in the Peak, and it is not difficult to procure a triumph to one’s vanity from people who, with a good deal of power of appreciation, have very little opportunity for comparison, and are therefore easily satisfied. Arkwright told me that it was reported by those who were better informed than himself of his father’s circumstances, that he is worth from seven to eight millions. His grandfather began life as a barber, invented some machinery, got a patent, and made a fortune. His son gave him offence by a marriage which he disapproved of, and he quarrelled with him, but gave him a mill. Arkwright, the son, saw nothing of his father for many years, but by industry and ability accumulated great wealth. When Sir Richard served as Sheriff, his son thought it right to go out with the other gentlemen of the county to meet him, and the old gentleman was struck with his handsome equipage, and asked to whom it belonged. Upon being informed, he sought a reconciliation with him, and was astonished to find that his son was as rich as himself. From that time they continued on good terms, and at his death he bequeathed him the bulk of his property.
[6] [Mrs. Arkwright was a Kemble by birth, and had much of the musical and dramatic genius of that gifted family. Her singing was most touching, and some of her musical compositions were full of originality and expression.]
Mrs. Arkwright told me the curious story of Sir Thomas Lawrence’s engagements with her two cousins, the daughters of Mrs. Siddons. They were two sisters, one tall and very handsome, the other little, without remarkable beauty, but very clever and agreeable. He fell in love with the first, and they were engaged to be married. Of course under such circumstances he lived constantly and freely in the house, and after some time the superior intelligence of the clever sister changed the current of his passion, and she supplanted the handsome one in the affection of the artist. They concealed the double treachery, but one day a note which was intended for his new love fell into the hands of the old love, A MURDER NEAR RUNTON. who, never doubting it was for herself, opened it, and discovered the fatal truth. From that time she drooped, sickened, and shortly after died. On her deathbed she exacted a promise from her sister that she would never marry Lawrence, who firmly adhered to it. He continued his relations with her with more or less intimacy up to the period of her death, the date of which I do not recollect.
From Stoke I went on Monday, 13th, to Drakelow, which Sir Roger Gresley has lent to Craufurd, and stayed there two nights. It is a miserable place, with the Trent running under the windows, and Lord Anglesey’s land close to the door. Thence on Wednesday to Runton Abbey—Lord Lichfield’s—who has added to it a farm-house, and made a residence in the midst of his property, where he has the best shooting in England. He and I went out the day after I got there, and killed 41 pheasants, 74 hares, 24 rabbits, 8 woodcocks, and 8 partridges. He is a fine fellow, with an excellent disposition, liberal, hospitable, frank and gay, quick and intelligent, without cultivation, extravagant and imprudent, with considerable aptitude for business; between spending and speculating, buying property in one place, selling in another, and declining to sell in a third, he has half ruined a noble estate.
Just before I got there a murder had been committed close to his house under very curious circumstances, of which some notice appeared in the newspapers. A soldier in the Artillery got a legacy of 500ℓ., with which he bought his discharge, went down to the village near Runton, and took a very pretty girl of indifferent character to live with him. He gave her shawls and trinkets, and spent a good deal of money on her. Having addicted himself immoderately to drink, he soon spent all his money, and, to supply himself with the means of getting drunk, he began robbing his mistress of the articles he had given her. It happened that about this time somebody in the village who had been robbed consulted a cunning man of great repute in the neighbourhood, and so alarmed was the thief at the bare idea of what this oracle might utter, that the stolen property was secretly restored. The girl upon hearing of this restitution resolved to have recourse to the cunning man, and invited her lover to escort her to his abode. After endeavouring in vain to dissuade her they set out together, but he was so overcome with terror as he went along that he stopped short in the road and refused to proceed. On this the girl said that it was easy to see who was the thief, and that the reason he would not face the conjuror was that he was conscious of his own guilt. Upon this they fell to high words, then to blows, and he finished by murdering her. He did not attempt to escape, but repaired to a public-house, where he was soon after taken into custody. He acknowledged the crime, and said he was weary of life, and deserved to be hanged. Here is an example of the miserable effects of good fortune upon a man who was unfit to use it, and of the strange superstition of the common people. The murderer will be tried at the next assizes.
I stayed at Runton till Sunday, 19th, when I came here,[7] where there was nobody but the family and Ralph Sneyd. The place is exceedingly beautiful, and arranged with excellent taste. It has been very agreeable. Lady Harrowby is superior to all the women I have ever known; ‘her talk is so crisp,’ as Luttrell once said of her. She has no imagination, no invention, no eloquence, no deep reading or retentive memory, but a noble, straightforward, independent character, a sound and vigorous understanding, penetration, judgment, taste. She is perfectly natural, open and sincere, loves conversation and social enjoyment; with her intimate friends there is an abandon and unreserved communion of thoughts, feelings, and opinions which renders her society delightful. Of all the women I ever saw she unites the most masculine mind with the most feminine heart. Lord Harrowby[8] has all the requisites of disagreeableness, a tart, short, provoking manner, with manners at once pert and CHARACTER OF LORD HARROWBY. rigid; but he is full of information, and if made the best of may yield a good deal of desirable knowledge. Though not illiberal in politics, he has fallen into the high Tory despondency about the prospects of the country, and anticipates every evil that the most timid alarmist can suggest. Still, justice should be rendered to Lord Harrowby; a purer and more disinterested statesman never existed. He was always devoid of selfishness and ambition, honourable and conscientious to a degree which rendered him incapable of a sordid or oblique action. Always acute, but sometimes crotchety, he had the same fault in politics which was the reproach of Lord Eldon in law—indecision; and this in no small degree impaired both his efficacy and his authority. His great idol was Pitt, and, after him, he was the friend and admirer of Perceval. Bred in their school, and a Tory by taste, by habit, and in opinion, it is not a little to his honour that he was able to comprehend the mighty changes which time and circumstances had effected, and to perceive that an inflexible adherence to high Tory maxims was dangerous, because their practical operation was no longer possible; but justice must be rendered to him hereafter, for he will never obtain it in his own time. By endeavouring to steer between two great and exasperated factions he became thoroughly obnoxious to both. After having refused the post of Prime Minister, no one can doubt the sincerity of his desire to retire from public life, and in the consciousness of rectitude, the disgust of parties, and a calm and dignified philosophy, he finds ample consolation for all the obloquy with which he has been assailed.
[7] [This must have been written at Sandon, Lord Harrowby’s seat in Staffordshire, but the entry is not dated.]
[8] [Dudley Ryder, second Baron and first Earl of Harrowby, born in 1762; married in 1795 Susan, a daughter of the Marquis of Stafford.]
Burghley, January 28th, 1834
Came here yesterday, and found Lady Clinton, Lady Frederic Bentinck, Lyne Stephens and Irby, not amusing. Captain Spencer came to-day. I had almost forgotten the house, which is surprisingly grand in all respects, though the living rooms are not numerous or handsome enough. I just missed Peel, who went to Belvoir yesterday. I heard wonderful things of railroads and steam when I was in Staffordshire, yet by the time anybody reads what I now write (if anybody ever does), how they will smile perhaps at what I gape and stare at, and call wonderful, with such accelerated velocity do we move on. Stephenson, the great engineer, told Lichfield that he had travelled on the Manchester and Liverpool railroad for many miles at the rate of a mile a minute, that his doubt was not how fast his engines could be made to go, but at what pace it would be proper to stop, that he could make them travel with greater speed than any bird can cleave the air, and that he had ascertained that 400 miles an hour was the extreme velocity which the human frame could endure, at which it could move and exist.
February 1st, 1834
Lord Wharncliffe has been here and is gone. He, like Harrowby, is very dismal about the prospects of the country, and thinks we are gravitating towards a revolution. He says that the constituency of the great towns is composed of ultra-Radicals, and that no gentleman with really independent and conservative principles can sit for them, that the great majority of the manufacturers and of the respectable persons of the middle class are moderate, and hostile to subversion and violent measures, but that their influence is overwhelmed by the numerical strength of the low voters, who want to go all lengths. He says that he has received greater marks of deference and respect in his own county, and especially at Sheffield, where a short time ago he would have been in danger of being torn in pieces, than he ever experienced, but that he could no more bring a son in for Sheffield than he could fly in the air. Sir John Beckett is just gone to stand for Leeds, and certainly the catechism to which he was there forced to submit is very ominous. A seat in the House of Commons will cease to be an object of ambition to honourable and independent men, if it can only be obtained by cringing and servility to the rabble of great towns, and when it shall be established that the member is to be a slave, bound hand and foot by pledges, and responsible for every vote he gives to masters who are equally tyrannical and unreasonable. I know nothing more difficult than to form a satisfactory opinion upon the real state and prospects of the country amidst the conflicting STATE OF SPAIN. prejudices and impressions of individuals of different parties and persuasions, and there are so many circumstances that tell different ways, that at this moment my judgment is entirely suspended on the subject.
George Villiers gave a deplorable account of the state of Spain, but he (unlike the Duke of Wellington) thinks that the only chance of safety for the Queen is to make common cause with the Liberals. He has been greatly instrumental to Zea’s removal, having conveyed to the Queen Regent that England by no means considered his continuance in the Ministry indispensable, and this intimation, together with the storm which assailed him from all parts, determined her to dismiss him. Palmerston has never written to George Villiers once since October. I heard the same thing of him in some other case, I forget which.
February 6th, 1834
Returned to town yesterday from Newmarket, which I took in my way from Burghley. Parliament had opened the day before, with a long nothingy (a word I have coined) speech from the throne, in which the most remarkable points were a violent declaration against O’Connell, that is, against Irish agitation, and strong expressions of amity with France. It is comical to compare the language of the very silly old gentleman who wears the crown, in his convivial moments, and in the openness of his heart, with that which his Ministers cram into his mouth, each sentiment being uttered with equal energy and apparent sincerity. Lord Grey is said to have made a very good speech on the Address. The House of Commons has commenced with all the dulness imaginable, but it was enlivened last night by a squabble on the Hill and Sheil business[9] (dragged on by O’Connell), and the ultimate arrest of Althorp and Sheil by the Serjeant-at-arms, a very foolish affair, which must end as it began, in much declaiming and swearing, and no positive conviction, though complete moral certitude. It afforded much amusement, as everything personal does. The present expectation is that the session will go off rather quietly.
[9] [Mr. Hill, a member of Parliament, had stated in a speech that some of the Irish members most vehemently opposed to the Coercion Bill in the House of Commons had nevertheless privately stated to members of the Government that they were glad the Act should be renewed. This charge was denied with great heat by the Irish members in the House when Parliament met. But upon Mr. Sheil’s calling upon Lord Althorp to state whether he was one of the members alluded to, Lord Althorp replied that the honourable gentleman was one of them. Sheil immediately denied it in the most solemn and emphatic terms; and as it was feared that a hostile meeting might ensue between him and Lord Althorp, they were both taken into custody by the Serjeant-at-arms. Further explanations ensued, and Lord Althorp subsequently withdrew the charge, stating that he believed Mr. Sheil’s asseveration, and that he must himself have been misinformed.]
February 13th, 1834
It is observed by everybody that there never was a session of Parliament which opened with such an appearance of apathy as this. After the violent excitement which has almost incessantly prevailed for the last two years or more, men’s minds seem exhausted, and though the undergrowl of political rancour is still heard, and a feeble cry of the Church is in danger, on the whole there is less bitterness and animosity, and a tolerably fair promise that things will go on in a smooth and even course. The storm that impended over Europe has blown off, and there seems to be no danger of any interruption of the peace. Esterhazy and Madame de Lieven both told me last night that they thought so now, and the former that he had told Palmerston that we might rely upon Austria’s not being an indifferent spectator of the political conduct of Russia, and if we would place confidence in them, they would not only prevent any dangerous aggression on the part of Russia in Europe, but would take such measures as should contribute largely to the security of our Eastern dominions, though that was no object of immediate interest to them. Madame de Lieven told me that it was impossible to describe the contempt as well as dislike which the whole corps diplomatique had for Palmerston, and pointing to Talleyrand, who was sitting close by, ‘surtout lui.’ They have the meanest opinion of his capacity, and his manners are the reverse of conciliatory. She cannot imagine how his colleagues bear with him, and Lord Grey supports him vehemently. The only friend he has in the UNPOPULARITY OF LORD PALMERSTON. cabinet is Graham, who has no weight. His unpopularity in his own office is quite as great as it is among the foreign ministers, and he does nothing, so that they do not make up in respect for what they want in inclination. George Villiers complains that for above three months he has not received a single line from him, and he is a young minister, unpractised in the profession, to whom is committed the most delicate and difficult mission in Europe. He spends his time in making love to Mrs. P—— whom he takes to the House of Commons to hear speeches which he does not make, and where he exhibits his conquest, and certainly it is the best of his exploits, but what a successor of Canning, whom by the way he affects to imitate. What would be Canning’s indignation if he could look from his grave and see these new Reformers, who ape him in his worst qualities, and who blunder and bluster in the seat which he once filled with such glory and success. It must be owned that we are in a curious condition, and if the character of the Government, moral and intellectual, be analysed, it will exhibit a very astonishing result: with a great deal of loose talent of one sort or another scattered about it, but mixed with so much alloy, that, compounded as it is, the metal seems very base. However, we are not likely to get anything better, and these people will very likely hammer on tolerably well.
Since Parliament met, the foolish business of Sheil and Hill has been the sole topic of discussion, to the unspeakable disgust of every sensible person in and out of the House. All feel the embarrassment, the ridicule, the disgrace of such an occupation, and the members of Parliament are provoked that the affair was not strangled at the outset. The Speaker is now generally blamed for not having prevented Althorp from answering O’Connell’s question, which he ought to have done, at least ought to have warned the House of the consequences, when undoubtedly the matter would have been stifled. They say Althorp did what he had to do very well, like a gentleman and man of honour, and in excellent style and taste, though many think he need not have said so much. The committee began to sit yesterday; it was not a secret committee, but they agreed to request members not to come in; however, the tail would go in, and they found it would be a difficult matter to exclude them, for which reason, and because Sheil had no friend on the committee, they unanimously agreed that the House should be invited to add O’Connell to it, and after some difficulty raised by John Russell, this was consented to.
February 14th, 1834
Last night at Miss Berry’s met Mrs. Somerville, the great mathematician. I had been reading in the morning Sedgwick’s sermon on education, in which he talks of Whewell, Airy, and Mrs. Somerville, mentioning her as one of the great luminaries of the present day. The subject of astronomy is so sublime that one shrinks into a sense of nothingness in contemplating it, and can’t help regarding those who have mastered the mighty process and advanced the limits of the science as beings of another order. I could not then take my eyes off this woman, with a feeling of surprise and something like incredulity, all involuntary and very foolish; but to see a mincing, smirking person, fan in hand, gliding about the room, talking nothings and nonsense, and to know that La Place was her plaything and Newton her acquaintance, was too striking a contrast not to torment the brain. It was Newton’s mantle trimmed and flounced by Maradan.
February 17th, 1834
In the House of Commons the Sheil committee came to a sudden termination. It was a silly and discreditable business, and people were glad it ended. The course adopted was this: they took the ‘Examiner’ newspaper, containing the paragraph inculpatory of Sheil, and they called on Hill to prove his case. Hill called witnesses, one of whom, Macaulay, refused to speak. He said he would not repeat what had passed in private conversation. The committee approved, and Hill threw up his case, held out his hand ‘with strong emotion’ to Sheil, made ample apologies, and Sheil was acquitted. Then came the apologies in the House of Commons. Peel told me that he was convinced Sheil really had never said what was imputed to him; but that he said something tantamount, though very loosely, O’CONNELL’S ATTACK ON BARON SMITH. is probable, and the people who had told Althorp would not come forward to bear him out, so that he was forced to apologise too, but he did it very reluctantly. The Irishmen, however, had not done, and O’Dwyer (formerly a reporter) attacked Pease, asked for explanations, his card and address. Pease, who is a Quaker, said ‘he gave no explanations but on his legs in the House of Commons, had no card and no address.’
But there was a more serious matter than Sheil and Hill’s trash—O’Connell’s attack upon Baron Smith, the circumstances of which exemplify the way the House of Commons is managed under Althorp’s auspices, and the general mode of proceeding of the Government there. O’Connell gave notice of a motion for an address to the Crown to remove the Baron. Government resolved to oppose it. Littleton authorised Shaw to write to him and say so, and that he would say nothing in the debate offensive to him, though he could not but disapprove of his charge. Nobody thought of any support the motion would receive beyond that of the tail. The Ministers came down to the House in this mind. Stanley and Graham went away for some purpose or other, and when they came back they found that O’Connell had altered the terms of his motion, and that Althorp, Littleton, and the Solicitor-General had agreed to support it; in short, that O’Connell had laid a trap for them, and they had gone ding-dong into it. Stanley was very angry and much annoyed, but the thing being done he knocked under, and tried to bolster up the business. Graham would not, and in a maudlin, stupid sort of speech declared his opposition, which was honest enough. All this annoyed the Government very much, and now O’Connell is said to be quite satisfied with what he has done, and does not want to have a committee, but (having thrown a slur on the Judge by the vote of Parliament) to let the matter drop. Spring Rice also voted against the Government, and said that he had never known a worse case since he sat in Parliament, and that nothing could be more mischievous than the effect such a vote would produce in Ireland. Scarlett, Peel, and Spankie made very good speeches; Stanley, John Russell, and Campbell as bad.
The same night Althorp made his financial statement, exhibiting a surplus revenue and reduction of taxation, all very flourishing and promising; but in announcing his intended reduction of the House Tax, he said without any disguise that he did not think it an objectionable tax, but that he took it off on account of the clamour against it. Here are three exhibitions in one week, and this is the Minister of our finances and organ of Government in the House of Commons. No matter how he blunders in word or deed, he smiles in dogged good-humour at ridicule or abuse; his intentions are good, his mind is straightforward, and his conscious rectitude, his personal popularity, enable him to commit his blunders with impunity; but the authority of Government suffers in his hands; maxims get into vogue which are incompatible with good and strong government, and the effects of his weakness and facility may be felt long after the cessation of their immediate operation.
February 19th, 1834
Last night Whittle Harvey’s motion on the Pension List. He made admirable speeches; but had a majority of nine against him. This division is not a bad exemplification of the state of parties and of the House of Commons. Some of the Tories voted (in the majority of course), many others would not. I asked one of them (Henry Hope, a man of no consequence, certainly) if he was not going to vote. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I shall not vote, the Government must manage their own business as they can.’ He would not vote against a proposition he must regard with the greatest aversion, because he would thereby be supporting the Government and prefers the chance of giving a victory to the Radicals, establishing a dangerous principle, and doing a great injury to a host of individuals, the greater part of whom are of his own party or among his own friends, because he thinks that the result may be productive of some embarrassment to Ministers. This is one of the cases in which the conduct of Government has been such as their bitterest enemies must applaud, when they risk their popularity to support a very STATE OF THE TORY PARTY. unsightly list of pensions, not granted by themselves, or to their friends, from a sense of justice; and yet these high Tories will not support them even in fighting such a battle as this. On the other hand, the Government reject their support when they might avail themselves of it against the Radicals and ultra-Whigs, in such a case as that of Baron Smith the other night; and so ill blood is constantly increasing between them, while O’Connell and his tail and the Radical blackguards sit by and chuckle at the evils these mutual jealousies and antipathies produce. Richmond told me yesterday that Stanley was greatly annoyed at Baron Smith’s affair; but finding the mischief done, and feeling the embarrassment that would arise from his opposing Althorp, he threw himself into the breach; said he had advised him never to do so again. The conduct of Althorp, Littleton, and Campbell is inconceivable, unless it were to give a fresh triumph to O’Connell (he has just carried Dungarvan, Jacob v. Barron; ‘it is the voice of Jacob but the hand of Esau’), who has had his own way hitherto in this Parliament. In this business and in Sheil’s he has done just what he pleased, and made the Government appear in as pitiful a light as he could possibly desire. O’Dwyer told the Speaker that O’Connell had never expected or even wished that Ministers should give way to him to the extent they did.
Knatchbull has given notice of a motion to reverse the decision for a committee on the case of Baron Smith, and in conjunction with Peel. It must embarrass the Government, but it is not, I think, judicious, because it is not the same question, and affords them the opportunity of treating it on different grounds. In the division last night the three Lennox’s all voted with the minority, brothers of a Cabinet Minister, and all their sisters being on the Pension List. Molyneux was going out, and was forcibly retained by Stanley. It looks as if the whipping in was very unskilfully managed. Notwithstanding the present prosperity and tranquillity, it is impossible not to be disturbed at the mode in which business is conducted in the House of Commons, and at the state and animus of parties, and above all at Althorp being the leader there. His character is peculiarly fitted to do mischief in these times, and his virtues are unfortunate, for they serve to bolster him up, and to keep him where he is in spite of his blunders. His temper is so admirable, his personal popularity so great, that there is an impression that the House will be led by him more easily than by Stanley, who alone, of the present Government, could aspire to that post. Nobody imputes to Althorp a spark of ambition, and ample credit is given him for the most disinterested motives, and for making a great personal sacrifice in retaining his present situation. The consciousness of this makes him comparatively indifferent to victory or defeat, and careless of that nice management which formerly was indispensable in a leader. He seems totally blind to the consequences of his errors, and the advantage that is taken of them by those who not only meditate mischief to the Administration, but to the great interests they are bound to protect. Occurrences and circumstances that would have filled former leaders with vexation, and their followers with dismay, seem to pass over him without ruffling his serenity or alarming his mind. He acts as if in utter unconsciousness of a restless spirit of popular aggrandisement, as if the House of Commons was an innoxious and manageable machine, as if it was sufficient to mean well, and he lets matters take their chance, without any of that vigilant and systematic direction which, if guided by a nice discrimination, might regulate the movements and check the eccentricities of this vast and unruly body. Since the opening of this session, all that he has said and done has proved his utter unfitness for the place he occupies. First, his imprudent answers to O’Connell, and the turn he gave to that affair. Then, in bringing forward his financial statement, the naïveté with which he admitted that he had submitted to the clamour against the House Tax, and withdrawn it contrary to his own judgment; then the facility with which he gave in to O’Connell’s motion about the Irish Judge, and threw over his colleagues and his party without an apparent reason or motive. It produces a LORD ALTHORP’S DEFECTS AS LEADER. feeling allied to despair, all security is at an end, for that which would be produced by his good intentions is destroyed by reflecting on his miserable judgment; half republican in his principles, and incredulous of any danger to be apprehended from the continual increase of popular influences in the House of Commons, he does not perceive how much the authority of a leader is diminished in his hands, and how difficult it will be for any successor of his to gain that sort of ascendency which is indispensable for the effective conduct of public business, and the moral character of the Government. To effect this, besides great talents, great tact, discretion, sagacity, and temper will be required; more, I fear, than fall to the share of Stanley, who is better qualified to be a debater than a leader. Moderate men, who do not approve of this Government, but who do not desire to turn them out, if they would only act upon tolerably conservative principles, are thrown into despair by the behaviour of Althorp, and regard with consternation the inevitable increase of anarchy in the House of Commons, and consequent prevalence of Radical principles, from the sluggish, inert, vacillating, unforeseeing character he displays.[10]
[10] [These remarks made at the time are not altogether just to Lord Althorp, and it is now well known from other sources, equally authentic, that he was more conscious than anyone else was of his own shortcomings, and passionately desirous to be released from office. But it was notorious that the retirement of Lord Althorp from the leadership of the House of Commons would be the signal for the dissolution of Earl Grey’s Government, and so within a few months the result proved.]
February 22nd, 1834
Went to the House of Commons last night, where I have not been for many years. A great change, and hardly a human being whose face I knew. I heard the end of the debate on Chandos’ motion, when Peel gave O’Connell a severe dressing, and I heard the debate on rescinding the order for a committee on Baron Smith. Shaw, who held the Baron’s brief, made a very fine speech, but afforded a memorable example of the danger of saying too much, and of the importance of knowing when to stop. Not contented with a very powerful and eloquent appeal, which he wound up with an energetic peroration, he suffered himself to be led away into a tirade about O’Connell’s enmity to religion, and instead of ending as he might have done with shouts of applause, was coughed and ‘questioned’ to the close. Stanley made a wretched speech; O’Connell very bad, affecting to be moderate, he was only dull. Peel spoke very shortly, but very well indeed. Peel’s is an enviable position; in the prime of life, with an immense fortune, facile princeps in the House of Commons, unshackled by party connections and prejudices, universally regarded as the ablest man, and with (on the whole) a very high character, free from the cares of office, able to devote himself to literature, to politics, or idleness, as the fancy takes him. No matter how unruly the House, how impatient or fatigued, the moment he rises all is silence, and he is sure of being heard with profound attention and respect. This is the enjoyable period of his life, and he must make the most of it, for when time and the hour shall bring about his return to power, his cares and anxieties will begin, and with whatever success his ambition may hereafter be crowned, he will hardly fail to look back with regret to this holiday time of his political career. How free and light he must feel at being liberated from the shackles of his old connections, and at being able to take any part that his sense of his own interests or of the public exigencies may point out! And then the satisfactory consciousness of being by far the most eminent man in the House of Commons, to see and feel the respect he inspires and the consideration he enjoys. It is a melancholy proof of the decadence of ability and eloquence in that House, when Peel is the first, and, except Stanley, almost the only real orator in it. He speaks with great energy, great dexterity—his language is powerful and easy; he reasons well, hits hard, and replies with remarkable promptitude and effect; but he is at an immense distance below the great models of eloquence, Pitt, Fox, and Canning; his voice is not melodious, and it is a little monotonous; his action is very ungraceful, his person and manner are vulgar, and he has certain tricks in his motions which exhibit that vulgarity in a manner almost offensive, and which is only redeemed SIR ROBERT PEEL’S FUTURE. by the real power of his speeches. His great merit consists in his judgment, tact and discretion, his facility, promptitude, thorough knowledge of the assembly he addresses, familiarity with the details of every sort of Parliamentary business, and the great command he has over himself. He never was a great favourite of mine, but I am satisfied that he is the fittest man to be Minister, and I therefore wish to see him return to power. Stanley told me yesterday how very glad they were at having been defeated on Baron Smith’s case, and that they were thereby relieved from a great embarrassment. Times are mightily altered, when such defeats and such scrapes produce no effect upon Government, and when they can go on upon two majorities of 4 and 8 and one defeat.
February 25th, 1834
There has been a meeting at Althorp’s to-day, numerously attended, in which he talked with some effect as it is said, the audience having gone away in a humour to support Government. He took occasion, on somebody hinting at the disunion among themselves, to say that though there might exist differences of opinion on some minor points, he believed there never had existed a Cabinet of which the members were more firmly knit together by private friendship and political concurrence.
It was Methuen who harangued, and who said that the meeting was very unsatisfactory. Althorp began by saying that unless gentlemen would more regularly and consistently support the Government it could not be carried on, when Paul[11] rejoined that the Government did not support itself, and that they seemed divided. Moreover, that when the Chancellor of the Exchequer himself talked with so much doubt and uncertainty about reducing particular taxes, he must not be surprised if everybody tried to get what they could for themselves in the general scramble.
[11] [Paul Methuen, Esq., M.P. for Wiltshire. It was to him that O’Connell made the memorable but somewhat profane retort, ‘Paul, Paul, why persecutest thou me?’]
There are letters from George Villiers to-day (not to me, but to his mother), in which he gives a deplorable account of Spain, that Carlos has a large party in the north, where the Queen’s person is odious, the monks have persuaded the people that she is atheistical and republican, that she has not force enough to crush the rebellion, and what she has is scattered on different points, without being able to make any combined or vigorous efforts, that she has no money. The Cortes is to be assembled, but they (I suppose the Ministers) have rejected all good advice on this subject, and nobody can anticipate the effect that will be produced by 300 or 400 individuals meeting in a legislative capacity. If Miguel had resolved to give effectual aid to Carlos, and dashed into Spain, he might certainly have placed him on the throne, and then secured him as a powerful ally to himself in his own contest. Miguel’s own case he (George Villiers) by no means considers hopeless, thinks him much better off than Pedro was when at Oporto. The stories of the Queen’s[12] gallantries are true. He does not say so totidem verbis, because he does not dare, but he manages to convey as much in answer to a question his mother asked him. He thinks that the great probability is that universal anarchy will convulse that country with civil war of the most destructive character, and that the provinces, kingdoms, and districts will be arrayed against each other. The Carlists of Spain being in the north, and those of France in the south, it is very likely they will endeavour to make common cause, in which case it will be difficult for France not to interfere, so he thinks; so do not I, and am more disposed to believe that Louis Philippe is too prudent to run his head into such a hornet’s nest, and that he will content himself with keeping matters quiet in France, without meddling with the Spanish disputes. He had not yet received any letters from Palmerston.[13]
[12] [Queen Christina the Regent is here meant. Queen Isabella II. was a young child.]
[13] [Within a few days of the date of this note the Ministry of March 1st was formed in France, with M. Thiers (for the first time) at the head of it. The avowed object of that Minister was to induce the King to interfere more actively in Spain in conjunction with England, ‘Nous entraînerons le Roi’ was a boast he was heard to utter. But he utterly failed. Mr. Greville’s prediction turned out to be correct, and in a few months Thiers was again out of office.]
February 26th, 1834
HORNE AND BROUGHAM. Horne, the late Attorney-General, seems likely to fall between the stools. When Brougham proposed to him to take a puisne judgeship, he said he had been an equity lawyer all his life, and had no mind to enter on a course of common law, for which he was not qualified, and proposed that he should not go the circuits, and be Deputy-Speaker of the House of Lords. Brougham told him there would be no difficulty, and then told Lord Grey he had settled it with Horne, but did not tell him what Horne required. The general movement was made, and when Horne desired to see Lord Grey he told him that his terms could not be complied with, so he became a victim to the trickery and shuffling of the Chancellor, who wanted to get him out, and did not care how. I hear that his colleagues are quite aware of all his tricks and his intrigues, and have not the slightest confidence in him. He thinks of nothing but the establishment of political power on the basis of patronage, and accordingly he grasps at all he can. All the commissions of enquiry which are set on foot afford him the means of patronage, but I doubt all will not do. He is emasculated by being in the House of Lords, and he will hardly get anybody to do his business for him in the House of Commons.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Spain — Russia and Turkey — Sir R. Peel’s Pictures — Peel and Stanley — Lord Brougham’s Judicial Changes — Lord Brougham’s Defence — Admission of Dissenters to the Universities — Lord Denman’s Peerage — Growing Ascendency of Peel — An Apology for Lord Brougham — Personal Reflections — Crime in Dorsetshire — Spain and Portugal — Procession of the Trades’ Unions — Lady Hertford’s Funeral — Petition of the London University for a Charter — Repeal of the Union — Excitement of the King — Brougham and Eldon at the Privy Council — Duke of Wellington’s Aversion to the Whigs — Lord Brougham and Lord Wynford — Fête at Petworth — Lord Brougham’s Conduct on the Pluralities Bill — Crisis in the Cabinet — Prince Lieven recalled — Stanley, Graham, and the Duke of Richmond resign on the Irish Church Bill — History of the Crisis — Ward’s Motion defeated by moving the previous question — Affairs of Portugal — Effects of the late Change — Oxford Commemoration — Peel’s Declaration — Festival in Westminster Abbey — Don Carlos on his way to Spain — Stanley’s ‘Thimble-rig’ Speech — Resignation of Lord Grey — Mr. Greville’s account of the Causes of his Retirement — The Government reconstituted by Lord Melbourne — Lord Duncannon Secretary of State.
March 12th, 1834
I have been laid up with the gout for the greater part of a fortnight, but went to Newmarket for two days to get well, and succeeded. Weather like summer, nothing particularly new, a long debate on the Corn Laws, which being called an open question, the Ministers voted different ways—that is, all the Cabinet voted one way, but the underlings took their own course. Half the Ruralists are furious with Government for their indecision and way of acting on this question, but I am so totally ignorant upon it that I cannot enter into their indignation, or exactly understand from what it proceeds. It was pretty to see Graham and Poulett Thomson, like two game-cocks got loose from one pen, pecking at and spurring one another. RUSSIA AND TURKEY. Everybody agrees that the debate was very dull, and that is all they do agree upon.
George Villiers writes to his family from Spain, that nothing can be worse and more unpromising than the state of that country. Notwithstanding his Liberal opinions and desire to see a system of constitutional freedom established in the Peninsula, he is obliged to confess that Spain is not fit for such a boon, and that the materials do not exist out of which such a social edifice can be constructed. He regards with dismay and sorrow the tendency towards irremediable confusion and political convulsions, and sees no daylight through the dark prospect. He appears to regret Zea, to whose removal he contributed, and finds more difficulties in dealing with the present Ministers than he had with him.
March 14th, 1834
There is a fresh démêlé with Russia on account of a new treaty concluded by Achmet Pacha at St. Petersburg. By this Russia agrees to remit six millions of the ten which Turkey owes her, and to give up the Principalities, but she keeps the fortress of Silistria and the military road, which gives her complete command over them. The Sultan, ‘not to be outdone in generosity,’ in return for so much, kindly cedes to Russia a slip of sea-coast on the Black Sea, adjoining another portion already ceded by the Treaty of Adrianople as far south as Poti. This territorial acquisition is not considerable in itself, but it embraces the line of communication with Persia, by which we have a vast traffic, and which Russia will be able at any time to interrupt. This new transaction, so quietly and plausibly effected, has thrown our Government into a great rage, and especially his Majesty King William, who insisted upon a dozen ships being sent off forthwith to the Mediterranean. Nothing vigorous, however, has been done, and Palmerston has contented himself with writing to Lord Ponsonby, desiring him to exhort the Sultan not to ratify this treaty, and rather to pay (or more properly, continue to owe) the whole ten millions than accede to the wily proposal. This advice will probably seem more friendly than disinterested, and I have not the slightest idea of the Sultan’s listening to it. He has, in fact, become the vassal of Russia, and his lot is settled in this respect, for from Russia he has most to fear and most to hope. The conduct of our Government in this question, has been marked by nothing but negligence and indecision, vainly blustering and threatening at one moment and tamely submitting and acquiescing at another, ‘willing to wound and yet afraid to strike,’ treating Russia as if she was the formidable foe of Turkey, and allowing her so to act as to make Turkey think her an ally and protectress, and finally to throw herself into Russia’s arms.
I went yesterday morning to Peel’s house, to see his pictures; since we met at Buckenham we have got rather intimate. The fact is that, though I have never been a great admirer of his character, and probably he is not improved in high-mindedness, I am so sensible of his capacity, and of the need in which we stand of him, that I wish to see him again in power, and he is a very agreeable man into the bargain. His collection is excellent, and does honour to his taste. We talked of various matters, but the thing that struck me most was what he said had passed between him and Stanley the night before indicative of such good feeling between them. It was about the job of Lord Plunket’s with regard to the Deanery of Down (concerning which they say there is a very good case; not that it will do, be it ever so good, for Plunket has a bad name, and public opinion will not pause or retract in any concern of his). He and Stanley met at Madame de Lieven’s ball, and Peel said to him, ‘Why did you let that appointment take place?’ Stanley replied, ‘The fact is, I could not give the true and only excuse for Plunket, viz., that he had signed the report, but had never read it.’ Peel said, ‘You had better give him some other deanery and cancel this appointment.’ They talked for a long time, but this tone and this advice exhibit a state of sentiment by no means incompatible with a future union, when matters are ripe for it. I found Peel full of curiosity to know for what purpose Brougham and Denman had been hunting each other about the County of Beds. The Chief Justice was on the circuit at Bedford, and the Chancellor LORD BROUGHAM’S JUDICIAL CHANGES. sent to him by special messenger to appoint a meeting. The Chancellor went to Ampthill, and then to Bedford. The Chief Justice had left Bedford in the morning, and went towards London. Brougham had left his carriage at Ampthill and hired a job one, that he might enter Bedford incognito. Somewhere between Barnet and St. Albans they met, and returned to town together in the Chancellor’s job coach. They went to Lord Grey’s, and the next day Denman returned to the circuit, which he had left without notice to his brother judge or to anybody—a mystery.
March 16th, 1834
Heard last night the explanation of the above. Brougham found that Williams would not do in the Exchequer, so he shuffled up the judges and redealt them. Williams was shoved up to the Common Pleas, Bosanquet sent to the King’s Bench, and James Parke put into the Exchequer. I thought this was odd, because the Exchequer is an inferior court; but I was told that Parke likes to be with Lord Lyndhurst, who has now made the Court of Exchequer of primary importance. 48,000 writs were issued from the Exchequer last year, and only 39,000 from the King’s Bench. I forget what the proportions used to be, but enormously the other way. It is quite ludicrous to talk to any lawyer about the Chancellor; the ridicule and aversion he has excited are universal. They think he has degraded the profession, and his tricks are so palpable, numerous, and mean, that political partiality can neither screen nor defend them. As to the separation of the judicial from the ministerial duties of his office, it is in great measure accomplished without any legislative act, for nobody ever thinks of bringing an original cause into his Court. He has nothing to hear but appeals, which must come before him, and lunacy and other matters, over which he has sole jurisdiction.
March 19th, 1834
The night before last Sheil brought on a debate on the Turkish question, when Palmerston made a wretched speech, and Peel attacked him very smartly, as it is his delight to do, for he dislikes Palmerston. Talleyrand said to me last night, ‘Palmerston a très-bien parlé.’ I told him everybody thought it pitiable. He certainly took care to flatter France and not to offend Russia. In the Lords Brougham took occasion, in replying to some question of Ellenborough’s, to defend himself from the charges which have been brought against him of negligence and incapacity in his judicial office, and he made out a good case for himself as far as industry and despatch are concerned. Nobody ever denied him the merit of the former quality. The virulent attacks of the Tory press (that is, of the ‘Morning Post,’ by Praed, for the ‘Standard’ rather defends him) have overshot their mark, and, though the general opinion of the Bar seems to condemn him as a bad Chancellor, he is probably not near so bad as they endeavour to make him out. A mind so vigorous as his will master difficulties in a short time at which an inferior capacity would in vain hammer away for years; but his life, habits, and turn of mind seem all incompatible with profound law-learning. He said to Sefton, after he had spoken, ‘They had better leave me alone. I was afraid that when Londonderry was gone nobody would attack me, and I did not think Ellenborough would have been damned fool enough.’ They certainly can’t get the best of him at the gab.
George Villiers continues to give a deplorable account of Spanish affairs—of the imbecility of the Government, and of the conduct of the Queen, about whom the stories of gallantry are quite true, and he says it has done irreparable injury to her cause. An embassy had arrived from Pedro, with a proposition that they should concert a combined operation for crushing the Miguelites and the Carlists both, beginning with the former. George Villiers seems to think it feasible, but doubts if the Spanish Government has sufficient energy and courage to undertake such an operation.
March 25th, 1834
Dined with Peel on Saturday; a great dinner with the Duke of Gloucester and the Ambassadors. The day before, in the House of Lords, Lord Grey presented a petition from certain members of the University of Cambridge, praying for the admission of Dissenters to take degrees, which he introduced with a very good speech. The DINNER AT SIR ROBERT PEEL’S. Duke of Gloucester, who, as Chancellor of the University, ought properly to have said whatever there was to say, was not there (in which Silly Billy did a wise thing), so the Duke of Wellington rose to speak in his stead. It may have been that considering himself to stand in the Duke of Gloucester’s shoes, he could not make too foolish a speech, and accordingly he delivered one of those harangues which make men shrug their shoulders with pity or astonishment. It is always a matter of great regret to me when he exposes himself in this manner. After dinner at Peel’s I talked to Lyndhurst about it, who said, ‘Unlucky thing that Chancellorship of Oxford; it will make him commit himself in a very inconvenient manner. The Duke is so very obstinate; if he thought that it was possible to act any longer upon those High Church principles it would be all very well, but you have transferred power to a class of a lower description, and particularly to the great body of Dissenters, and it is obvious that those principles are now out of date; the question is, under the circumstances, What is best to be done?’ Lord Ellenborough entirely threw the Duke over, and made a very good speech, agreeing to the prayer of the petitioners, with the reservation only of certain securities which Lord Grey himself approves of. I dined with him the day following, and he said so, adding at the same time, ‘though I dare say they will consider them as an insult, and make great complaints at their imposition. However, I don’t care for that, and if they don’t choose to accept what is offered them on such conditions, they may go without it.’ There are two things which strike one (at least strike me) in the discussion—that of the two principal actors the Duke of Wellington is incomparably a man of a more vigorous understanding, and of greater firmness, energy, and decision than Lord Grey, but that Lord Grey appears like an accomplished orator, and prudent, sagacious, liberal statesman, while the other exhibits bigoted, narrow-minded views, ignorance almost discreditable, and nothing but a blind zeal in deference to the obstinate prejudices of the academical body with which he has connected himself. Who would imagine (who heard the two men and knew nothing more of them) that the latter is in reality immensely superior to the former in mind and understanding? Nor must it be supposed that the Duke of Wellington, if he came into power, would act in a manner corresponding with his declared opinions. Very far from it; he would do just as he did with regard to the Test Act and the Catholic question, and if he was at the head of the Government, he would calculate what sort and amount of concession it was necessary to make, and would make it, without caring a farthing about the University of Oxford or his own former speeches. The ‘Times’ in its remarks on his speech was very insolent, but excessively droll.
Denman’s peerage is much abused; it is entirely the Chancellor’s doing. Denman has no fortune and a feeble son to succeed him, and it was hoped that the practice of making all the Chief Justices Peers would have been discontinued in his person. Brougham wrote to Lyndhurst, ostensibly to inform him of this event, but really to apologise for the misstatements he had made in his speech about the business he (Lyndhurst) had done in the House of Lords and in the Court of Chancery. Lyndhurst said (to me), ‘What nonsense it is. He has done all he could do, and so did his predecessors before him; he has sat as long as he could, and if he has not got through as much business it is because counsel have made longer speeches, for I am told his practice is never to interrupt them, to take away his papers, and come down a few days after and deliver a written judgment.’
On Sunday at dinner at Lord Grey’s I sat next to Charles Grey, who talked of the House of Commons, and said that there could be no question of Peel’s superiority over everybody there, that Stanley had not done so well this session, had displayed so much want of judgment now, as well as formerly, that he was evidently not fit to be leader. He owned that Peel’s conduct was very fair as well as prudent, and said that if his father was to resign, he himself, and he believed many others, would be willing to support a Government headed by Peel. It is remarkable how men’s minds are gradually turning to Peel. I was amused yesterday ADMISSION OF DISSENTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. with Poulett Thomson, who told me that Peel had been very courteous to him, and that they had some important points of coincidence of opinion; that Peel did not like Graham, Palmerston, or Grant, but to the rest of the Government he was remarkably civil. I think he reckons without his host if he calculates upon Peel’s politeness extending to the offer of a place to our Vice-President in the event of his coming in.
March 29th, 1834
At the beginning of the week there was a discussion in the House of Commons which lasted for three mornings on the Cambridge petition. Spring Rice, O’Connell, Stanley, and Palmerston spoke for it; Goulburn, Inglis, and Peel against it. Old Cobbett made as mischievous a speech as he could to blow the coals between the parties. Peel spoke last, and as usual very well; but several people expected he would have supported it, and have abstained (from prudential motives) from saying anything likely to offend the Dissenters. I expected no such thing; he was not violent, and addressed his argument to the weak parts of his adversaries’ speeches rather than against the general principles of toleration; and I still think that when the great question of concessions to the Dissenters comes to be argued he will not be found in the ranks of their virulent and uncompromising opponents. It would have been an extraordinary thing indeed if he had all of a sudden stood forth in the character of an anti-Churchman, for such he especially would have been considered if he had united himself with the petitioners, and he would have disgusted and alienated all the High Churchmen and High Tories to a degree which must have made a fresh and irreconcilable breach between them. This would not have been judicious in his position, and I am satisfied that he took the most prudent course. I am the more satisfied of it from the circumstance that his speech by no means gave unalloyed pleasure to the ‘Standard,’ which is the organ of the High Church party. I feel it a strange thing to find myself the advocate and admirer of Peel; but there is such a dearth of talent, his superiority is so obvious, and it is so very desirable that something like strength should be infused into the Government, that I am compelled to overlook his faults without being the least blind to them. I ascribe to him no more elevation of character than I did before; but we must take what we can get and make use of the existing materials, and for this reason I watch with anxiety his conduct, because I am persuaded that he is under present circumstances our best and only refuge.
The Vice-Chancellor[1] called on me the other day, and talking over the business that had been done by Brougham, and the recent discussion about it, he said that he had taken the trouble to examine the returns of hearings, decrees, and orders, and he found that there was scarcely a shade of difference between what had been done severally by Eldon, Lyndhurst, and Brougham in equal spaces of time. (Eldon and Lyndhurst had the Bankruptcy business besides.) This is a clear case for the Chancellor, and it is only fair that it should be known. His friends think him much altered in spirits and appearance; he has never shaken off his unhappiness at his brother’s death, to whom he seems to have been tenderly attached. It is only justice to acknowledge his virtues in private life, which are unquestionably conspicuous. I am conscious of having often spoken of him with asperity, and it is some satisfaction to my conscience to do him this justice. When the greatest (I will not say the best) men are often influenced by pique or passion, by a hundred petty feelings which their philosophy cannot silence or their temperament obeys, it is no wonder that we poor wretches who are cast in less perfect moulds should be still more liable to these pernicious influences; and it is only by keeping an habitual watch over our own minds and thoughts, and steadily resolving never to be turned from considerations of justice and truth, that we can hope to walk through life with integrity and impartiality. I believe what I have said of Brougham to be correct in the main—that he is false, tricking, ambitious, and unprincipled, and as such I will show him up when PERSONAL REFLECTIONS. I can—but though I do not like him and he has offended me—that is, has wounded my vanity (the greatest of all offences)—I only feel it the more necessary on that account to be on my guard against my own impressions and prejudices, and to take every opportunity of exhibiting the favourable side of the picture, and render justice to the talents and virtues which cannot be denied him.
[1] [Sir Lancelot Shadwell, Vice-Chancellor of England.]
April 3rd, 1834
Yesterday I was forty years old, an anniversary much too melancholy to think of; and when I reflect how intolerably these forty years have been wasted, how unprofitably spent, how little store laid up for the future, how few the pleasurable recollections of the past, a feeling of pain and humiliation comes across me that makes my cheeks tingle and burn as I write. It is very seldom that I indulge in moralising in this Journal of mine; if anybody ever reads it, what will they care for my feelings and regrets? It is no reason, they will think, that because I have wasted my time they should waste theirs in reading the record of follies which are nothing more than the great mass of the world are every day committing; idleness, vanity, and selfishness are our besetting sins, and we are perpetually whirled about by one or other of them. It is certainly more amusing, both to other people and to myself (when I look back at what I have written), to read the anecdotes and events of the day than all this moral stuff (by which I mean stuff as applied to me, not as being despicable in itself), but every now and then the fancy takes me, and I think I find relief by giving vent on paper to that which I cannot say to anybody. ‘Cela fait partie de cette doctrine intérieure qu’il ne faut jamais communiquer’ (Stendhal). Jam satis est, and I will go to other things—the foreign or domestic scraps I have picked up.
Parliament being en relâche, there are few people in town. William Ponsonby, whom I met the other evening, told me he had just returned from the assizes at Dorchester, where some men had been convicted of illegal association. On the event of this trial, he said, the lower and labouring classes had their eyes fixed, and the conviction was therefore of great consequence; any relaxation of the sentence would have been impossible under the circumstances, and though a great disposition was evinced, partly by the press, by petitions, and by some speeches in Parliament, to get them left off more easily, Melbourne very wisely did not wait for more manifestations, but packed them off, and they are gone. William Ponsonby told me that the demoralisation in that part of the country is very great—the distress not severe, no political disaffection, but a recklessness, a moral obtuseness, exceedingly disgusting. There was a certain trial, or rather case (for the grand jury could not find a bill), in which a woman had murdered a child, got by her son out of a girl who lodged in her cottage. The only evidence by which she could have been convicted would have been that of the son himself, and he refused to speak. The crime went unpunished; but I mention this to introduce what grew out of it. One of the lawyers said that in the course of the investigations which this case had occasioned it had been discovered (though not in a way which admitted of any proofs being adduced and any measures adopted upon it) that there was a woman whose trade was to get rid of bastard children, either by procuring abortions or destroying them when born, and that she had a regular price for either operation.[2] I don’t suppose that the average state of morals is much worse in one county than in another; but it is very remarkable that while education has been more widely diffused than heretofore, and there is a strong Puritanical spirit at work and vast talk about religious observances, there should be such a brutish manifestation of the moral condition of the lower classes, and that they should be apparently so little humanised and reclaimed by either education or religion. In this country all is contrast—contrast between wealth the most enormous and poverty the most wretched, between an excess of sanctity and an atrocity of crime.
[2] [The same thing was proved more than thirty years later, on the trial of Charlotte Winsor, who eventually escaped the fate she deserved on the ground of some legal technicality which was taken up to the House of Lords, and though it was decided against the prisoner, the Government refused, after a considerable lapse of time, to have her executed.]
OXFORD ADDRESS TO THE KING. George Villiers and Howard write equally bad accounts from their respective Courts, neither seeing any hope of the termination of the Peninsular contests, and each of them alike disgusted with the men they have to deal with. Howard says that we could put an end to the Portuguese affair whenever we chose, and that they would submit to British power without thinking it a degradation; that Miguel is not popular in Portugal, but that the priests have made a crusade against Pedro and Liberal principles, and that they drive the peasantry into the Miguelite ranks by the terrors of excommunication; that the only reason why Pedro’s military operations are successful is that he has got an English corps, against which the Portuguese will not fight.
April 21st, 1834
At Buckenham and Newmarket for the last fortnight, and all things forgotten but racing. Seymour Bathurst’s sudden death called me up to town on Tuesday night, to go to Court on Wednesday. Then I saw the Duke of Wellington march up at the head of the Doctors to present the Oxford petition, attired in his academical robes; and as I looked at him thus bedight, and then turned my eyes to his portraits in the pictures of his battles which adorn the walls, I thought how many and various were the parts he had played. He made a great boggling of reading his petition, for it was on a long and broad parchment, and he required both hands to hold it and one to hold his glasses. This is the day for the procession of the Trade Unions, and all London is alive with troops, artillery and police. I don’t suppose anything will happen, and so much has the general alarm of these Unions subsided that there is very little apprehension, though some curiosity to see how it goes off.
April 23rd, 1834
Nothing could go off more quietly than the procession on Monday. There were about 25,000 men, mostly well dressed, no noise or tumult, a vast crowd. It was a failure altogether; Melbourne’s answer was good. They say 250,000 men are enrolled in the Unions, and the slang name for those who won’t belong to them is ‘dungs;’ the intimidation used is great. There was quite as great a crowd assembled yesterday to see old Lady Hertford’s funeral go by. The King sent all the royal carriages, and every other carriage in London was there, I believe—a pompous piece of folly, and the King’s compliment rather a queer one, as the only ground on which she could claim such an honour was that of having been George IV.’s mistress. Brougham made one of his exhibitions in the House of Lords the other night about the Cambridge petition, quizzing the Duke of Gloucester with mock gravity. It was very droll and very witty, I fancy, but very unbecoming his station. Last night O’Connell spoke for five hours on the repeal of the Union.
April 25th, 1834
Yesterday the Privy Council met to hear the London University petition, praying for a charter, and the counter-petitions of Oxford and Cambridge and the medical bodies. The assemblage was rather curious, considering the relative political position of some of the parties. All the Cabinet Ministers were summoned; Lords Grey and Holland were there, the Chancellor, Denman, Lyndhurst, Eldon, the two Archbishops, and the Bishop of London. Old Eldon got a fall as he came into the house and hurt his head. Brougham and the rest were full of civilities and tenderness, but he said ‘it was of no consequence, for the brains had been knocked out long ago.’ Wetherell made an amusing speech, and did not conclude. It is seldom that the sounds of merriment are heard within those walls, but he made the Lords laugh and the gallery too. There were Allen of Holland House and Phillpotts sitting cheek by jowl to hear the discussion.
May 11th, 1834
More than three weeks, and rebus Newmarketianis versatus, I have written nothing. The debate on the repeal of the Union was more remarkable for the length than the excellence of the speeches, except Spring Rice’s, which was both long and good, and Peel’s, the latter supereminently so. O’Connell spoke for five hours and a quarter, and Rice for six hours; each occupied a night, after the manner of American orators. The minority was much smaller than was expected. Since that the only question of consequence in the House of Commons has been the Pension LONDON UNIVERSITY CHARTER. List, on which Government got a larger majority than they had hoped for, and such an one as to set the matter at rest for some time. Peel again spoke very well, and old Byng made a very independent, gentlemanlike speech. Independence now-a-days relates more to constituents than to the governing power. Nobody is suspected of being dependent on the Crown or the Minister, and the question is if a man be independent of the popular cry or of his own constituency.
The King has been exhibiting some symptoms of a disordered mind, not, however, amounting to anything like actual derangement, only morbid irritability and activity—reviewing the Guards and blowing up people at Court. He made the Guards, both horse and foot, perform their evolutions before him; he examined their barracks, clothes, arms, and accoutrements, and had a musket brought to him, that he might show them the way to use it in some new sort of exercise he wanted to introduce; in short, he gave a great deal of trouble and made a fool of himself. He was very angry with Lord de Saumarez for not attending Keat’s funeral, and still more angry because he would begin explaining and apologizing, first at the levee and then at the drawing-room; and he reprehended him very sharply at both places. An explanation afterwards took place through Lord Camden, to whom he said that he was angry because de Saumarez would prate at the levee, when he told him that it was not a proper place for discussing the subject.
The debate at the Council Board terminated after two more days’ speaking. It was tiresome on the whole. Brougham is a bad presiding judge, for he will talk so much to the counsel, and being very anxious to abbreviate the business, he ought to have avoided saying pungent things, which elicited rejoinders and excited heat. The extreme gravity and patient attention of old Eldon struck me forcibly as contrasted with the air of ennui, the frequent and audible yawns, and the flippant and sarcastic interruptions of the Chancellor. Wetherell made a very able speech, which he afterwards published. The most striking incident occurred in an answer of Bickersteth’s to one of the Chancellor’s interruptions. He said, talking of degrees, ‘Pray, Mr. Bickersteth, what is to prevent the London University granting degrees now?’ to which, he replied, ‘The universal scorn and contempt of mankind.’ Brougham said no more; the effect was really fine. There was a little debate upon Portugal in the House of Commons on Friday, in which Palmerston got roughly handled by Baring. A report was believed that Don Carlos had sailed for England, and that an agreement had been concluded between Miguel and Pedro, but it turned out to be false. Nobody, however, doubts that the quadruple alliance will settle the Portuguese business, if not the Spanish.
May 12th, 1834
There was a report yesterday that Palmerston was out and Durham in his place. The latter was under the gallery when Palmerston made that woful exhibition the other night, and must have been well satisfied. I met Peel at dinner yesterday, and after it he talked to me of this report, which he concluded was not true; but he said that Palmerston had seemed bereft of his senses, and that in his speech he had attempted a new line quite unusual with him—that of humour—and anything so miserable he had never heard. He then talked of Stanley; expressed his indignation at hearing O’Connell bepraised by the men he is always vilifying, especially by Stanley himself, of whom he had spoken in the early part of the same night in such terms as these: ‘The honourable gentleman, with his usual disregard of veracity, ...’ and again ‘he attacked him, but took care how he attacked others, who he knew were not restrained by obligations such as he was under to bear with his language;’ in other words, calling him a liar and a coward; and after this Stanley condescended to flatter him and applaud his speech. He said that he had expected better things of Stanley, and was really distressed to hear it.
I dined with the Duke of Wellington on Saturday. Arbuthnot was there, and he said the Duke is in a state of unutterable disgust with the present Government and their proceedings, particularly with their foreign policy, which he fancies they shape in systematic and wilful opposition to his DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND THE WHIGS. own. This, of course, is merely his imagination, and rather a preposterous notion. He says the Duke does not think well of the state of the country, but that he grasps with eagerness at any symptoms of returning or increasing prosperity, and (what is rather inconsistent with his bad opinion of affairs) he is always telling the foreigners (i.e. the Ambassadors) who talk to him that they will fall into a great error if they think the power or resources of England in any way impaired. His antipathy to the Whigs, is, however, invincible, and of very ancient date, as this proves. Arbuthnot said that he was looking over a box of papers the other day, and hit upon the copy of a letter he had written to Lord Liverpool, by desire of some of his principal colleagues, to dissuade him from quitting office, which, he thought of doing at the time of the first Lady Liverpool’s death. With it there was a scrap on which was written, ‘Taken down from the Duke of Wellington’s own lips;’ and this was an argument that, in the event of his refusing, he (the Duke) should think himself at liberty to join any other party or set of men, but that his great object was to keep the Whigs out of power, as he was convinced that whenever they got in they would ruin the country. Lord Liverpool said that they (The Tories) had been too long in possession of the Government.
May 23rd, 1834
Newmarket, Epsom, and so forth. Nothing remarkably new. In the House of Commons the Poor Law Bill has been going on smoothly; in the House of Lords little of note but one of Brougham’s exhibitions. Old Wynford brought in a very absurd Bill for the better observance of the Sabbath (an old sinner he, who never cared three straws for the Sabbath), which Brougham attacked with excessive virulence and all his powers of ridicule and sarcasm. His speech made everybody laugh, very heartily, but on a division, the Bishops all voting with Wynford, the latter carried the second reading by three in a very thin House. The next day the Chancellor came down with a protest, written in his most pungent style, very smart, but more like a bit of an article in the ‘Edinburgh Review’ than a Parliamentary protest. Wynford was in the House when he entered his protest, and he called out to him, ‘Holloa, Best, look at my protest!’
There is a very strong impression abroad that the King is cracked, and I dare say there is some truth in it. He gets so very choleric, and is so indecent in his wrath. Besides his squabble with old Lord de Saumarez, he broke out the other day at the Exhibition (Somerset House). They were showing him the pictures, and Sir Martin Shee (I believe, but am not sure), pointing out Admiral Napier’s, said, ‘That is one of our naval heroes; to which his Majesty was pleased to reply that if he served him right he should kick him downstairs for so terming him. But the maddest thing of all is what appeared in the ‘Gazette’ of Tuesday—the peerage conferred on ——. She is a disreputable, half-mad woman! he, perhaps, thought it fair to give her this compensation for not being Queen, for he wanted to marry her, and would have done so if the late king would have consented.
On Monday last I went to Petworth, and saw the finest fête that could be given. Lord Egremont has been accustomed some time in the winter to feast the poor of the adjoining parishes (women and children, not men) in the riding-house and tennis court, where they were admitted by relays. His illness prevented the dinner taking place; but when he recovered he was bent upon having it, and, as it was put off till the summer, he had it arranged in the open air, and a fine sight it was; fifty-four tables, each fifty feet long, were placed in a vast semicircle on the lawn before the house. Nothing could be more amusing than to look at the preparations. The tables were all spread with cloths, and plates, and dishes; two great tents were erected in the middle to receive the provisions, which were conveyed in carts, like ammunition. Plum puddings and loaves were piled like cannon balls, and innumerable joints of boiled and roast beef were spread out, while hot joints were prepared in the kitchen, and sent forth as soon as the firing of guns announced the hour of the feast. Tickets were given to the FÊTE AT PETWORTH. inhabitants of a certain district, and the number was about 4,000; but, as many more came, the old Peer could not endure that there should be anybody hungering outside his gates, and he went out himself and ordered the barriers to be taken down and admittance given to all. They think 6,000 were fed. Gentlemen from the neighbourhood carved for them, and waiters were provided from among the peasantry. The food was distributed from the tents and carried off upon hurdles to all parts of the semicircle. A band of music paraded round, playing gay airs. The day was glorious—an unclouded sky and soft southern breeze. Nothing could exceed the pleasure of that fine old fellow; he was in and out of the windows of his room twenty times, enjoying the sight of these poor wretches, all attired in their best, cramming themselves and their brats with as much as they could devour, and snatching a day of relaxation and happiness. After a certain time the women departed, but the park gates were thrown open: all who chose came in, and walked about the shrubbery and up to the windows of the house. At night there was a great display of fireworks, and I should think, at the time they began, not less than 10,000 people were assembled. It was altogether one of the gayest and most beautiful spectacles I ever saw, and there was something affecting in the contemplation of that old man—on the verge of the grave, from which he had only lately been reprieved, with his mind as strong and his heart as warm as ever—rejoicing in the diffusion of happiness and finding keen gratification in relieving the distresses and contributing to the pleasures of the poor. I thought how applicable to him, mutatis mutandis, was that panegyric of Burke’s on the Indian kings: ‘delighting to reign in the dispensation of happiness during the contracted space of human life, strained with all the reachings and graspings of a vivacious mind to extend the dominion of his bounty ... and to perpetuate himself from generation to generation as the guardian, the protector, the nourisher of mankind.’
May 24th, 1834
The Chancellor, who loves to unbosom himself to Sefton because he knows the latter thinks him the finest fellow breathing, tells him that it is nuts to him to be attacked by noble Lords in the Upper House, and that they had better leave him alone if they care for their own hides. Since he loves these assaults, last night he got his bellyful, for he was baited by a dozen at least, and he did not come out of the mêlée so chuckling and happy as usual. The matter related to the Pluralities Bill, which he had introduced some nights before, in an empty House, without giving notice, and after having told many people (the Archbishop of York among others) that there was nothing more to be done that night. In short, he was at his tricks again, lying and shuffling, false and then insolent, and all for no discernible end. The debate exhibits a detail of his misstatements, and of all his wriggling and plunging to get out of the scrape he had got himself into. It is because scarcely any or rather no motive was apparent that it is with difficulty believed that he meant to deceive anybody. But it is in the nature of the man; he cannot go straightforward; some object, no matter how trivial, presents itself to his busy and distempered mind, and he immediately begins to think by what artifice and what underhand work he can bring it about; and thus he exposes himself to the charges of dishonourable conduct without any adequate consideration or cause. He reminds me of the man in ‘Jonathan Wild’ who was a rogue by force of habit, who could not keep his hand out of his neighbour’s pocket though he knew there was nothing in it, nor help cheating at cards though he was aware he should not be paid if he won. It is thought that the exhibition of last night will not be without its influence upon the fate of this Administration.
May 27th, 1834
The Government is on the very brink of dissolution. The Irish Church Bill is the immediate cause, Stanley and Graham standing out against the majority of the Cabinet with regard to the Appropriation clause. Stanley, they think, would have knocked under if Graham had not been very fierce and urged him on to resistance. They attribute all the present bother to Graham, who pleads conscience and religious feelings. It is impossible to guess how it will SPLIT ON THE IRISH CHURCH. end, and there is a terrible turmoil. Stanley was with the King for two hours yesterday. The violent party evidently wish Lord Grey to let Stanley go out, and those who choose to go with him, and to reinforce the Cabinet with Durham, Mulgrave, and that sort of thing, and what they call ‘throw themselves on the House of Commons and the country.’ On the other hand the half-Tories and moderates wish the Government to adopt a moderate tone and course, and seek support from the House of Lords. As to the House of Commons, it is a curious body, supporting the Ministers through thick and thin one day and buffeting them the next. On the Bank question the night before last Althorp was beaten, after imploring everybody to come and support him and making the strangest declarations. I am very sorry that there should be a chance of a split on such a question as the Irish Church, which really is not tenable. His colleagues (or their friends at least) suspect that Graham kicks up this dust with ulterior views, and they think he aims at a junction with Peel—Stanley of course included—and coming into office with a moderate mixed party. It will be a great evil if the Government is broken up just now, but it is quite clear that they cannot go on long; it is a question of months. The Duke of Wellington told me yesterday that he could do nothing, and he will be rather shy of giving to the world a second volume of that old business in which he got so bedevilled two years ago.
The Lievens are recalled, which is a great misfortune to society. She is inconsolable. The pill is gilded well, for he is made governor to the Imperial Prince, the Emperor’s eldest son; but the old story of Stratford Canning, and Palmerston’s obstinate refusal to appoint anybody else, has probably contributed to this change. His colleagues have endeavoured to persuade him to cancel the appointment and name Mulgrave, whom they wish to provide for, but he will not hear of it. I can’t conceive why they don’t let him go out upon it; they would be the gainers in every way. We are now in what is called a mess; the Whigs have put matters in such a condition that they cannot govern the country themselves and that nobody else can govern it either. ‘Time and the hour run through the roughest day.’
May 28th, 1834
On returning from Epsom I heard that Stanley, Graham, and Richmond had resigned, and it was supposed Ripon would follow their example.[3] Althorp adjourned the debate till Monday next. Sefton ‘never was so happy in his life.’ It is a bad sign when he is happy—not meaning to be wicked, only very foolish and violent. I have rarely seen the effects of a neglected education and a vivacious temperament manifested in a more remarkable way than in Sefton, who has naturally a great deal of cleverness, but who, from the above causes and the absence of the habit of moral discipline and of calm and patient reflection, is a fool, and a very mischievous one. They will be forced to put Peers in the vacant places, because nobody can get re-elected. The rotten boroughs now seem not quite such abominations, or at all events they had some compensating advantages.
[3] [The members of the Grey Administration who seceded on the Appropriation Resolution (as it was termed), moved by Mr. Ward, were the Duke of Richmond, Postmaster-General; the Earl of Ripon, Privy Seal; Mr. Stanley, Cabinet Secretary; and Sir James Graham, First Lord of the Admiralty. The Marquis of Conyngham became Postmaster-General, the Earl of Carlisle Privy Seal, Lord Auckland first Lord of the Admiralty, and Mr. Spring Rice Colonial Secretary.]
June 1st, 1834
The arrangements rendered necessary by the recent resignations were pretty quickly made, but they have given universal dissatisfaction. Whigs, Tories, and Radicals join in full cry against them, and the ‘Times,’ in a succession of bitter, vituperative articles, very well done, fires off its contempt and disgust at the paltry patching up of the Cabinet. The most unpopular appears to be Lord Auckland’s appointment, and, though I like him personally, it certainly does appear strange and objectionable. He has neither reputation nor political calibre to entitle him to such an elevation, and his want of urbanity and forbidding manner seem to render him peculiarly unfit for the post they have conferred on him. [Auckland turned out a very popular THE IRISH CHURCH. and, I believe, very good First Lord of the Admiralty. I have heard many praises and not one complaint of him.—December 7th, 1834.] The general opinion is that this Cabinet, so amended, cannot go on long; but as they clearly mean to throw themselves upon the House of Commons, and as the House will at all events support them for the present, they will probably last some time longer; they will at any rate, scramble through this session, and during the recess it will be seen whether they can acquire public confidence and what chance they have of carrying on the government.
After much conversation with Duncannon, Sefton, Mulgrave, and others, I have acquired a tolerably correct understanding of the history of these inconvenient proceedings. The speech of Lord John Russell, to which all this hubbub is attributed, may have somewhat accelerated, but did not produce, the crisis. The difference has long existed in the Cabinet on the subject of the Irish Church, and was well known, for Althorp stated as much last year. Stanley and Graham were both vehemently opposed to any Parliamentary appropriation of the surplus revenues of the Irish Church, but not exactly on the same grounds. Stanley denies the right of Parliament to interfere at all; that is, he asserts that Parliament has no more right to deal with the revenues of the Church than it would have to deal with his estate. Graham does not deny the right, but contends that it is not expedient, that the connexion between the two countries is mainly held together by the Protestant Church, and that any meddling with the Establishment will inevitably lead to its downfall. He stands upon religious grounds. I confess myself to be lost in astonishment at the views they take on this subject; that after swallowing the camel of the Reform Bill, they should strain at the gnats which were perched upon the camel’s back, that they should not have perceived from the first that such reforms as these must inevitably be consequent upon the great measure, and, above all, that the prevalence of public opinion, abstract justice, and the condition of Ireland all loudly call for their adoption. However, such are their opinions, and doubtless very conscientiously entertained. Upon Ward’s motion being announced, it was proposed in the Cabinet that the difficulty should be waived for the present by moving the previous question, and to this the dissentients agreed; but on further investigation they discerned that if this was moved, in all probability it would not be carried, and under these circumstances Stanley proposed at once to resign. In the Cabinet some were for accepting and others for refusing his resignation, and matters remained unsettled when Althorp went down to the House of Commons on the night of Ward’s motion. It was strictly true (as he said) that he was informed while Ward was speaking that they had resigned. The King accepted their resignations at once, and appears to have expressed his opinion that they adopted the proper course, but he told the Duke of Richmond that the four members of the Cabinet who had quitted it were the four whom he liked best of them all. When they were gone it was to be settled how their places were to be supplied. Ellice and Spring Rice were indispensable; the Radicals wanted Durham; the Whigs wanted Radnor, Abercromby, and Hobhouse; Lord Lansdowne was wavering, for he is likewise opposed to any meddling with the Church, though not perhaps to the extent that the seceders are, or to such a degree as to make his resignation imperative. However, he haggled, and they appear to have thought him of consequence enough to bribe him high to remain. He made Durham’s exclusion a sine quâ non, but I believe all the others were equally opposed to his re-admission. Spring Rice and Auckland are Lansdowne’s personal friends and firmest adherents, and their promotion is very agreeable to him (if he did not insist upon it). Mulgrave so entirely expected to come in that he told me on Epsom racecourse on Thursday last that he was to be one of the new Ministers, though he did not know which place he was to have. Great, therefore, was his disgust when they only offered him the Post Office without the Cabinet. He refused it with some indignation, and thinks himself very ill used. I do not yet know what are the reasons which induced them to make the arrangements they HISTORY OF THE CRISIS. have done, and deterred them from applying to any of the above-mentioned men. It certainly has given great disgust, and will not serve to make the Administration more popular than before. Durham is of course furious, and if Abercromby and the others did not expect or desire to come in, they will nevertheless resent being passed over, and in favour of such people.
June 2nd, 1834
Yesterday I dined with Stanley; there was a vast deal of fine company, outs and ins, Richmond, who would not stay in the Post Office, and Mulgrave who would not come into it, Auckland, Palmerston, &c. After dinner Stanley talked to Mulgrave and me about the whole business; he said that above three weeks ago, in consequence of the difference in the Cabinet, which everybody knew, he had pressed his resignation on his colleagues, who refused to take it, that he had agreed to vote for the previous question on Ward’s motion, but they were informed it would not be carried. He then said, ‘Why don’t you take my resignation?’ Still they demurred, and on that day nothing was settled. He then saw the King, who agreed to accept his resignation conditionally, provided Lord Grey could make other arrangements, and desired Stanley to go down to his colleagues and talk it over. He replied that it was too late, that he ought then to be in his place in the House of Commons, as the debate was going on. He went down, saw Lord Grey, settled with him that he should resign, and then sent into the House of Commons to Althorp to let him know that it was so settled. In such hurry, uncertainty, and confusion was this business done. Stanley talked not with acrimony, but with something like contempt of the strange situation in which the Government, and particularly Lord Grey, is placed, and he ‘hoped’ they might be able to go on in a tone which, implied great doubt if they would. He said ‘that Lord Grey continues to preside over a Cabinet which is to a certain degree committed to the principle of a measure of which he disapproves, and he accepts the resignation of the colleagues with whom he agrees; that if in the House of Commons to-night no concession is made to the principle of the measure under discussion, it will appear strange and unaccountable why the seceders have been suffered to go. If any be made, it will be inconsistent with the letter which Lord Grey has just written to Ebrington, in a strain as conservative as the King’s speech to the bishops.’ Thus Lord Grey appears to be tossed on the horns of a very inconvenient dilemma. This speech of the King’s, which Stanley alluded to, has made a great noise, and is matter of considerable triumph to the Conservatives. It is reported in the papers as it was really delivered, except some absurdities with which it was mixed. It is by no means a bad speech, and very decided in its tone; but what matters decision and a peremptory tone from a man so easily led or misled as the King? Lord Grey’s letter was addressed to Ebrington in reply to an address signed by many supporters of Government, and has been lying on the table at Brookes’ for public inspection.
June 3rd, 1834
Lord Althorp summoned a meeting yesterday in Downing Street, which was numerously attended, though some of the usual supporters of Government stayed away as followers of Stanley. He invited them to support the previous question, when there was a good deal of speaking for and against, chiefly among county members, and a good deal of cheering at his saying he hoped he had their confidence; but the meeting broke up without any satisfactory conclusion, and at five o’clock the general impression was that Government would be beaten, and this in spite of a conviction that they would resign if they were. In the morning I met Graham, who said that he did not know whether he and Stanley would speak or not, that they could not support the previous question without repudiating the declaration with which it was to be accompanied, that he considered the question to involve the fate of the Irish Church, and with it the connexion between the two countries. I told him we differed entirely, but that I would not enter upon any argument on the subject; that it was very unfortunate, and I thought the Government would not stand. He said a MR. STANLEY IN OPPOSITION. tremendous contest must ensue upon the great question, and so we parted.
In the evening a very full House. Lord Althorp stated that the King had issued a Commission, or rather extended the powers of one that already existed, for the purpose of effecting the objects contemplated by the resolution, and begged Ward to withdraw his motion. He would not, and then Althorp moved the previous question, which, to the astonishment of everybody, was carried by a very great majority, all the Tories voting with Government. Stanley spoke, and spoke very well, but with considerable acrimony and in a tone which demonstrates the breach between him and his old colleagues to be irreparable. He was vociferously cheered by the Tories, especially at one passage of his speech about a Chancellor of the Exchequer and his clerical budget which, however pungent and smart, appears to me imprudent and worth nothing as argument. I am very sorry he has taken such a line upon this question. His scruples have come too late to be serviceable to the cause he espouses, and all he can do is to fan the flame of religious discord and throw innumerable embarrassments in the way of settling a very difficult question, the ultimate solution of which is no longer doubtful.
June 5th, 1834
The Portuguese business is over—that is, for the present—but Lord William Russell (whom I met at dinner at Richmond the day before yesterday) told me he did not think Pedro would be able to keep possession of the country, and that another revolution would probably take place whenever the foreign troops in his pay were disbanded; the party against him is too strong; he said that nothing but an inconceivable succession of blunders and great want of spirit and enterprise on the part of Miguel could have prevented his success, as at one time he had 70,000 men, while the other had not above 8,000 or 10,000 cooped up in Oporto, which is not a defensible place; that Miguel might at any moment during the contest have put an end to it. The country is in a dreadfully ruined state from frequent exactions and the depression of commerce and cultivation, but Carvalho, Pedro’s Minister of Finance, told Lord William he should have no difficulty with his budget, and could find money to discharge all the claims upon Government. The source from which he expects to derive his assets is the confiscated Church property, which is very great. Money, however, is so plentiful here, that the Portuguese Government have been offered a loan of a million at eighty, which they have declined[4].
[4] [The Quadruple Treaty for the pacification of the Peninsular kingdoms was signed in London on the 22nd of April; and on the 9th of May a decisive battle had been gained by the troops of Don Pedro over those of Don Miguel. Don Carlos and Don Miguel soon afterwards withdrew from the Peninsula.]
June 7th, 1834
I was in the House of Lords last night to hear a long debate on the Commission, when Goderich made a very good speech, defending himself for his resignation and attacking the instrument; like other people, as soon as he got out of office he spoke with greater energy and force. I thought Lord Grey was rather feeble, though energetic enough in declaration and expression. Phillpotts I did not hear, but he was wretchedly bad, they told me. The Chancellor, to the surprise of everyone, made the strongest declaration of his resolution not to permit a fraction of the revenues of the Irish Church to be diverted to Catholic purposes—the purposes, in my mind, to which they ought to be diverted, and to which they in the end must and will be. The Government is now reformed, and will scramble and totter on for some time. Things are not ripe for a change, but people will continue more and more to look for a junction between Peel and Stanley. God forbid, however, that we should have two parties established upon the principles of a religious opposition to each other; it would be the worst of evils, and yet the times appear to threaten something of the sort. There is the gabble of ‘the Church in danger,’ the menacing and sullen disposition of the Dissenters, all armed with new power, and the restless and increasing turbulence of the Catholics, all hating one another, and the elements of discord stirred up first by one and then another.
June 9th, 1834
Melbourne said to me on Saturday night, ‘You DUKE OF WELLINGTON AT OXFORD. know why Brougham made that violent declaration against the Catholics in his speech the other night, don’t you?’ I said, ‘No.’ Then he added, ‘That was for Spring Rice’s election, to please the Dissenters.’ However, Duncannon says he does not believe it was for that object, but certainly thrown out as a sop to the Dissenters generally, who are violently opposed to any provision being made for the Catholic Clergy. Duncannon added that ‘those were his (Brougham’s) opinions as far as he had any, as they were not very strong on any subject.’
June 15th, 1834
Ascot races last week; many people kept away at Oxford, which seems to have been a complete Tory affair, and on the whole a very disgraceful exhibition of bigotry and party spirit; plenty of shouting and that sort of enthusiasm, which is of no value except to the foolish people who were the object of it, and who were quite enraptured.[5] The reception of the Duke, however vociferous, can hardly on reflection have given him much pleasure when he saw Newcastle, Winchelsea, Wetherell, and hoc genus omne as much the objects of idolatry as himself. Peel very wisely would have nothing to do with the concern, and they are probably very angry with him for absenting himself. The resentment he must feel towards the University on account of their conduct to him must afford full scope to all the contempt these proceedings are calculated to excite. There was a vast mob of fine people, Mrs. Arbuthnot among the rest. The Duke made rather indifferent work of his Latin speeches. As usual he seemed quite unconcerned at the applause with which he was greeted; no man ever courted that sort of distinction less.
[5] [The Duke of Wellington was installed as Chancellor of the University of Oxford on the 10th of June.]
June 18th, 1834
Lord Conyngham and George Byng are to be Postmaster and a Lord of Treasury, Abercromby is to be Master of the Mint, and Cutler Fergusson Judge Advocate, appointments sneered and laughed at. When Althorp announced the first in the House of Commons Hume said, ‘God bless us! is it possible?’ Some think Abercromby will be of use to them—that he is grave, practical, industrious, and carries weight in the House. I am unable to discover anything in him, except his consistency, to entitle him to any praise. An odd thing happened to Brougham the other day. He got a note from Althorp while he was sitting in his Court about the insolence and violence of the ‘Times,’ and that its lies and abuse of the Government ought to be put a stop to by some means. The Chancellor tore the note up, and after finishing his business departed. Two hours after Lemarchant got a note from the editor to say that the note had been picked up, put together, and was in his possession. Brougham was furious, and sent to ask the name of the person who gave it, promising to forgive him if it was given up, and threatening if it was not to dismiss every officer in his Court, and not to replace any of them till the culprit was discovered.
June 20th, 1834
The Tories are in arms and eager for the fray. There was a dinner of fifty at the Conservative Club on the 18th (Waterloo day), with healths and speeches, when Peel delivered himself of a speech half an hour long, to which vast importance is attached. People, however, hear things, as they see things, differently. Theodore Hook, who was present, told me ‘it was very satisfactory, a declaration of war; that he announced his having supported the Government while he could from a sense of duty, but that seeing they were resolved to attack the Church, he was prepared to act with, or lead (I forget which), any party which might be formed upon the principle of supporting the Establishment; that the Tories were few in numbers, but strong in character,’ and so on. Vesey Fitzgerald, who was likewise there, said it was no declaration of war whatever—a strong Conservative speech, but not violent in any way, nor indicative of any intended deviation from the course Peel has heretofore pursued. So his acts must show which report is the more correct. When we hear that his speech pleased Chandos and Falmouth, one can’t help believing it must have been somewhat fierce. I have great confidence in Peel’s watchful sagacity, but his game is a very difficult one, and with all his prudence he may make a false step. It is so much his interest to ascertain TORY WARFARE. the real disposition of the country that I am disposed to defer very much to his views and notions of probabilities, otherwise I can with difficulty believe that it is wise in him to encourage and head a High Church party and promote the senseless cry of the Church in danger. It is the contest itself as much as the triumph of any party that is to be deprecated, for nothing is like the exasperation of religious quarrels, and victory is always abused and moderation forgotten, whichever side has the ascendant. Every day, however, it becomes more apparent that this Government cannot last; living as I do with men of all parties, I collect a variety of opinions, some of them intrinsically worth little, except as straws show which way the wind blows, but which satisfy me that the present House of Commons has no great affection for them, and would not have much difficulty in supporting any other Administration that presented a respectable appearance, and would act upon principles at once liberal and moderate. The majority of the members dread a dissolution, knowing that the next elections must be fiercely contested, and be expensive and embarrassing in all ways. Altogether it is difficult to conceive a more unsettled and unsatisfactory state of things, nor one from which it appears more hopeless to emerge. In the state of parties and of the country the one thing needful—a strong Government—appears the one thing that it is impossible to obtain.
June 24th, 1834
Lord Auckland told me the other night that Government are prepared for the Dissenters Bill being thrown out in the House of Lords, and that they don’t care. He thinks it never will be carried, and will be a standing grievance of no great weight. The Chancellor made an admirable speech on secondary punishments, connecting with it the question of education. He told me he was called on to pronounce an essay without any preparation, and he did the best he could. I did not hear it, but was told it was excellent. He shines in this sort of thing; his views are so enlarged and philosophical, and they are expressed in such becoming and beautiful language.