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THE
GREVILLE MEMOIRS
(SECOND PART)
Vol. III

PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON

The Greville Memoirs
(SECOND PART)

A JOURNAL OF THE REIGN
OF
QUEEN VICTORIA
FROM 1837 TO 1852
BY THE LATE
CHARLES C. F. GREVILLE, Esq.
CLERK OF THE COUNCIL
IN THREE VOLUMES—Vol. III.

LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
1885

CONTENTS
OF
THE THIRD VOLUME.

[CHAPTER XXIII.]

Death of Mr. Thomas Grenville—Russian Measures in Poland—French Overtures to England—The Confidential Correspondence on the Spanish Marriage—Relations with France—Hostility of Lord Palmerston to France—Visit to Paris—Princess Lieven's Version of the Transaction—Lord Cowley's Opinion—Conversation with M. Guizot—M. Duchâtel's Opinion—The exact Truth as to the Spanish Marriage—Conversation with M. Thiers—A Dinner at M. Thiers'—Further Argument with M. Guizot—Character of Queen Christina—Papers laid before the Chamber—Relations of the British Embassy with the French Opposition—At the Tuileries—Mr. Baring's Opinion—Debate in the Chamber of Deputies—Mrs. Austin's Salon in Paris—Debates in England—Bad Effect of Lord Normanby's Intrigues with Thiers—Another Misunderstanding—M. de Tocqueville—Ball at the Hôtel de Ville—Animosity of Guizot and Lord Palmerston—A Call at the Sorbonne and at the Hôtel Lambert—Change of Government in Spain—Farewell Visit to M. Guizot—Effect of the English Blue Book—Conversation with M. Thiers page 1

[CHAPTER XXIV.]

Return to Paris—Possibility of a Tory Government—Hostility to Lord Palmerston—Lord Aberdeen's Dissatisfaction—The Duke's short View of the Case—Sir Robert Peel's Repugnance to take Office—Lord John Russell—Further Disputes of Guizot and Lord Normanby—The Quarrel with the Embassy—Lord Stanley attacks the Government—The Normanby Quarrel—Lord Palmerston threatens to break off Diplomatic Relations with France—Sir Robert Peel's Opinion of Lord Palmerston—Mr. Walter—The 'Times'—The Normanby Quarrel made up—Mr. Greville's Opinion of his own Journals—Income of the Royal Family—Lord George Bentinck—Lord Normanby's Étourderies—The Government gains Strength—The Irish Poor Law—The Czar places a large Sum with the Bank of France—State of Ireland—Lord George Bentinck as a Leader—Foreign Affairs—Archbishop Whately—Birthday Reflexions—Lord Dudley's Diary—Power of the Press—Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Moxon—The Defence of the Country—Troubles in Portugal—Illness of Lord Bessborough—The Duke of Wellington on the Army—Spain and Portugal—Abolition of the Lord-Lieutenancy contemplated by Lord John—Difficulty of abolishing the Lord-Lieutenancy—Deaths of Lord Bessborough and of O'Connell—Lord Clarendon's Appointment—The End of O'Connell—The Governor-Generalship of India—Sir James Graham thought of—Failure of Debates on the Portuguese Question—The Duke's Statue—The Governor-Generalship of India offered to Sir James Graham—Sir Robert Peel's Position—Failures of the Government—The Duke of Wellington's Popularity—Opinion in Liverpool—Bitter Hostility of Mr. Croker to Peel page 50

[CHAPTER XXV.]

Panic in the Money Market—The Bank Act—Sir Robert Peel's Authority—Suspension of the Banking Act of 1844—Death of the Archbishop of York—Meeting of Parliament—Irish Coercion Bill—Opinion of the Lord-Lieutenant—Weakness of the Irish Measures—Sir Robert Peel on the Bank Charter Act—The Duke of Wellington on the Defences of the Country—English Catholic Affairs at Rome—Illness of Lord Chancellor Cottenham—Bishop Hampden's Appointment'—Chloroform—Lamartine's 'Girondins'—The Hampden Dispute—Death of Lord Harrowby—Taxation—Leadership of the Opposition—The Hampden War—Scenes in Spain—Visit to Lord Melbourne—Lord Melbourne at Windsor—Burnham Beeches—Letter to Cobden—Leadership of the Opposition—Views of Sir James Graham on the Colonies—Archbishop Sumner—Baron Alderson—Diplomatic Relations with Rome—Weakness of the Government—Bad Effects of Lord John's Speech page 99

[CHAPTER XXVI.]

The Revolution in France—Princess Lieven's Narrative—Lamartine's Position—M. Guizot in London—Proposed Addition to the Income Tax—Sir Robert Peel spoken of—The State of Paris—The King's Narrative to Lady Granville—The State of France—The Convulsion in Europe—State of Ireland—Lord Palmerston invites Guizot to Dinner—M. Delessert on the State of France—The Revolution in Vienna—Fall of Metternich—State of England and Ireland—Lamartine's Reply to the Irish—The Duke's Preparations—Contemplated Measures of Repression—Lord John Russell's Coldness—Defence of the Public Offices—Failure of the Chartist Demonstration—Scene on April 10th—Effect of April 10th abroad—Measures of the Government—Measures of Relief for Ireland—Louis Philippe's Defence of the Spanish Marriages—Lord Palmerston's Conduct in Spain—Lord Clarendon on Ireland—Lord Palmerston's Affront in Spain—The West India Interest—Conversation with Sir James Graham page 132

[CHAPTER XXVII.]

Anarchy in France—Another Omission of Lord Palmerston's—His Spanish Interference attacked—Sir H. Bulwer's Account of his Expulsion from Madrid—Conviction of John Mitchell—Lord Grey objects to Palmerston's Conduct—Mirasol's Mission—Death of Princess Sophia—Weakness of the Spanish Case—Further Evasions of Palmerston—The Queen's Attachment to the Orleans Family—Blunders and Weakness of the Government—Danger of a Tory Government and a Dissolution—Disturbed State of London—The Spanish Debate—Measures taken against the Chartists—Perturbation of Society—Abolition of the Navigation Laws—The Oaths Bill—Chartist Demonstration—Lord John's West India Bill—Isturitz leaves England—Sir Henry Bulwer's Intrigues in Madrid—Lord Clarendon's Distrust of the Irish Catholics—Dangerous Position of the Government—Prospect of a Tory Government—Attitude of the Peelites—Lord Grey's Defence—Defeat of Sir J. Pakington's Amendment—Ferocious Contest in Paris—Improved Position of the Government—Louis Philippe's Opinion of the French Generals—Endsleigh—The West of England—State of Ireland—State of England—Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland—Collapse of the Irish Insurrection—Sir Robert Adair—Lord Hardinge's Appointment to Ireland as Commander-in-Chief—Lord Hardinge in India—The Sikh Battles—A Chartist Establishment—Capture of Smith O'Brien—Sicilian Independence—The Sale at Stowe—Anecdote of Peel and Huskisson—Lord Clarendon on Ireland—Lord Palmerston's Conduct to Austria and Italy—Debate on Foreign Affairs—State of France—Irish Troubles—Charles Buller's Schemes for Ireland—Close of the Session—Death of Lord George Bentinck—Lord George Bentinck's Political Career—At the Jockey Club page 177

[CHAPTER XXVIII.]

Louis Blanc on France—The Catholic Priesthood—Failure of Scheme for Ireland—Evils of Total Repeal of Duties—Reaction in Prussia—A Message from M. Thiers—Conversation of Louis Philippe with Lord Clarendon—Dinner at Mr. Reeve's—Death of Lord Melbourne—Death of Charles Buller—Their Characters—Plans for Ireland—A Dinner of Historians—Election of Louis Napoleon as President of the French Republic—Death of Lord Auckland—The Saturnalia of 1848—The Admiralty offered to Sir James Graham—Graham declines—Lord Palmerston's Attacks on Austria—Grounds of Sir J. Graham's Refusal—Opening of Parliament—Debate in the Lords—Debate in the Commons—Mr. Disraeli the Leader of the Tories—The Irish Policy of the Government—Lord John Russell limits the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act to Six Months—The Irish Grant—Dreadful State of Ireland—Admiral Cécille Ambassador in London—The Ceylon Committee—Affair of the Sicilian Stores—The Fall of Hudson, the Railway King—Sir Charles Napier's Appointment to command in India—The Sicilian Arms page 235

[CHAPTER XXIX.]

Difficult Position of the Government—A Cloud in the East—Italian Affairs—Suppression of a Despatch—Sir Charles Napier goes to India—Sir James Graham's Alarms—Lord John Russell's Position—Battle of Novara—Opposition to the Repeal of the Navigation Laws—Sir James Graham's Pusillanimity—State of France—Conflicting Views on Irish Relief—Lord John contemplates a Peerage—Interview of Lord Clarendon with Sir Robert Peel—The Navigation Bill—Maiden Speech of Sir R. Peel's second Son—An omission of Lord Palmerston's—Lord Palmerston's Opponents—Lord Palmerston's Defence—A Trip to Scotland—Dr. Candlish's Sermon—History of the Debates on Foreign Affairs—Extension of the Suffrage—The Queen's Visit to Ireland—A Council at Balmoral—Prince Albert's Conversation—Lord Aberdeen's Views—Lord John's Defence of Lord Palmerston page 278

[CHAPTER XXX.]

The Case of Gorham v. the Bishop of Exeter—Death of Lord Alvanley—The Session opened—State of Parties—Clouds arise—The Greek Affair—The Ceylon Committee—The Removal of Lord Roden—The Pacifico Affair—Lord Clarendon arrives—The Dolly's Brae Debate—The Irish Encumbered Estates Act—The Greek Affair—Conversation with Sir Robert Peel—The Roden Affair—The Queen's View of Lord Palmerston's Foreign Policy—Debate on Mr. Disraeli's Motion—Mr. Gladstone's Equivocal Position—Grillon's Club—Precarious Position of the Government—The Gorham Judgement—The African Squadron—Ministerial Troubles—The Greek Dispute—Lord Campbell Lord Chief Justice—Negotiation between the Branches of the House of Bourbon—The French Ambassador recalled from London—Lord Palmerston's Prevarications—The Case of the French Government—Intention to remove Lord Palmerston from the Foreign Office—First Speech of Mr. Stanley—Sir James Graham's Schemes of Reform—Debate in the Lords on the Greek Dispute—Effects of the Division—Lord Palmerston's Great Speech page 300

[CHAPTER XXXI.]

Accident to Sir Robert Peel—Triumphant Success of Lord Palmerston—Death of Sir Robert Peel—Sir James Graham's Position—Lord Palmerston's Policy—Lord Palmerston's Ovation—Death of Mr. Arbuthnot—Death of King Louis Philippe—The Papal Hierarchy in England—German Affairs—Papal Aggression—General Radowitz invited to Windsor—Papal Aggression—Conversation with Lord John Russell—And with Lord Palmerston—Mr. Green's Lecture—Visit to Brocket—Bear Ellice—Lord Melbourne's Papers page 347

[CHAPTER XXXII.]

Difficulties ahead—Lord John Russell resigns—Conduct of the Opposition—Lord Stanley waits on the Queen—Sir James Graham's Views—Ministerial Negotiations—Lord Stanley attempts to form a Ministry—Lord Stanley fails—The Whig Ministry returns to Office—Sir James Graham stands aloof—Dislocation of Parties—Embarrassments arising from the Papal Aggression Bill—Weakness of the Government—Relations of Sir James Graham and the Whigs—Debate on the Papal Aggression Bill—A Measure of Chancery Reform—Lord Stanley at Newmarket—Hostility of the Peelites—Opening of the Great Exhibition—Defeats of the Ministry—The Exhibition saves the Government—M. Thiers in London—Close of the Season—The Jew Bill—Overture to Sir James Graham—Which is declined—Autumn Visits and Agitation—Lord John Russell's Reform Bill—The Creed of a Capuchin—Kossuth's Reception in England—The Kossuth Agitation in England—Mr. Disraeli on Lord George Bentinck—Sir James Graham's Fears of Reform—Dangers from Lord Palmerston's arbitrary Conduct—Case of Greece—Case of Sicily—The Coup d'État of the 2nd December page 377

[CHAPTER XXXIII.]

Disraeli's Life of Lord George Bentinck—An approaching Storm—Peel's Conduct on the East Retford Franchise in 1830—Death of Mr. Luttrell—Dismissal of Lord Palmerston—Lord Clarendon declines the Foreign Office—Lord Granville takes the Foreign Office—Causes of Lord Palmerston's Dismissal—Effects of the Change—The Complete Story—Lord John negotiates with the Peelites—Whigs and Peelites—Lord Normanby's Relations with Louis Napoleon—Foreign Policy of the Country—Thiers' Account of the Coup d'État—Further Details on Palmerston's Dismissal—Lord Normanby's Recall—Lord John's Explanations—Change of Government—Lord Derby's First Ministry—Lord Palmerston's Position—Discredit of the Derby Government—Disraeli's Speech on the Budget page 423

[CHAPTER XXXIV.]

The Trial of Strength—Defeat of the Government—Shuffling of Ministers—The No-Popery Cry—Dissolution of Parliament—Character of the Derby Government—The Ministers—The Opposition—A Difficult Situation—Public Indifference—Results of the Elections—Macaulay's Election—Policy of the Opposition—Scheme of a Coalition under Lord Lansdowne—Lord Derby at Goodwood—The Herefordshire Election—Sir James Graham's View of the Situation—Death of Count D'Orsay—Difficulties of Reconciliation—Lord John Russell's Position—A Divided Opposition—Lord Granby's Dissatisfaction—Lord John Russell on Reform—Lord Cowley's Proxy—A Plan to catch Lord Palmerston—Death of the Duke of Wellington page 452

[APPENDICES.]

[Appendix A. Defences of the Country] 481

[Appendix B. The Anti-Papal Agitation] 486

[INDEX] 493

A JOURNAL
OF THE
REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA.
FROM 1837 TO 1852.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CHARACTER OF MR. THOMAS GRENVILLE.

December 19th, 1846.—On Thursday evening at seven o'clock Mr. Grenville died, after a week's illness which was no more than a severe cold or influenza. If he had lived till the 31st of this month, he would have completed his ninety-first year. I had only known him with any sort of intimacy for the last five or six years, during which I saw a good deal of him. He was a remarkable man, not so much from great ability as from a singular healthiness of mind and body and the greenness of his old age. I never saw so old a man in possession of such mental and bodily faculties; his only infirmity was deafness; till about a year ago he used to walk vigorously; he never had an illness till the one with which he was attacked the year before last, and from which he recovered entirely though with strength somewhat impaired. His memory was remarkable; his cheerfulness, vivacity, and kindness of disposition delightful. He evinced an affection for his relations and a cordiality to his friends that were pleasant to behold, and he was not only entirely free from the moroseness and captiousness which so often attend old age, but he blended an extreme suavity of manner and sweetness of temper with the high-bred politeness of the more ceremonious age in which he had flourished. He was certainly the most amiable and engaging specimen of an old man I ever beheld. I do not conceive that his abilities were ever first-rate, and latterly (whatever may have been the case early in life) he entertained very strong prejudices and often very unreasonable ones; these prejudices caused him to act in some instances in a manner inconsistent with the urbanity of his disposition. He never could endure the Reform Bill or forgive its authors; he never would set his foot in Holland House after that measure; and he estranged himself from all his old political friends, even those with whom he had been the most intimate, not indeed absolutely quarrelling with them, but desisting from all intimacy. He was a scholar and a well-informed man, and he retained till the last all his literary tastes and habits; he loved the society of literary men, and to the last entered with zest and spirit and unimpaired intelligence into all questions both of literature and politics. It is difficult to say what the exact colour of his political opinions was. He used to be a Whig; but he was, at all events latterly, a moderate anti-reforming Whig, with a horror of organic changes and not fond of any changes, disliking free trade and disliking Cobden more; favourable to Catholic emancipation and the establishment of a Catholic Church, but abhorring O'Connell who was his bête noire, and in his eyes the incarnation of all evil and mischief. He never was married, but when he was young he was desperately in love with the Duchess of Devonshire, and he never married because her image remained enthroned in his breast, and he never could find any other woman to be compared with her. For many years he was a poor man, and he never became a rich one till the death of Lord Glastonbury, who left him an estate and a great deal of money; the estate, which was entailed on his nephew George Neville, he generously gave up to him at once. He lived hospitably and handsomely, and was, I am told, very generous and charitable. His greatest expense was in books; he had collected a library of extraordinary value, and which for the size of it has always been reckoned the most complete of any private collection. It continued to interest and occupy him to the last, and he never ceased to add to it as occasion offered; he was, indeed, one of the last of the great collectors, of the bibliomaniacs; he collated every book himself, and placed in the title-page of each, in his own handwriting, an account of the book, where purchased, and its history when of any interest. His society in latter years was restricted, and he was not fond of making new acquaintances unless he fell in with them by accident, when he was easily approachable and always disposed to carry them on. He had constantly dinners and very agreeable ones, and it was wonderful to see him at ninety years old doing the honours of his table with all the energy, gaiety, and gallantry of a man in the prime of life. A happier life and an easier death it would be difficult to discover; his life was extended to nearly a century without any intermission of bodily health, any decay of mental faculties, and, what is more extraordinary and more valuable, without any deadness or coldness of human affections. He was blessed with affluence, with the love of rational and elevating pursuits, and with ample leisure and power to enjoy them. He was a philosopher, a gentleman, and a Christian, and he lived in constant social intercourse with the relations to whom he was attached, or the friends of his predilection, to all of whom he was an object of the deepest respect and affection. A life so tranquil and prosperous was terminated by a death no less easy and serene; his indisposition was not such as to interfere with his usual habits; he rose at his accustomed hour and dressed himself to the last, even on the day of his death. He had always a book, latterly the Prayer Book, before him, and his mind was undisturbed and unclouded. He dined and went to sleep in his chair, and from that sleep he never awoke.

December 20th.—On Friday morning an article in the 'Times' announced that the Emperor of Russia was going to annex Poland to his empire, putting an end to the last vestige of Polish nationality. Yesterday morning the 'Chronicle' declared this report was exaggerated, if not erroneous, and that all that was contemplated was the abrogation of custom-house regulations between the Russian and Polish frontiers. The history of these contradictory articles is this: On Wednesday at the Cabinet dinner Palmerston brought this piece of news, communicated to him by Bunsen, who was in a great state of alarm and indignation, and said that Metternich was equally alarmed and eager to do something. The Austrian and Prussian proposals were severally these: Metternich wished for a declaration that the annexation of Cracow should not be used as a precedent, but considered as an exceptional case. Bunsen suggested that a naval demonstration should be made in the Baltic by us, of course in conjunction with Austria and Prussia. These two Powers now begin to see what an egregious folly they have committed in the Cracow affair, and are filled with shame and terror. The next morning, Friday, Palmerston saw Brunnow, and he asked him whether this story was true. Brunnow said he was glad he had asked him, and that he could assure him he had never heard one word of it and did not believe it, that he believed it to be a mere fiscal regulation which would be advantageous to the Poles and not agreeable to the Russians, but that the reported political move he disbelieved. He had, however, written to Nesselrode to ask what the real truth was. Palmerston, without doubt, on this sent the article to the 'Morning Chronicle;' there is a phrase at the end of it about Guizot quite Palmerstonian. It is amusing to see the two papers moved by different ministerial interests. John Russell told me at Windsor yesterday that he believed the first account. It certainly seems to me that it is a very bad piece of policy of the Emperor's, if true; he has accomplished the absorption of Poland already in fact, and what can it signify to him to do so in form? By degrees he has stripped the Poles of almost all national distinctions, and he has only to go on as he has been doing for some time past to complete his work; nobody opposed, nobody remonstrated with him at each successive violation of those privileges which all Europe guaranteed; and now the Powers, who patiently and tamely endured the most flagrant violations in fact, are ready to explode with indignation at an announcement of them in form.

RUSSIAN MEASURES IN POLAND.

James Rothschild is come over here, partly on his own concerns, and partly on Louis Philippe's, who is very intimate with him and talks to him often and confidentially. He has been with our Ministers, at least with Lord Lansdowne and Lord Clarendon (I do not know if he has been with any others), and said a great deal about the King's intense desire to be well with England again, asked if we wanted to get rid of Guizot, and intimated that if his fall would facilitate the reconciliation he would be sacrificed without scruple. They have no doubt whatever that he is authorised by the King to convey this to our Government. Clarendon told him that Palmerston would not walk across the room to get rid of Guizot, and did not care one farthing whether he was in or out; but that he was not surprised that they should fancy he might desire it, knowing as he did that they had left no stone unturned to bring about his removal from the Foreign Office, so far as they were able to say or to do anything to that end.

December 24th.—Jarnac was with me for three hours yesterday, and I am going to him to-day to see some of his papers. The whole of our conversation resolves itself into this: he said that they really had believed that the Coburg marriage was imminent; that they had given ample and repeated notice (especially in the note of February 27) that, if ever they saw this, they should act accordingly, consider the Eu engagement at an end, and take their own line; that they never could get Palmerston to put on paper distinctly that we did not and would not encourage this match. This, involved in a vast deal of phraseology, and many minute details, with a great deal of false reasoning, and facts contradictory of each other, made up his whole discourse. I endeavoured to pin him down to one or two points, from which he was always trying to escape, and to cover his retreat by verbiage.

I have made up my mind to go to Paris, Lady Normanby having offered to take me in at the Embassy: this temptation decides me.

December 25th.—Yesterday I was with Jarnac for three hours and a half, reading papers. He showed me everything: the copy of the famous despatch of July 19 (Palmerston to Bulwer), which was (as they say) the fons et origo mali; all Guizot's private letters to him, and his to Guizot; ditto, between him and the king; his procès-verbaux of conferences with Palmerston; copy of the note of February 27 (on which they so much rely); the letter of Guizot's which was sent to John Russell, and John's admirable answer; Jarnac's own rejoinder; Guizot and the King on this correspondence: in short, he gave me to read all that was material, and that I had time to read in these three or four hours. At all events, I believe I am now as completely in the possession of the case on both sides as it is possible to be, and all this information and knowledge has not changed my opinion.

It is clear that we have been jockeyed by France in a very shabby, uncandid, underhand way. Guizot's private letters, admirably written, bear on them all the stamp of sincerity and conviction, and are calculated to impress anybody with the belief that he was sincere, and that he thought he was doing what he had a right to do as regarded England, and what it was his duty to do as to France. But where rights and duties are clear, there is no need of concealment; everything may be, and ought to be, open and above board; and besides the object of defeating a Coburg scheme and securing the Spanish bride, there was that of preserving the entente cordiale, which he could not expect to do, acting as he did.

THE SPANISH MARRIAGES.

When disentangled from all its envelopments of verbiage and mutual insinuations, the case resolves itself into one of two very simple points, and lies in a very narrow compass:—The new ministers came into office about July 7; it was then about a fortnight afterwards that Jarnac spoke to Palmerston about the Queen of Spain's marriage (not a word about the Infanta de part ou d'autre). Palmerston had written to Bulwer on the 19th, and he read this despatch to Jarnac, and gave him a copy of it (confidentially) to send to Paris. This was the despatch on which they ground their whole case. It treated of two subjects: the marriage of the Queen, and the internal government of Spain. It was very able, very sound, but it was extremely imprudent to communicate it to the French Government. The substance of it was this: that we always had considered the marriage as a Spanish question, in which no foreign power had any right to interfere. That there were three candidates left in the field (Trapani and young Carlos being out of the field), 'Prince of Coburg and two sons of Don Francisco;' that we only desired that the Queen might take whichever of them would most conduce to her own happiness and the good of Spain. We neither supported nor objected to any of them; that therefore there were no instructions to be given to Bulwer, as it was only necessary to refer to those of his predecessor, on which he would continue to act. Then came a severe criticism on the Spanish Government, and the overthrow of all law and constitutional rights, still desiring Bulwer not to interfere in any way, but not to conceal the sentiments of the English Government thereupon. This was very strong, very bitter, and necessarily very offensive to the Spanish Government, and to their abettors and protectors at Paris; however true, and however fit to be written by Palmerston to Bulwer, it was not wise to put it in the hands of the French Minister.

After the communication of this despatch, various letters and conversations passed with remonstrances, and not without some vague threats. Jarnac at once objected to what was said about the Prince of Coburg, complained it was different from the understanding with Aberdeen, and asked if it could not be reconsidered. The reply was that it was already gone. Guizot's reply to the receipt of this despatch was confirmatory of Jarnac's objections, and the latter made various attempts to obtain from Palmerston something on paper to the same effect as the verbal assurances which Palmerston gave him. Palmerston replied (as Jarnac reported) that he could not do this without consulting his colleagues. In the meanwhile (I don't exactly recollect the date), Jarnac spoke to the Duke of Bedford and Clarendon, and had an interview with John Russell. From all of these he admits, as well as from Palmerston himself, he received the most positive assurances that we did not, and would not, support the pretensions of the Prince of Coburg, and that we had no thoughts of departing from the principle laid down by Lord Aberdeen. It was certainly very imprudent of Palmerston to show this despatch of the 19th, and it is clear to me that he did it for the pleasure of provoking the French Government, and showing them what we thought of the whole management of Spanish affairs. It was, in fact, a covert and indirect but a bitter attack on them. Next, he was inexcusable for not giving them in writing that which they required, and for allowing nearly five weeks to pass away after their urgent demand for it, before he wrote (on August 28) the despatch, which did not reach Madrid till long after the marriages had been settled and proclaimed. The despatch of the 19th, which Bulwer was not desired to communicate to the Court of Spain, having been placed in Guizot's hands, he forthwith sent it to Bresson, who lost no time (but without Bulwer's knowledge) in communicating it to the Spanish Ministers, to whom it was sure to be most offensive. Taking dates into consideration, it is difficult to doubt that at the same time, or very shortly after, Bresson was ordered to settle the marriages of both princesses, for this despatch is dated July 19, and on August 28 the 'Gazette' at Madrid published the Royal announcement of the Queen's marriage. Not one word, however, was ever hinted to our Government of any such instructions being given or being contemplated. In one of Guizot's letters to Jarnac he gives him to understand that, much as he is dissatisfied, he shall do nothing fresh; and, during the whole of this interval, Jarnac continued to press Palmerston for some positive and written disclaimer—that is, he did when he had the opportunity, for during a considerable part of this time Palmerston was sailing with the Queen. There was, indeed, one letter of Guizot's hinting at his taking a line of his own, 'une politique isolée;' but this was too vague (if it were communicated, which is not clear) to excite any serious apprehension in anybody's mind. It is, however, clear that well-informed persons did think it imprudent of Palmerston not to give the French Government at once the satisfaction they demanded, and, as I have before said, both Normanby and William Hervey wrote over very strongly on the subject.

BREACH OF THE ENGAGEMENT.

At last, early in September, the news came like a thunderclap that both the marriages were settled and declared; and then began the feeling of indignation and resentment which broke up the intimacy between the two Courts, and infused such bitterness into our diplomatic relations. The war of notes began, and the world will judge whether Palmerston or Guizot had the best of it. The flimsiness of their pretext for breaking an engagement they admit to have made is the more obvious the more it is considered; and that it was a pretext, and one of which they wanted to avail themselves, is evident from the care they took to make no previous allusion to the note of February 27, which they have since endeavoured to turn to so much account. This was a note not delivered but read to Aberdeen, in which they said that, if the Coburg marriage appeared to be imminent, they should hold themselves disengaged from their pledges. They now pretend that they forgot this note was not delivered, and did not know that Palmerston was not cognisant of it, but they never took any opportunity of finding out whether he was, nor of renewing to him the menace or intimation it contained. This omission and their secret instructions to Bresson, while they not only kept us in the dark, but did their best to blind us, are sufficient to convict them of duplicity and bad faith. Palmerston, on his side, may be blamed for imprudence and negligence. The way in which it was taken up here, and especially the things Palmerston said, exasperated Guizot prodigiously, and no doubt the King still more; and it was under this irritation that he wrote his letter (September 15) to Jarnac, containing a bitter philippic against Palmerston, his whole character and policy, and a comparison between him and John Russell, much to the advantage of the latter. This letter Jarnac was instructed to send to John Russell. He told me that he was so well aware of its imprudence that he remonstrated against the order, and delayed several days to obey it. His remonstrance was disregarded, and he was desired to give the letter to John Russell. He took it, however, to Palmerston, told him he had a letter which he was charged to show to John Russell, but, as it contained matter relating to him (Palmerston), he thought it right to place it in his hands that he might read it first and forward it to Lord John after. Palmerston said he did not want to see it, and would not look at it. On this he sent it to Lord John, who showed it to Palmerston, and wrote Jarnac an admirable but very severe answer, commenting in strong terms on the conduct of France, and expressing his entire concurrence with Palmerston in every particular. This reply must have been gall and wormwood to Louis Philippe, and very disagreeable to Guizot. Jarnac wrote an answer to Lord John, rather a rigmarole, but defending the King. This answer seems to have had great success at Paris, whatever it may have had here, for there were letters from both the King and Guizot; the first thanking his champion in very warm terms, and the latter praising his zeal and eloquence.

THE RUPTURE.

The estrangement was now complete, and resentment openly testified. The two Courts were brouillés; the Ministers collectively, Palmerston individually, and Normanby at Paris, all put themselves in a cold and forbidding attitude. Our refusal to join with France in the Cracow affair was received as a hostile expression, and it is evident that the King and Guizot have been getting more and more uneasy at the estrangement, in which we persist. It is, however, not easy to discover how far the Monarch and the Minister are acting in real conjunction, and whether the former is faithful or false to the latter. Guizot's conduct and the tone of his letters do not entirely correspond; the latter evince a strong desire to obtain a sufficient security about the Coburg alliance, and certainly strenuous efforts were made by Jarnac to extract some document which might have been so considered; while, if we judge by his acts, it would seem that all the French wanted was a pretext for concluding the marriage, and such a written assurance as he kept demanding would have counteracted their clever scheme of deception and fraud. It strikes me as very possible that the King and Guizot were not acting together; that the intrigue was the King's, which Guizot did not dare or could not defeat or obstruct, but that while he was obliged to work out the King's design, he would have been really glad if we had given such clear and formal assurances as would have rendered the execution of the plan impossible. I did not conceal from Jarnac my opinion that he had failed to make his case any better; he was not a little mortified at the admiration I expressed of John Russell's letter, in which I in vain attempted to get him to join.

The next morning, just as I was setting off to Badminton, he came to me in consequence of letters he had received from Paris, in which he was informed that Normanby had openly said that the two countries could never be on good terms again till Guizot was turned out and we had obtained a renunciation from the Duchess de Montpensier; this they believed, and that it was the echo of sentiments entertained here. I told him I did not believe a word of it, either that Normanby had said it, or that anybody here wanted to turn Guizot out; that lies of this sort were always rife on such occasions, and I had just heard a story of Louis Philippe's abusing our Queen at the tea-table at Neuilly, which I had no doubt was just as false as the one he had told me, and they might be set against one another. He then asked if our Government were not going to lay papers before Parliament in which Guizot would be implicated, and if so, if they would not first give him a copy of them, and he glanced at the printed papers to which I had referred in my conversation with him. He said in Aberdeen's time such things were always done in concert, and each Government previously communicated to the other everything it meant to publish, but of course this could not be the case now. I told him I did not believe anything was decided about papers; I knew of none, and what he saw in my hands was nothing but the notes of the recent correspondence printed at the Foreign Office by the Government press for the exclusive use of the Cabinet, to whom it would have been too long a process to send written copies; that such was the practice here with regard to all important papers of any length.

Broadlands, December 30th.—I came to town on Monday from Badminton, where I went to spend Christmas. When I got back I wrote a long letter to the Duke of Bedford giving him an account of my communications with Jarnac and my opinion of Palmerston's conduct of the affair. I told him I was going to Paris, begged he would show Lord John my letter, and said that if he (Lord John) wished me to say anything or to take any particular tone, to let me know. I received an answer this morning, cold enough. Lord John only replied that as I was coming here it was not necessary for him to see me. There was a very foolish passage about our relations with France, 'that there could be no reconciliation, and the spirit of Lord John's letter to Jarnac must be maintained.' The sort of disposition they evince, half desirous to make it up, and half to bouder on, seems to me exceedingly little and unwise.

PROPOSED REVIVAL OF THE SALIC LAW.

Yesterday I found Clarendon at the Board of Trade, and had a very long conversation with him; he is now all for trying to make something of the proposal to get the Salic Law re-established in Spain, having in the first instance scouted it. It was first proposed to him by Baron Billing as a solution of the difficulty; he at once rejected it as impossible. Now he has changed his mind, and he wrote to Palmerston and Lord John to say so, and to propose writing to Billing to ask whether he had made this proposal with the knowledge and assent of Guizot, and if the French Government was prepared to assist in procuring such a settlement at Madrid. Lord John expressed doubts, and thought nothing would come of it but some fresh falsehood and deceit. Palmerston thought the plan a good one, and that it was worth while to write to Billing, which Clarendon had done, and he showed me the letter. I think the scheme utterly chimerical, and so I told him; in fact, it strikes me as one of the most absurd and impracticable that ever entered the mind of man. I stated the different objections that occurred to me, one (not the least) being that no Spaniard would be likely to support a measure almost sure eventually to produce another civil war. He said that before Olozaga left Paris he had been to William Hervey, who asked him if he would be willing to support such a measure. He replied that he would, and he thought all the Progressista party would likewise; but while he now looks to this as a possible solution of our difficulty, Clarendon is very anxious by some means to restore a good understanding, and he begged me to tell Guizot that if his language in the King's Speech and in the Chambers was moderate, he would compel a corresponding moderation here, but at the same time he informed me that it was Palmerston's intention to supply Thiers with information to use against Guizot; and he said this without any expression of disapprobation. It was at the end of our conversation, but the next day, upon reflecting on this, I wrote him a very strong letter denouncing the impolicy and the danger of such a communication to such a man. I might have also urged the immorality of it, and its inconsistency with the profession of not wanting to injure Guizot or turn him out; the more I think of this the more shocked I am. If it is done, and Thiers exhibits good information, the French Government will know well enough how he came by it.

LORD PALMERSTON ON THE SPANISH MARRIAGE.

Here I have had a long conversation with Lady Palmerston, from which I infer that Palmerston's fixed idea is to humble France and to make her feel her humiliation, and, in order to do so, to connect himself more closely with the three Powers, who appear to be ready to do anything for him if he will break with France. She abused Aberdeen, and said he had made his agents all over the world act in subserviency to the French; this system Palmerston considers it his mission to put an end to, and I gather that he means on the contrary to thwart and oppose France whenever and wherever he can. She told me that these Powers were now better disposed than ever to us, and regarding France as the most encroaching Power, only wanted to join us in keeping her down. I took an opportunity of telling Palmerston that Bunsen and Prince Albert want to have a pamphlet written about Cracow and German affairs, and that the former had proposed to Reeve to write it; Reeve said he had no objection provided Palmerston was first consulted and approved, and this he wrote to Bunsen.[1] I told Palmerston that Reeve wished him to be apprised of this. He said he was much obliged to me for giving him an opportunity of thinking of it, but that his impression was that it would be better not to write anything, as Cracow was now an affair settled and done, and it was not desirable to say anything offensive to the three Powers, whose co-operation with us was essential in the far more important concern of the Spanish marriages. From this I infer that he means to continue to wage war on the Montpensier marriage, and to form a sort of preparatory league against France. I am greatly alarmed at the spirit he evinces, and fully expect we shall sooner or later get into some scrape. This evening (31st) I had a long conversation with him, in which he discussed Jarnac's communications with me (which I had told Lady Palmerston) and with him. He declares he gave him the verbal assurances he asked for as strongly as possible, and he does not believe anything else he might have done would have produced any effect in arresting the progress of the intrigue at Madrid. The French pretend that the Spanish Court insisted on having Montpensier, and that the Queen only consented to marry her cousin on condition that the King gave his son to the Infanta; that this match was therefore a Spanish and not a French object. He said that Villa Franca (Montemolin's man) told him that when he was at Paris Louis Philippe said to him that he wished the Count de Montemolin to marry the Queen; that he had only to renounce his claims, which would be a mere form, as he would declare himself King as soon as he was married, and that he contemplated the restoration of the Salic Law, which at all events he should insist on, as far as the Infanta was concerned, whenever the Duke de Montpensier married her. Palmerston's present idea is that this restoration of the Salic Law may be effected, and that the Spaniards will adopt such a course. I pointed out the difficulty and the levity of such a proceeding: enacting a law one day which cuts off the contingent rights of Don Carlos and his family and lets in Ferdinand's two daughters; then abrogating this law and restoring the former course of succession, but preserving only one of the sisters thus let in and excluding the other, and excluding also the heir under the abrogated law now again to be restored, thus re-establishing the law but not re-establishing the rights which that law conferred. All this would make such a mass of confusion and contradictions, and abrogating some rights and creating others so partially, arbitrarily, and capriciously, that the certain result would be a future state of uncertainty, rivalry, and strife. He did not say a word to me of my journey to Paris, nor I to him.

London, January 2nd, 1847.—Returned from Broadlands yesterday; I had written from thence to Clarendon, and told him my impressions. He thinks that part of what was said of Aberdeen is true. English agents everywhere were made subservient to the French, and to such an extent that they did not dare complain of any French misconduct, because they knew they should be reproved and run the risk of being humiliated in their public capacities, and he attributes to this laissez faire of Aberdeen's much of Louis Philippe's success in his intrigues, and the uncomfortable state of things in Europe. He had been over to John Russell at Chorley Wood, and found him in no state of bitterness, but sick of foreign affairs and the plots and intrigues he had been so troubled with, and so absorbed with the much more important subject of Ireland that he could take no interest in the former. In short, Clarendon has in great measure succeeded in dissipating my alarm. He recommends that I should advise moderation, and give the French Government to understand that a moderate tone there will secure one here, and he has sent me a letter for Duchâtel, with whom he wishes me to communicate confidentially.[2]

January 3rd.—I saw M. de St. Aulaire and Jarnac yesterday, and had much conversation with both. St. Aulaire said he saw he had nothing to do but remain les bras croisés, and say as little as possible.

I go to-night.

M. GUIZOT'S EXPLANATION.

Paris, January 6th.—Arrived here yesterday morning at half-past twelve o'clock, travelling all night from Boulogne. I had no sooner got here than Normanby put into my hands a box of papers, copies of his despatches to Palmerston, containing details he was anxious I should know, and filling up gaps in the history of the Spanish affair. The most essential of these papers are despatches to Palmerston, giving an account of two interviews with Guizot, and as to which there could be no mistake, as he read to Guizot his letter, giving the details of one of them (the most important). Guizot acknowledged its general accuracy, and made a verbal amendment or two in it. I take for granted these papers will be published. Normanby is very anxious they should, and justly considers that unless they are, the strength of our case will never be known. There are certain things contained in them which Guizot never can explain away satisfactorily, and which must leave a stain on his candour and good faith. On August 28 Normanby formally proposed to Guizot a joint action in favour of Enrique; he replied that this would suit him perfectly, and that he would write to Bresson and instruct him accordingly. On that very day the announcement of the two marriages appeared in the Spanish Gazette. Normanby of course subsequently asked for an explanation of this extraordinary conduct. Guizot seems to have lost his head in the excitement of his exploit, for he replied that hearing nothing to satisfy him, and on the strength of his note of February 27, 'J'ai agi'—that is, that he had already acted independently and hostilely long before the day on which he pretended that he would give instructions to Bresson to act conjointly with us. He endeavoured to excuse this duplicity by saying that Bresson had acted on general, not on particular instructions; but this was inconsistent with his 'J'ai agi.' Then about the time of the celebration of the marriages, he had said they would not take place at the same time; again, on being pressed on this point, he said he had meant that they would not take place together, and that such had not been the intention when he said so. Jarnac told me the other day that he had heard great stress was laid on this by us, and that we meant to make it a matter of grave charge. I said I did not believe it was so seriously considered, and doubted that much more was thought about it, though at first it had been considered as a proof of insincerity; but I find that it is of importance, for upon the expectation thus conveyed by Guizot rests Palmerston's defence for one of the weakest points of his case, his long silence after hearing of the marriages being settled. Palmerston's conduct and his delays throughout have been quite inconceivable, and certainly will, if not weaken his case, draw considerable censure upon him if it all comes out. There was, in the first place, his neglect and obstinacy in not giving in writing the assurances he had given verbally; next, as to the proposal of joint action, Jarnac came to him, intending to make the proposal, but in consequence of the despatch of July 19 he did not make it. He then went to Paris, and on his return he did make it. He could get no answer, and none was sent till August 22. Bulwer was then instructed to propose Enrique, and the French Government was invited to instruct Bresson to co-operate, but he allowed a month to elapse before he wrote this instruction; then when the conclusion of the marriages was imparted to him, he suffered three weeks to elapse before he took any notice, and then sent his protest. It never would have been effectual, but the only chance for him would have been an instantaneous remonstrance by return of post. All these delays, such tardiness, coupled with other slight circumstances, give some colour to the proceedings of the French Government, and, to a certain degree, help out their case. Normanby is fully conscious of the damage thus done to ours, and the only excuse for the last delay is, that Palmerston was reposing on the assurance that the marriage of the Infanta was not to take place at the same time with that of the Queen; but this, when examined, will appear hardly any excuse.

PRINCESS LIEVEN ON THE QUARREL.

I called yesterday afternoon on Madame de Lieven, who was very glad to see me, and we forthwith broke into the subject, without, however, any sort of agreement. She abused Palmerston, and said if Aberdeen had been in office it would not have happened. As to argument, she really had none to offer, but repeated over and over that 'we had departed from the agreement with Aberdeen;' and if not, 'pourquoi nommer le Cobourg?' She said all Europe was against us, that we had with little dignity knocked at the doors of the three Powers who turned their backs on us, and that we had done good to France and harm to ourselves by this useless appeal, as they were now more alienated from us and better inclined to the French, and that they all thought us in the wrong. She said much about Normanby, his greenness as ambassador, and the follies he committed; asking advice of different people, and very incompetent people too; and she repeated the story Jarnac had told me of his saying we never should have harmony restored till Guizot was turned out and the Infanta had renounced, which, she said, had been told her by Apponyi, who had heard it from Normanby himself. She had got other stories of the same kind, and a heap of little charges of holding communications with Thiers, Molé, and others hostile to the Government. She said that the King was very angry with our Queen for having said that he had broken his word, and never would be reconciled to her till she had withdrawn that accusation. I said that between his word and hers I could not for a moment doubt, and that I suspected he would have a long time to wait if he did so till she withdrew the charge she had made. She said Guizot was very strong, the King very firm, the marriage very popular, and that they all desired nothing so much as to make known all that had passed, secure that in so doing they should have public opinion all the world over on their side. We parted wide as the poles asunder, but very good friends.

January 7th.—Guizot appointed me at four o'clock yesterday, but when I went there he was not returned from the Council. I called again and saw him for a moment; but as he said he had his courier to despatch, and 'avait à me parler sérieusement,' he begged me to go to him to-day at half-past four.

I called on Lord Cowley,[3] and had a long conversation with him. He is impatient for a reconciliation, and thinks that far too great importance has been attached to the question itself. He blames Palmerston severely for his despatch of July 19, and thinks that more warning and menace were held out than I had conceived;[4] that his communications ought to have satisfied Palmerston that the French Government were in an excited state and prepared to do something unless he prevented them. This makes his delays still more inexcusable. He also fancies that it would never have happened if Aberdeen had remained in office.

At night to the Opera, where I met Thiers and was introduced to Molé. I am to call on Thiers to-morrow afternoon. Molé told Normanby that he was very uneasy about two things,—the arrest of Olozaga in Spain, and the intervention of the Austrians in Italy, which he expected to take place. Molé, by Normanby's account, speaks very disparagingly of Guizot, and, by Madame de Lieven's, very contemptuously of Normanby. It is amusing enough to hear all the stories the people here tell and the opinions they express of one another.

DISCUSSION WITH M. GUIZOT.

At night.—This morning I called on Madame de St. Aulaire, whom I found, and Madame de Gontaut, whom I did not; then, Madame de Lieven. Much talk on the old subject, and the fire of my tongue extinguished the fire of hers, for, without the least convincing her, I reduced her to silence. The great gun I brought to bear on her was Aberdeen's despatch to the Duke de Sotomayor, which proved that Palmerston had in no way departed from the system of conduct pursued by Aberdeen. From her I went to Guizot, and was with him for an hour and a half. We began with an agreement that we should be mutually frank and sincere. He went through the whole case and exhibited all his causes of complaint and suspicion against Palmerston, that when he came into office he never said a word (in public or private) expressive of a desire to be on good terms with France, neither in his speech at Tiverton, nor in the House of Commons, nor to Jarnac; that he never alluded to the Spanish question nor sought to establish or confirm an understanding thereupon with France; that the despatch he wrote to Bulwer (19th), which contained instructions for his conduct, was not imparted to the French Government; and that when Jarnac spoke to him, and Palmerston showed him the despatch, it was already gone. All this apparent reserve and uncommunicativeness excited suspicions that he was not well disposed and, above all, not going to tread in the footsteps of Aberdeen. I defended him by saying that he ought to have considered Palmerston's situation—just come into office, encumbered with business, occupied with questions of much more urgent importance in the House of Commons. Nothing new having occurred about Spain, he contented himself with desiring Bulwer to abide by his predecessor's instructions, and really had nothing to say on the subject; that it was his habit to write in a rather familiar, offhand style, and his despatch to Bulwer, which was not intended to be published or communicated, was of that description, but that it meant nothing; and when asked, and the objection urged to the obnoxious passage, he gave the most positive assurance that no change of policy was contemplated. Guizot insisted that it did not signify what he meant; that the question was, what impression it was calculated to convey. Then he went into the various delays, and the impossibility of getting an answer from him; all of which served to confirm his suspicions that a different and hostile policy was already in active operation, that the note of February 27 gave him a right to act, le cas échéant, and that in a letter to Jarnac (which he gave me to read) he plainly indicated his intention by saying that if England adopted une politique isolée, he would adopt one also, and he asked me whether I would not have understood what this meant—and that it meant, what he afterwards did. I said I did not mean to acquit Palmerston of much negligence and tardiness; that I thought he ought to have at once come to a satisfactory understanding with France about the marriages; that he was greatly to blame in all his delays, but that he did him less than justice; that Palmerston was not the bitter enemy of France which he supposed, and that he was reposing all along on the faith of the engagements which Aberdeen had communicated to him, never thought the matter pressed, nor had the least idea that they took it so seriously; that he must remember we did not regard Spanish affairs with the deep interest and attach to them the same importance they did. He said he was convinced that Palmerston came into office with a resolution to overturn French influence all over the world; that he fancied (as many others did) that Aberdeen had sacrificed the interests or the dignity of England to the French Government, while he himself had continually been charged with doing the same thing in France: charges which destroyed each other. But that this was Palmerston's idea, and that he was resolved to oppose France everywhere, to display his independence; that this was especially his object in Spain, where he wanted to raise the Progressista and depress the Moderado party as the most effectual means of substituting English for French influence; that the real reason he supported Don Enrique, and called him 'the only fit husband,' was that he was the head of the Progressista party, and his being chosen as the Queen's husband would be a great encouragement and triumph to it; that this party was the enemy of Christina and of the present government, and for this reason our choice was obnoxious to them; that except for these reasons he had no objection to Don Enrique, and long ago had desired Bresson to get him recalled in a despatch which he showed me; that he was convinced that Palmerston not only had determined to act in the way he had stated, but that he thought he could intimidate France.[5]

M. GUIZOT DEFENDS THE SPANISH GOVERNMENT.

I replied that he was entirely mistaken: that he exaggerated Palmerston's disposition and mistook his position; that in Melbourne's time he did what he chose in his own department, but that was not now the case; that all important affairs were decided by the Government, and that John Russell was far from having any bitter feeling against France, and had always entertained sentiments of esteem towards Guizot personally; that neither he nor anyone else (not even Palmerston) wished to see him out of office. It was true that they did think there had been on different occasions and in various places an undue succumbing to France, but that there was no desire to commence a general struggle against French interests; that they would certainly see with pleasure the Liberal party in Spain again lift up its head, and some such reaction as should promise a Government disposed to act in a constitutional manner, and put an end to the despotism that now prevailed. He said that he considered this the best and most constitutional Government that Spain had ever had; that it was far more so than Espartero's; that every change had been effected in a legal, constitutional manner by the Cortes itself; while all former changes, especially the expulsion of Queen Christina, had been effected by violence. I said I was amazed to hear him say so, and begged to ask him how the Cortes itself was constituted, and whether it had not been packed by stratagem and force, and by the most unscrupulous use of despotic power—the municipalities having been suppressed and all free opinion overborne. He only replied that the municipal question was made the instrument of the Queen's deposition, and that it had been voted by the Cortes.

It is very difficult to record accurately a conversation in which we often diverged and then returned to the same topic. I pressed him hard on his want of openness and confidence, and urged that when the two countries had been so long on such terms of amity, and the two Sovereigns also, that before he proceeded to act in so serious and decisive a manner and which could not fail to offend England, he ought to have left nothing vague, but have said distinctly and at once what he intended to do. He ought, if he took the note of February 27 as his justification, to ascertain that Palmerston was cognisant of that note. Why did he not as soon as he came into office renew to Palmerston the notice he had thought it necessary to convey to Aberdeen, and why not say frankly that he regarded the state of the case to be such that, acting on the right he had reserved to himself, he should send instructions to Bresson to conclude the marriages. His answers to this were very weak. He said that it was not his business to look after Palmerston's affairs, and that he had a right to conclude, since Aberdeen had communicated with him, that he had imparted to him this note; that he showed confidence to those who showed confidence to him, and that he did not think Palmerston had acted towards him in such a manner as to require such confidential communication on his part. His real reason was (though I did not think it necessary to charge him with it), that if he had given notice to Palmerston, the latter would have sent off to Madrid and probably counteracted his scheme. He insisted that his letters to Jarnac, and the conversation he had had with Lord Cowley (which he repeated to me word for word as Lord Cowley had done), were warning enough and were sufficient indication of his intentions. Besides that Bresson's instructions were general, he had had them above a year with a discretionary power to act upon them whenever he had reason to believe the Coburg marriage was imminent, which case he contended had arrived. I said if its imminence arose from our despatch, Bresson had himself created it, inasmuch as he had shown it to the Spanish Government. He said that was not true, that Bresson had given him his most positive assurance that though he had spoken of it to different people he had never shown it to the Spanish Ministers. He spoke with great energy of the King's feelings and of his own, especially at the strong language that had been applied to him personally, and of his having been accused in a formal document as well as in a letter, of bad faith; that it was impossible to transact business with any confidence and in a useful manner with those who charged him with bad faith. Such accusations were intolerable. He then spoke of his letter to John Russell; that he had only intended to call his attention to the difficulty of going on with Palmerston while he put such a tone into the discussions; that it was absurd to suppose that he had ever thought or dreamt of effecting Palmerston's removal from office. He excused this letter very clumsily, and said he had not expected any answer to it (being evidently to the last degree nettled at that which he had received). I admitted that this letter was very imprudent, that it was very strong, and spoke of Palmerston in terms he was likely to feel and not easily to forgive; that he should have recollected what a situation he placed John Russell in, who really was compelled to answer it as he did, or to quarrel outright with Palmerston; that if he had not answered it as he did, the indignation and resentment of Palmerston would have been very great, and he would probably have resigned; and that he might have found means of conveying his sentiments in some manner less dangerous and offensive. He insisted on the clear intention of Palmerston, from the despatch, the delays, and various circumstances, to depart from the engagement with Aberdeen. I said that we could prove that Aberdeen himself had laid down precisely the same rule of conduct on which Palmerston had acted, and expressed the very same sentiments; that they were recorded in a former despatch addressed to the Duke de Sotomayor for the information of the Spanish Government; that this was very different from the letter to Bulwer which was neither to be shown nor any thing done upon it, but was a reply to two important questions: the first, whether if the Spaniards chose a husband for the Queen not a Bourbon prince, such choice would be displeasing to England; and secondly, if France attempted to coerce their choice, whether England would support them. His reply was plain and decisive: viz. that their choice would not be objected to by England, whatever it might be; and that while it was impossible to conceive that France ever would attempt coercion, if she did, Spain would have the 'sympathy' of England and of all Europe. He said he had no copy of this despatch, and did not well recollect its contents. I said, 'But you have seen it.' He 'had not had it in his hands, it had been read to him.' He was evidently much put out by the citation of it.

EFFECT OF LORD PALMERSTON'S DESPATCH.

After a great deal more talk he spoke of his intentions. First, however, he complained of our refusal to join with him in the Cracow affair, and that we had done so in an offensive manner, giving him to understand that his breach of the Treaty of Utrecht made it improper to join with him in enforcing that of Vienna, but that, nevertheless, he was resolved to observe the greatest moderation and to evince no rancune; that he should lay the papers he thought necessary before the House of Peers, and make such a statement of the whole case as he was convinced would prove to demonstration to France, to Europe, and even to many people in England itself, that he was clear and blameless in the transaction; that he might deceive himself, but that such was his sincere belief; that he should, however, do this in language of moderation and with an earnest desire to avoid furnishing any fresh matter for irritation; that he should continue his endeavours to act towards England in a friendly spirit, and he should not be deterred by her past conduct from offering to communicate and consult with her on all those subjects which it was desirable they should consider with reference to their mutual or common interests. He said he had a great deal more to say to me, hoped to see me again, and that I would dine with him, and so we parted.

January 10th.—On Friday I called by appointment on Duchâtel. There is nothing of much interest to record of my conversation with him. He talked in the same strain as Guizot, expressed great desire for reconciliation, confidence in the goodness of their case, said their majority was stronger and more secure than ever, and any change of government impossible.

LORD COWLEY'S VIEW OF THE CASE.

Yesterday morning I went to Lord Cowley, who showed me his letters to Palmerston giving him an account of the state of the Spanish question and of his conversations thereupon with the King and Guizot. These communications ought certainly to have drawn Palmerston's attention to the subject, and have induced him to lose no time in coming to some understanding with the French Government. At the same time the anxiety of the King to gain time, and his urgent recommendations to Miraflores to have patience, may have misled Palmerston and made him think there was no danger. It is clear to me that what they took alarm at was Miraflores' communication; that they really did believe the Coburg alliance was imminent, and that when it was followed up by Palmerston's despatch of the 19th their fears were still more increased. They all along suspected both Palmerston and Bulwer; and they did, in truth, think that between Christina's impatience, the difficulty of finding an eligible Bourbon, the probable intrigues of Bulwer, and the suspected co-operation of Palmerston, unless they settled the matter themselves somehow it would be settled in the way they most dreaded. They knew, or at least they thought, that their difficulty would be very agreeable to Palmerston, and that it was not likely he would help them out of it. In this state of things I have no doubt that Guizot wrote to Bresson and told him to settle the affair if he could, and that Bresson was furnished with fresh instructions on which he did act, and not on the old discretionary ones on which they now pretend that he acted. Lord Cowley thinks Christina told Bresson that if he would at once strike a bargain and give the Duke de Montpensier for the Infanta, Don Francisco should have the Queen; that he instantly accepted this proposal, sent it off to Paris by telegraph, where it was confirmed at once. Whether this was the exact mode or not, or whoever took the initiative, I believe this is the way it was done; certainly the King seemed anxious to put the question off. Lord Cowley thinks he expected to be able to bring back Trapani. Guizot's vehemence (for he spoke much more strongly than the King) ought to have alarmed Palmerston. The mischief has arisen from Palmerston being careless and thoughtless, Guizot suspicious and alarmed.

Yesterday morning at two o'clock I called on Thiers by appointment, found him in a very pretty apartment full of beautiful drawings, copies of Italian frescoes, pictures, bronzes, books and cahiers of MS., the sheets (much corrected and interlined I could see) of his work. These he told me were his 'seul délassement,' and that politics never interrupted his literary labour. We then talked about the present state of affairs, and very amusing he was, sparing nobody and talking with his usual abundance and openness. He said he had read the notes that had passed between Palmerston and Guizot; that his own opinion was that Guizot would break down on the procédés, but that at all events it was a quarrel à outrance; that each accused the other of bad faith, and could only justify himself by fixing that imputation on his antagonist; that moderation became impossible when such charges were bandied, and he had read with astonishment the strong things contained in these notes; that if Guizot had the worst of this encounter he would fall, not however by the desertion of the majority, not by this Chamber, but through the King. 'You must not,' he said, 'believe what you hear of the strength of the Government and of its security; don't believe all Madame de Lieven tells you; c'est une bavarde, une menteuse, et une sotte; vous l'avez beaucoup connue, vous avez été son amant, n'est-ce pas?' I defended myself from the imputation, and assured him that though she had had lovers when first she came to England I never had had the honour of being one of them. He then said he would tell me what would happen: the King se faisait illusion that the Whig Government could not stand; but when he found out that this was an error il aurait peur; and if we continued to refuse to be reconciled, he would get rid of Guizot. The present Chamber would not overthrow him, but the King would. 'Savez-vous ce que c'est que le Roi? Le mot est grossier, mais vous le comprendrez. Eh bien, c'est un poltron.'[6] I said I was surprised to hear this, for we thought he was un homme de coeur, and had given proofs of his courage very often. 'Non, non, je vous dis qu'il est poltron, et quand il se trouvera définitivement mal avec vous il aura peur; alors il suscitera des embarras à Guizot; il y a quarante ou cinquante hommes dans la Chambre, je les connais, qui tourneront contre lui, et de cette manière il tombera, pas par la Chambre, encore moins par vous.' He said the accusations had been so strong that each Minister was bound to prove his own case and the mauvaise foi of his adversary, and Guizot would stand or fall by the result of the explanations. 'Vous pouvez être sûr que ce que je vous dis est la vérité, d'autant plus que ce n'est pas moi qui lui succéderai, c'est Molé. Cependant je vous parle franchement, et je vous avoue que je serais enchanté de sa chute; d'abord parce que je le déteste, et après, parce que l'alliance anglaise est impossible avec lui; c'est un traître et un menteur qui s'est conduit indignement envers moi, mais je ne serai pas ministre.' However, he could afford to wait; he was forty-eight years old, and his health excellent. As long as the King was in no danger he would never send for him; as soon as he was he would send for him. The King could endure nobody who would not consent to be his tool; he would never take office without being his master, et j'en viendrai à bout; he would rather continue in his independence than take office on any other terms. He told me he had seen the notes, and was amazed at the sharpness of their contents. We then went out together, and walked to the Faubourg St. Honoré, talking about his book, Napoleon, etc.

CONVERSATION WITH M. THIERS.

At night.—I have been dining with Thiers, and met Odilon Barrot, Cousin, Rémusat, Duvergier de Hauranne, Mignet, and several others I can't remember. They were all prodigiously civil to me, and with Cousin and Mignet I had a great deal of conversation. Palmerston's note arrived this morning. It is very clever and well done, but too long, and his polémique about the Treaty of Utrecht in my opinion déplacée and mischievous. But he is determined to urge this point, and is endeavouring to get the Allied Powers to join with him in a protest or some formal expression of opinion upon it. I don't believe they will ever do this; but if they did, it would probably produce most serious consequences. His policy in this is perfectly inconceivable to me. Normanby read it to Guizot this afternoon, and at the same time offered him the despatch of the 19th July (to Bulwer), and Aberdeen's to Sotomayor to publish with the other pieces, both or neither, but he refused them. I had another furious set-to with Madame de Lieven, who is the most imprudent woman I ever saw; but we always part friends. Normanby has shown Thiers several papers, and Molé many more he tells me. I have begged him to be cautious.

FEAR OF THE COBURG MARRIAGE.

January 12th.—I called on Guizot yesterday by appointment; found him more stiff and reserved than the first time, and not apparently in good sorts. He did not appear to have anything particular to say, but reverted to the old topics; that he would not go again over the same arguments; but it was clear that from the beginning Lord Palmerston had a fixed policy which he had immediately begun to carry out: to raise the Progressista party in Spain, and destroy the Moderado and French influence with it; that we fancied ourselves obliged to substitute English for French influence there as an indispensable security for our power in the Mediterranean; and we appealed to the Treaty of Utrecht; that great changes had taken place since that time. It was true France had acquired Algeria, and through it a certain power in the Mediterranean; but that we had acquired Gibraltar, Malta, and Corfu, which we had not been possessed of before, and which were quite sufficient to secure our power there. He said a great deal more of Palmerston, for he still insists, and either believes, or at all events pretends to believe, that Palmerston was bent on the Coburg marriage, and doing his utmost to bring it about. He really thinks it was sound policy on his part, and for that reason was pursuing it. I again and again assured him he was mistaken. 'You forget,' I said, 'that when this affair began, Palmerston had not been ten days in office, was overwhelmed with business, and had many other things more pressing to occupy his attention. He had found an understanding concluded with Aberdeen, which he accepted. He had no thoughts of doing anything; he knew of nothing urgent that had occurred, and the truth is, il n'y pensait pas.' 'Comment!' he said, rather angrily, 'il n'y pensait pas? Est-ce que vous nous prenez pour dupes que vous voulez nous faire croire cela? 'I said I believed it was so; that this Spanish question which was of such deep interest to them was of much less interest to us; and 'why,' I said, 'if you considered the matter so urgent, if you knew what was going on in Spain (which Lord Palmerston did not), and considered the marriage you so feared to be imminent, why did not you go at once to Palmerston and tell him so?' 'Ce n'était pas à moi,' he replied, 'de faire l'éducation de Lord Palmerston.' 'No,' I said; 'mais c'était à vous de faire vos propres affaires, and to communicate frankly with him when you wanted his assistance.' He would not allow this. I said, since I had been here and had seen and heard a great many things I did not know before, I had become convinced that his alarm about the Coburg marriage was perfectly sincere, that he really did believe it was likely to take place, and that the real object of the King had been to get the Spanish Court to wait and not insist on an immediate marriage; that it was not the despatch of July 19, but the mission of Miraflores and what he had said to the King which had really alarmed them. He said this was not exact; it was not that which had given them the alarm, but from various circumstances they were convinced that the Coburg marriage would have been settled offhand if they had not taken decisive steps to prevent it; that this marriage it was impossible for France to tolerate. There was already a Coburg in England, another in Portugal, and to have had a third at Madrid would have been to make Spain a part of Portugal, and to have exhibited to all the world the triumph of English over French influence; that this combination which we wanted to bring about, they were bound to defeat, and then again assuming that our Court was bent on it, he said: 'Le fait est que vous êtes meilleurs courtisans que nous.' I told him that I was assured the Court had never sought this alliance, and that Prince Albert had long ago written to his cousin to say that he must not think of it, as it was impossible.

I then asked him why Christina had been so impatient to conclude a marriage of some sort, and why she could not wait as the King had advised. He said, for reasons partly personal and partly political; that Queen Christina was a very extraordinary woman—'très habile, avec un esprit très impartial'—that she had no prejudices, and he had heard her talk of her greatest enemies, of Espartero even, without rancour and with candour; that she had great courage, patience and perseverance, and never quitted a purpose she had once conceived; that royalty was irksome to her, and government and political power she did not care about except so far as they were instrumental to the real objects of her life, which were to live easily, enjoy herself, and amass money for her children, who were numerous, and whom she was very anxious to enrich; that she was aware of the precarious nature of her influence, and felt the necessity of connecting herself with, and obtaining the support of, one of the great Powers—England or France—the latter by preference, but the former if not the latter; that she had, therefore, always wanted the King to give her his son for the Queen, and when he refused this, she had got angry and turned to the Coburg alliance and the English connexion; that besides, the young Queen was impatient to be married, and that if they had not found her a husband, she would infallibly have taken a lover. 'Vous ne savez pas ce que c'est que ces princesses Espagnoles et Siciliennes; elles ont le diable au corps, et on a toujours dit que si nous ne nous hâtions pas, l'héritier viendrait avant le mari.' For these reasons she was impatient to conclude, and she infallibly would have concluded the marriage with the Prince of Coburg if we had persisted in refusing the Duke de Montpensier, and had not effected some other arrangement. She trusted that the King, her uncle, would have accepted the fait accompli, and at all events that she should have been secure of English support.

THE FRENCH PAPERS.

I then said that after all what was now most important was to look to the future, that our quarrel must be fought out, but that a short time would bring those discussions to an end. What was to happen then? I believed and hoped that he was not likely to be renversé here, and I was satisfied Lord Palmerston would not be in England, and how were the affairs of the two Governments to be conducted between them? If Spain, which had once been a military champ de bataille, was henceforward to be a political champ de bataille between the two countries, I did not see how any entente was possible. Must this last for ever? or was it impossible that the two Governments should unite in bringing about a better state of things in Spain, and giving to her in reality something of the freedom and independence which she possessed in name? He seemed by no means disposed to enter on this subject, and as I thought I observed in his manner some symptoms of a desire that our conversation should terminate, I rose and took leave of him. He was very civil, but rather formal and ceremonious on my going away.

Paris, January 13th.—This morning we read in the newspapers the pièces remises by Guizot to the Chamber of Peers, and among them, to our great surprise, an extract of Palmerston's despatch to Bulwer of July 19, Guizot having refused Palmerston's offer to place it (with Aberdeen's to Sotomayor) at his disposal. Normanby immediately wrote him a very strong note complaining of this publication after what had passed between them. In the afternoon I saw Madame de Lieven, who made very light of it, and treated it as a frivolous complaint. Bacourt, who was there, endeavoured to find excuses for Guizot, but was obliged to confess that he had no right to use this without our permission. When I got home I found Guizot's reply had come. He said he had given nothing more than he had quoted in one of his notes, and had done no more than produce the English version of what he had quoted in French, and he asserted his right to do this. He finished, however, by saying that if Normanby would send him the two despatches, he would add them to the other documents. Normanby wrote back word that he regretted he should have produced this extract in a manner calculated to give a false impression of the tenor of the despatch, sent him the documents, and hoped, as he was going to publish more, he would produce Palmerston's last note. There has been a schism here in the Opposition; Billault, Dufaure, and thirty or forty deputies have separated from Thiers, and are preparing to join Molé if Guizot falls. It seems clear that neither party will take our side on the marriage question, and that the Government will not be attacked at all in the Peers, and very probably very feebly in the Deputies.

January 16th.—For the last two days I have been sightseeing, Hôtel Cluny, Churches, Notre-Dame, Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois, the Gallery of the Louvre, and all day yesterday was at Versailles. I had not seen it for above thirty years, and was struck with the vast dimensions and the ugliness of the building; it is, however, interesting on the whole.

I dined with Guizot on Friday; had very little talk on politics. He came into one of the rooms where Bacourt and I were talking and joined us. I then said that though I had come here without any mission I had come not without the hope of being able to take back with me something which promised a renewal of good understanding. Guizot said he was ready to be on good terms with us, but he could do nothing of any sort or kind, and this he repeated in a very peremptory tone. He was probably (though very civil to me) not in the best of humours in consequence of the article which had appeared that morning in the 'Constitutionnel' (Thiers's paper), with a circumstantial and quite accurate account of what has recently passed between Guizot and Normanby about the despatches. This, which could only come from the Embassy, has shocked I suppose everybody, and made Guizot and his friends indignant. Normanby was himself very much annoyed when he read the article, and at once perceived the bad effect it would have. He said he did not know how it got there, but he suspects Thiers who probably sent it or caused it to be sent; however, both William Hervey and Craven are so hot and so unreserved that the Opposition paper might very easily get over it. Normanby has told Thiers and Molé everything, and Thiers came twice in three days to the Embassy. All this is well known, and Normanby passes for an ambassador in constant and confidential communication with the enemies and rivals of the Ministers. In spite of all this, within the last two days I have found a less excited tone. We had, however, our own complaint to make, which probably kept them more quiet about the 'Constitutionnel.' When all the papers came out it appeared that Guizot had published another fragment that he had no right to do of one of Palmerston's despatches, about 'the only fit husband.' This had been read to him, but no copy given to him, and he took the words down with his pencil at the time. These words he published in a formal official shape. His excuse is the same, that the words had been quoted in one of his notes.

AT THE TUILERIES.

January 19th.—Went last night to the Tuileries; the King was very civil, but did not talk to me on any subject. We were there only twenty minutes. I saw all the Princesses, the Duchesse de Montpensier decidedly the best; she is a pretty, plump little thing, and looks three or four years older than she is. The Duchesse d'Orléans is still in mourning. The King looks very well, and is grossly caricatured by 'Punch;' he is a very good-looking old gentleman, and seems to have many years of life in him still.

Normanby saw Guizot on Sunday about the affairs of the Plate, when he took the opportunity to speak to him about his second extract (from the despatch which was not communicated to him); he made the same sort of excuse as for the other, and reminded him that he had taken the words down in pencil.

Went last night to a ball at the Duchesse de Galiera's, where I met Francis Baring,[7] who told me a good deal about French politics. He says Thiers is quite out of the question, and that his own errors and the schism in his party hare demolished him. Billault and Dufaure are making a second opposition. He thinks Guizot has more to fear from the effects of the very grave financial embarrassment which exists, and that if he got the country into any political difficulty in the midst of it he might be sacrificed, but Molé is a man without courage; the majority is the King's majority on the whole, but still Guizot has many followers and is not without power. It would not, therefore, be quite so simple and easy to dismiss Guizot unless some good opportunity presented itself. Everybody here will support the Government in its present contest with us. He said he should not dare to speak a contrary language to his wife, who would tear both his eyes out if he did. He thinks we were right to decline joint operation in the affair of Cracow, but that it is an enormous blunder to make so much of the Treaty of Utrecht; that it would have been wise to have made a protest, the more vague and general the better, but reserving to ourselves to take any course we thought fit in respect to Spanish marriages and successions, keeping all treaties and laws bearing on the subject in reserve, to be used or not according to our discretion. This is what I have always thought: the Treaty of Utrecht, the renunciations, the laws of Spain, and the other treaties between Spain and Austria furnish materials for a very good argument such as an astute counsel might turn to excellent account; but Palmerston has made the Treaty so prominent, and has been so decisive and peremptory, that he has got into a position where he can neither advance without danger nor recede without discredit. I saw the other day his protest at Madrid against the marriage in which he declared that England would never acknowledge the issue of the Duchesse de Montpensier as heirs to the crown of Spain.

THE DUC DE BROGLIE'S SPEECH.

January 21st.—Was at Madame de Lieven's on Tuesday afternoon when Guizot came in from the Chamber. He said the Duc de Broglie had spoken for an hour and a half avec un grand succès. The next morning I read this successful speech, which was as bad as it well could be, and calculated to make matters worse with us. The Queen's Speech arrived yesterday, and was thought very moderate, as it is, but very ill written. In consequence of the passage about Cracow none of the Ambassadors of the three Courts would appear at the séance royale. Yesterday Guizot spoke for two hours, and certainly very adroitly in reference to his position and his object; being quite sure of whatever he said being accepted as all-sufficient by the Chamber, he could afford to glide over the difficult points and not attempt to grapple with them, and he carefully abstained from saying anything irritating or offensive to us, sparing even Palmerston as much as he could. I went to Madame de Lieven to-day, when she asked me what I thought of the debate. I said, 'If you want my candid opinion, I will give it you. Le discours du Duc de Broglie a été mauvais; il est indigne de lui et de la réputation qu'il s'est acquise; il n'est ni juste, ni vrai, ni sage. S'il avait eu le désir d'envenimer l'affaire, ce que je ne crois pas, il n'aurait pas pu parler autrement.' I then said that the speech of M. Guizot was of a very different character, that I did not attach much value to his argument, and that he had eluded all the real difficulties of the question, but that he had contrived to make a defence which was quite sufficient for his purpose here (though if it had been addressed to an English Parliament or court of justice it might have been easily answered), and to do so with a perfect reserve and moderation, and without allowing one word to escape him of a violent or offensive character; that it was very clever, very adroit, admirably adapted to the occasion, and I thought would produce a salutary effect chez nous. She was much pleased, and expressed her satisfaction that I thought this; when I said she must not forget that I said so always with a reserve as to the argument, and that I only meant to speak of the tone; that as to the value of the speech in reference to the question at issue, I agreed entirely with the 'Constitutionnel.' She laughed at this, affected to treat it with derision, and said that all the world knew the articles in that paper came from the Embassy, which I treated with derision in my turn. Guizot then came in, but only stayed a moment; she told him that I admired his speech, but would tell him more of what I had said when he came to her in the evening. I then told her of the absence of the Ambassadors at the House of Lords, which struck her prodigiously, and she would hardly believe it. We afterwards talked of the future and how matters could be got right, and we both agreed that where 'la confiance avait été ébranlée' entirely, it was very difficult to restore it. I said the only way I knew was to act with mutual truth and good faith, to have no dessous des cartes on either side, and then by degrees each party would discover that the other really was doing so, and by degrees confidence might revive. But the notion of Palmerston's hatred of Guizot is so strong, of his independent power in the Government and his disposition to use it, that it is very difficult to bring them into anything like a quiet and confiding state of mind. I told her it was an error to suppose Palmerston was so powerful and that he could drag his colleagues with him unreasonably, and that if they found him wantonly and unfairly endangering the peace of the two countries, they would force him to desist or to go. Guizot's speech seems to have been received very favourably by most people for one reason or another, and it certainly was very able and judicious.

I dined to-day with Madame Graham (a dull party), and went afterwards to Mrs. Austin's, where I met M. de Tocqueville, Mignet, Alfred de Vigny, M. de Circourt, Mr. Wheaton, and several others whose names I cannot recollect. There was also a Mr. Schwabe, who has been travelling all over Spain with Cobden, and has a great deal to say about the country and the people. He says there is a sprinkling of Free Trade tendencies, but not at Barcelona. They were well received everywhere, and by nobody better than by the French consuls (especially Lesseps at Barcelona), whom they found advocates of Free Trade. The country appeared miserably desolate and depopulated, but they were told that the improvement within the last ten or twelve years was prodigious. The Infanta's marriage was unpopular, French influence on the wane, and he is convinced that if the country is only left alone, the feeling of Spanish independence will be enough to provide an opposition to French influence.

THE DEBATE IN ENGLAND.

January 24th.—On Friday the newspapers brought the English debate on the Address, which has made a great sensation here. The speeches, especially Lord Lansdowne's, all so moderate and expressive of an earnest desire for a reconciliation with France. Everybody, those who hoped and those who feared, were astonished; Guizot delighted, but taking it coolly. We think that Lansdowne's tone was too low, that he was too empressé, and that it will be misunderstood at Paris. Then the 'Times' has been writing articles abusing Palmerston and giving out that public opinion is all against him, and inclines to Guizot, doing all the mischief it can. These articles were received with a great deal of chuckling by Guizot and his people, and the low tone taken by Government and others corroborated their impressions. John Russell spoke very properly, very conciliatorily, but with more of firmness. There was a ball here on Friday night, where I had some conversation with Molé, Cousin, Duvergier, and Francis Baring. All are struck with our discussion. Molé, who wishes for reconciliation and rejoices at the spirit that has been evinced, told me he thought Broglie's speech very bad, and Guizot's very good and discreet, but that the latter was already triumphing. 'Avez-vous vu,' he asked him, 'les journaux anglais? Eh bien, vous voyez qu'on recule.' Cousin said that it was impossible for them to say anything for us in the Chamber when we did not seem disposed to say anything for ourselves. Duvergier said the same thing, and he with Thiers and his people are excessively disgusted and disappointed at the ground appearing to be taken from under their feet. M. de Beaumont said to me last night, 'Il paraît que vous avez mis bas les armes.' They now write from England that it is probable there will be no discussion in either House, a conclusion so impotent and discreditable that I hope it will not end thus. Palmerston can never permit this; both he and the Embassy and Thiers will cut a ridiculous figure enough.

With great imprudence and impropriety, in my opinion, Normanby, with Palmerston's concurrence, has been in confidential communication with Thiers for the purpose of enabling the latter to attack the Government in the Chamber, it being of course expected and understood that we were to make a strong case against Guizot at home. All the world here knows of this connexion and blames it. Guizot is of course indignant at it, and it renders all communication between him and Normanby as cold and distant as possible. Thiers is as sulky as a bear; he knows that his alliance with the Embassy has done him no good, and now it seems unlikely to enable him to do anybody else any harm. It is clear to me that we are in great danger of cutting a contemptible figure and something more, for nothing can be so impolitic as to create a belief here that the people of England are resolved to submit to anything rather than go to war, and that the French Government may follow their own devices without hindrance, for if the Minister for Foreign Affairs (especially Palmerston) remonstrates and complains he will probably not be supported at home. The fact is, Palmerston's mismanagement of his case and his most unwise persistence in his argument about the Treaty of Utrecht have ruined him and given gain de cause to Guizot. I must say that I begin to think no reliance is to be placed on him, and that he really is a very bad and dangerous Minister. It appears that before the Session opened Lansdowne wrote to Palmerston and desired to know what he meant to do, what to insist on, and, in short, how they stood. He wrote back word that he had no thoughts of insisting on any renunciations, as it was clearly impossible to obtain them, and that he was ready to go on with France amicably and frankly on all matters of common interest, though of course there could not be the same confidence as heretofore. On this Lansdowne made his speech. But yesterday morning in the midst of all these honeyed words there arrives a letter from Palmerston to Normanby desiring him to go and complain formally of the affair of the extracts, and particularly that what he did publish was not textually correct, and that Guizot's excuses were not satisfactory. Normanby never told me of this till the evening when he had done it. He went to him and read the letter, and Guizot was very angry and said excuses was not a proper word between gentlemen, and that it was difficult to carry on communications when such expressions were used. Normanby said he could only answer for the English word in which sense he ought to have understood it.

M. DE TOCQUEVILLE.

Evening.—I saw the despatch this morning; it was short enough, but it would have been better not to have read it to Guizot. This evening, however, Normanby met him at Madame de Lieven's, when he told him he thought it not worth while to write to Palmerston what had passed between them yesterday, as he had misunderstood the meaning of the English word. Guizot said as that was the case he had nothing to say, and thought too it would be as well to say nothing to Palmerston about it. So this matter is in a manner blown over, but the same animus will probably generate fresh things of the same kind.

This morning I called on Tocqueville and sat some time with him and his wife, an Englishwoman. He looks as clever as he is, and is full of vivacity, and at the same time of simplicity, in his conversation. He gave me an account of the state of parties in France substantially the same as I had heard before; the schism of Billault and Dufaure, to whose section he belongs; they could not go on any longer with Thiers, who, he says, does not command above twenty or thirty votes, and is out of the question. He had formerly belonged rather to Odilon Barrot than to Thiers; said the marriage question was most decidedly popular in France, because considered as having given us a check which had paid off old scores, and that the being now quits had rendered a future good understanding more easy; and never did he remember so general a disposition to be on friendly terms with us, and to act in concert with us; he thinks the King could turn out Guizot and make another Government, but that he is not likely to do it.

I went last night to a ball at the Hôtel de Ville, where amongst many fine people were all the bourgeoisie. It was a magnificent ball and very well worth seeing, many of the women very good-looking and all well dressed. There must have been two thousand people there, and the house extraordinarily fine. From thence to a ball at Madame Pozzo di Borgo's, the most beautiful house I ever saw, fitted up with the greatest luxury, and recherché and in excellent taste. There were to be seen all the exquisitely fine people, the cream of Parisian society, all the Faubourg St. Germain, the adherents of the old and frondeurs of the new dynasty who keep aloof from the Court, and live in political obedience to, but in social defiance of, the ruling powers. They are knit together by a sort of compact of disloyalty to the de facto sovereign, and if any one of them suffers himself or herself to be attracted to Court the offender immediately loses caste, is treated with the utmost scorn and indignation, and if a man very probably does not escape without some personal quarrel and is sure to be deserted by his friends.

M. GUIZOT AND LORD NORMANBY.

January 26th.—Yesterday morning the 'Morning Chronicle' came with a bitter and violent article against Guizot's speech in the Chamber; the courier at the same time brought copies of our printed papers, and I took one to Madame de Lieven. There I found Guizot furious at this article, which he said he was sure had been dictated by Palmerston himself. I said I was as much shocked at it as he was, and that Normanby regretted it very much, but that I was persuaded Palmerston had had no hand in it, and no knowledge of it; that he had written to Lord Lansdowne the day after his speech saying he entirely approved of it and agreed in all he said, and it was impossible he should have at the same time written such a letter and sanctioned such an article, but that I was sorry he had not taken means to prevent such diatribes, and inspired the 'Chronicle' with a better spirit. It was preaching to the winds. His dislike of Palmerston is so great, and his conviction of the reciprocity of the sentiment so rooted, that he will not allow himself to doubt. I left them because I was engaged, and promised to return in the afternoon to her. When I did return I found the perusal of the papers had made a great impression on her. She said there were many curious things she did not know before. I said 'Certainly, so I told you,' and I then pointed out to her certain letters and asked her if they did not prove to demonstration, first, that the proposal of a Coburg came entirely from Madrid and was the desire of the Spanish Court; secondly, that we had constantly refused to lend ourselves to it; and thirdly, that if we had answered the appeal to us according to the disposition they always had imputed to us, the marriage might have been made. She was obliged to own that it was so, but then again returned to the old question 'Why, then, did you name him?' I said once more for the fiftieth time that it never had entered into the head of Palmerston or of anybody else that the mention of his name would have raised such a notion or suspicion in them or in anybody, and that it was wonderful they would not see that if he had had the intention and that this letter contained the expression of it, the last thing he would have done would have been to show it to them. She then talked again about the 'Chronicle' and the difficulty of going on, of the unsatisfactory relations between the Foreign Office and the Embassy, and of the great difficulty of ever restoring them to such a condition as they ought to be in for any useful purpose. 'How,' she asked, 'could M. Guizot open his mind to Normanby, or talk confidentially to him, when he knows he is intimately connected with the Opposition, and that what he says may be repeated the next moment to Thiers and appear in the "Constitutionnel" on the following morning?' This is the real embarrassment, and it is not easy to see how it is to be got over. Guizot and Normanby are on civil terms, and that is all. When they meet on business they discuss the particular matter in hand, and never anything more; to William Hervey Guizot does not speak at all; when they meet at Madame de Lievens, Guizot appears not to see him. She says that I am the only Englishman to whom he can talk openly, and consequently they are very sorry for my departure.

After I left her in the morning I drove all over Paris: to the University to see Cousin, who lives up a staircase just like a Bencher or a Collegian. He was not at home, nor anybody there to answer the bell, so I stuffed my card through a crevice in the door. He is a Peer. Then to Prince Czartoryski's, who lives in a great old house in the Isle St. Louis, close to the Pont d'Austerlitz. The establishment is curious and interesting. The Princess told me she wanted a house which was spacious and cheap, and not therefore in the fashionable and dear part of the town. They were fortunate enough to find this, which exactly suits them. It was the hotel of the Duc de Sully, and there was formerly a subterraneous passage with a communication to the Arsenal. It afterwards fell into the hands of Lambert, a great financier, and is still called the Hôtel Lambert. Madame du Châtelet had it, and they show the apartment which Voltaire occupied for many years. At the Revolution it became a shop or magasin, I forget of what, but no change was made in the building. The Czartoryskis found it all délabré and dirty, bought it very cheap, and spent twice as much as the purchase-money in restorations. It is a great fine house, handsome staircase and gallery, very vast, with court and garden, and a delightful airy prospect towards the river and the Jardin des Plantes. The thick coat of dirt which was cleared away had preserved the original painting and gilding, which have come out, not indeed bright and fresh, but still very handsome, and they have furnished it in a corresponding style. It is not, however, for the purpose of being well lodged that they have thus provided themselves, but to perform a great work of beneficence and charity. The Princess has converted the whole of the upper stories into a great school for the daughters of distressed Polish officers and gentlemen, where they are lodged, fed, clothed, and educated, and what is left of their fortune they spend in this manner. She took me all over the apartments; they are like those in a very well-regulated pauper school, clean to an extreme nicety, but modest and economical. The girls crowded about her to kiss her hand. There they are prepared to become governesses; the Princess's daughter is their 'Professeur d'Anglais,' she told me. It is a very striking sight and well worth support. I went from thence to the Place Royale; then to where the Bastille formerly stood, and down the whole length of the Boulevards, which is the way to see this curious town.

FALL OF THE SPANISH GOVERNMENT.

Wednesday.—Yesterday morning news came that the Spanish Ministry was out; a majority in the Cortes on the question of the Presidency, composed of Progressistas and discontented Moderados, turned them out. The movement is anti-French and said to be brought about by a coalition of the two brothers against the Queen-mother. Guizot is evidently disconcerted by it; Madame de Lieven affects a supreme indifference; she told me that Sotomayor was making a Government, a Moderado Government, that he had proposed to Mon to remain. Mon would not without Pidal (his brother-in-law), and the others were willing to have Mon, but would not have Pidal, because the two would make the Cabinet too French. They now acknowledge that 'sans contestation vous n'avez jamais voulu ni rien fait pour le Cobourg.' I asked her whether this was Guizot's opinion, and she said 'parfaitement.' This is incomparably cool. After having had the most reiterated assurances before the fact, which they utterly disregarded, and did not choose to believe, now that the fact is accomplished, and it suits their purpose to make it up, they acknowledge that they were in error, and acted on a mistaken notion.

I went last night to Madame de Circourt, who has a brilliant salon, but I knew none of the people; then to Madame de Girardin, where were people of a totally different description.

Thursday.—I prevented Normanby from going to Thiers' salon the night before last, and yesterday morning I gave him to understand as delicately as I could that all his communications with him and others in opposition to the Government were noted, reported, and much resented. He is, however, still impressed with the notion that Guizot may be got out, and that his connexion with his opponents may conduce to that object, in my opinion a dangerous error.

Kisseleff gave me an account of what had passed between him and Guizot about the despatch which he read in the Chamber. Kisseleff said it was very irregular and improper, but he did not think it had done any harm. Kisseleff received it the morning of the debate in the Peers, and took it to Guizot, telling him it might be of use to him to know the contents. Kisseleff left it with him to read at his ease, and begged him to return it directly, giving him no authority to produce it. Guizot read it in extenso. He said afterwards that he believed it was the best thing he could do for France and Russia too. Strange that a man so formal should be so loose in his transaction of business.

Friday.—I saw Guizot yesterday, my last day; he is very sorry I am going, being the only Englishman he could speak to; he does not see how he can go on with Normanby in his notorious relations avec tous ses ennemis; then as to the press, the 'Morning Chronicle;' Palmerston's connexion with it is so notorious that one might as well try and persuade him day was night as that Palmerston was not concerned in the 'Morning Chronicle.' I told him frankly that I regretted both the appearance and the existence of intimacy between the Embassy and the Opposition, that it was exaggerated, but that I could not be surprised at its producing an effect on him. I did not think it worth while to go again into the case or to triumph over the effect produced by our blue book; I only said 'that he now admitted himself that he had been wrong about Palmerston before, and that this might inspire him with more confidence for the future;' but he said, 'No, he did not admit it; that Palmerston had come into office with the resolution of attacking him anywhere; that the Marriage question in Spain was merely subsidiary to that object, and he had only put forward Don Enrique in order to set up the Progressista party against him and French influence.' He said the greatest danger proceeded from les agents subalternes; that he had given a proof of his resolution to act justly by at once recalling the French Consul at the Mauritius, for which he was well aware he should be attacked here, but that it was right, and he had therefore done it. He said he would communicate with me, but he thinks the disposition of the other Ministers of little consequence so long as Palmerston's are what they are. All our conversation ran on this; his on the difficulty of going on after all that had passed, mine on the necessity of trying. I said what I could for Normanby, and assured him he would find him personally easy to deal with. I then went to Madame de Lieven, who followed in the same strain, and said what is true enough, that Normanby, once having let himself drop into Thiers' hands, will find it difficult to get out again. This has always struck me. I have said what I could to Normanby, but I came too late for that. I am certain they are very uneasy at the effect produced both in England (even in the midst of its apathy) and here by the publication of our papers. Here it is unquestionably great, although they have not yet been distributed fully. I met Cousin last night, who was vehement on the subject, and told me, if he had been aware of their contents, nothing should have prevented his replying to the Duke de Broglie. Tocqueville told me that they had produced a very great effect; that men like himself who approved of what had been done were inexpressibly shocked at the way in which it had been done, and at the revelation of so much that was false and dishonourable in the conduct of the French Government.

THE EMBASSY AND THE OPPOSITION.

Saturday.—Just setting off to London and not sorry to leave Paris, where I am, after all, a fish out of water. I have been most kindly and hospitably entertained, interested, and amused, but the excitement of the particular question once over, I feel that I have no business here, that I am not fit for the society, and should never take root in it; the exertion required, the stretch and the continual alacrity of attention, would be intolerable. I have fallen in here with Scrope Davies, a social refugee, whom I have not seen these twenty-five years, almost the last remnant of a circle of clever men of the world, and once the intimate friend of B.

Yesterday I went about taking leave and went to both the clubs: with Mrs. Austin to M. de Triqueti's studio, and then of course to Madame de Lieven. At the clubs I learnt the confirmation of what I had been led to believe the day before, the extraordinary impression made here by the publication of our blue book. It quite surprised me, not because I do not think it very strong; but having been myself long ago convinced and familiar with most of the details, I did not know that people here were so little prepared for what they had seen. There can be no doubt of the reality and vivacity of the impression. Francis Baring told me that men who had before told him they thought Guizot had the advantage, now came to tell him how entirely their opinions were changed; in short, if it be any advantage, it has done our case infinite good and prodigiously disconcerted the Government. I found Madame de Lieven very low and full of resentment, especially for the publication of Normanby's conversation with Guizot, which she said must make their personal relations still more difficult and unpleasant. It is, however, this document which has produced the strongest effect of all. I told her all I had heard, and that Guizot must make up his mind to be bitterly attacked in the Chamber by Lamartine, Billault, and Thiers. She said that she had no doubt of his coming triumphantly out of the fight.

BITTERNESS OF M. THIERS.

Last night there was a party at the Embassy, at which Thiers and Duvergier were present. Thiers had been with Normanby in the morning. He made an attack on me for believing all Madame de Lieven told me; said I was 'une éponge trempée dans le liquide de Madame de Lieven,' and tried his best to persuade me that Guizot was weak, his majority not worth a rush, and that the King could and would get rid of him whenever he found himself in any sort of danger. 'Tell Lord Palmerston,' he said, 'when he speaks, to say "beaucoup de bien de la France, et beaucoup de mal de Monsieur Guizot."' I said I should give him one-half the advice and not the other, and that Palmerston's wisest course would be to hold moderate language, tell his story, and leave everybody to draw the inferences. I have no doubt he will make a very powerful speech and present an admirable résumé of the whole question. But this new vigour infused into the Opposition, which will bring on an acrimonious debate, though it may cover Guizot with mud, will not shake him from his seat. I told Thiers he was quite mistaken in supposing that I took my opinions from Madame de Lieven or believed one half she told me, but nevertheless I could not believe that the King would part with Guizot if he could possibly help it, for he would look in vain for so supple an instrument, and one so well able to defend him and his measures in the Chambers. However, Thiers thinks of nothing but mischief, of gratifying his own personal passions and resentments. He has evidently persuaded Normanby, and I have no doubt Normanby tries to persuade Palmerston of the same. The cool people here meanwhile tell me that Guizot will not be turned out, and I am inclined to believe it. I leave the Embassy in certainly a very painful and unbecoming condition. Normanby seems not to care who sees his intimacy with Thiers, and he has none whatever with Guizot. They do not and cannot converse on anything but the merest matters of business, and their relations get worse, and seem likely to do so; the obstacles to an understanding sufficiently frank to be useful appear almost insurmountable. Thiers, having got Normanby into his clutches, will not easily let him go again, and the resentment of Guizot will hardly be appeased, nor do I see any chance of their ever being on really good terms. So ends my mission, and it only now remains for me to give the truest account I can of the state of affairs here to those whom it most concerns to know it; but then it will be very difficult for them to adopt any decisive and satisfactory course.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Return from Paris—Possibility of a Tory Government—Hostility to Lord Palmerston—Lord Aberdeen's Dissatisfaction—The Duke's short View of the Case—Sir Robert Peel's Repugnance to take Office—Lord John Russell—Further Disputes of Guizot and Lord Normanby—The Quarrel with the Embassy—Lord Stanley attacks the Government—The Normanby Quarrel—Lord Palmerston threatens to break off Diplomatic Relations with France—Sir Robert Peel's Opinion of Lord Palmerston—Mr. Walter—The 'Times'—The Normanby Quarrel made up—Mr. Greville's Opinion of his own Journals—Income of the Royal Family—Lord George Bentinck—Lord Normanby's Étourderies—The Government gains Strength—The Irish Poor Law—The Czar places a large Sum with the Bank of France—State of Ireland—Lord George Bentinck as a Leader—Foreign Affairs—Archbishop Whately—Birthday Reflexions—Lord Dudley's Diary—Power of the Press—Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Moxon—The Defence of the Country—Troubles in Portugal—Illness of Lord Bessborough—The Duke of Wellington on the Army—Spain and Portugal—Abolition of the Lord-Lieutenancy contemplated by Lord John—Difficulty of abolishing the Lord-Lieutenancy—Deaths of Lord Bessborough and of O'Connell—Lord Clarendon's Appointment—The End of O'Connell—The Governor-Generalship of India—Sir James Graham thought of—Failure of Debates on the Portuguese Question—The Duke's Statue—The Governor-Generalship of India offered to Sir James Graham—Sir Robert Peel's Position—Failures of the Government—The Duke of Wellington's Popularity—Opinion in Liverpool—Bitter Hostility of Mr. Croker to Peel.

London, February 3rd, 1847.—I got to town on Monday; one hour and fifty minutes crossing the sea, which was like a duck-pond. Saw Lord Clarendon the same night for a long time, and Lord Lansdowne yesterday for a shorter. Told the first all I knew and thought, and gave the latter a succinct account of affairs in France, but did not say a word of Normanby and Guizot. He has heard of it, however, as I find others have likewise; and he asked Clarendon if I had said anything to him about Normanby's goings on at Paris. But Clarendon said he had not asked me, as living as I had done in Normanby's house I should not like (if it were the case) to say anything about it. I have not yet had time to look round me and see the state of things here. It is determined not to have any discussion on foreign affairs if they can possibly prevent it.

LORD STANLEY'S VIEWS OF OFFICE.

February 6th.—I called on Graham yesterday, and sat with him for two hours and a half, discussing res omnes. He is not very well satisfied with the Government, though wishing to keep them in rather than let in the Protectionists; but he thinks they are inclined to curry favour with the Protectionists, and they are disgusted (he and Peel) at the soft sawder that is continually bandied backward and forward between John Russell and George Bentinck, which nettles Peel very much; and they both think, considering the avowed sentiments of George Bentinck towards him and his conduct, that it is very insulting to Peel. He thinks they don't take an independent line enough, and ominously hinted that if they meant to try to obtain the support or the forbearance of George Bentinck and Co. they must abide by the consequences as far as Peel and his friends were concerned. He thinks the aspect of affairs very threatening both abroad and at home, Stanley evidently looking to the Government and ready to try and form one, but saying 'he does not desire it.' After a sort of estrangement between him and Stanley ever since their Government broke up, they met in the House of Commons the night of George Bentinck's Railroad motion, when Stanley very cordially proposed they should walk home together, and then talking over the state of affairs Stanley said, 'This can't go on.' Graham: 'Well, perhaps not; and then it must fall on you.' Stanley: 'I do not desire it.' The event is by no means impossible, for this Railroad question may turn the Government out; everything, however, indicates that Stanley, as head of his party, is endeavouring to work his way into office. He is all for moderation and conciliation, and wants to allure back the mass of the Conservatives to his standard. Goulburn they count upon; Aberdeen says they have secured him; Gladstone they expect to get. But it is endless to speculate on all the possible or imaginary contingencies by which they think they can form a Government. Stanley must now be ready to tear his hair at having quitted the House of Commons, for with all his great power of speaking (never greater than now) he is lost in the House of Lords where it is all beating the air. Then in the House of Commons he must trust to George Bentinck and Disraeli: the former with an intemperance and indiscretion ever pregnant with dangerous dilemmas; and the other with a capacity so great that he cannot be cast aside, and a character so disreputable that he cannot be trusted. The Duke of Wellington would give Stanley every support, and would bring Dalhousie with him if Dalhousie was not afraid of embarking in such a concern and with such associates. What Stanley and his party would like best would be to get Palmerston to join them and be leader in the House of Commons, which Palmerston would himself delight in if he dared run the risk. At this moment, however, everything is in a fearful state of uncertainty, and the weakness of the Government and their total want of power are lamentably apparent.

Aberdeen is in a state of violent indignation at the brutal and stupid attacks on him in the 'Morning Chronicle,' which he attributes to Palmerston; and he is so provoked that he says he is disposed to bring on a foreign discussion after all, that he may vindicate himself. He says that nothing could exceed the abhorrence in which Palmerston was held all over Europe, at the small courts more than at the great ones, from Washington to Lisbon but one sentiment. I sat next to Palmerston at the Sheriffs' dinner, and told him a great deal about Paris, and especially the mischief which the 'Morning Chronicle' had done there. He said, 'I dare say they attribute the articles to me.' I told him (since he asked me) that they did, and that it was difficult to convince them that they did not emanate from him. He affected to know nothing about them, but I told him it really would be well to find means to put a stop to them. Meanwhile, the attacks on Aberdeen have drawn down on Palmerston two vigorous articles in the 'Times,' which may teach him that he has everything to lose and nothing to gain by such a contest; the very inferior articles in the 'Chronicle' not being read by a fifth part of those who read the far better ones in the 'Times.' I met Beauvale[8] last night at Palmerston's, and found he took precisely the same view of foreign affairs (especially of the Spanish question of succession and renunciations) that I do, and it is pretty evident that he has as little respect as anybody for his brother-in-law's foreign policy. He said he could do no good, and therefore held his tongue, but that he had written to John Russell in the beginning, and told him he did not think the case on the Treaty of Utrecht could be maintained. Lady Palmerston had told me that Beauvale had examined the matter, and entirely concurred in their view of it!

HOSTILITIES IN THE PRESS.

February 8th.—With Aberdeen yesterday for a long time. He complained much of the articles in the 'Chronicle' against him, and said he had acted towards Palmerston throughout in the most amicable manner. He still is reluctant to believe Guizot so false as our case against him tends to prove, and thinks that he was sincere in his distrust of Palmerston and in his conviction that the Coburg marriage was imminent; and he cannot believe he was so stupid as to say what Normanby represents about en même temps, &c. Nevertheless, he blames much that Guizot has done, thinks his letter to John Russell the height of indiscretion, and has not a word to say for the secret despatch to Bresson of December 10, which he never saw and which never was communicated to him. He said it was written just when the Government appeared about to break up and Palmerston to be coming in; but he acknowledged that as long as he remained in he was left in complete ignorance of it. He said he was the more surprised at Palmerston's delays because he had told him (and John Russell too) that the French Government were positively insane on the Marriage question; that great as their confidence was in him, they were in a state of continual suspicion and alarm, and always at him about it; that the memorandum of February 27 was no more than they had repeated verbally fifty times, and he had told Palmerston that they always said they should hold themselves free from their engagement if they saw this danger, but that he (Aberdeen) had constantly told them nothing was doing or intended, and that they need not alarm themselves. I asked him what necessity there was for this memorandum at that particular time? He said that about that time Prince Leopold did go to Lisbon, and they fancied he was going to Madrid, and the danger therefore increasing.

Aberdeen declared that Peel would never take office; it had been suggested to him that the country was in such a state that he might be called for by a great public cry. Peel replied, 'Let them call, but I will not respond.' There is great doubt and uncertainty about the Railroad measure of Thursday next. John Russell is thought to have acted very weakly not to have made up his mind till so late. He sent word to George Bentinck in the middle of his speech that he meant to let him bring in his bill. Now it is suspected he means to give way in whole or in part; if he does, I think it will be fatal to his Government. Lincoln said last night that it would be handing it over to the Protectionists, nothing else.

I dined with M. de St. Aulaire last night, who talked much of Guizot and Normanby, and of Guizot's heroism in foregoing the temptation to speak in the Chamber (as if he had meant to forego it), and to vindicate himself from the aspersions thrown on him by Normanby's despatch, which he was aware had done him the greatest injury here. However, he will not have done himself much good by his speech, which seems only to make bad worse. The result, too, of all the intimacy between Thiers and Normanby, by Palmerston's desire, is amusing when Thiers does not make half a case against Guizot, and announces to the Chamber that Palmerston is odious to all Europe and hateful to the three Northern Courts.

CONVERSATION WITH THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

February 15th.—Called on Friday morning at Apsley House and had a long talk with Arbuthnot. The Duke came into the room, stayed a very little while, but excited himself talking about Spain and the Treaty of Utrecht, the pother about which he declared was 'all damned stuff.' Arbuthnot told me he was most anxious for the prosperity of this Government. Arbuthnot did not confirm what Graham said about the Duke's leaning to Stanley; on the contrary, he talked of Stanley's being lost amongst such associates as he has; he talked with bitterness of Peel's conduct and the breaking up of the party, and said he was quite sure he would never come into office again; he gave me a more detailed account of his parting request to the Queen, when he said, after begging her never to ask him to take office again, that he could not help remembering that Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Canning had all died in office, and victims of office; that he did not dread death, and this recollection would not deter him; but when he recollected also that Lord Castlereagh and Lord Liverpool had also died in office, the one a maniac and the other an idiot, that recollection did appal him, and he trembled at the idea of encountering such a fate as theirs.

Yesterday morning John Russell sent for me, and I told him all about Paris and the state of affairs there. I did not conceal from him my opinion of Palmerston's conduct, though I had done all I could to defend him. He said in many respects Guizot's was as bad, especially as to the newspapers. I found fault with the negotiations with other Powers to join with us in a demonstration about the Treaty of Utrecht, but that he defended. I told him we totally differed on the question; but we had no time to discuss it, indeed, little to discuss anything, for he was going to a deputation, so we walked together from his house to the office. I told him I had intended to urge him to do something, but that Guizot's speech made it almost impossible to do anything. He begged me to see St. Aulaire and talk to him about it, and to tell him the Queen had a great regard for him, and did not mean to do anything neglectful by him. He gave me an account of the strange state of things at Madrid, and of the confusion and quarrels which have followed this fine marriage the French have effected.

February 16th.—I saw Jarnac yesterday and had a long conversation with him. He defends Guizot, of course, but a great deal that he says is reasonable enough. Normanby took up Guizot's speech with a very unnecessary display of resentment, and fancied that he intended to impeach his veracity in respect to his second report of conversation. Accordingly he wrote an angry letter home, to which Palmerston immediately wrote an answer. Both these letters (Normanby's altered here) were laid before Parliament, and at the same moment published in the 'Morning Chronicle.' This was quick work, and on the whole irritating and offensive, but Normanby says all Paris considered that he was affronted by Guizot, and he was obliged to take it up. Here no one individual that I have seen construed what Guizot said in that sense. Such is the difference of the respective atmospheres of the two towns. There all fire, here all ice. It seems that Normanby made no communication on the subject to Guizot, but that the latter became aware of the resentment he had caused and made some sort of indirect offer to say something in the newspapers. This Normanby would not hear of, and said the reparation must be made in the tribune where the affront was given. There the matter stands. Jarnac thinks the appearance of the two last letters will rouse great indignation at Paris and complicate matters still more. He denies that there was any intention on the part of Guizot to impeach Normanby's veracity, and that his very vague and guarded intimation that the report was not accurate by no means implies such a charge. I think it very questionable whether any report of a conversation ought to be published without the party being referred to, and having an opportunity of admitting or denying the accuracy of such a report. It is a very nice matter, especially when the conversation passes in one language and the report is made in another. But Jarnac complains (and not without reason) of the tone of Palmerston's letter. He says he was quite right to support his Ambassador, but he has done so in terms unnecessarily offensive to Guizot, and when he says that he has no doubt, notwithstanding what passed in the Chambers, of the perfect accuracy of the report, he transgresses the bounds of courtesy, and speaks positively to that of which he cannot by possibility have any knowledge. This criticism appears well founded. He said that similar circumstances had occurred here about reports of conversations, and that Palmerston himself had denied the accuracy of a report he had made of a conversation, and that his denial was admitted.

LORD GEORGE BENTINCK'S RAILWAY SCHEME.

Jarnac says if Guizot had been informed by Normanby or by any common friend that what he had said was offensive to Normanby, he is sure he would have given a sufficient explanation, but unluckily none of the Embassy are on such terms with him as admit of an amicable remonstrance. I told him what had passed between John Russell and myself, and that he wished me to see St. Aulaire. We agreed, however, that it was no use saying anything more till we saw how this matter proceeded at Paris. Matters are now as bad as possible there, and the French Embassy here think that the King alone can make them up. He is, however, exasperated, it seems, for Howden attempted to talk to him the other night, when he got excited and flew out, especially about the attempts to assail Guizot. Of course this squabble renders his position only the more secure, for his removal now on any pretext would be a dastardly concession to England which nobody in France would endure.

February 19th.—George Bentinck's railway scheme was signally defeated on Tuesday night: he had 118 with him, many less than he expected. He made a great exposure of himself in a reply full of bad taste, bad judgement, and impertinence. Peel made a very able speech, his attempts to reply to which were pitiable; the minority consisted of sad rubbish. Yesterday morning I was with Lord Lansdowne, and took the opportunity of pouring a broadside into him about the management of foreign affairs, and the necessity of his taking some decisive steps to prevent that everlasting petite guerre that Palmerston will wage. I spoke very strongly indeed, and told him what the real state of affairs was at Paris. He made great grimaces and seemed vastly struck with what I said, and I hope something may come of it. This morning I have a letter from Normanby bitterly complaining of the article in the 'Times,' in which he is accused of holding communication with the enemies of the Government, and says it came at a very critical moment and prevented Guizot making the amende he otherwise would have done.

February 20th.—Matters get blacker and blacker at Paris, and Normanby has got himself into a deplorable fix from which at present there seems to be no exit. I have letter upon letter on the subject, all full of grief and confusion. Normanby himself writes to complain of the harm the 'Times' has done him (a second letter), but seems still unconscious that it is his own precipitancy and Palmerston's violence that have got him into the scrape. The agitation at Paris is extreme, and the whole Embassy now seem frightened and to be recovering (now that it is too late) from their hallucinations about getting rid of Guizot, and their being able to carry everything with a high hand. William Hervey even now writes something like sense; and Howden tells Clarendon the truth, and just what I have been saying all along. Craven writes to me and anticipates nothing but Normanby's return and eventually war.

February 22nd.—On Friday Lord Lansdowne called me into his room, and told me I should be glad to hear that there was a probability of the quarrel at Paris being settled, as the King had undertaken to mediate between the parties. I went up to St. Aulaire directly after, but he had heard nothing of it. He expressed joy, and said it had all along been the only solution he had looked to. He then showed me a letter from Guizot to him, written two days after the debate, in which he said that he had spoken of Normanby with the greatest reserve, and avoided saying anything which could impugn his veracity or the intentional incorrectness of his report. I asked him whether Guizot would have said this to Normanby if he had applied to him, and he said certainly he would, he had no doubt of it. He then told me that a fresh ingredient had been cast into the cauldron from the foolish incident of the invitation to Guizot, and he read me a letter from M. de Cazes with an account of it. Normanby gave a great assembly on the 19th, and amongst the invitations, one was sent by mistake to Guizot. Nothing ought to have been done but to let it alone; but very foolishly they made a great noise about it, and in a manner which was considered personally insulting to Guizot; they proclaimed all over Paris that they never intended to invite him. It had been settled in the first instance that the Ministers and others belonging to the Government should go to this party, and Guizot wished them to go; but after this incident M. de Cazes said it was thought impossible to go, and he believed none would. So much for gaucherie and maladresse.

DEFEAT OF THE PROTECTIONISTS.

On Friday there was a fight and a division, in which the Government beat Stanley by eight. He probably did not make great exertions, but, on the other hand, not one of the Peelite peers, members of the late Government, voted with this. The whole affair was characteristic of Stanley, and, as such, is worth recording. He had resolved to attack the Sugar measure of the Government by proposing to refer it to a committee, and he sent for his peers to come up and support him. Clarendon asked him if he really intended to do this, and suggested he had better inform himself of the merits of the question before he decided. He agreed, and they sent Wood, the Chairman of the Excise, to him, who was with him for two hours, explained everything, and satisfied him the measure was unobjectionable. After this Clarendon asked him again if he still meant to bring on his motion. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'I mean to give you a gallop. It is a long time since you have had one, and it will do you good. Besides, I have brought my people up, and I must give them something to do now they are come.' If he had got a majority he would have been more perplexed than the Government, and this is the man the peers are ready to follow and to make Prime Minister. The Railway debate and the speech of George Bentinck have thrown the Protectionists into consternation and dismay. Any remaining illusion about him has been entirely dissipated by the display of his intemperance and incapacity, but they have got him mounted on their backs, and they don't know how to shake him off. It is pretty clear too that there is no cordiality between him and Stanley, and that the Carlton dinner scene is still rankling in the mind of George Bentinck, as was sure to be the case, for he never forgets or forgives anything or anybody. He held forth the other night to Charles Villiers against Stanley's folly for bringing forward this sugar affair; said he had no case, and that he was 'a pretty fellow to find fault with him for proposing the advance of public money he had done: he who had proposed first a loan of twelve, and then a gift of twenty millions to the West Indians.'

February 23rd.—The Normanby quarrel is not made up: very far from it. The King had an interview with Normanby, but does not seem to have attempted a reconciliation. Lord Lansdowne, it seems, fancied he was going to do so from something which Howden had written. I had a long letter yesterday from Normanby full of futilities and excitement, and still fancying that Guizot is weak. Normanby's assembly on Friday was attended by none of the Government or Court people, and Guizot's (for it was one of his nights) was crammed full. The corps diplomatique went to both. Nothing can be more deplorable than the state of the affair, and Normanby seems quite unconscious of the poor figure he is cutting. Jonathan Peel came to me yesterday fresh from Paris, and says the spirit rising there and the excitement are very great, and matters have got into such a state, that the least collision anywhere, or any difference however slight, would produce an explosion and most likely a war. He says the people most against Guizot are now still more against England. One man (he would not tell me his name) said to him, 'M. Guizot has rode his race in a manner that gives us great satisfaction, but there seems to have been a little crossing and jostling in it.' The King insinuated to Normanby the other day that he did not approve of Guizot's conduct, and that though he must support him now, he might get rid of him by and by—at least it appears Normanby put this construction on what he said, and continues in the miserable delusion that Guizot will fall. This cauldron is now boiling furiously: the bitterest resentment, immense excitement, continual mischief-making, passion, incapacity, falsehood, treachery, all mingling in the mass, and making a toil and trouble which everybody looks at with dismay and disgust, except probably Palmerston himself. The Chancellor of the Exchequer introduced his Budget last night with the loan, and was very well received. I was sure it would take.

ATTEMPT AT RECONCILIATION.

February 24th.—Went to John Russell yesterday morning to talk to him about French affairs; found him just going to Cambridge House, so walked there with him. I told him all I thought and all I heard from Paris. He said it was all very bad, but that Guizot's conduct had been atrocious. He let it be said all over Paris that he had given the lie to Normanby and never made any explanation. I said I was not inclined to defend Guizot, but that he was not just in this respect. We had not much time to talk it over, and he ended at the gate by saying, 'Well, I think they have both behaved as ill as possible.' 'There,' I answered, 'I entirely agree with you: but what is to be done?' He said he would do what he could, but he knew not what could be done. I suggested that Normanby had better come away for a time to get a break or a pause. He said Normanby wished this, but they were against it, and so we parted. I see that it will be very difficult to whip him up to any sustained exertion, and everything will probably go on au jour la journée.

February 25th.—I did not think anything could surprise me about Palmerston or his colleagues—the audacity of the one or the endurance of the other; but I was surprised yesterday. In the morning I went to the Euston Station to meet the Duke of Bedford and bring him to Belgrave Square. I then told him the state of affairs at Paris, what I had said to Lord John and Lord Lansdowne, and entreated him to try and do something and get something done. On Saturday last there was as usual a dinner at Palmerston's, where John Russell dined. At night, Clarendon had some talk with Beauvale who asked him how long this state of things was to go on, and if he was not aware of the danger of it; that it was no use to speak to Palmerston, but he thought he (Clarendon) might do something, and that he had been just talking to St. Aulaire on the subject. There they parted; but on Sunday morning he received a note from Beauvale saying that he found matters were much more serious than he had been aware of, and by a communication he had had from St. Aulaire that morning he learnt that Palmerston had formally announced to him that unless Normanby received an immediate and satisfactory reparation the intercourse between the two countries should cease. This was done by Palmerston without any concert with, and without the knowledge of, his colleagues; and though John Russell, the Prime Minister, dined with him the same day, he did not think proper to impart to him what he had done. Clarendon then resolved to act without loss of time, but he first went to call on Charles Wood, where he found John Russell. He opened on the subject of the state of the French quarrel and its possible consequences, and said, 'What should you say if Palmerston was to make a communication to St. Aulaire that unless reparation was offered to Normanby, all intercourse between France and England should cease?' 'Oh no,' said John, 'he won't do that. I don't think there is any danger of such a thing.' 'But he has done it,' said Clarendon; 'the communication has been made, and the only question is whether St. Aulaire has or has not forwarded it to the French Government.' This at once roused Lord John, and he instantly wrote to St. Aulaire requesting him, if he had not sent this communication to his Government, to suspend doing so. Fortunately it was not gone. What passed between Lord John and Palmerston I do not know, but the result has been a more moderate instruction to Normanby from both of them.

LORD PALMERSTON THREATENS A RUPTURE.

Lady Palmerston had a letter from Madame de Lieven last night, expressing her hopes that it would be arranged, which looks as if Guizot would not reject the overture. She told me in the morning that St. Aulaire had asked Palmerston to get Normanby away, and whether they could not send him out to India!!! All this supplies very serious matter for reflexion. It exhibits in the first place in the most striking manner the character and the determination of Palmerston, and I have not the least idea that the check he has received will either discourage or deter him for the future. He will soon begin again on this or some other matter. It exhibits likewise the tameness of his colleagues, who will submit to this and anything else he may choose to do. Most of his colleagues, indeed, will never be aware of what has occurred. Lord John, Charles Wood, Clarendon, and probably Lord Lansdowne know it; but most likely the others will remain in ignorance. Lansdowne may tell Auckland. It strikes me that there is something base and false in the transaction. Palmerston, in a manner which ought not to be forgiven, takes this important and violent step by his own authority, and without the knowledge of any of his colleagues. He is found out, baffled, and he ought to be mortified, and to think himself to a certain degree dishonoured. To have a communication of his[9] countermanded, without his knowledge, by the Prime Minister, is a sort of affront which any high-spirited man would naturally resent; but he is too much in the wrong to resent it; so he submits. An honourable, straightforward man would not have acted as he did; a high-spirited one would not have endured such a rebuff and mortification. But a Prime Minister who was sensible of the right and the duty of his position would not endure such conduct as Palmerston's, would not be satisfied with interfering in this particular case, but would at once assert his authority, loftily, firmly, and with a determination that it should be permanently respected. This I am pretty sure Lord John has not done.[10] How he has settled the affair with Palmerston I know not, but it is certain that he has done no more than stop this attempt, and has left everything to go on as it may. The consequence is a state of things at once dangerous and disgraceful: he dissatisfied with Palmerston and entirely distrusting him; Palmerston dissatisfied and angry with him; the rest of the Cabinet either ignorant of what is going on, or disinclined and afraid to interfere. I have not the least idea of Palmerston's changing his conduct or his policy. His fixed idea is to humble France, and to wage a diplomatic war with her on the Spanish marriages, and to this object to sacrifice every other. He is moving heaven and earth to conciliate the Northern Courts. Ponsonby is doing everything he can at Vienna, and holding the most despotic language. While there is the finest field open for us in Italy, and a noble part to be played, Palmerston is ready to truckle to Austria, and to abandon or counteract the Pope.[11]

I met Sir Robert Peel yesterday and walked with him some time. I have not had so much conversation with him for years. He praised the Budget, lamented the state of foreign affairs, and talked of Palmerston as everybody else does. I said we were always in danger from him, and he must know how difficult it was to control him. He said, 'I am only afraid that Lord John does not exert all the authority and determination which, as Prime Minister, he ought to do'. I said, he did it by flashes, but not constantly and efficiently.

Yesterday young Mr. Walter was brought to the office and introduced to me. Old Walter is dying, and his son is about to succeed (in fact has succeeded) to the throne of the 'Times,' and to all the authority, influence, and power which the man who wields that sceptre can exercise. He seems mild, sensible, and gentlemanlike. Though it was the first time we ever met, he talked to me with great openness about the affairs of the paper and the people connected with it. I was surprised to hear from him that my original friend Barnes, who left behind him a great reputation, was (though a good scholar) an idle boy, who never wrote a line in the paper, and never had anything to do with any one of the articles which all the world attributed to him.

LORD JOHN RUSSELL THREATENED.

February 28th.—At Court yesterday to make Lord Grey Lord-Lieutenant of Northumberland. They were in high spirits at the Prince's election at Cambridge.[12] Lord John Russell told me that the work of reconciliation at Paris was going on favourably. He asked St. Aulaire to give him a copy of what Guizot had written to him about his speech as to Normanby, which he did, and then asked him to write it officially to Palmerston. St. Aulaire said he could not do this without Guizot's consent, but he would ask him, and had no doubt he would give it. St. Aulaire read me a letter from Guizot, in which he said that he had no desire to get rid of Normanby, and begged me to write to Normanby and tell him so, which I did. Palmerston was at the Council yesterday with his usual gay and dégagé air. The day before for the first time the matter was mentioned in the Cabinet, but in Palmerston's most offhand and dashing style. I found, however, that Grey was acquainted with what had passed, for he spoke to me about it. I did what I could to inspire him with a security I do not myself feel. There have been reports abroad of a dissension in the Cabinet about the Irish Poor Law, but it is not true. They have been all agreed, and in fact there has been no disagreement on any subject hitherto.

I always forget to notice a thing I heard many months ago, but which has never been known or talked of. A man (whose name and history I have now forgotten), who thought he had some claims on the Government for remuneration or employment, made several applications to John Russell, who would not attend to them. The fellow turned savage, and was heard to utter threats of personal violence, which from his determined character gave great alarm to the friends and adherents who heard of them. Great uneasiness prevailed for a time, and many consultations were held, and the matter was deemed so serious, that at last they resolved to get the man out of the country, and to purchase his forbearance, though not with public money. In this emergency the Duke of Bedford came forward and agreed to pay him a pension of 300l. a year, with which he was satisfied, and went abroad. The Duke, intimate as I am with him, never mentioned the matter to me in any way, and he does not know I am aware of it. I think it was Le Marchant who settled this affair, and I do not believe Lord John himself has ever been informed of it.

March 2nd.—Accounts came yesterday that this miserable quarrel of Normanby's was made up, but the end answered to the beginning, and nothing could be more pitiful than the reconciliation. Howden wrote Clarendon an account of it, in which he said very truly that Normanby was like the month of March—coming in like a lion, and going out like a lamb. He got the worst terms he possibly could, very different from his first pretensions. Apponyi managed it, and they met at his house. Guizot gave Apponyi a verbal assurance that he never intended to impugn Normanby's veracity, and he received one that Normanby had not intended any incivility in the matter of the card, nothing more, and this after Normanby had proclaimed that he would accept nothing but an apology in the Tribune of the Chamber of Deputies, and Palmerston had informed St. Aulaire that if such an apology was not made, the diplomatic relations should cease, and that it was for Guizot to consider whether he should establish between England and France the same state of things as existed between France and Russia—the business of the two Governments being transacted by Chargés d'Affaires. A most lame and impotent conclusion indeed. Normanby feels this acutely, for he writes to me a querulous letter, in which he says that, 'if he had obtained less than he had a right to expect, and if his position there should not be quite as good as if he had insisted on more, it would be owing to the cavils and criticisms of those over-candid friends who allowed their opinions of the probability that there must have been some indiscretion on his part to be known through Jarnac or some one of that description exactly in the quarter where it was calculated to do the most mischief.' It is really a comical instance of self-delusion, to see Normanby going on even to me, protesting his innocence of the charge of indiscretion and of communication with the French Opposition, notamment Thiers. It really is incredible that he can so deceive himself, and fancy he can deceive others.

THE DUCHY OF CORNWALL.

March 8th.—At the Stud House on Thursday and Friday. There I read one evening a part of one of my journal books, and I am glad I made the experiment, because I discovered how trivial, poor, and uninteresting the greater part of it is. I had read it over myself the night before, and did not find this out; but when I came to read it aloud, I saw at once that such was the case, with a few things worth hearing scattered about it, but on the whole dull. This has satisfied me that a very careful revision of the whole is necessary, and a selection of such parts as may hereafter be deemed readable.

George Anson told me yesterday that the Queen's affairs are in such good order and so well managed, that she will be able to provide for the whole expense of Osborne out of her income without difficulty, and that by the time it is furnished it will have cost 200,000l. He said, also, that the Prince of Wales when he came of age would not have less than 70,000l. a year from the Duchy of Cornwall. They have already saved 100,000l. The Queen takes for his maintenance whatever she pleases, and the rest, after paying charges, is invested in the funds or in land, and accumulates for him.

March 13th.—On Thursday night 'Cracow'[13] came on again, when George Bentinck made a long, violent, foolish speech, running counter to everybody's sentiments, and extravagantly praising the three Great Powers who had perpetrated the deed. Peel followed in a speech full of sense and judgement, and very good for the Government, the whole of whose conduct in this matter he warmly supported. Nothing can exceed the disgust and despair of the Protectionists at the extravagance and folly of their leader, but they have got him, and cannot get rid of him; they are in a regular fix, and every day becoming more disorganised and discontented. Meanwhile he, by all accounts, improves in manner and facility, which only makes him the more dangerous because he is full of increased confidence in himself, and pours forth with the utmost volubility the nonsense with which his head is full. I met Lyndhurst at dinner the other day, whom I have not seen for a long time, and he began talking in his usual offhand style: said that George Bentinck had ruined the party, and, if it was not for him and for Peel, that the Conservatives would all come together again. If this Government would now avoid all extremes, he thought they were in for a long time. He had told Stanley that, unless they could make some great exertion before the next election, the party was at an end. Stanley said 'they should do very well.' I asked Lyndhurst what could be expected of any party of which Stanley was the head, to say nothing of George Bentinck, and he owned he was utterly unfit; still, Lyndhurst has a hankering after patching up the party. He insists that Brougham has persuaded himself that this Government cannot go on, and that in any fresh combination a Chancellor will be wanted, and that somehow the Great Seal will fall into his hands. Brougham made a display of more than usual violence and indecency in the House of Lords last night, and proved (if there was any doubt) how necessary it is to have a Speaker to keep order there. He has really made the House of Lords a bear-garden.

MORE BLUNDERS AT PARIS.

Normanby writes from Paris out of humour: he has lost his senses and his temper; he harps querulously upon the details of his miserable quarrel, and thinks the Government have used him ill by not supporting him. He is writhing under the consciousness of cutting a poor figure, and of the triumph Guizot has gained over him, but there is no end of his gaucheries. When the quarrel was made up, and he invited Guizot to dinner, he selected the day on which Guizot himself always receives his friends. Guizot accepted, and announced that he should not receive that day, but of course the invitation was attributed either to stupidity or to impertinence. St. Aulaire asked me, 'Est-ce que c'était une étourderie, ou l'a-t-il fait exprès?' I assured him it must have been an étourderie, but an unpardonable one. What was graver, however, was that the first night of Guizot's reception after the reconciliation, when he ought to have taken care to go there, he went to Molé instead, and never went to Guizot at all. However, John Russell is now alive to foreign affairs, and his brother is keeping him up to it. The Duke told me he wrote him six sheets on the subject of our foreign relations, especially with France, 'very confidential.' The Government here are going on very well. Lord John speaks excellently; the Speaker says he never saw any Government do their business so well. Charles Wood's success is an immense thing for them; a good Chancellor of the Exchequer is a tower of strength to a Government. Goulburn was only Peel's chief clerk; Wood is taking a flight of his own. Every day strengthens the Government by exhibiting the utter incapacity of the Opposition, and the impossibility of any other Government being formed; and people who have no party heat or prejudices will have the best workmen; but there is a disposition to fronder in some quarters. I observed to Lincoln, whom I met, that the Government were going on very well, but he would not admit it.

March 14th.—Saw Graham yesterday, and had a long talk with him. He said John Russell's speech on the Irish Poor Law was the best thing he had done since he was Minister, and proved his competence for his high office; that he viewed with the deepest alarm the measure itself, but that, in the temper of the House of Commons and the country, it was inevitable; the Government could have done nothing but what they have, and, having come to that resolution, nothing could exceed the skill and judgement with which John Russell has dealt with it, and his speech had carried the question. He thinks the consequence will be a complete revolution of property, the ruin of the landed proprietors, and the downfall of Protestant ascendency and of the Church. He expects that the first to abandon the Church will be the Protestant proprietors themselves; that a tremendous ordeal is to be gone through, involving vast changes and social vicissitudes, but that on the whole, and at a remote period, it will produce the regeneration of Ireland. This, much elaborated, was the substance of his opinion. I do not pretend to enunciate any opinion as to the solution of this tremendous problem which gives rise to so many thoughts—social, political, and religious—perplexing the mind upon all. How those devout persons who are accustomed to find in everything that happens manifestations of divine goodness and wisdom, and are always overflowing with thanksgiving and praise, accommodate this awful and appalling reality with their ideas and convictions, I do not divine. To me no difficulty is presented, because I never have allowed my mind to be exposed to the hazard of any such perplexity. I do not pretend to define the attributes, nor to pass judgement on the counsels of God; 'meâ ignorantiâ et debilitate me involvo,' and I submit and resign myself, with an implicit and unrepining humility, to all things that are decreed, public or private, without venturing to pronounce an opinion, and without wishing to give vent to a feeling on things which are far beyond the reach of any human comprehension.

March 23rd.—Last week the political and commercial world were struck with astonishment at the sudden and unexpected announcement of a financial arrangement between the Emperor of Russia and the Bank of France, of which nobody, either politicians or financiers, could make head or tail, nor up to this moment has any light been thrown upon it.[14] Excursive and eager political minds, however, instantly jumped to very vast conclusions, and beheld deep political designs, a monstrous union between France and Russia, French divisions crossing the Pyrenees, and Russian the Balkan.

STATE OF IRELAND.

For the last week the accounts from Ireland have been rather better, but the people are, without any doubt, perishing by hundreds. The people of this country are animated by very mixed and very varying feelings, according to the several representations which are put before them, and are tossed about between indignation, resentment, rage, and economical fear on the one hand, and pity and generosity on the other; and the circumstances of the case, which will appear fabulous to after ages, will account for this. There is no doubt whatever that, while English charity and commiseration have been so loudly invoked, and we have been harrowed with stories of Irish starvation, in many parts of Ireland the people have been suffered to die for want of food, when there was all the time plenty of food to give them, but which was hoarded on speculation. But what is still more extraordinary, people have died of starvation with money enough to buy food in their pockets. I was told the night before last that Lord de Vesci had written to his son that, since the Government had positively declared they would not furnish seed, abundance of seed had come forth, and, what was more extraordinary, plenty of potatoes; and Labouchere told me there had been three coroner's inquests, with verdicts 'starvation,' and in each case the sufferers had been found to have considerable sums of money in their possession, and in one (if not more) still more considerable sums in the savings bank: yet they died rather than spend their money in the purchase of food.

March 31st.—George Bentinck made another exhibition in the House of Commons the night before last in the shape of an attack on Labouchere more violent and disgusting than any of his previous ones. He seems to have lost all command over his temper, and his indiscretion and arrogance have excited a bitterness against him not to be described. The Protectionists are overwhelmed with shame and chagrin, and they know not what to do: he has ruined them as a party; he was hooted even by those who sat behind him, and all the signs of disapprobation with which he was assailed only excited and enraged him the more. The Government are now anxious to dissolve as soon as they possibly can, justly thinking that the time is very ripe for them. There is at this moment certainly no party spirit, no zeal and animation in any quarter, and there are neither great principles nor measures in dispute to serve as war cries or rallying points. The only party, therefore, that has any interest in exerting itself is that of the Government, who naturally wish to keep the power of which they have got possession. The Irish Poor Law Bill is going through the House of Commons with hardly any opposition, and everybody, willingly or unwillingly, has made up his mind that the great experiment must be tried.

BIRTHDAY REFLEXIONS.

The Government meanwhile are in a state of great uneasiness at the condition of foreign affairs[15] in almost every quarter of the world—in Spain, Portugal, and Greece particularly; in Switzerland, in Italy, and Germany to a less degree; and they are not only in a state of uneasiness, but in one of extreme perplexity, because they by no means clearly see their way or have any accurate knowledge of the designs and objects of the different European Powers; they think, however, that France is now willing to let the entente with England drop, and is disposed to form connexions with Russia and Austria in a sort of semi-hostility to England, and by a mutual connivance at each other's objects. They suspect, without being sure of it, that the recent financial operation has a deeper political significance, and that the object of France is to secure the neutrality of Russia and Austria in the affairs of Spain, and to repay it by suffering the Austrians to coerce the Pope and put down the rising spirit of Italian improvement. Then the condition of Spain and Portugal excites the greatest apprehension, and the more because it is evident we do not know what we can or what we ought to do. I never saw people so perplexed and with so little of fixed ideas or settled intentions on the subject.

I met the Archbishop of Dublin, Whately, at dinner yesterday at Raikes Currie's. I don't think him at all agreeable; he has a skimble-skamble way of talking as if he was half tipsy, and the stories he tells are abominably long and greatly deficient in point.

April 2nd.—My birthday: a day of no joy to me, and which I always gladly hasten over. There is no pleasure in reaching one's fifty-third year and in a retrospect full of shame and a prospect without hope; for shameful it is to have wasted one's faculties, and to have consumed in idleness and frivolous, if not mischievous pleasures that time which, if well employed, might have produced good fruit full of honour and of real, solid, permanent satisfaction. And what is there to look forward to at my time of life? Nothing but increasing infirmities, and the privations and distresses which they will occasion. I trust I shall have fortitude and resignation enough to meet them, and I pray that I may be cut off and be at rest before I am exposed to any great trials. When we have no longer the faculty and the means of enjoyment in this life, it is better to quit it. With regard to that great future, the object of all men's hopes, fears, and speculations, I reject nothing and admit nothing.

Divines can say but what themselves believe; Strong proof they have, but not demonstrative.

I believe in God, who has given us in the wonders of creation irresistible—to my mind at least irresistible—evidence of His existence. All other evidences offered by men claiming to have divine legations and authority, are, to me, imperfect and inconclusive. To the will of God I submit myself with implicit resignation. I try to find out the truth, and the best conclusions at which my mind can arrive are really truth to me. However, I will not write an essay now and here. Sometimes I think of writing on religious subjects amongst the many others which it occurs to me to handle. Ever since I wrote my book on Ireland, I have been longing to write again, and for more than one reason: first, the hope of again writing something that the world may think worth reading; secondly, because the occupation is very interesting and agreeable, inasmuch as it furnishes a constant object and something specific to do; and thirdly, because I find that nothing but having a subject in hand which renders enquiry and investigation in some particular line necessary is sufficient to conquer idleness. Mere desultory reading does not conquer it, and there is a want of satisfaction in reading without an object. Why then do I not write, when I am conscious that I have a very tolerable power of expressing myself? It is because I am also conscious that I want knowledge, familiarity with books, recollection sufficiently accurate of the little I have read, and that facility of composition which extensive information and the habit of using it alone can give. It is when this struggle is going on in my mind between the desire to write and the sense of incapacity, that I feel so bitterly the consequences of my imperfect education, and my lazy, unprofitable habits. But no more of this now. To-morrow I am going to Newmarket to begin another year of the old pursuits.

THE POWER OF THE PRESS.

I dined with David Dundas the Solicitor-General the day before yesterday at the Clarendon Hotel: splendid banquet; twenty miscellaneous friends. Labouchere there told me that Lord Hatherton had not long ago shown him Dudley's diary, which is very curious.[16] It was very regularly kept, and told of everything he did, giving minute details of his adventures both in high and low life. Certainly nothing could be more injudicious than to commit to paper and to leave behind him such memorials as these, and accordingly Labouchere advised Hatherton to commit the MS. to the flames. Dudley speaks of his friends, and even of his acquaintances generally, in a very good-natured spirit, and of himself with modesty and diffidence. He was in a dreadful state of nervousness whenever he had to make a speech in Parliament. He felt very bitterly against his father, who, he thought, had ruined his prospects and character by the way he had brought him up. I hope Hatherton will not burn this MS., and that I shall some day manage to see it.

Yesterday Le Marchant told me an anecdote illustrative of the power of the press. He called late one night many years ago on Barnes at his house, and while there another visitor arrived whom he did not see, but who was shown into another room. Barnes went to him and after a quarter of an hour returned, when Le Marchant said, 'Shall I tell you who your visitor is?' Barnes said yes, if he knew. 'Well, then, I know his step and his voice; it is Lord Durham.' Barnes owned it was, when Le Marchant said, 'What does he come for?' Barnes said he came on behalf of King Leopold, who had been much annoyed by some article in the 'Times,' to entreat they would put one in of a contrary and healing description. As Le Marchant said, here was the proudest man in England come to solicit the editor of a newspaper for a crowned head!

Moxon told me on Wednesday that some years ago Disraeli had asked him to take him into partnership, but he refused, not thinking he was sufficiently prudent to be trusted. He added he did not know how Dizzy would like to be reminded of that now.

April 10th.—Just before I left town last week I saw Arbuthnot, who entreated me, if I had any influence with the Government, to get them to take up the subject of the defence of the country. He said it haunted the Duke of Wellington, and deprived him of rest, and night and day he was occupied with the unhappy state of our foreign relations, the danger of war, and the defenceless state of our coasts. He afterwards wrote to the Duke of Bedford on that, as well as about the Enlistment Bill, the provisions of which he does not approve of. The Duke of Bedford spoke to me about these things, and we agreed that it was desirable Lord John should see the Duke of Wellington very soon, and come to some understanding with him. On the defences, Lord John agrees in the propriety of doing what the Duke wants, but he thinks the danger of war is not imminent, and that it is better to do what is necessary gradually and without noise.

April 18th.—In consequence of the communications between the Duke of Bedford, Arbuthnot and me, Lord John saw the Duke of Wellington and has come to an agreement with him. The Duke will support their Enlistment Bill, and they give way to him in what he wished about the pensioners. Arbuthnot told me that the Duke was rather surprised that Lord John did not mention the subject of the defence of the country, nor tell him if he had seen the letters he has lately written to Lord Anglesey on that subject. It is impossible to describe his anxiety or his indignation at the supineness of the Government and the country in reference to this matter. What he wants is that the militia shall be called out, and 20,000 men added to the regular army, but this latter he knows he cannot hope for. His letters to Lord Anglesey are very strong. The Duke knows that some of the Cabinet entirely take his views; the subject has been brought before them, and Clarendon and Palmerston are as strong in this sense as the Duke himself. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is against anything expensive. Lord John seems to have been rather neutral. The Duke attributes all the obstacles his plans encounter to Grey; however, it seems probable that something will be done. Lord John will act, though not so rapidly or decisively as the Duke wishes.

ILLNESS OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.

Amongst other troubles the state of affairs in Portugal has exceedingly perplexed the Government, and a great diplomatic blunder seems to have been committed in regard to them. Some time ago Clarendon wanted to propose to France a joint interference and mediation with Spain, to settle the miserable quarrel which is ruining the country. The Cabinet would not agree to it, Palmerston being always against France, and the others disinclined to make any proposals to the French Government; but now they find out that they are wrong and that they had better have done this at first, for France has offered the Portuguese Government its assistance or interference, and the knowledge of this has induced us to make the proposal now which we had better have done long ago. It was an excellent opportunity for renewing amicable relations with France, properly, prudently, and without affectation.[17]

April 30th.—Troubles and difficulties of various kinds have not diminished since I wrote last. The state of Ireland continues not only as bad, but as unpromising as ever, and, in addition, there is the great misfortune, public and private, of the approaching death of Lord Bessborough, the Lord Lieutenant. His illness was very sudden, at least the dangerous symptoms were, and he is dying amidst universal sympathy and regret. Lord John has made up his mind as to his successor, but without telling his colleagues his intentions; he may have told some, but certainly not all, for he has not told Clarendon, with whom he is on very confidential terms.[18] The Duke of Bedford told Clarendon Lord John had talked it all over with him, and had settled what to do, but that he was not at liberty to reveal his intentions. This is acting independently and en maître.

The other night the Enlistment Bill was debated in the House of Lords, and the Government got a small majority by the aid of the Peelite peers. The Opposition were full of eagerness and heat on this Bill and quite persuaded that the Duke of Wellington was with them. He had certainly given them to understand that he was so. Last week Stanley and Richmond were at Newmarket, and one day after dinner at the Duke of Rutland's we talked it over. I said they would find the Duke was not opposed to the Bill. 'Then,' said Stanley, 'he must be very much changed since I talked to him about it. There can be no secret as to what passed, because three or four people were present. I said to him, "Pray, sir, what is the necessity for this Bill?" and he said, "I'll tell you: they have got a d——d good army, and they want to make it a d——d bad one."' This, which was very characteristic, might very well convince Stanley and the rest that he was against Grey's measure, as, in fact, and in spite of this support, he really is, but he came to an agreement with the Government and promised to speak in favour of the Bill. So he did, but he spoke in such a way that though the Opposition were surprised and vexed at his supporting it at all, they saw pretty clearly that he did not like it, and they accordingly were not deterred from voting against it. Ellesmere told me yesterday that the Government must not attempt to try any fresh experiments with the army, for if they did the Duke would certainly resign.

THE QUEENS OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.

Affairs in Spain and Portugal are in a very strange state. The young Queen of Spain exhibits some character and some talent, but she is unsteady and uneducated. The turn matters have taken at Madrid is, however, enough to provoke and annoy the French, while every day exhibits more and more the infamy and disgrace of the marriage which the French Government forced upon the Queen. Her husband is a wretched imbecile sulky fanatic, who passes his life in trying to make embarrassments for the Queen, and in praying to the shade of his mother to forgive him for having married the usurper of his cousin's throne. They have been endeavouring to effect the semblance of a reconciliation between them, but he is incurably sulky, and will not make it up. Not long ago he sent for Pacheco, and told him it was his desire that a Council should be convened forthwith. Pacheco said very well, but begged His Majesty would be so good as to tell him for what purpose he wished for it. The King replied that his object was to lay before the Council proofs of the Queen's infidelity to him. Pacheco said if that was his object he must beg to decline to summon the Council. On this he announced that he had prepared a manifesto to the nation setting forth his wrongs, and that it should be immediately published. They persuaded him to desist from this scandalous intention, and as a sort of compromise they got Serrano to quit Madrid. It appears that the Queen-mother, seeing how matters were going on, intended to return; but her daughter had no mind she should, and told her Ministers they had better look to it. It was their affair, but that if Mama came back matters would go ill. On this they sent Concha to Paris to stop her. Christina wrote Isabella a lecture on her proceedings, and told her that she was too little educated to know how to conduct herself properly, to which she replied, 'Mama knows that I did not educate myself.' However, everything is in a state of the greatest doubt and uncertainty there, and the French are sure to begin their intrigues again and to create as much confusion as they can.

In Portugal, the other Queen continues as obstinate as ever, yielding inch by inch as the danger approaches her more nearly, and is supported in her obstinacy by the security she is still able to find in foreign intervention. We have anchored our ships close to the town, and are prepared to land our Marines to protect her person, and, thus knowing she is personally safe, she is emboldened to refuse or demur to the terms of accommodation which Palmerston has suggested, and to try on the chances of war totally regardless, of course, of the misery of prolonging the contest. The natural course for us to take would be to offer our mediation, and if she refused it to withdraw our ships and leave her to her fate. But we cannot do this, because if we were to desert her the Spaniards and French would instantly step in and reconquer her kingdom for her. Such is the nodo sviluppato in which these wretched affairs are involved. Lisbon is ready to rise in insurrection the moment the army of the Junta makes its appearance. Southern writes very curious accounts to Clarendon of the state of the town. The jealousy and aversion of the Queen of Portugal to him have compelled him to withdraw altogether from the affairs of the mission, though he is still Secretary of Legation. Our Court continues to take the same interest in the Lisbon Coburgs, and would willingly interfere in their favour with more vigour if the Ministers would consent to do so. Palmerston's defects prove rather useful in his intercourse with the Court. To their wishes or remonstrances he expresses the greatest deference, and then goes on in his own course without paying the least attention to what they have been saying to him.

May 2nd.—Yesterday morning the Duke of Bedford called on me, and told me Lord John's secret intentions about Ireland, which he said he had not yet imparted to any of the Cabinet, and only discussed with him. I believe, however, that Lord John has told Labouchere, and nobody else. He thinks of taking this opportunity of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant and making a Secretary of State for Ireland, who is not to reside permanently but go there occasionally, and he destines this office for Clarendon. This is his plan, which, however, he has by no means determined on, and they both think it doubtful if it would do. The moment, however, seems propitious for effecting this alteration; there is no O'Connell either to inveigh against it or to seize any power that may be, or appear to be, relinquished, and the difficulty of selecting a successor to Lord Bessborough is so great as to be almost insuperable. Meanwhile the town is full of reports about a new Lord-Lieutenant, nobody dreaming of what Lord John is resolving in his mind. Everybody has got some story (from the best authority) of the post having been offered to this person, and pressed upon that. Bessborough still lingers on, and a more striking and touching deathbed has seldom been seen. He is surrounded by the whole of his numerous family, overwhelmed with affliction, a general manifestation of sympathy and regret, and the deep sense which is entertained of the loss which the country will sustain by his death, afford the best and most feeling testimony to his capacity and his merit. He is perfectly aware of his condition, and in full possession of his faculties. Duncannon wrote to John Russell yesterday, as I am told, an admirable letter, which was sent to the Queen. Bessborough was bent upon writing himself to John Russell before he died, and was preparing to do so. Certainly a greater loss both public and private has seldom occurred.

THE LORD-LIEUTENANCY OF IRELAND.

May 3rd.—The Duke of Bedford came here this morning. They now find there are immense difficulties in the way of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant at present; they are assured that if it was proposed the Repealers would raise a furious clamour and be joined by the Orangemen. Some Irishman (he did not tell me who), a sensible man and favourable to the abolition, tells him and Lord John this, consequently Lord John has told the Duke that his going there would be the only solution of the difficulty. This difficulty, he says, is enormous and increasing; that everything tends to prove that dangers are thickening round them, and that next year they will have to propose measures that will be very unpopular. Bessborough has dictated to Lord John a most affecting letter; his daughter, Lady Emily, wrote also, saying that her father was so weak that he was scarcely intelligible, and she was not sure she had quite faithfully written what he had dictated, but that she had given the substance of it as well as she could. He tells Lord John that the dangers and difficulties are very great, and that he foresees their increase, and he expects him to appoint a man to succeed him who shall be firm and bold, and, above all, who will not seek for popularity. I found the Duke most unwilling, and almost, but not quite, decided not to go. He will go if Lord John insists on it, but he dreads and shrinks from it; neither his health, nerves, nor spirits are equal to such a task. The principal reason for his going is, that he alone can go temporarily, and Lord John does not contemplate his remaining. Lord John says he cannot ask Clarendon to go on account of the expense, unless he was to stay there for three years. He says that not one of the men who have been mentioned will do for the office, especially Morpeth; and he thinks Bessborough's warning as to the sort of man they ought to choose was intended to point at Morpeth as the one they ought not to appoint. Morpeth himself is longing to go. 'It is now come to this,' the Duke said: 'it must be either Clarendon, myself, or Lords Justices.' He went from me to Clarendon to talk it over with him. Grey and Labouchere are the only members of the Cabinet to whom he has mentioned the matter. The Duke has had a long confidential letter from Arbuthnot about the Duke of Wellington, and his dread of Grey and his reforms, the object of it being to deter the Government from attempting anything else. It is clear they have dragged the Duke with them as far as he can be persuaded to go, and if they try anything more, and make any further attempts on his patience or condescension, he will then turn restive and resign.

DEATH OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.

June 7th.[19]—More than a month has elapsed since I have written anything, and from the usual cause, that of having been occupied with Epsom, Ascot, and Newmarket. The principal events which have occurred have been the deaths of Bessborough and O'Connell, which took place almost at the same time, within a day or two of one another. The departure of the latter, which not long ago would have excited the greatest interest and filled the world with political speculations, was heard almost with unconcern, so entirely had his importance vanished; he had in fact been for some time morally and politically defunct, and nobody seems to know whether his death is likely to prove a good or an evil, or a mere matter of indifference. The death of Bessborough excited far greater interest, and no man ever quitted the world more surrounded by sympathy, approbation, respect, and affection, than he did. During his last illness, which he himself and all about him knew to be fatal, he was surrounded by a numerous and devoted family, and the people of Dublin universally testified their regard for him, and their grief at losing him. He continued in the uninterrupted possession of his faculties almost to the last hour of his existence, and he calmly discussed every matter of public and private interest, in conversation with his children and friends, or dictating letters to John Russell and his colleagues at home. He expired at eleven o'clock at night; at nine he felt his pulse and said he saw the end was approaching. He then sent for all his family, seventeen in number, saw them and took leave of them separately, and gave to each a small present he had prepared, and then calmly lay down to die; in less than two hours all was over. They say that his funeral was one of the finest and most striking sights possible from the countless multitudes which attended it, and the decorum and good feeling which were displayed. Clarendon has kept the whole of Bessborough's staff and household, with one exception; and he told them that he kept them on account of their attachment to his predecessor.

The reputation which Bessborough had acquired, which at the time of his death and since his Irish administration was very considerable, affords a remarkable example of the success which may be obtained by qualities of a superior description, without great talents, without knowledge and information, and without any power of speaking in Parliament. He had long been addicted to politics, and was closely connected by relationship or friendship with the most eminent Whig leaders. His opinions had always been strongly Liberal, and he seemed to have found the place exactly adapted to his capacity and disposition when he became the Whig whipper-in of the House of Commons; he was gradually initiated in all the secrets of that party, and he soon became a very important member of it from his various intimacies and the personal influence he was enabled to exercise. He had a remarkably calm and unruffled temper and very good sound sense. The consequence was that he was consulted by everybody, and usually and constantly employed in the arrangement of difficulties, the adjustment of rival pretensions, and the reconciliation of differences, for which purposes some such man is indispensable and invaluable in every great political association. He continued to acquire fresh weight and influence, and at length nothing could be done without Duncannon as he then was. Everybody liked him, and King William, when he hated the rest of the Whigs, always testified good humour and regard for him. He took office and became a Cabinet Minister, and he contrived to do a vast deal of Parliamentary business, especially in the House of Lords, and carry bills through Parliament without ever making the semblance of a speech. In this way by his good nature and good sense, and an extreme liveliness and elasticity of spirits, which made him a very pleasant and acceptable member of society, he continued to increase in public reputation and private favour, and when the Government was formed last year, his appointment to the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland was generally approved of. He had almost always been on good terms with O'Connell, indeed he never was on bad terms with anybody; and as an Irishman he was agreeable to the people. In his administration, adverse and unhappy as the times were, he displayed great industry, firmness, and knowledge of the character and circumstances of the Irish people, and he conciliated the good will of those to whom he had been all his life opposed. Lord Roden, the head of the Orange party, who has all along acted a very honourable and patriotic part, afforded ample testimony to his merits, and gave him a very frank and generous support.

LORD CLARENDON GOES TO IRELAND.

There was a great pother for some time before his death about a successor. The candidates soon became reduced to three, though candidates they must not be called; that is, the choice lay between the Duke of Bedford, Clarendon, and Morpeth. Lord John communicated with the Duke and with Labouchere upon the subject, and perhaps with Lord Lansdowne, and, for a long time, he rather leant to the Duke's going, and tried to persuade him, not, however, without misgivings; but he thought it not fair to ask Clarendon, and he had no mind to send Morpeth, who was dying to go. The Duke was rather tickled at the idea of the appointment, somewhat encouraged by the numerous invitations he received to take it, but desperately afraid of it all the time. To my surprise he did not absolutely reject it, as I thought he would have done. In this wavering and uncertain state of mind he broached the matter to Clarendon, who affected to repudiate it and to dread and dislike it, and urged the Duke to go himself. I say affected, because it soon became very clear to me, as it did to the Duke, that Clarendon had no disinclination to go, and would in fact be excessively mortified and disappointed if anybody went but himself. The play of human nature was amusing; the Duke was not quite willing to give it up, but much more afraid to go, and he enjoyed mightily all the expressions of a desire that he should be Lord-Lieutenant, which were addressed to him from various quarters; on the other hand, Clarendon treated it as a sacrifice and a misfortune; hesitated, objected, and did everything to make it appear as if it were a painful burthen cast upon him, but he was all the time in a great fright lest the Duke should be persuaded to accept it, and he said, and made me say to him, that one of his principal motives for accepting it himself was his desire to save the Duke from a burthen which would, he was sure, break him down with anxiety and labour. A great deal of time was wasted and much useless talk expended in fictitious fears and scruples, but at last it was settled that he should go, as it might just as well have been without any fuss or difficulty, for the truth is that he is the fittest man, and is universally considered so. Nothing can be more flattering and gratifying than the reception he has met with from all ranks and all parties, and he is now (whatever doubts or misgivings he may have had, and, in spite of his secret wishes, he probably had some) quite satisfied with his appointment.

The death of O'Connell, I have said, made little or no sensation here. He had quarrelled with half of his followers, he had ceased to be the head of a great party animated by any great principle, or encouraged to pursue any attainable object; the Repeal cause was become despicable and hopeless without ceasing to be noisy and mischievous. O'Connell knew not what to say or what to do; he had become bankrupt in reputation and in power, and was no longer able to do much good or much harm; broken in health and spirits, and seeing Ireland penetrated by famine and sickness, and reduced to a condition of helpless dependence on England, having lost a great part of his prestige in Ireland without having gained respect or esteem in England, he went away unregretted and unnoticed to breathe his last in a foreign land. He was received everywhere on his route with the marks of respect and admiration which were considered due to his wonderful career and to the great part he had played in the history of his country, and his memory has been treated with some appearance of affection in Ireland, and with a decent respect and forbearance here. History will speak of him as one of the most remarkable men who ever existed; he will fill a great space in its pages; his position was unique; there never was before, and there never will be again, anything at all resembling it. To rise from the humblest situation to the height of empire like Napoleon is no uncommon destiny; there have been innumerable successful adventurers and usurpers; but there never was a man who, without altering his social position in the slightest degree, without obtaining any office or station whatever, raised himself to a height of political power which gave him an enormous capacity for good or evil, and made him the most important and most conspicuous man of his time and country. It would not be a very easy matter to do him perfect justice. A careful examination of his career and an accurate knowledge of his character would be necessary for the purpose. It is impossible to question the greatness of his abilities or the sincerity of his patriotism. His dependence on his country's bounty, in the rent that was levied for so many years, was alike honourable to the contributors and the recipient; it was an income nobly given and nobly earned. Up to the conquest of Catholic Emancipation his was certainly a great and glorious career. What he might have done and what he ought to have done after that, it is not easy to say, but undoubtedly he did far more mischief than good, and exhibited anything but a wise, generous, and patriotic spirit. In Peel's administration he did nothing but mischief, and it is difficult to comprehend with what object and what hope he threw Ireland into confusion, and got up that Repeal agitation, the folly and impracticability of which nobody must have known so well as himself.

THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP OF INDIA.

June 14th.—The Duke of Bedford has been telling me what has been going on about India and the appointment of Hardinge's successor. In the first place Normanby has been making desperate attempts to get it, but Lord John will not hear of it, and believes the Directors would object to him if he was proposed. Lord John is resolved that this great appointment shall not be made an affair of party, and he desired the Chairs to furnish him with a list of the persons they would consider most eligible for the office of Governor-General without distinction of party. They sent him four or five names—Clarendon, Graham, I think Dalhousie, and the others I forget, but Normanby's was not among them. Lord John has made up his mind to offer the post to Graham, and has communicated his intention to the Duke of Wellington, at the same time consulting him about the military appointment. The Duke approves of Graham, and proposes Sir George Napier for Commander-in-Chief, to which Lord John agrees. Normanby, who had a suspicion that Graham was thought of, from something the Duke of Bedford had said to him, wrote him a long letter, strongly arguing against this appointment, and not a very bad argument either. Meanwhile I have seen Graham, and had a long conversation with him. It began about the Portuguese question, which is now going on in the House of Commons; but after discussing this and some electioneering matters, I asked him what his own projects were. He said he was indifferent about them and had settled nothing. I said, 'You know that it is reported in the world that you are likely to go to India.' He said he had three times refused to go there; that it would always be a matter of much doubt and deliberation, both on private and public grounds, whether he should accept it if offered; but at present it was out of the question, for Lord John Russell was evidently animated by very implacable sentiments towards him, and he never would take an office from him while he was in such a disposition, and when the appointment would be clearly offered at the suggestion of others, and not by his own free will. He then talked a great deal about the feeling which subsisted between himself and the Whigs—of their resentment towards him; of the way in which he had been persecuted by them; of Lord John's sending for him in the autumn of 1845; about the change of government; how gratified he had been; how frankly he had behaved; how desirous he had been to give every aid in his power to his successor; how generally friendly to the Government, of which he gave instances; and then how hurt he had been at the bitterness and severity of Lord John's attack upon him in reply to his speech objecting to the exclusion of Catholics from the grant; that that speech had proved to him that Lord John's dislike of him was unmitigated and unappeasable. This is a very brief summary of a long discourse he made to me on the subject. I told him he was mistaken in Lord John's sentiments, which were by no means so bitter and hostile as he imagined, and on the occasion he alluded to, Lord John had spoken under great irritation and with strong resentment, thinking that Graham had made a most offensive and unjust speech, and that he had most unfairly done his best to embarrass the Government; that such was the general opinion of Lord John's friends, and I would not conceal from him my own opinion; that his speech had been calculated to produce that effect; that it had appeared to many people, to me amongst them, that Peel had been conscious of the effect produced by his (Graham's) speech, and had spoken, as he did, in a very different tone to repair the effect of it. He must not therefore infer from the vivacity of Lord John's tone on that occasion that he was animated by such sentiments as he ascribed to him; that I did not mean to say he had any feelings of extreme cordiality; but I had reason to know that he rendered ample justice to his public character and capacity, and felt no bitterness towards him; that some day I would give him proofs of the truth of what I said, but that in the meantime I must beg him to take my word for it; and I entreated him not to deceive himself by the exaggerated, and, I was convinced, unfounded notion he entertained of Lord John's disposition. A great deal passed on this subject, and I found that he was very low and very much vexed, both on the above ground and about a very mortifying communication that had been made to him about Cumberland.

THE CUMBERLAND ELECTION.

Aglionby had informed him they were going to put up Charles Howard and William Marshall, which was an intimation that that they would not have him. He replied that he would not pledge himself about the two candidates, but would support Howard, saying civil things about Lord Carlisle and the whole family. The other day he got a letter, not very judiciously worded—cold, but intended to be civil—from Morpeth, announcing that he was going to support the two candidates on his own side of the House, accompanied with some expression of regret that his support could not rather have been given to him. Graham took this very ill, and was evidently excessively hurt at the way in which he was thus excluded from the representation. All these things were evidently souring his mind, and I strongly suspect stimulating him to act an unfriendly part in the Portuguese discussion, and I was therefore very glad that I had an opportunity of saying what I did, for I said quite enough to let him see that India is full in view, and I do not think he will now do anything to mar this prospect. He would not tell me what he or Peel meant to do, and Peel happens to be exceedingly out of humour in consequence of young Campbell's speech at Cambridge; so is Graham. Graham told me he never saw Peel so put out and so angry with anything, and they are the more so because old Jack (Lord Campbell) went down, they say, to Cambridge with his son.

June 19th.—I was obliged to break off in the midst of the above conversation, and have since been out of town. I told the Duke of Bedford all that had passed between Graham and me, and advised that Lord John should show him some civility, which he undertook that he should do. On Tuesday evening the Portuguese discussion was resumed in the Commons and came on in the Lords. I went down to hear Stanley speak, never having heard him before. His style and manner, fluency and expression, are admirable, and he speaks with an appearance of earnestness, even of dignity, that is marvellously striking; but nothing could be more injudicious than his speech, and I was as much disappointed with the matter of it as I was charmed with the manner. Never was there so ridiculous and contemptible an ending to an affair begun with such a flourish of trumpets and note of preparation, and which for a moment put the Government into a state of alarm. The whippers-in in both Houses had collected all their forces, and when the House of Lords met, a long night and a doubtful division were announced.

The first thing that happened was that Peel made an admirable speech in the House of Commons, strong in defence of Government, and without any 'buts' or drawbacks. He spoke very early. Very few people were there, and many went away after; so, finding the House in this state, George Bentinck made Newdigate count it out, and the whole thing thus fell to the ground. This he considered a very skilful piece of jockeyship, apparently unconscious of the ridicule which it cast on the whole affair. Great was the astonishment in the Lords when news was brought that the House of Commons had been counted out. Stanley had gone home to dinner, and after a few insignificant speeches (the Duke of Wellington having spoken strongly for the Government) nobody seemed disposed to go on. Clarendon went to Ellenborough and to Brougham, and asked them if they would not speak: both declined; the latter said it was very dull and he should say nothing. Accordingly they divided, many on both sides absent, and Government had a majority of twenty. Stanley was not present, and when he came back to the House found it all over. So ended this solemn farce. Stanley would have beaten the Government if he could, and have thought it very good fun, trusting to the majority he knew they would have in the Commons to induce them to put up with a defeat. Lord John, however, was not disposed to take it so quietly, and there can be very little doubt that Brougham and the rest saw that a division against Government in the Lords without any division for them in the Commons would make matters very different, and the sudden termination of the debate in the other House greatly cooled their ardour.

WYATT'S STATUE OF THE DUKE.

The other day I met John Russell in the Park as he was going to Apsley House by appointment with the Duke. He said he was going on important business (it was about the Indian appointments), and he asked me if I thought he had better say anything to him or not about the Statue.[20] I said 'Better not.' The Duke of Bedford told me after that it was very fortunate advice I gave Lord John, for if he had said anything there would have been an explosion. The Duke said to Arbuthnot, when Lord John wrote to say he wished to see him, 'What can he want? what can he be coming about? do you think it is about the Statue?' and then he went off on that sore subject, and said he should place his resignation in Lord John's hands! However, Lord John said nothing about it, and the Duke was put into great good humour by being consulted about the Indian affairs; and he said afterwards that he only wished they would get the pedestal made, put the Statue up, and have done with it. But it is curious, as showing how sensitive and irritable he is become, how the strong mind is weakened. He is, however, very happy on the whole, in excellent health, and treated with the greatest deference and attention by everybody. The Queen is excessively kind to him. On Monday his grand-daughter was christened at the Palace, and the Queen dined with him in the evening. She had written him a very pretty letter expressing her wish to be godmother to the child, saying she wished her to be called Victoria, which name was so peculiarly appropriate to a grand-daughter of his. All these attentions marvellously please him.

June 20th.—The Duke of Bedford told me he wanted to speak to me. I called on him, and he said, 'I wish you would see Graham again; a good deal has passed; I won't tell you what now, but I am curious to know what he will say to you in reference to his last conversation.' I accordingly called on Graham; he talked incessantly de omnibus rebus, but never alluded to Lord John or himself, or India, or to what I had before said to him. I had considerable difficulty in getting anything in, but at last, just as I was going and seeing he was resolved to say nothing, I said 'I hope you have thought on what I said to you the other day, for I am quite certain I was right.' He broke in 'Oh, no, that is quite impossible,' and then began again upon Ireland, evidently determined to avoid the former subject. I returned to the Duke and told him what had passed between us, when with some difficulty I got him to tell me what had occurred. As soon as the Portuguese debate was over, Lord John wrote to Graham a very kind and handsome letter, and offered him India, saying that he wished to forget all their differences and only to remember that they had been colleagues in Lord Grey's Government. Graham asked leave to consult Peel, who at once put an extinguisher upon it, entreated him to decline it, and said that their support of the Government would be considered to have been given in reference to this appointment. Peel gave many reasons, which I now forget, against his taking it, and (as I suspect very reluctantly) Graham did decline the offer, of course with many expressions of gratitude and gratification. Peel himself said nothing could be handsomer than the offer. Lord John, however, would not accept the refusal as final, and caused Graham to be informed that he should not appoint anybody else, but wait and see what might occur. Graham might not get a seat in the next Parliament, or the reasons which now influenced him might cease to exist; he would, therefore, not fill up the office till Sir John Hobhouse told him it was absolutely necessary to do so. So the matter stands at present. It is a profound secret only communicated 'to some of the Cabinet,' and Graham has not even told his wife. No wonder he was so reserved with me, though the Duke thinks he might as well have said that he was satisfied my opinion of Lord John's sentiments towards him was correct. Graham, who is always in the garret or in the cellar, was in such spirits the other day as compared with the day before, that it was easy to see something agreeable had happened to him. He talked of all sorts of things: poor laws, railroads, abolition of Lord-Lieutenancy, very good sense and friendly to the Government; said that they had been unlucky in Strutt's appointment, of which great things had been expected and which was a complete failure, and he strongly advised the Government should not persist in their Bill this year.[21] I told the Duke of Bedford this, and I find the Bill was withdrawn last night.

OFFERS TO SIR JAMES GRAHAM.

It is very curious how jealously and anxiously Peel's actions and disposition are scanned, and amusing to hear what people say of them. Bonham went to Arbuthnot the other day, and told him Peel was getting up a party, and expected to have 250 people in the next Parliament. Then Lady Westmorland went and told him that Peel had told her he had 120 followers in the House of Commons, and that he alone kept the Government in office. They put these things together, and inferred all sorts of deep designs and ambitious projects on his part. Arbuthnot told the Duke of Bedford, who told me. I laughed at them, and said that probably what Bonham and Lady Westmorland reported was false or exaggerated, and it was better to look at Peel's acts and see how they corresponded with such supposed intentions. He disclaims being the leader of any party at all, totidem verbis, and the other day he did not tell anybody what he was going to do. His speech was calculated to strengthen the Government, and to render them independent, whereas his policy would be to weaken them, if he had such designs as are imputed to him. I told Graham what I had heard, and what I had said. He said, 'Peel's position is a very extraordinary one, and he is determined to enjoy it. He has an immense fortune, is in full possession of his faculties and vigour, has great influence and consideration in Parliament and in the country; he has shown the world that he is capax imperii. In this position he will not retire from public life to please any man; he does not want to be the head of a party, still less to return to office, but he will continue to take that part in public affairs which he considers best for the public service, reserving to himself the faculty of acting according to circumstances in any political contingency.' I forget the exact phraseology he used, but what he conveyed was that Peel had made no positive resolution never to enter into the public service again, and that circumstances might occur to induce him to do so, but that he neither desired nor expected anything of the kind, nor would do anything to bring it about. At present he is certainly acting a very creditable and a very useful part, and one, if he persists in it, which will redound to his honour, and greatly enhance his reputation. But it is difficult to feel entire confidence in a man who is not really high-minded. If he once begins to shuffle and intrigue, he is lost. The best security for his good conduct is that it is not only his best policy, but it is almost his only possible policy. His influence and his power depend upon his great abilities, and upon his judicious and honourable employment of them; he has no party at his back, he has few political and still fewer personal adherents, nor does he seem to make any exertions to acquire either the one or the other.

A BAD WEEK FOR GOVERNMENT.

June 28th.—The last week was a bad one for the Government. One incident was ridiculous, one unfortunate. Strutt came down to the House on Monday, made a speech of two hours on his Railroad Bill, developing the whole plan, and ended by withdrawing it: a mountain and a mouse. Great was the surprise, and great the ridicule. The dessous des cartes was that Strutt had got up his speech with much labour, and was only told just before the House met that Government had resolved to withdraw the Bill. All this comes of having an inefficient man and a bad measure; thence vacillation, uncertainty, failure, and mortification. This was bad. Then they suffered a defeat on the Poor Law. The clause for prohibiting the separation of old people was carried against them; it was a mistaken piece of humanity, for the old people would be better off as the Bill was. All this shows that it is high time the session should be brought to a close.

July 13th.—The session is drawing to a close, but far from satisfactorily for the Government, who have lost ground in public estimation. Bill after bill has been thrown over, and, after a great deal of time entirely wasted, the session will end with hardly anything having been done. The last two measures given up were the Health of Towns and the Irish Estates Bills, and then the affair of the Wellington Statue came to crown all, in which the Government were bullied and tricked by Croker and Trench, who contrived to enlist the passions or prejudices of the Duke in their cause, made him their cat's-paw, and so accomplished their ends. The vexatious opposition to the Health of Towns Bill by George Bentinck, Hudson, and Co., made it very difficult to carry it, but the truth is they were wrong to bring in such measures so late in the session, and the measures were not framed in a manner to get through with short discussions. It is easy to say 'What could they do?' and 'They could not help it,' but the public does not analyse but looks to results, and therefore sees in the whole conduct of affairs proofs of weakness, vacillation, and mismanagement. This discredits the Government; they had before no popularity, and were accepted as a necessity under circumstances rather than as desirable. Ellesmere, who is very friendly to them, tells me they have no credit or fame so far as his observation goes in the country, and people say 'this can't go on,' though without any fixed idea what is to be done. All this is very deplorable. Then Lord John does not make up by his personal qualities for his political mistakes or shortcomings; he is not conciliatory, and sometimes gives grievous offence. The other night in the House of Commons he was so savage with Hume, without any cause, that he enlisted all sympathies in Hume's favour, and was generally blamed for his tone and manner. He is miserably wanting in amenity, and in the small arts of acquiring popularity, which are of such incalculable value to the leader of a party, still more of a Government; then, while he has the reputation of being obstinate, he is wanting in firmness. His conduct about his own election has been very unwise, and has given great offence; he has suffered himself to be persuaded to stand for the City of London in conjunction with three other Liberals, including Rothschild, and to make a great contest, instead of coming quietly in by a compromise, which all moderate men desired, and none more than Lord John himself. He was so opposed to a contest, and especially to Rothschild's standing (which is a great piece of impertinence, when he knows he can't take his seat), that he threatened to resign himself if they persisted in their scheme of bringing in all four, and then he was over-persuaded to consent to the contest. They offered to pay his expenses; this he refused, and the Duke will have to pay them. In short, on the whole, the Government is not in good odour: they don't inspire confidence; they are neither popular nor respected, but they are indispensable, and have the strength of circumstances. If the country was polled, nineteen out of twenty would vote for Peel's being minister; the Queen would be enchanted to have him back; but Peel has no party, and can have none unless circumstances and necessities make one for him. The great Tory party is acephalous, or rather they are weak from the utter incompetence of their leaders, so that matters are in that sort of lock which prevents any other combination and any change, but which renders the present Government very powerless.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S VAGARIES.

The Cambridge installation went off with prodigious éclat, and the Queen was enchanted at the enthusiastic reception she met with; but the Duke of Wellington was if possible received with even more enthusiasm. It is incredible what popularity environs him in his latter days; he is followed like a show wherever he goes, and the feeling of the people for him seems to be the liveliest of all popular sentiments; yet he does nothing to excite it, and hardly appears to notice it. He is in wonderful vigour of body, but strangely altered in mind, which is in a fitful uncertain state, and there is no knowing in what mood he may be found; everybody is afraid of him, nobody dares to say anything to him; he is sometimes very amiable and good-humoured, sometimes very irritable and morose. About this affair of the Statue, Croker and Trench contrived to work him up to a state of frenzy; he was as near as possible resigning upon it. When Lord John wrote to him the other day in consequence of what passed in the House of Commons, he wrote a long rigmarole of an answer, which Lord John did not read yesterday, but gave the substance of it. All this is very unlike him. Then he is astonishing the world by a strange intimacy he has struck up with Miss ——, with whom he passes his life, and all sorts of reports have been rife of his intention to marry her. Such are the lamentable appearances of decay in his vigorous mind, which are the more to be regretted because he is in most enviable circumstances, without any political responsibility, yet associated with public affairs, and surrounded with every sort of respect and consideration on every side—at Court, in Parliament, in society, and in the country.

July 22nd.—All last week at Croxteth for Liverpool races, on Saturday to Worsley, passing four hours at Liverpool to see sights; went to the docks, town hall, &c.; and met Cardwell canvassing. I was told there that Peel is very unpopular in Liverpool on account of the heavy losses that have been sustained this year by mercantile men, all of which they attribute to his Currency Bill, consequently the Peelite Conservatives are very few; but my informant added that nevertheless everybody, even those who were most angry with him on account of this Bill, would be glad to see him in office again. I expressed surprise at this; he said they all thought him the best workman, and found when they approached him on business that he knew everything about the subjects which interested them. Liverpool is increasing enormously in trade, which is now greater than in London. Last week appeared Peel's letter to the electors of Tamworth, and John Russell's speech in the City. The latter was very good, and the former not bad in its way; but Peel's case for himself, however well put, is no answer to the accusations which have been elaborated in the 'Quarterly Review' with all the malignity and virulence of ungovernable hatred. There is some truth in the article, which is, however, revolting from its coarse and savage spirit. Arbuthnot told me yesterday an anecdote about that article. It was a review of a pamphlet called 'Pitt and Peel Policy.' Croker contrived to get hold of a copy of the proof-sheets of it, and sent it to the Duke of Wellington, pointing out a passage rather offensive to him, and informing the Duke he meant to review it. The Duke in sending it back advised Croker if he did review it to do so in terms of decency and moderation, and asked to see the review before it was printed. The passage about the Duke was struck out in the process of correction, and Croker had to alter his review in consequence; but he disregarded the Duke's advice, and published the article without letting the Duke see it. He gave as his reason for this that he wished the Duke to be able to say that he had never read a word of it. It seems that after some of his former attacks he tried to put himself on his former footing of intimacy with Peel, and wrote to him 'My dear Peel.' Peel would not hear of it, wrote to him a dry, formal answer, and told him in so many words that their intimacy was at an end. Croker was furious, and has been overflowing with gall and bitterness ever since.[22]

PANIC IN THE MONEY MARKET.

CHAPTER XXV.

Panic in the Money Market—The Bank Act—Sir Robert Peel's Authority—Suspension of the Banking Act of 1844—Death of the Archbishop of York—Meeting of Parliament—Irish Coercion Bill—Opinion of the Lord-Lieutenant—Weakness of the Irish Measures—Sir Robert Peel on the Bank Charter Act—The Duke of Wellington on the Defences of the Country—English Catholic Affairs at Rome—Illness of Lord Chancellor Cottenham—Bishop Hampden's Appointment—Chloroform—Lamartine's 'Girondins'—The Hampden Dispute—Death of Lord Harrowby—Taxation—Leadership of the Opposition—The Hampden War—Scenes in Spain—Visit to Lord Melbourne—Lord Melbourne at Windsor—Burnham Beeches—Letter to Cobden—Leadership of the Opposition—Views of Sir James Graham on the Colonies—Archbishop Sumner—Baron Alderson—Diplomatic Relations with Rome—Weakness of the Government—Bad Effects of Lord John's Speech.

London, October 23rd, 1847.—After many weeks, or months, during which from idleness or unexplainable repugnance I have never written a line, I at last resume my pen, less for the purpose of writing the history of these past weeks than to begin again to record what occurs to me. Stirring weeks they have been, and full of interest of the most lively and general description. In the midst of all the agitation that has prevailed at home and abroad, intrigues and quarrels and wars begun or threatened in various countries, we have been absorbed by the great panic in the money market, which is still at its height, and of which no man ventures to predict, or thinks he can see, the termination. There never was a subject on which such diversified opinions prevail. Men are indeed pretty well agreed as to the cause of the present distress, and in admitting that it is the result of over-speculation, and of the Railway mania which fell upon the country two years ago. But the great contest is as to the share Peel's Bill of 1844 has had in aggravating and keeping up the state of distress and difficulty in which trade and commerce are involved, and whether this Bill ought to be presently relaxed by the authority of Government or not. On these points the greatest disputes and varieties of opinion exist. Charles Wood has, however, been stout and resolute from the first, and quite determined not to consent to any interference. There have been some different opinions, and some shades of difference, some doubts, amongst the members of the Cabinet, though I do not know the particulars of them; but yesterday the Cabinet broke up, having terminated their deliberations, and resolved as matters now stand not to do anything. My own belief is that this will prove a sound resolution, and that they would only have aggravated the evil by interference. I shall not, however, write anything more now on this subject. I have nothing secret or curious or interesting to record, and the details of it will be found in a hundred publications.

The most remarkable circumstance is the intense interest and curiosity which are felt about Peel's opinions and intentions. Everybody asks with anxiety what he says, what he thinks, what he will do. His vanity may well be gratified by the immense importance which is attached to his opinions and to the course he may take and recommend; his power seems to be as great out of office as it ever was in office; nothing was ever so strange or anomalous as his position. Half the commercial world attributes the distress and danger to his Bill; he is liked by nobody. The Conservatives detest him with unquenched hatred, and abuse him with unmitigated virulence. The Whigs regard him with a mixture of fear, suspicion, and dislike, but treat him with great deference and respect. There is a party which is called by others and by itself, but not (publicly at least) acknowledged by him as his party; it is far from numerous, and too weak for substantive power. He has never opened his lips on the great questions of the day, and is an oracle shrouded in mystery. It would seem as if a man thus abandoned by the majority of his former political friends and adherents, without personal attachments and following, an object of hatred to one party and of suspicion to the other, the country at large or a great proportion of it attributing to his financial measures the distress by which all are afflicted or endangered, could by no possibility occupy any great and important position in the country: nevertheless he does. All eyes are turned upon him as if by a sort of fascination. If the country could be polled to decide who should be Minister, he would be elected by an immense majority. There is a prevalent opinion that he must return to power; nobody knows when or how, but the notion is that the present men are weak, that the public necessities and perils are great, and if a crisis of difficulty and danger should arrive, that Peel is the only man capable of extricating the country from it. The consequence of all this is that his prestige and his influence are enormous.

THE BANK CHARTER ACT SUSPENDED.

Newmarket, November 1st.—I came here last Saturday week. On Friday I believed it to have been settled that nothing should be done by the Government to relieve the panic. On that day, however, George Glyn and other bankers had had an interview with John Russell, and they came from it with a persuasion that he would do something.[23] The same evening Peel came to town on his way to Windsor. Charles Wood went to him, laid before him the state of affairs, telling him all the accounts they had received from the country, all the pressure they were undergoing, and explained their views and intentions. On the next day, Saturday, still more urgent demands were made, and still more alarming representations arrived. On Sunday, a Cabinet (or half Cabinet) was held, and there it was resolved to grant the relief that has been seen. The Duke of Bedford was bidden to Windsor to meet Peel, who went there on Saturday. At dinner on Sunday the Queen received Lord John's box with the result of the deliberations of the Cabinet, which he requested Her Majesty to communicate to Peel. The next day the Duke of Bedford had a long conversation with Peel, very amicable and very satisfactory. He spoke in high terms of Lord John Russell and commended the Government, expressed his acquiescence under the peculiar circumstances of the case in the resolution they had come to, and declared his intention to support them. He appears to have talked very openly, and in a very friendly and even generous spirit. The Duke happened to have with him a letter which Lord John had written to him at the time of Peel's bill passing through Parliament, in which he had expressed his approval of the general principle, but found fault with some of the details. This letter the Duke showed to Peel, who was exceedingly pleased, and told him his brother was quite right, and that his bill had been faulty in the details which he had remarked upon.

London, November 8th.—The Archbishop of York is dead.[24] He was in no way remarkable except for the wonderful felicity of his whole life from first to last. It would perhaps be difficult to find a greater example of uninterrupted prosperity. He was not a man of great capacity nor of profound learning, but he had peculiarly the mens sana in corpore sano. He was nobly born and highly allied. He enjoyed robust health, had a vigorous frame with a sound understanding, and he was cheerfully obliging, good-tempered, and sociable; his profession, his tastes, pursuits, and the quality of his mind cast him into the best and choicest society, where he played his part not brilliantly but with an amiable and graceful prosperity. He had many friends and no enemies, was universally esteemed and respected, and beloved by his own family. He was the most prosperous of men, full of professional dignities and emoluments, and the inheritor of a large private fortune; he was the father of a numerous family, whom he saw flourishing around him in opulence and worldly success; he lived in the exercise of a magnificent hospitality, and surrounded with social enjoyments. No misfortunes or sorrows disturbed the placid current of his life, and his mental and bodily faculties continued unimpaired to the last; his illness, which lasted only a few hours, was without pain, and no more than the natural exhaustion of ninety-one accomplished years. Such a life and such a death so irreproachable and fortunate may well excite envy and admiration. He and Mr. Grenville so conjoined in life died at the same age, each having reached his ninety-first year, and within eleven months of each other—men in their different ways equally prosperous, virtuous, and happy.

CRITICAL STATE OF IRELAND.

November 21st.—Parliament met on Thursday. There are very queer-looking people among the new members, particularly Mr. Fox.[25] I was introduced to him many years ago, when I went to Finsbury Square to hear him preach; he was a very fine preacher, but I never have seen him since.

The state of Ireland is awful. I have written to Clarendon repeatedly, urging him to ask for great powers. He was reluctant, and wanted to try the force of the law as it is, and the Cabinet were not disposed to adopt strong coercive measures; but the public voice loudly demands coercion and repression, and Lord Lansdowne told me yesterday he was resolved to act in accordance with the general feeling. Parliament never met in more difficult and disturbed times: complete disorganisation, famine and ruin in Ireland, financial difficulty, general alarm and insecurity here, want of capital, want of employment. It requires all one's faith in the general soundness and inherent strength of 'the thing' (as Cobbett called it) to silence one's apprehensions. Then Colonial distress is impending, by which I am likely to be personally affected to the extent perhaps of half what I possess. I thank God that I regard this contingency with the utmost tranquillity or insensibility. I should not like it, but if the necessity arises I hope and believe I can make the necessary sacrifices and changes in my habits without repining outwardly or inwardly. I have not heard or known much lately that is worth recording, and I am in one of my fits of disinclination to write.

A LETTER FROM LORD CLARENDON.

December 1st.—I went to the House of Lords the night Parliament opened, and heard Stanley's speech. It lasted above two hours, was a declaration of war, very slashing and flashing, and drew forth vehement cheers from the Lords behind him. It was a regular Stanleyan speech, just like himself, and exhibits all his unfitness for the great functions of government and legislation: not but what there was much truth in a great deal he said, especially about Ireland. The next day George Bentinck bellowed and gesticulated for two hours in the House of Commons with the same violence but without the same eloquence as Stanley. Everybody looked with impatience for the Irish measures, and everybody expected (most people earnestly desiring) that they should be as strong as they could be made. In the House of Lords I had seen the Duke of Bedford for a moment, who told me they were the result of a compromise between Clarendon and the Government, the latter refusing to give all he had required, and the former having resolved not to stay with less than he eventually obtained. The night before last Sir George Grey introduced the Government measures, which appeared to almost everybody insufficient for the object. Peel however supported them in a very dexterous speech. He said he felt bound to support the Government in whatever they thought fit to propose, and that it was not for Parliament to force upon them greater powers than they in their discretion required; but he hinted his apprehensions lest some of the provisions of the Bill, or rather its deficiencies, would be found obstructions of the objects in view. The Irish were evidently surprised and had expected more stringent measures, and in truth it would have been just as easy to carry a really efficient measure as this, which will probably prove abortive. This morning I have a letter from Clarendon, who tells me what took place between himself and the Cabinet on the subject. He says, 'I expect the Bill will prove unsatisfactory to all parties...nevertheless I hope it will answer not so much by its own provisions as by the evidence it will afford that Parliament and the Government are in earnest.... In the present temper of England fancy what a figure the Government would have cut if they had opened Parliament without any repressive measure and announced that the ordinary law would prove sufficient, and that to it things were left! they would have been looked on as little better than accessories or instigators, and at all events I have the satisfaction of having saved them from this very serious scrape, which really would have caused an immediate increase of murder here. No one could be more desirous than myself to avoid Coercion Bills, or indeed to ask for any increased powers; but when I found that the ordinary law was insufficient to protect life and property, I sent over the heads of two Bills, both of which I meant should be permanent—one for punishing districts in which crimes were committed; the other for registering arms, &c.—a sort of police regulation proper for any country and especially required for Ireland. These Bills were ignored by the Cabinet, for which various utterly inexplicable reasons were given, and Lord John Russell said he hoped at least to get through the winter without any extraordinary measures. I then wrote both to Lord Lansdowne and John Russell to say that though I did not wish to cause them any embarrassment, and would get on here as well as I could for as long as I could, yet that nothing should induce me to remain an hour after I thought my power of usefulness was gone, as I was sure it would be unless my hands were strengthened. This produced an immediate change, and the only question then was what would be the best form of repression. A good deal of time was lost on this, and Sir George Grey at length proposed as a model one of the Six Acts (1819). I did not like it very much, but I had no wish obstinately to adhere to my own Bills, which perhaps might not have been stringent enough, as they were proposed before things had got so bad and the spirit of combination was so manifest, and they were moreover intended to be permanent. So, after amending the Bill a little with the law officers here, I consented to it, and hope it will not be a failure when put into operation.' So that if Lord John and his Cabinet had been left to themselves they would have done nothing, and have let the Irish murderers do their worst with no other hindrance than the ordinary course of law! Clarendon saved the Government by insisting; for if they had met Parliament and proposed nothing, they would have been swept away in a whirlwind of indignation. Addresses would have been proposed in both Houses and carried by immense majorities, and the Government would have been at an end.

December 7th.—The Irish measures were introduced, and everybody was surprised they were not stronger. Peel supported the Government, and there was hardly any opposition. The Government people tell everybody that Clarendon is satisfied with the measures, thinks they will prove effective, and his name and authority silence objections. The day after Grey's speech I met Peel in the Park. He was in high force and good humour, and looking very fresh and well. After talking of some other things, I said, 'You supported the Government very handsomely in their Irish measure.' He replied, 'Yes, and I mean to support them; but they have made a great mistake and missed a great opportunity; Parliament and the country would have confided to the Lord Lieutenant any powers the Government chose to ask for; they have totally misunderstood the state of Ireland and the feeling and opinion of this country.' In short, he entirely agreed with me that they ought to have asked for much stronger coercive power. There are people nevertheless who think it of greater importance to pass a measure quickly, and with nearly general concurrence, and therefore that this is better than one more vigorous, but which would be more strenuously opposed.

THE DEFENCE OF THE COUNTRY.

On Friday last Peel made a great speech on Wood's statement in re the Bank Charter. It was very able, and the Government were delighted because he supported them so cordially; the Opposition cut a very miserable figure and showed how wavering and uncertain they are, without plan, object, or tactics. They divided on a question of adjournment, and sent their weakness forth to the country, but did not move an amendment on which they might have united all their force and caught many stray votes. I saw Graham two days ago; he was chuckling over their mismanagement, said that if they had moved that it should be an instruction to the Committee to report at once on the Bill of 1844, they would have put the Government into difficulties and might have divided a large number; but he sees how disorganised and inefficient they are. He talked about a great many things in an amicable strain towards the Government, and a great deal on the defences of the country, about which the Duke of Wellington is in such a perturbed state of mind.

The Duke wrote a very long and able letter to Sir John Burgoyne some time ago on this subject; this letter Lady Burgoyne and her daughters copied and distributed among their friends. Pigou, a meddling zealot, who does nothing but read Blue Books and write letters to the 'Times' and 'Chronicle,' contrived to get hold of a copy, and fired off a letter to the 'Morning Chronicle,' with a part of its contents. The Duke was not pleased at this, and Lord John Russell was very angry; it has made a noise in the world. The Duke always accuses his old colleagues of doing nothing about the defences, and turning a deaf ear to his remonstrances. Graham says this is not true, and he showed me a very elaborate paper he had drawn up for the Cabinet, with various recommendations, which he left with Sir George Grey when he left the Home Office, and the copy of a Bill for calling out the militia, which was also left with Fox Maule. He talked about Ireland, and said that the Master of the Rolls (Smith) had drawn up a Bill for the sale of entailed estates, which he recommended Clarendon to look at. He told me that Peel thought this an excellent Parliament, promising to be practical and business-like, serious listeners and men intent on not letting the time of the House be wasted as it has lately been by eternal talkers, and continual early adjournments. Everybody was alarmed at the aspect of this Parliament at first, even the Speaker, who thought it would be unmanageable. I laughed at their fears from the first, and now everybody says it is an excellent Parliament.

A few days ago I met Dr. Wiseman, and had much talk with him about Rome and the Pope's recent rescript about the colleges in Ireland. He said it was all owing to there being no English Ambassador at Rome, and no representative of the moderate Irish clergy; Irish ecclesiastical affairs were managed by Machale through Franzoni, head of the Propaganda, and Father Ventura, who has the Pope's ear, and he strongly advised that Murray and his party should send an agent to Rome, and that Lord Minto[26] should communicate with Father Ventura, who is an able and a good man, deeply interested in Irish affairs, and anxious for British connexion. He talked a great deal about the Pope, who, he said, had not time to enquire into these matters himself, and took his inspirations from the above-named personages; that he is of unbending firmness in all that relates to religion, but liberal and anxious to conciliate England. He thinks the rescript may be early got rid of by a little management, and he mentioned an instance of the Pope's good sense and fairness in a matter relating to a Scotch educational establishment in which a Dr. Gillies was concerned. I am going to speak to Lord John Russell about these things, and to try and persuade him to send Normanby as Ambassador to Rome; he is ready to go, and it would be a very good appointment, besides the great advantage of getting him away from Paris, where he is very uncomfortable, and feels the gêne and mortification of his position.

DR. HAMPDEN, BISHOP OF HEREFORD.

December 15th.—I called on Lord John Russell three days ago and told him what Wiseman had said, and also about Normanby and Rome. He said he had ordered a Bill to be drawn up to legalise our intercourse with the Pope. I told him also what Graham desired me to do. He said he had read his paper at the time, but made no further remarks on Graham's communication. Last night in the House of Lords Stanley made a speech about Minto and his mission, when Lord Lansdowne made a very good reply and spoke out about our diplomatic relations with the Pope.

The Chancellor is very ill and not likely ever to sit again on the Woolsack. Great speculation, of course, about his successor (which people fancy will be Campbell or Rolfe), and Brougham is evidently not without hopes of clutching the Great Seal himself. He has been attending assiduously at the Judicial Committee and behaving marvellously well, so attentive, patient, and laborious, everybody is astonished; but the Duke of Bedford writes me word he has had letters from him expressing the utmost anxiety to see him and talk to him on a matter of great importance which he can speak of to nobody else, not even to Lord John or to Lord Lansdowne, and signing himself, 'Your's most affectionately, H. B.'! This is very amusing.

Hampden's bishopric has made a great stir after all:[27] thirteen protesting bishops, a stout answer from Lord John, a long, very clever rejoinder from the Bishop of Exeter, and a sensible protest the other way from Bishop Stanley. There never was a greater piece of folly than Lord John's bringing this hornet's nest about his ears, nothing could be less worth while. It is not over yet, and there will be more kicking and clamouring; but Lord John, however foolish he was in making the appointment, must of course go through with it now, and then like everything else it will be soon forgotten.

December 22nd.—On Sunday to the Temple Church; divine music and a very good preacher—a Mr. Hawes. Monday night I dined with Milman and went to the Westminster Play; pretty well done. The Hampden controversy flares away. Hampden himself has written a long, querulous, ill-composed letter to Lord John Russell, which he had better have let alone; if he did write, he should have written a shorter, more pithy and more dignified letter. Every day makes the fault of having appointed him more apparent.

December 24th.—Lord John Russell wrote an answer to the Bishop of Exeter, correcting a mistake in the Bishop's letter, and assuring him of his persuasion that he had conscientiously fulfilled his duty in writing, and his respect for his talents and his position in the Church. This brought a rejoinder which is a curiosity, written in a state of delight at the politeness of Lord John, and abounding in suavities of the most juicy description. Lord John persists that he has done a very wise thing, and predicts that before long everybody will admit it, and this opinion is grounded on the knowledge he has of the dangerous progress of Tractarianism, which this appointment is calculated to arrest.

I went yesterday to St. George's Hospital to see the chloroform tried. A boy two years and a half old was cut for a stone. He was put to sleep in a minute; the stone was so large and the bladder so contracted, the operator could not get hold of it, and the operation lasted above twenty minutes, with repeated probings by different instruments; the chloroform was applied from time to time, and the child never exhibited the slightest sign of consciousness, and it was exactly the same as operating on a dead body. A curious example was shown of what is called the étiquette of the profession. The operator (whose name I forget) could not extract the stone, so at last he handed the instrument to Keate, who is the finest operator possible, and he got hold of the stone. When he announced that he had done so, the first man begged to have the forceps back that he might draw it out, and it was transferred to him; but in taking it he let go the stone, and the whole thing had to be done over again. It was accomplished, but not of course without increasing the local inflammation, and endangering the life of the child. I asked Keate why, when he had got hold of the stone, he did not draw it out. He said the other man's 'dignity' would have been hurt if he had not been allowed to complete what he had begun! I have no words to express my admiration for this invention, which is the greatest blessing ever bestowed on mankind, and the inventor of it the greatest of benefactors, whose memory ought to be venerated by countless millions for ages yet to come. All the great discoveries of science sink into insignificance when compared with this. It is a great privilege to have lived in the times which saw the production of steam, of electricity, and now of ether—that is, of the development and application of them to human purposes, to the multiplication of enjoyments and the mitigation of pain. But wonderful as are the powers and the feats of the steam-engine and the electric telegraph, the chloroform far transcends them all in its beneficent and consolatory operations.

AN OPERATION UNDER CHLOROFORM.

December 26th.—Lamartine's 'Histoire des Girondins' is the most successful book that has been published for many years. He is the Jenny Lind of literature; his book is on every table and in every mouth; it just suits the half-informed and the idle, whom it dazzles, amuses, and interests; but his apparent partiality shocks the humanity of the age; and the generality of readers are unable to comprehend his philosophical analysis, and psychological theories of Robespierre's character. One of his most striking anecdotes is the conversation he gives between Louis Philippe and Danton, in which, according to Lamartine, Danton predicts to the young Duc de Chartres that he will one day be King, and tells him when that happens to remember the prophecy of Danton. I last night asked the Duc de Broglie[28] if that anecdote is true. He said it was not true: the King indeed had had a conversation with Danton, when the latter said to him, 'Young man, what do you do here? Your place is with the army.' So much of it is true, but the rest—the essential part, the prediction—is all false. The Duke told me he had read the King's own account of the conversation in his own journal, where it is recorded as he described. He said the King had kept a copious journal from a very early period. He afterwards talked a great deal about him, of his great industry and activity, of the quantity he read and wrote, and that he read and commented upon all the documents submitted to him for his signature. I regret not having made more acquaintance than I have done here with the Duke de Broglie, and Jarnac gives me to understand that he had rather expected me to cultivate him more than I have, and was disposed to receive my advances. The chief reason for my not doing so was that I found the greatest difficulty in understanding what he says.

January 1st, 1848.—The Hampden affair is still boring on with prejudicial effects to everybody concerned in it. Dean Merewether, who is piqued and provoked at not having got the bishopric himself (which William IV. once promised him), wrote a foolish, frothy letter to Lord John Russell, who sent an equally foolish, because petulant, reply—only in two lines. The Bishop of Oxford has recanted, and he of Salisbury has apologised for their respective parts; the former in a very ridiculous letter, not calculated to do him any credit. Everybody will believe that he found his conduct unpalatable at Court, so took a pretext for shuffling out of it.

DEATH OF LORD HARROWBY.

Last week, after a few days' illness, without pain or trouble, Lord Harrowby died at Sandon, having just completed his eighty-fifth year.[29] The three old friends, Tom Grenville, the Archbishop of York, and Lord Harrowby, thus died all three of old age, peacefully and painlessly, within twelve months. Lord Harrowby survived Mr. Grenville exactly a year, and the Archbishop three months. He was the last of his generation and of the colleagues of Mr. Pitt, the sole survivor of those stirring times and mighty contests. He had all along such bad health that half a century ago his life was considered a very bad one, and yet he reached his eighty-sixth year with his faculties very little impaired. He was at the top of the second-rate men, always honourable and straightforward, generally liberal and enlightened, greatly esteemed and respected. No man ever passed through a long political life more entirely without blemish or suspicion. It is curious that in the biographical notices of him, which according to the custom of the present day have appeared in the newspapers, no mention, or hardly any, has been made of by far the most remarkable transaction in which he ever was engaged, that of procuring the passing of the second reading of the second Reform Bill in the House of Lords—one of the most important services, as it turned out, that any man ever rendered to his country. In conjunction with Lord Wharncliffe he accomplished this, his conduct being perfectly disinterested, for he had long before resolved never again to take office, and had refused to be Prime Minister on the death of Canning. I was in their confidence, and much concerned in the whole of that transaction, as fully appears in my Journal of that period. His speech on the first Reform Bill was very celebrated, exceedingly able, and superior to any other he ever made. He was remarkably well informed. Madame de Staël speaks of him somewhere as Lord Harrowby, 'qui connaît notre littérature un peu mieux que nous-mêmes;' but his precise manner and tart disposition prevented his being agreeable in society. He was very religious, very generous, and a man of the strictest integrity in private and in public life. I lived a great deal with him, but all my intimacy was with his admirable wife, whose virtues and merits I have elsewhere recorded.

Bowood, January 7th.—I came here on Tuesday to meet the Duke of Bedford, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord Devon, Lord Auckland, &c. Wood talked to me about his scheme of taxation; he has been in great doubt how he should apportion and increase (as he must) the income-tax, whether income or property. After much consideration he appears to have nearly made up his mind to impose three per cent. on Ireland, and to raise it in England to five, or perhaps something less; to announce that the increase is to be temporary, but the three per cent. to be permanent; and then, on the strength of the extension to Ireland, to propose a grant to that country, without which Clarendon cannot get on. Peel will concur in this plan.

Great talk here of George Bentinck's resignation of the leadership of the Opposition. John Russell and his colleagues are very sorry for it; nobody can think of a successor to him, and, bad as he is, he seems the best man they have. It seems they detest Disraeli, the only man of talent, and in fact they have nobody; so much so, that Wood thinks they will be obliged to go back to George Bentinck: a very strange state of things! George Bentinck and Stanley disagree on many points, especially on taxation; nevertheless this party, thus acephalous and feeble, have really been fancying they could come into office, and their notion is that if the dissolution had been delayed they would have had a majority, and would have come in. The Duke of Beaufort told Bessborough so very seriously, and Lady Jersey told me the same thing, and that George Bentinck had promised her son Francis a place at the India Board! These things are hardly credible, but they are nevertheless true.

THE HAMPDEN CONTROVERSY.

The Hampden war has been turning greatly to the advantage of the Doctor; his enemies have exposed themselves in the most flagrant manner, and Archdeacon Hare has written a very able pamphlet also exposing the rascality (for that is the proper word) of his accusers, and affording his own valuable testimony to Hampden's orthodoxy; above all things, Sly Sam of Oxford (my would-be director and confessor) has covered himself with ridicule and disgrace. The disgrace is the greater because everybody sees through his motives: he has got into a scrape at Court and is trying to scramble out of it; there, however, he is found out, and his favour seems to have long been waning. The Duke of Bedford tells me the Queen and Prince are in a state of hot zeal in this matter. The Prince writes to Lord John every day, and urges him to prosecute Dean Merewether, which of course Lord John is too wise to do. That Dean is a very paltry fellow, and has moved heaven and earth to get made a bishop himself; besides memorialising the Queen, he wrote to Lord Lansdowne and suggested to him to put an end to the controversy by making him a bishop now, and Hampden at the next vacancy. The whole proceeding reflects great discredit on the great mass of clergymen who have joined in the clamour against Hampden, and on the Oxonian majority who condemned him, for it is now pretty clear that very few, if any, of them had ever read his writings. Now that they are set forth, and people see his unintelligible jargon about dogmas themselves unintelligible, there must be some dispassionate men who will be disgusted and provoked with the whole thing, and at the ferocity with which these holy disputants assault and vituperate each other about that which none of them understand, and which it is a mere mockery and delusion to say that any of them really believe; it is cant, hypocrisy, and fanaticism from beginning to end. There is that old fawning sinner, the Bishop of Exeter; it appears that a dozen years ago he called on Hampden at Oxford to express to him the pleasure with which he had read his Bampton Lectures, and to compliment him on them. The Archbishop of Dublin was present on this occasion.

January 12th.—From Bowood to Middleton on Saturday, to town on Monday 10th. The morning I left Bowood, Senior showed me the correspondence (not published) between the Bishop of Oxford and Hampden. It is creditable to the latter; the former really very despicable. The Bishop put a parcel of questions to him as to his belief on points of faith and doctrine, some of which were the most ordinary matter of belief, others unintelligible. Hampden said he might have regarded such questions on the most elementary points of doctrine as an insult, but he would accept his assurances that they were put in a friendly spirit (though he must say much of his conduct was at variance with such professions) and would therefore say 'Yes' to all of them. To his last letter announcing his having withdrawn the charges and read his works, Hampden merely sent a dry acknowledgement of having received the letter.

January 17th.—Still this Hampden affair. Kelly got a rule in Queen's Bench, and it will be argued in a few days. Tractarians hope from the known Puseyism of Coleridge and Patteson that the rule may be made absolute; but the lawyers don't expect it and think a strong Court would not have given a rule. However, it shows the anomaly (not to say worse) of the whole ecclesiastical proceeding under the Act of Henry VIII. The High Churchmen, who want a separation of State from Church, though it does not seem clear what it is they contemplate, are all on the qui vive, and fancy their projects are put in a fair train by all these proceedings; but though some of my friends think very seriously of these crotchets, I believe they are very despicable and harmless. This morning I got a letter from the Duke of Bedford enclosing one from William Cowper to him, informing him what took place when Hampden was made Regius Professor. William Cowper had given me some account of it at the time, which I inserted in my journal, and I copied it out for the Duke of Bedford during our discussion. I don't find that this more detailed account varies much from the other, though it contains several more particulars, and one relating to the Archbishop's nominees curious enough. His account of the transaction is this, saying he got it from Lord Melbourne, and by reference to letters which passed at the time: 'The Archbishop of Canterbury came to Lord Melbourne to announce the death of Dr. Burton. In the conversation that ensued my uncle requested the Archbishop to send him the names of the persons that occurred to him as best qualified for the situation, and begged him not to confine the list to a small number. The Archbishop sent a list including Pusey, Newman, and Keble; and if it was, as I believe, the list of the Archbishop which is now before me, it contained the names; but it is possible he may have sent only six, and that the other three were added from another quarter. Lord Melbourne sent the nine names to the Archbishop of Dublin (Whately) without mentioning who had recommended them, and he justified the confidence reposed in him by giving a full and impartial statement of what he conceived to be the qualifications of each. But previous to this he had been consulted by Lord Melbourne, and asked whom he would recommend, and had written, on 22nd January, 1836, a long letter in which he said: "The best fitted for a theological professorship that I have any knowledge of are Dr. Hampden and Dr. Hinds, afterwards Principal of Alban Hall; the qualifications I allude to, and which they both possess in a higher degree than any others I could name, are, first, sound learning; secondly, vigour of mind to wield that learning, without which the other is undigested food; and thirdly, the moral and intellectual character adapted for conveying instruction. Both Hinds and Hampden are what are considered of liberal sentiments, but agree with me in keeping aloof from parties political and ecclesiastical."... Lord Melbourne doubted for some time between Arnold and Hampden, but, thinking the former rather too rash and unsettled in his opinions for so responsible a post, decided in favour of the latter; and it was not till after he had made up his mind that Hampden was the fittest person that he asked Dr. Copleston to give him his opinion of him, which opinion was so favourable that it confirmed him in his choice; he did not send any list to Copleston. You may rely on the accuracy of this statement as far as it goes.' The Duke also told me in his letter that there had been a very curious correspondence between Prince Albert and the Bishop of Oxford.

THE HAMPDEN CASE.

January 18th.—I have this morning received a copy of the Archbishop of Canterbury's letter to Lord John about making Hampden Bishop of Manchester. Lord John wrote to him for his opinion, and here is his reply:—

My dear Lord,—During the ten years which have passed since Dr. Hampden was appointed Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, I have no reason to believe that he has taught from the Chair any doctrines at variance with the Articles of our Church; and in justice to him I must say that I have discovered nothing objectionable in the few publications of his which I have seen and which are ably written; of his discretion or talents for business I have no means of judging. These qualifications may be more than ordinarily required in the first Bishop of such a place as Manchester. I have the honour to be, &c.

W. Cantuar.

This is his letter, which certainly warranted Lord John in saying 'he received no discouragement from the Archbishop of Canterbury.' It amounts very nearly to a sanction of the appointment; and nothing but the Archbishop's age, and the timidity, both natural to him and belonging to his age, can excuse his not having taken a more active part in allaying the irritation than he has done. So far as the Archbishop was concerned, Lord John understated his case.

January 21st.—Dined on Wednesday with Baron Rolfe—Campbell, Langdale, Wilde, and Solicitor-General (Dundas); much talk about the rule in Queen's Bench (in Hampden's case), and whether the law must be altered. Campbell against alteration, the rest thinking there must be some, and the old law of Edward VI. making the bishoprics donative restored. This is what Lushington told me must be done.[30]

THE QUEEN OF SPAIN.

January 22nd.—Aston[31] called on me yesterday, and told me a great deal about Spain and Spanish affairs. He thinks it is the object of Queen Christina to destroy the Queen, her daughter, and that she will accomplish it; that she has always hated her, and prefers (without caring much for her) the Infanta; he thinks that by medical treatment the cutaneous disease with which the Queen has been always afflicted has been thrown in, and hence the epileptic fits by which she has been recently attacked; he says that they have lately put about her a French doctor, since which all her Spanish physicians have declined to attend her. I own I cannot believe anything so horrible as this implies, but it accords with suspicions from other quarters. He told me that Espartero before he left England showed him a letter he had received from the Queen's music-master, a devoted adherent of his who had continued to correspond with him. This man was an eye-witness of the scene which took place when the Queen was forced by Serrano to take Narvaez for her Minister, having been by accident in the adjoining apartment. The details are revolting, and show, if true, that the Queen is nearly under duresse and incapable of any freedom of action. She has, however, one chance of emancipation, and that is in the attachment to her of the people of Madrid, which is general and enthusiastic. She has all the Manolas to a woman, and through them their lovers, brothers, and friends; they would rise en masse for her if called upon. Christina is universally unpopular and yet remains there; she is gorged with riches and in possession of uncontrolled power. When she left Spain in 1843 she stripped the palace of all the plate and all the crown jewels of enormous value; of all the gold and silver services there were not six spoons left. Espartero appointed a committee to enquire into the disappearance of the crown jewels, but they begged leave not to report to avoid the scandalous exposure of the Queen's mother, and she was left in possession of her spoil. The young Queen was found without clothes to her back; the Marchioness of Santa Cruz told Aston she had only six pairs of darned cotton stockings which hurt her legs, then sore with her cutaneous disease. Aston said that Bulwer was constantly intriguing, foiled, found out, and not trusted by any party or any individual.

Brocket, January 22nd.—I came here this afternoon, Melbourne having at last invited me. I have been intimately acquainted with him for thirty-five years, and he never before (but once to dinner) asked me into his house. He expects people to come, and at dinner to-day he proclaimed his social ideas and wishes. 'I wish,' he said, 'my friends to come to me whenever they please, and I am mortified when they don't come.' I told him he ought to send out circulars to that effect. He is well and in good spirits, and ready to talk by fits and starts, very anti-Peel and anti-Free-trade, rattled away against men and things, especially against several of his old friends in particular. As usual, he put forth some queer sayings, such as that 'Nobody ever did anything very foolish except from some strong principle,' he had remarked that. He said very little about the Hampden quarrel, only that he 'thought Lord John might have avoided it.' He said he had wished to make Arnold a bishop, but somebody told him if he did he thought the Archbishop would very likely refuse to consecrate him; so he gave up the idea without finding out what the Archbishop thought of it. Beauvale was very strong against Palmerston and delighted with the articles in the 'Times' attacking his administration and his letter to the Greek Government; he thought it very lucky he had not gone to Paris, where he must have quarrelled with Palmerston for not obeying his absurd instructions, and said qu'il avait passé par là at Vienna. When he was there, Lady Westmorland told him she had been commissioned to give him a hint that he would not be able to remain there and oppose Palmerston as he often did. He asked her who told her this; she said Melbourne! This was the way the Prime Minister tried to prevent a rupture between his brother and his brother-in-law, not daring to face Palmerston, though disapproving of his policy and his ways. Well might Beauvale say Palmerston would always have his way, for he was bold, resolute, and unscrupulous; he would not yield to others, and would make all others yield to him; and he is unchecked by public opinion here, nobody knowing or caring anything about foreign affairs. Lady Beauvale told me some anecdotes of the Royal children, which may some day have an interest when time has tested and developed their characters. The Princess Royal is very clever, strong in body and in mind; the Prince of Wales weaker and more timid.

A CORRECTED DESPATCH.

January 26th.—Came back from Brocket on Monday. Melbourne not much inclined to talk; he dines at a quarter-past seven, and he went to bed, or at least to his room, at half-past eight. He is as anti-Palmerstonian as his brother, agreed with me that Palmerston had all along greatly exaggerated the importance of the Spanish marriage. Much talk with Beauvale, particularly about Palmerston; he told me an anecdote of him which shows the man and how difficult he is to manage. During the Spanish discussions Beauvale was at Windsor, and one day when the Prince was in his room the draft of a despatch from Palmerston arrived to Lord John Russell, which he wanted to show to the Prince, and afterwards to submit to the Queen for her sanction. Finding the Prince was in Beauvale's room, he came there and read out the despatch. There was a paragraph in it saying the succession of the Duchesse de Montpensier's children would be inadmissible by the constitutional law of Spain (or words to this effect). Lord John said he thought this ought to be expunged; that we might say what we pleased as to the effect of treaties, but it did not become us to lay down the constitutional law of Spain; the Prince and Beauvale both concurred, and Lord John said he would strike out this passage, and submit it so amended to the Queen. He did so, and Her Majesty took the same view. It was returned so altered to Palmerston; but when the despatch was published, it was found that Palmerston had re-inserted the paragraph, and so it stood. What more may have passed I know not, but it is clear that they all stood it, as they always will.

Lady Beauvale gave me an account of the scene at dinner at Windsor when Melbourne broke out against Peel (about the Corn Laws). She was sitting next Melbourne, who was between her and the Queen; he said pretty much what I have somewhere else stated, and he would go on though it was evidently disagreeable to the Queen, and embarrassing to everybody else. At last the Queen said to him, 'Lord Melbourne, I must beg you not to say anything more on this subject now; I shall be very glad to discuss it with you at any other time,' and then he held his tongue. It is however an amiable trait in her, that while she is austere to almost everybody else, she has never varied in her attachment to him, and to him everything has always been permitted; he might say and do what he liked. Now she constantly writes to him, never forgets his birthday.

The Attorney-General[32] has got into a scrape about his son's election, but it remains to be seen if he will not get out of it; there was a petition against young Jervis, and they gave the petitioners 1,500l. to drop it. The bargain was discovered, and other parties presented a petition just in time. Dundas would be thrown into a great embarrassment by anything that removed the Attorney-General; he could not succeed; the Government would not have him, nor would he undertake it; he has no briefs, a thing unheard of for a Solicitor-General, and the Government found him so useless that they ceased to consult him, and desirous of getting somebody more efficient, they proposed to him to be Judge-Advocate, which however he refused: he hardly could have accepted it. He has many good qualities, is agreeable, and I like him; he is honourable, high-minded, proud, charitable, generous, accomplished, well-informed, and clever; but he is weak, timid, fastidious, affected, sentimental and very often absurd, and in no small degree a humbug. Altogether he is unfit for rough work and active life, either forensic or political.

LETTER TO MR. COBDEN.

February 8th.—A fortnight ago on Saturday week I went to the Grotes, at Burnham Beeches; Mrs. Butler and Prandi, a Piedmontese patriot, and formerly refugee, now restored by the adoption of liberal principles in Piedmont. He was condemned to death above twenty years ago, and escaped with great difficulty. He has lived ever since in London.

On Monday we received news of the revolution in Sicily, of the concessions extorted from the King, and since of the promulgation of a constitution at Naples.

On Saturday week I read in the newspapers the speech Cobden made at Manchester abusing the Duke of Wellington, and scouting the national defences. On Wednesday I wrote a letter to him in the 'Times,' which has had great success.[33] I have received innumerable compliments and expressions of approbation about it from all quarters, and the old Duke is pleased. I had no idea of making such a hit, but the truth is, everybody was disgusted at Cobden's impertinence and (it may be added) folly. His head is turned by all the flattery he has received, and he has miserably exposed himself since his return to England, showing that he is a man of one idea and no statesman.

There was a meeting yesterday at Lord Stanley's to choose a leader, but they parted without doing anything. Stanley said it was not for him to point out a leader to the members of the House of Commons, and he eulogised George Bentinck, who has taken his place on the back benches. They are to meet again to-morrow, and it is supposed Granby[34] will be their choice! Except his high birth he has not a single qualification for the post; he is tall and good-looking, civil and good-humoured, if these are qualifications, but he has no others; and yet this great party can find no better man.

February 10th.—The Protectionists met yesterday and elected Granby, all the world laughing at their choice. It appears that the reports of George Bentinck's easy and good-humoured retirement are not true.[35] There was an angry correspondence, much heat, and considerable doubt about the successor; some being for Stafford, the majority for Granby, in the proportions of 60 to 40.

February 13th.—On Friday I was with Graham for a long time, who talked of everything, affairs at home and abroad. He expressed a doubt if the Ministers were up to their work and capable of coping with all their difficulties, said Peel was 'more sullen than he had seen him,' and had the same doubts, but nevertheless was more than ever resolved never to take office. He hoped, however, that Lord John might bring forward the state of the nation on Friday, and by making a great speech upon it show he was up to his situation; talked a good deal of colonial matters, and said the change in our commercial policy brought about the necessity of a great one in our colonial policy, that we ought to limit instead of extending our colonial empire, that Canada must soon be independent. He condemned the Caffre war, and extension of the Cape Colony, that we ought only to have a Gibraltar there, a house of call; condemned New Zealand and Labuan and Hong Kong; considered the West India interest as gone, and dilated at great length (and very well) on these points. Then on foreign affairs, which he thinks very critical, especially estranged as we are from France, he wants Beauvale to be sent to Paris and Vienna to concert measures, and try to avert the dangers he apprehends. He is for 'defence,' but says the only way is to draw our troops home which are scattered over our useless and expensive dependencies. He is entirely against the squadron on the African coast and keeping up that humbug, which he says costs directly and indirectly a million a year. I told him Auckland said it only cost 300,000l.; he replied, it was not so, and that including indirect expenses it cost a million. The Caffres cost another million, and now that we were going to add to the income-tax, it would only be endured by showing that we had made or would make every practicable reduction, and that we maintained no establishments that were not really necessary. He highly approved of my letter.

A DINNER OF LAWYERS.

February 18th.—Dr. Sumner, Bishop of Chester, is appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, a great mortification to the Tractarians, and great joy to the Low Church; but he is so excellent a man, and has done so well in his diocese, that the appointment will be generally approved. I went last night to the Lords to hear Lord Lansdowne bring in the Diplomatic Bill (with Rome); he made a very good speech.

I could not stay out the debate, being engaged to dine with Chief Justice Wilde, where we had a great party almost all lawyers, Parke, Alderson, Lushington, Talfourd. I sat next to Alderson, and found him a very agreeable man, Senior Wrangler, Senior Medallist, a judge (and really a lawyer), a wit; a life all of law and letters, such as I might have led if I had chosen the good path. I always think of this when I meet such men who have 'scorned delights, and lived laborious days,' and now enjoy the benefit thereof. He told me he had been writing an exercise in the morning for one of his sons at Oxford, a dialogue between Erasmus and More, on the preference of the Latin to the Greek as a universal language. There is a good saying going about of the Court of Exchequer and its Barons; it runs thus—Parke settles the law, Rolfe settles the fact, Alderson settles the bar, Platt settles nothing, Pollock unsettles everything. Campbell is anxious to write again, and talked to me of writing the history of the Reform Bill. I told him I could give valuable materials, but that it is not yet time. He wants me to write memoirs of the last twenty years, and was pleased to say no man was so well qualified to do it. This is not true, but I have some qualifications from personal acquaintance with the actors and knowledge of the events of that period, and I might have had, and ought to have had, much more, but my habits and pursuits have prevented me, and only left me mere snatches of such real knowledge as could be turned to account.

February 20th.—At the House of Lords on Friday night, for the Committee on the Diplomatic Bill. Government beaten by three, and all by bad management; several who ought to have been there, and might easily have been brought up, were absent: the Duke of Bedford, Duke of Devonshire, Lord Petre, a Catholic, dawdling at Brighton, and Beauvale. The Duke of Wellington, with his deafness, got into a complete confusion, and at the last moment voted against Government. It was a melancholy thing to see Stanley with Beaufort on one side of him, and Buckingham on the other, now going into a corner with the Bishop of Exeter, now earwigging Lord Kenyon, thus prostrating his fine talents to the folly and bigotry of the titled, tinselled mob, in the midst of whom he sits. Aberdeen behaved very ill, and spoke against admitting ecclesiastics; indeed, against any Nuncio, which was all wrong and untrue as to fact, and which he was crammed with by Bunsen. I did not stay it out, but went away to dinner, where I met Dr. Logan, head of Oscott; a very able man, very pleasing and good-looking, and neither in manner nor dress resembling a Roman Catholic priest. He is supposed to be the writer of Lord Shrewsbury's letters. He told Panizzi, however, that he was sorry to find that the English Catholics were very indignant with Lord Shrewsbury for having written these letters, which is very strange and very lamentable, for it has always been believed that they were more liberal and well-disposed than the Irish, and regarded with horror the excesses of MacHale and Co.

On Friday night Lord John Russell brought forward his financial statement, in a speech which has been much criticised. He seems to have treated the subject of defence, and to have alluded to the military establishments of France, in a style far from judicious; his speech and his plan were very ill received, and the state of the House was considered to be ominous and alarming; dissatisfaction was expressed in all quarters, and opposition threatened upon the most opposite grounds. Disraeli and Cobden both spoke against him, and the former vehemently attacked the latter, and made a very clever speech. Cobden's tone and spirit were bad, and, so far as can be judged of his intentions, he means to go to work in the line of pure democracy, and with the object of promoting the power of the middle classes over that of the aristocracy. The most serious blow to the Government was the speech of Francis Baring, which told mightily. On the whole, the impression is very bad; people are gloomy, frightened, and angry; the Government inspires no confidence; the great monetary and commercial interests do not think Lord John and Charles Wood equal to their situation, and they cast back longing eyes towards Peel. This Macgregor told me yesterday, and it is confirmed by various signs.

THE WHIGS AND THE PEELITES.

Yesterday morning John Russell sent for me, and asked me to go to Graham and speak to him about the 'Godless' Colleges, and the payment of professors, giving me a letter of Clarendon's about it, which I was to show Graham with Clarendon's scheme, and ask if it was in accordance with their Bill, and if he and Peel would approve of it. Graham said he did approve, and would support the scheme, but he advised a different mode of paying the professors (by a vote in the estimates instead of paying them out of the 7,000l. a year given by the Act), which Lord John agreed to adopt. We had much talk about the House of Commons and the state of things. Graham thought the appearance of the House very alarming, said Lord John spoke well in a very difficult position, rather defended him, found fault with some of the details of the estimates, and thought they might have adjusted their taxation differently. Neither he nor Peel said a word on Friday. Peel went away after Lord John's speech. I can see that the Whigs are in a state of continual uneasiness about Peel and Graham and the Peelites. They hear it constantly repeated that Peel will not take office, and has announced that he will be no leader of a party, but they look with great apprehension towards Lincoln, who is certainly ambitious of playing a great part, and preparing to do so; and they suspect Peel is secretly aiding and encouraging him. The 'Morning Chronicle' is believed by the Government people to have been bought by Lincoln.[36] It is certain that its tone is quite altered. Old Delane (father of the 'Times' editor) has got the management of it, and a Mr. Cook, who was employed for two years under Lincoln in the Duchy of Cornwall, is editor. When Easthope sold it, he tried to bargain for its continued support of Palmerston, which was flatly refused. Young Delane told me the paper meant to support the Government, but it has begun by an attack on Grey, and has evinced no very friendly feeling to Lord John himself. The state of affairs is to the last degree extraordinary and perplexing.

DIFFICULTIES OF THE GOVERNMENT.

Delane came to me yesterday morning to talk over the ministerial exposé and its effects. He said nothing could be worse, that it was fatal, that there was no use in attempting to defend them. He found people in the City all against the plan, that it could not pass; and he talked of nothing but defeat and resignation, without being able to suggest any possible alternative. He says, however, that people don't care for this, that they are reckless, that the Government must not look to be carried through, for fear they should resign, and because there is nobody to take their places; that nobody will be frightened by this, but that their measure will be opposed, let what may come of it. Others think differently, and Tom Baring told me last night that he thought, notwithstanding the discontent, they would find support enough for their purpose. It is difficult, however, as yet, in the midst of the uncertainty, excitement, and discontent that prevail, to form any plausible conclusion as to their prospect. There can be no doubt that, as a Government, their position is very unenviable; they are not strong in numbers—that is, they have not an absolute majority of the House of Commons—and they are in a minority in the House of Lords. They enjoy no confidence, and no favour; neither collectively nor individually are they strong in public confidence and attachment. There is no enmity to them, and they have a sort of negative support, as being well-intentioned, honest, tolerably capable, and, from the state of parties, the only possible Government. But they are surrounded with cavilling, discontented people, and fragments of parties, all animated with particular objects and designs of their own, which are not yet ripe—people biding their time, and looking for their overthrow. There are the Protectionists, without any leader, and absolutely unable to find one; the Peelite staff, with a dozen men fit to lead, and most of them willing, but still kept asunder by the old film of political repulsion, the ever-burning hatred of Peel and Peelites on one side, and the honour and feeling which forbids any desertion of, or disrespect to, Peel on the other; and these feelings will still keep the two Conservative sections in this antagonistic state, till events and common interests, Heaven knows how or when, bring them together. There are, however, enormous difficulties, inherent in such a state of things, and aggravated by their continuance, and among them none greater than Stanley's position, and the egregious folly of his conduct. This is, in truth, the great security which the present Government has for keeping in office. If they are defeated, and offer to resign, no other Government will be found possible, and they will be forced to stay in; but I doubt much, even in such a contingency, if they would be able to do so entirely on their own terms, and they would never dare to make public opinion, if unmistakeably expressed, surrender at discretion.

February 23rd.—On Monday night Wood came suddenly down to the House of Commons, and proposed to refer the Army and Navy Estimates to a secret Committee, and then the miscellaneous estimates. This scheme was violently attacked, particularly the secrecy. Disraeli spoke forcibly against it. Peel came to the rescue. The effect was very bad: a confession of weakness and perplexity, and the Government lost credit. Last night Wood again proposed the Committees, owned he was wrong about their being secret, and asked for 'select.' Disraeli attacked him very severely; Peel came forward handsomely, spoke for the Committees, but defended the estimates, and talked very sensibly about them and defences, ridiculing Ellesmere's letter very much. Delane had a long interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer the day before yesterday, who told him he had been driven to his present expedient by the deplorable effect of Lord John's speech, which appears to have inflicted tortures on his colleagues all the time he was delivering it. He not only (Wood said) said all that he ought not to have done, and made great mistakes in his way of dealing with the subject, but he omitted a great part of what he was to have said, two points especially: Ireland, and what had been done there, and the Spanish marriage question, which it had been his intention to throw over! It certainly is remarkable that he showed none of the tact and dexterity which usually pre-eminently distinguish him; he had not been well, and was oppressed with the subject. The effect was very bad, and, as usual, his meaning ridiculously distorted and misrepresented. All the friends of the Government are exceedingly alarmed, and we do certainly appear to be very near a deadlock.

LORD WILLIAM HERVEY.

In reference to the Spanish marriage question, I have had some concern in stopping what would have been a very mischievous publication. William Hervey, who is mad on it, has written an elaborate polémique in the shape of a pamphlet, or rather book. He sent this over last summer to Clarendon, who, not having time to read it, asked George Lewis to prepare it for, and correct, the press; but first it was sent to Palmerston. He kept it some months, and about Christmas sent it to Lewis, with his imprimatur; Lewis, by accident, mentioned it to me just as he was correcting the last sheets. I thought it so objectionable that I begged him not to let it be published without John Russell's knowledge and approval. Lord John said he would not let it appear, for such a publication, at the moment when the Duchesse de Montpensier's grossesse is announced, would be irritating to the last degree, and nothing could be more indiscreet.[37]

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

London, February 28th, 1848.—The French Revolution has driven for the time every other subject out of thought, and so astounding has the event been, so awful and surprising from its inconceivable rapidity and the immensity of the operation, that every mind has been kept in a restless whirl and tumult incompatible with calm reflexion; while from the quick succession of events crowding on each other, all dashed with lies, false reports, exaggerations, and errors, it has been almost impossible to sit down and give a clear, connected, and true account of what has happened; to jot down from hour to hour all that one hears would only have been to say one moment what must have been unsaid the next. By degrees the facts develope themselves and the fictions are cast aside; but the time is not yet arrived for completing this historical process. There are people alive who remember the whole of the first Revolution, and we of middle age are all familiar with the second; but this, the third, transcends them both, and all other events which history records, in the astonishing political phenomena which it displays. The first Revolution was a long and gradual act, extending over years, in which the mind traces an elaborate concatenation of causes and effects. The second was not unexpected; the causes were working openly and ominously; and at last the great stroke so rashly attempted, and by which the contest was provoked, was only the concluding scene of a drama which for a long preceding time had been in a state of representation before the world. In 1789 everybody saw that a revolution was inevitable; in 1830 everybody thought that it was probable; but in 1848, up to the very moment at which the explosion took place, and even for a considerable time after it (that is, considerable in reference to the period which embraced the whole thing from first to last), no human being dreamt of a revolution and of the dethronement of the King. The power of the Government appeared to be immense and unimpaired. The King was still considered one of the wisest and boldest of men, with a thorough knowledge of the country and the people he ruled; and though his prudence and that of his Ministers had been greatly impugned by their mode of dealing with the question of Parliamentary reform, the worst that anybody anticipated was the fall of Guizot's Cabinet, and that reform of some sort it would be found necessary to concede. But no one imagined that the King, defended by an army of 100,000 men and the fortifications of Paris (which it was always said he had cunningly devised to give himself full power over the capital), was exposed to any personal risk and danger. There was a strong reforming and, it might be, a strong republican or revolutionary spirit abroad, but the principal leaders of Opposition were understood to have no designs against the monarchy, and it was believed by those who had good opportunities of knowing that the bourgeoisie of Paris were comparatively indifferent to political questions, averse to revolutionary movements, and the determined advocates of order and tranquillity. For some time before the day appointed for the Reform banquet, much anxiety prevailed for the peace of the capital; but when it was announced that the Government did not mean to interfere, and that the question of the legality of the meeting was to be referred to a judicial decision, all apprehension subsided; and when the proclamation of Odilon Barrot and the chiefs of the Banquet appeared, it was regarded as a false and imprudent step, which by putting the Ministers in the right would only seem to strengthen their authority and avert their downfall, which otherwise had been probable. Duchâtel made a very good speech in the Chamber of Deputies, and proved that this last act was so clearly illegal and mischievous that the Ministers were bound to take the course they did; and as the banqueters showed a disposition to obey the Government, nobody doubted that the whole affair would end quietly.

When therefore this great and sudden insurrection took place, sweeping everything before it with the irresistible speed and violence of a hurricane, everybody here stood aghast; but for the first two days no one anticipated the final catastrophe. At Paris, from the King downwards, all seem to have lost their presence of mind and judgement. The state of things proved the fallacy of their former calculations and expectations, and their minds seemed incapable of keeping up with the march of events, of embracing the magnitude of the danger, and of discerning the means by which it could be met. Everything was involved in perplexity and confusion; the roar of insurrectionary Paris affrighted the ears and bewildered the senses of the inmates of the Tuileries. At the moment I am writing we are still ignorant of the minute details of all that passed, of what the King said and did, and how others played their several parts. We know that Guizot resigned, that Molé was appointed—a capital fault, for Molé was another Guizot, and the selection only proved how unconscious the King was of the precipice on the brink of which he was standing. Some precious hours were lost in Molé's abortive attempt. Then came Thiers and Odilon Barrot, Ministers of a few hours, who, seduced by the deceptive applause of the rabble, fancied they could command and restrain the people of Paris, and who persuaded the King to withdraw the troops, telling him they would answer for the people. This fatal advice cost him the Crown, which, perhaps, he could not have kept on his head. The tide swept on; a host of people, and among them Emile Girardin, rushed to the Tuileries, told the King his life was menaced, and advised him to abdicate; he refused. The people about him, and his own son amongst them (Duc de Montpensier), pressed him, and he signed the act of abdication. Still the crowd pressed on, and the palace was unprotected. He resolved, or was persuaded, to fly; and with the Queen and such of his family as were with him he quitted the palace with such precipitation that they had no time to take anything, and they had scarcely any money amongst them. They proceeded to Dreux, where they separated, and as yet no one knows where the King is, or where those of his family are who are not yet arrived in England.

FALL OF LOUIS PHILIPPE.

The Duchesse d'Orléans, after the terrible scene in the Chamber of Deputies, was taken to some house in or near Paris, where she now lies concealed. All these events passed with the velocity of an express train; hardly an interval was placed between circumstances and conditions of the most opposite description. No monarchy or monarch ever fell with such superhuman rapidity. There is something awful and full of fear and pity in the contemplation of such a tremendous vicissitude: of a great King and a numerous and prosperous family, not many hours before reposing in the security of an apparently impregnable power, suddenly toppled down from this magnificent eminence and laid prostrate in the dust, covered with ignominy and reproach, and pursued by terror and grief. All at once the whole edifice of grandeur and happiness fell to the ground; it dissolved, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, left not a rack behind. The flight was undignified. It would be hard to accuse Louis Philippe of want of courage, of which he has given on various occasions many signal proofs; but he certainly displayed no resolution on this occasion. It is very doubtful whether his person would have been injured; the people have evinced no thirst for blood. It was then, indeed, too late for resistance, for the means had been withdrawn; but it may fairly be asked if it would not have been the more becoming and the wiser course to affront the danger of popular rage, and to have tried what might have been done by firmness, by reason, and by concession at the same time. All this is speculation. It may be that his life and that of his Queen would have been sacrificed; but on a more terrible occasion, when the same palace was invaded by a more formidable mob, a King still more unpopular and a detested Queen were left uninjured; and it is far more probable that the abdication of Louis Philippe would have satisfied and disarmed the wrath and fury of the people. At all events it is certain that he descended from the throne in a manner which, if it is cruel to call it ignominious, was not rendered captivating or affecting by any of those touching or striking circumstances which often environ and decorate the sacrifice of fallen majesty.

There is a strong impression that if they had unsparingly used the military means at their disposal while it was still time, the monarchy would have been saved and the tumult suppressed. The recollection of the 13th Vendémiaire and the Place St. Roch, when the troops of the Convention defeated the Sections of Paris, produces this notion. But when the time was given to the émeute to grow and expand, and when the National Guards took part in it, all was over; for the troops of the line, who would have repressed the mob, would not fight against the National Guards. Between blunders, bad advice, and delay, the insurrection sprang at once into gigantic proportions, and the world has seen with amazement a King who was considered so astute and courageous, with sons full of spirit and intelligence, sink without striking a blow for their kingdom, perishing without a struggle, and consequently falling dishonoured and unregretted. The end of Charles X. was far more dignified than that of his cousin, and the survivors of that shipwreck may see with a melancholy satisfaction their successful competitor 'whelmed in deeper gulfs' than themselves. Louis Philippe has been seventeen years on the throne; in many respects a very amiable man, and, though crafty and unscrupulous as a politician, and neither beloved nor respected, he has never done anything to make himself an object of the excessive hatred and bitter feelings which have been exhibited against him and his family. The mob, though, on the whole, moderate and good-humoured, have been violent against his person, and they plundered the Palais Royal, invaded the Tuileries, and burnt Neuilly to show their abhorrence of him. This manifestation is a cruel commentary on his reign and his character as King.

ARRIVAL OF THE FUGITIVES.

London, March 5th.—The fugitives have all arrived here day by day with the exception of the Duchesse d'Orléans and her children, who are supposed to be in Germany. The King and Queen came yesterday from Newhaven, where they landed; Madame de Lieven and Guizot the day before, the one from Paris, the other through Belgium; they were in the same train (leaving Paris at seven o'clock on Thursday night), but neither knew the other was there. The King, as soon as he reached England, wrote a letter to the Queen, in which he gave her to understand that he considered all as over with him, and he said that it was the Comte de Neuilly who thanked her for all her past and present kindness to himself and his family. It was a very good letter (Lord Lansdowne tells me), and the Queen was much moved by it. Her personal resentment had long ceased; Aberdeen told me last night that she had told him so not long ago, and that though the political question was another thing, her personal feelings towards the French Royal Family were what they had ever been.

Yesterday I saw Madame de Lieven, and heard her narrative, both personal and historical. With the sufferers, as with the spectators, the predominant feeling is one of intense astonishment amounting to a sort of incredulity; every one repeats (as well they may) that nothing that history has recorded, or fiction invented, ever approached this wonderful reality, wonderful in every way, in its whole and in all its parts, There is nothing in it that is not contrary to every antecedent probability, to all preconceived notions of the characters of the principal actors, and to the way in which almost everybody concerned might have been expected to act. The beginning, the middle, and the end of the contest have been equally wonderful: the conduct of the old Government and the conduct of the new; the events of months or years crammed into a few days or hours; the whole change so vast and complete, made as at the stroke of an enchanter's wand. France, on Monday, February 22nd, a powerful, peaceful, and apparently impregnable Monarchy; on Wednesday, 24th of the same month, the whole of her Royalty scattered over the face of the earth, and France become a Republic no less powerful and peaceful; the authority of the latter form of government as generally acknowledged as that of the former was a week before; and an able, vigorous, and despotic Government established in the name of the people, which was, with universal consent and approbation, and the admiration even of those whom it had displaced, discharging every legislative as well as executive function.

PRINCESS LIEVEN ON THE REVOLUTION.

The Greville Memoirs, Part 2 (of 3), Volume 3 (of 3) / A Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria from 1837 to 1852