J.X.Fabre. pinx.

Emery Walker Ptr.sc.

Henry Richard, third Lord Holland

1796

THE JOURNAL
OF
ELIZABETH LADY HOLLAND

(1799–1811)

EDITED BY

THE EARL OF ILCHESTER

WITH PORTRAITS

IN TWO VOLUMES

Vol. II. 1791–1799

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
1908

All rights reserved

LIST OF PLATES TO VOLUME II.

JOURNAL OF ELIZABETH LADY HOLLAND

26th July, 1799.—Left H. H. this morning to make a tour into Wales and the west of England. Ld. H. went to dine at St. Anne’s, and Drew, Charles, and myself came to this place (General Fitzpatrick’s, Sunninghill) to meet him. On Saturday, ye 27th, we arrived to dinner at Oxford. Close by the General’s, upon Ascot Heath, there is a camp. The cavalry were watered whilst we went on the road, a pretty incident; their brilliant coats contrasted with the dusky brown of the heath, and produced a very lively effect. A cross road to Henley; just as we entered the town we passed under Park Place, a late purchase of Ld. Malmesbury’s. Somewhere near Henley is the highest ground south of Trent. On ye 28th went from Oxford, by Chapel House, to Warwick. I could not help laughing at the event of our going, because the subject of seeing the Castle without being obliged by urgent solicitations to make a long visit there (as Ld. H. was sure we should be very much pressed) had occupied his thoughts for many hours. Ld. H. had written letters to Ly. W. and Mrs. Smith, so calculated as to make a refusal of the pressing invitations (which he dreaded having) quite civil; but we need not have been embarrassed. So far from being solicited to stay, the whole family flew to their fortresses in some battlemented towers, gave out that they were walking, and shunned us. It was a most fortunate escape to me, tho’ I believe Ld. H. was vexed at the impertinence of the proceeding. The Castle is magnificent, decorated with ornaments appropriate to the building, and in the very best taste possible. His taste in virtu is better than in breeding, as he manifested a gross deficiency of that quality to us.

From thence we went across a very moderate road to Kenilworth; by the remains of the castle it appears to have far exceeded Warwick in splendour and extent.

On ye 29th we went through Birmingham. Having seen it last year we did not stop, but went straight on to the Leasowes, a spot rendered celebrated by Shenstone; it is very unworthy of the praise he bestowed upon it, and is now fallen into decay. About three miles further is Hagley; the park is very beautiful, the house simple. The comfortless taste prevalent in England of placing the house in a lawn where sheep and cattle feed close to the windows, instead of ornamental gardens, gives rather a disconsolate appearance to it; otherwise it is almost as desirable as a country residence (a bad thing at best) can be. It was built by the good Ld. Lyttelton,[1] as he is generally called to distinguish him from his son, who, in contradistinction, is termed the bad. His much-loved wife, whom he celebrates under the name of Lucy, is buried in the church. It destroys the pathos excited by his elegy, if one recollects that within two years of her death he married a fat, vulgar, rich widow, for her wealth.

IRON BRIDGES

Went thro’ Bridgenorth, situated picturesquely upon the Severn, which, by-the-bye, is a yellow, muddy stream flowing with some rapidity, its only beauty. From thence we went to Coalbrookdale to sleep. There is the first iron bridge that was constructed; it is more curious from its novelty and use than beautiful. I deprecate their becoming general, as they are far inferior in point of beauty to those of stone; the dull black of the iron assorts ill with limpid streams and verdant banks, whereas on the contrary nothing can offer a more beautiful object than a stone bridge of well-turned arches. The inhabitants are chiefly quakers. During the American war they were offered a high gratification if they would cast cannon; they replied that they worked for the benefit of mankind, and not for their destruction, and peremptorily refused. It is an increasing place.

On Tuesday, 30th, got to Shrewsbury, a place for ever distinguished by the fall of the gallant Percy. One of the most admirable of Shakespeare’s plays commemorates this event. What can be better than the scene between the Triumvirate partitioning out the spoils of Britain, the impetuosity of Hotspur, and the arrogant credulity of Glendower? The crafty Worcester is a well-drawn character.

Passing Llanrwst, Conway, and Bangor they reached Carnarvon on August 3rd.

4th August. Sunday.—We left Carnarvon to go to Welsh Pool. From that place to Tan y Bwlch the road is over a high mountain. Snowdon in sight to our left.

Before Tan y Bwlch we came to Pont y Aberglassen, a remarkable salmon leap; Ld. H. screamed with delight at the sight of the salmons leaping up. It is a pretty sight. Myself, I could have looked at them with delight for an hour or two. At Tan y Bwlch, a small solitary inn, we found every room occupied. The Judges were there. The civility of some gentlemen enabled us to be under cover in a decent room whilst we dined, but the house was so full that we were compelled to go on nineteen miles at half-past seven, a mountainous road and a stormy night, to Dolgelly; I wonder how we achieved it amidst the torrents and precipices safely. The weather was so bad the next day that we saw nothing.

6th August.—This morning, set off from M——; such a deluge of rain that we saw nothing to our right or left. To-night we are at Welsh Pool, so disgusted with the roads and climate that we have some thoughts of giving up doing Aberystwith. The beauties of Wales are very inferior both to those of Scotland and Cumberland. The mts. are not so lofty, the torrents are small and noiseless, no cascades: in short, the old castles are alone worthy of notice. The country generally is thinly inhabited; the postillions are chiefly boys, their men being either in the army or employed in the navy. The Evil visibly afflicts a large portion of the people.

On ye 7th of August we had a day very unusual; it did not rain. We drove to Powys Castle, which is about a mile from Welsh Pool. It is finely situated upon an eminence that commands the country around; the place is neglected and the house is rambling and comfortless. In the park is a fathomless pool, which gives name to the adjacent town. We were obliged to stay the whole of the 7th, as horses were not to be had. In the eve. Ld. H. and I had a very snug walk again to the castle.

WELSH SCENERY

On the 8th we set off for Aberystwith, and as the same horses were to carry us great part of the way we stopped to dine at Newtown, the road to which was extremely pleasing. Round hills covered to their summits with thick wood, and a verdant vale with pretty rivers and cattle grazing; it might have made a good study for quiet home views. We crossed a rapid river without a bridge.

Tuesday, 13th.—Left Aberystwith. We intended originally to have gone to Cardigan, Haverfordwest, etc., but the judges were upon that circuit, the roads bad, and the weather wretched. On that night we slept at Lampeter, close upon a rapid river in which Ld. H. fished. The eve. was tolerably fine. Drew and I walked about the environs.

14th.—It had rained all night, and the rivers were so swelled that they were deep to pass through; we went thro’ several and arrived at Carmarthen to dine. Very heavy rain the whole day. Poor little Charles was unwell, and we decided upon giving up Tenby.

On 15th heavy rain. After crossing ye Towy we looked back upon the town, which appeared prettily situated, but the weather was so bad it was impossible to see any object. The inhabitants were not surprised at the infamy of the weather; they said it was nothing unusual.

Finding no horses at Neath, we were compelled to remain. We walked to see the ruins of a small castle; the castle is not remarkable except for the beauty of its situation, and probably was raised by some of those Norman Barons who followed the fortunes of Fitzhamon, the conqueror of Glamorganshire. The inn is kept by an Italian, who, tho’ he left the happy climate in which he was born at nine years old, yet retains enough of national tournure to be known amongst a multitude of red-faced ale-drinkers as an alien. There is an archness, not to say roguery, which, such as it is, is a thousand times better than the stupidity and sulkiness and dubious honesty of the British countenance in common life.

On ye 17th we passed thro’ Margam, a possession of Mr. Talbot’s. There in his park are the beautiful remains of the Priory, about which I must look in Grove and Camden. He pulled down the mansion, but has built a magnificent greenhouse for the preservation of some orange-trees which belonged to William III.[2] The architecture is Grecian, which, close to a fine Gothic edifice, denotes more his adherence to the fashion of the times than his judgment in conceiving an appropriate decoration, as the two styles clash and diminish the beauty of both. Not that I am an enthusiastic admirer of Grecian architecture in any way but in a temple. There, indeed, the fine column, its slim shaft, rich architrave, cornice, and volute, surmounted with a graceful pediment, create a species of beauty which no other can. Indeed the circular arch, as in the Pont de Garde, where they form a bridge and aqueduct by several tiers one above the other, is very grand; otherwise, in vast works, I like the Gothic architecture, which, to use an affected phrase, is more impressive in lofty structures. Mr. Talbot married a cousin of Ld. H.’s, a daughter of Lord Ilchester’s.[3] It was a strange match, she about sixteen, he sixty; as yet, however, the disproportion has not affected their felicity. They live happily; a good deal in the country.

CARDIFF

Arrived at Cardiff after dark. Received a note from Ly. Plymouth[4] to tell me she was there; came the next morning, 18th, to breakfast. She is scampering upon a blood horse, followed by an attorney, over her son’s estates, settling his affairs. She complains of having found everybody formerly employed rogues, from whence one may presume she has fallen into the hands of some very great one. The Castle is very handsome; in the area Ld. Bute has built a modern castellated house, preserving in the centre one or two of the old towers.

19th.—Fortunately, a fine day. Dear Charles was so unwell that Drew wished him to have a day’s rest. Went over a very rough road to Tintern Abbey, a delicious ruin, situated upon the banks of the Wye. The church is almost entire; all the external walls are up and one of the side aisles; roof off, of course. The architecture is not so light and pleasing as Fountains Abbey, and of the monastery there are scarcely any remains. They show a tomb and effigy of a warrior whom they call Strongbow, Earl of Clare, who married Eva, the daughter of an Irish King, and became himself King of Leinster, and obtained for Henry II. the sovereignty of Ireland. In the eve. we had a charming walk upon the Wye and saw the castle, a fine ruin, celebrated for holding out against Cromwell, defended by Kemyss and Morgan. The former was cut to pieces in the inner court. Upon the Restoration one of the regicides was confined for 25 years in a chamber we saw. Southey wrote some pretty lines enough on him.

The party reached Ross on the 20th, having come through Chepstow and Monmouth.

21st.—Went to the churchyard, from whence there is a celebrated view, which, however, I think little of; the walk in it is shady and pretty. 21st, came through Hereford to Foxley. At Hereford D. of Norfolk insisted upon our giving him one day. 22nd, 23rd, stayed at Foxley. The General was there. 24th, went to Ld. Oxford’s[5] at Eywood. Charles unwell, and left at Foxley with Drew. 25th, stayed at Eywood. 26th, I returned alone to see Charles, and joined the whole party at Downton Castle, Mr. Knight’s,[6] in the eve. late. 27th, returned to Foxley. 28th, came to this place, Holme Court, the D. of Norfolk’s. Stayed yesterday, and go away to-day, 30th.

LADY OXFORD

Ly. O. has lost her vivacity and beauty. She is in a deplorable state of spirits, proceeding, I fancy, from an enthusiastic, romantic admiration of Sr. Francis’s ideal perfections. She fancies herself a victim of sensibility, and is really so drooping that I should scarcely be surprised if she perished from imagining grief. Mr. Knight encourages her in those bursts of sensibility; he compares her tears to April showers that sprinkle and revive the freshness of the violet. Be the cause what it may, her beauty is impaired; her eyes, which were always full and prominent, now from thinness start out. It is also probable that her languor may arise from having lost the relish which the novelty gave of being a great lady. She appears from an affectation of naïveté weaker than she is; in a whining, monotonous, childish tone she uses fine phrases for common conversation. She said to Ld. H. upon the Slave Trade, ‘I am always for justice and humanity, ar’n’t you?’ And to the General: ‘In case of a revolution, you, of course, would take the side of the people against the King, would not you?’ The house is comfortable, and they live with a degree of splendour they are unequal to, as he has ruined himself by his ostentation and her total ignorance of the value of money.

Mr. Knight wrote a famous work upon the traces still to be found in Italy of a primitive worship. He has assembled a large collection of these symbols in bronze, marble, etc. He is a passionate admirer of the ancients, and studies in nature antique forms and contours. Ly. Hamilton was his favourite; she absent, the admiration is transferred to Ly. O. He is a middle-aged man, and has a large fortune. His pursuits are classical even to pedantry. He has made a good house and fine grounds, and lives with a degree of luxurious recherche.

The Duke of Norfolk[7] is an extraordinary instance of the impossibility of situation being sufficient to secure happiness: he, however, finds in his own good temper an antidote to all the vexations of his life. He has all that rank, dignity, and wealth can give; he married a beautiful woman whose person he liked, possessed of 15,000l. pr. anm. About eight years after she became mad, and from being intestate her immense possessions escheat to the Crown, there being no male heir to the Scudamores. It appears to be a hardship that the laws afford no relief to a person united to one insane, as no pretext can be more valid towards the dissolution of a marriage than an obstacle of that nature that impedes the fulfilling of every function belonging to the institution. He maintains with solid magnificence the splendour of his rank; everything about him bespeaks wealth and luxurious comfort. His servants are old domestics, fat, sleek, and happy; his table is profuse and exquisite. His taste is bad; he loves society, but has no selection, and swallows wine for quantity, not quality: he is gross in everything. The Dss.’s madness has taken a sombre, farouche turn; she hates all mankind. The clergyman during a lucid interval advised her to read religious books, supplied her with some, and mingled his advice with pious exhortations. She acquiesced, and took the books. A few days after she returned them with scorn, saying, ‘I wish I could believe your d——d trumpery, as I should then be certain two-thirds of mankind would roast in H——! It was curious that in the Gospels she could find matter to gratify her malignity. The Duke behaves uncommonly well to her.

DR. INGENHOUSZ

Mrs. Clive, Ly. Plymouth’s sister, went there to meet me. She is a shrewd, sensible woman. Her husband is a Jacobin of the worst sort, envy actuating all his equalising principles.[8] Wm. Scott, Ly. O.’s brother, another Jacobin, was there: he is merry and good-humoured, and tho’ a zealous disciple of Horne Tooke’s a few good briefs to get him a pied à terre will cure him of his democracy. I knew him many years ago at Nice. Capt. Morris,[9] the famous singer of his own witty songs, entertained us with some of them; he is drunken and dull, and since the death of a favourite son, has renounced singing any of his light songs. He made a superstitious vow to God Almighty that he would not.

We slept at Gloucester on the 30th. On ye 31st passed through pretty Rodborough Vale, and Badminton Park, not a fine place, tho’ large, and arrived here, Bowood, 31st August, Saturday. Found Ld. Lansdown in high good humour and cordiality with me, and in very good health and spirits. The Smiths were just come from Warwick. Mr. Dumont is here, and two or three other indifferent people. Poor old Ingenhousz is dying rapidly. He is shrunk to a skeleton. Ld. L. with great humanity and feeling affords him an asylum, which his other friends were averse to, as the beholding of a dying man is a painful spectacle. He talks with intrepidity of death, but, hélas! where can the courage come from? The subject is a painful one.

Dumont and I walked every morning, that is to say, the three I stayed, in ye garden: his conversation is always amusing and instructive. We talked over books that we each liked, especially Bonnet’s beautiful work, Contemplation de la nature, which contains many interesting expositions of the wonderful economy of nature in the structure of plants and animals. Had he not too frequently allowed his imagination to run off with him when he turns to the attributes of the divinity, he would tire less, but his apostrophes which aim at sublimity are generally incomprehensible and bombast.

Whilst I have been travelling I have not been idle in the way of reading; we have read already ye first seven volumes of Henry’s History of England. It is written upon a more extensive plan than that suggested by Voltaire and partly adopted by Hume.

Of public affairs the changes have been so varied and rapid that it is difficult to recollect the exact position of things. Bonaparte was repulsed from before Acre, and obliged to return with a diminished and dispirited army into Egypt. The circumstance the most humiliating is that his great name should be coupled with that of the bullying bluster of that charlatan, Sr. Sidney Smith, who has obtained the command of some marines and gun-boats against him in Syria. How fickle is the glory of a hero! That ‘... name at which mankind grew pale’ is now lost in obscurity, and the events in the East, which occupied and tortured the breast of every politician in Europe, are now so overlooked that barely are they discussed in the survey of politics at present.

STATE OF NAPLES

In Italy Suwarrow and ye Austrians have driven out the French; the Cis-Alpine district is returning to the dominion of its former possessors; dear, pretty Florence is restored to its mild sovereign. Lord Nelson has brought back the fugitive monarch to his capital, and Naples now exhibits a scene of revenge, more bloody than the Sicilian Vespers.[10] The hearts of Frenchmen are brought as trophies to a cruel people, who crouched in servile subjection whilst they were too abject to fight their own cause. Ly. Hamilton has not been remiss in adding her quota to the barbarity which enflames every breast. Rome is yet without its Pontiff, and for the happiness of a large portion of the natives of those happy climates it is to be hoped will for ever so remain, as no one can wish to see the restoration of a government founded upon the superstitions of mankind, and burthensome in itself.

An expedition into Holland for the restoration of the Stadtholder has just been undertaken.[11] It commenced ill; a fort was taken with the loss of some officers and five hundred men. Since that the Dutch fleet has surrendered, whether voluntarily or by the treachery of its officers is yet a secret. The Duke of York is to go and take the command. I don’t know how his presence will inspire courage to those troops he absconded with so hastily but a few years back. The expense is said to be so enormous that the income tax, which, by-ye-bye, has fallen short of the calculation, will go to take a fifth, instead of a tenth, of our incomes in future.

Left Bowood, Tuesday, ye 3rd; passed through a richly cultivated, well-built, and populous vale to Wincanton. Passed thro’ Longleat and Stourton; slept at the first town, and arrived here, Sherborne Castle, on Wednesday. It is an old Gothic mansion; the corps de logis was built by Sir Walter Raleigh, who, if one may judge from oral tradition, seemed attached to the spot, as there is a venerable grove planted by his hand and honoured with his name. Upon his death his estates were confiscated, and granted by the narrow-minded pedant, who sacrificed to policy and intrigue his glorious life, to his infamous minion Somerset. Upon his fall they were bestowed upon the singular George Digby, Earl of Bristol,[12] whose adventures form some of the most diverting anecdotes in Clarendon’s history. It has since remained in the Digby family. On the opposite side of the lake are the ruins of the castle of Sherborne, held out by a lady of the family against the dismantling summons of Cromwell. The ground is classic; an eminence called Jerusalem Hill is crowned on the summit with a clump of firs planted by Pope. He was a frequent inmate, and the friend of an affectionate brother and sister, whose affection he has commemorated in an epitaph in Sherborne Church.

LORD WESTMORELAND

We found only Mr. Hoare with Ld. Digby, a brother of Sr. R. Hoare,[13] the owner of Stourhead, a handsome, gentlemanlike young man. The next day Ld. Westmoreland[14] came. He is coarse in mind, manners, and language. The first is overbearing and sanguinary; he appears to be one who thinks strong measures indicate a strong mind, and that vigour denotes intrepidity, whereas in my opinion the reverse is proved, for genuine fortitude inculcates clemency. His manners are those that spring from power engrafted upon a low education, and his language is a symbol of both. I do not wonder he is accused of having sowed the seeds of the late rebellion in Ireland; he seems of a character calculated to irritate wavering loyalty into rebellion. He spoke so brutally of some of the wretched prisoners who had escaped his fury, that my heart beat high with indignation, and even I for a moment felt a movement in behalf of a nation I never liked.

There have been a few newcomers every day; Mr. Newbolt came over to see us. Yesterday Mr. Wingfield,[15] who married Ld. Digby’s sister, arrived. He is like Archibald Hamilton, who, by-the-bye, is now become Ld. A. H.,[16] in person, and unfortunately, in manner resembles Mr. Chaplin,[17] the same precise, deliberate way of speaking.

Since I have been here I have read a Life of Voltaire, written, I believe, by Condorcet. It proves what I was not at all aware of—that Voltaire was really persecuted for his freedom of opinions, and that a timely escape and concealment was necessary to save his liberty at different periods. Absurd and unjust as most of the attacks are against philosophy, as it is called, one must admit that those free principles and the spirit of investigation which pervades all Voltaire’s writings, tended very much to induce people to attempt eradicating prejudices and making reforms before they had well examined into the abuses or prepared a remedy against them. It is without an example in the records of mankind that a single man, unaided by the fanaticism of religious superstition, should have produced such a change in the sentiments of a large bulk of Europe as Voltaire did: one can scarcely say it has been for the better when the devastation of France is now before our eyes. Whatever mischief may have arisen from the freedom of discussion, I think many now living will outlive the practice, as there is an anti-conspiracy to that of which the philosophers are accused now making among the rich and powerful—one that, if pursued with the ardour I see many enter into it with, will inevitably be the ruin of all taste, literature, and civil liberty. The young men of fashion and birth are bit with a military mania; they all aim at attaining a martial air, and a reputation for strictness in their Militia discipline. Without reflecting much, they are persuaded a military force is necessary to keep the people down, and that as religion is co-existent with the State, so it is wise to support it even in its abuses. Fifty years hence I have no hesitation in foretelling that there will be little toleration, a curbed press, a great standing army, and what is called a vigilant government.

BOBUS SMITH

Poor Doctor Ingenhousz is gone for ever; he died last week at Bowood. Ld. L., with his warm benevolence to those to whom he is attached, afforded him every friendly comfort to the last. He did not shun the sight of a dying man, altho’ at his time of life the spectacle is but painful to contemplate, as it brings to mind a crisis that to him cannot be very distant. Ingenhousz was a Dutchman by birth; he was first distinguished as an inoculator to the Imperial Court.

We stayed exactly a week at Sherborne; I passed my time agreeably and left it with regret. I did nothing the whole morning but float upon the water in a state of luxurious indolence. Ld. Digby told me he had heard that Ld. Ossory had asked the Chancellor for a Commissioner of Bankruptcy for Bobus.[18] I can believe it now, tho’ two years ago I was credulous enough to receive as sincere the fustian declamations upon independence, and that a lofty, aspiring mind would owe nothing to the influence of others; that it would extort reward by its sole merit, and that the only check upon his felicity in uniting himself to his antiquated wife was that her connections were great and powerful, which, to little minds, might be supposed operated as an inducement to the union.

Not, however, to speak fairly, do I think these motives actuated him: I truly believe he imagined he felt the belle passion. Be that as it may, I now think he is disposed to avail himself very readily of any advantage those connections can procure him, for his whole deportment recently demonstrates what is always said, ‘That no one despises situation and family, but those who have no claim nor chance of either.’ He reminds me of the old story of the opera contractor, Gallini, who captivated a lady of noble family, Lady Betty Germaine, and was astonished at hearing that his marriage with her did not ennoble him, and that he did not legally become what he styled himself, Ld. Betty Gallini. The alteration has not escaped the keenness of Dumont, who observes that after a visit to Warwick Castle he is more than usually inflated with dignity and a soaring spirit; he says the Lord-erie of the coronets, escutcheons, towers, gateways, etc., at that place inspire him by anticipation with all the haughtiness he will feel when he fulfils the dignities he expects to acquire.

Fifty thousand years, if so many were allowed, would not efface from my mind the advice a man gave me about my poor little girl; he said, ‘Suppress her entirely; do not let her suffer in a pecuniary way. She is not injured, as she is ignorant of what she loses. Success for her is doubtful, and the misconstruction and chattering of the world against her is certain.’ These worldly maxims revolted my feelings, but convinced me he who could give them was made to thrive, and would not kick at that stumbling-block in the road to ambition which throws many off their course, called genuine honesty, as there is a material difference in the essential properties of that quality. The one he will make use of will help him on. Depraved as men are in a corrupt state of things, they yet like the names of virtues as much as they abhor the practice. La Rochefoucauld says, ‘L’hypocrisie est un hommage que le vice rend à la vertu.’ I heard of Dr. Parr’s saying a thing to Mackintosh that was more coarse than witty, but yet it was pointed and quick. Mackintosh, in canvassing O’Coigly’s character, alluding to some transactions, said, ‘That was shabby; besides, his confession proved that he died with a lie in his mouth.’ ‘No, no, Jemmy, he was not shabby, because he was an Irishman and not a Scotchman; he did not die with a lie in his mouth, because he was a Catholic and not a philosopher.’

Leaving Sherborne they went to Saltram by way of Honiton, Exeter, Ashburton and Ivybridge.

SALTRAM

This house (Saltram, Ld. Boringdon’s) is quite the best I ever resided in. The apartments are numerous and excellent; they contain many pictures, and some very fine. It is an immense pile of building. The beauty of the view depends upon the tide, which when full is very pleasing, Mount Edgcombe, Plymouth, etc. Switzerland, Italy, the Tyrol, and Nice have rendered me difficult about picturesque and grand views, therefore I am less inclined to be enthusiastic than most people.

Living in a house built and liked by the great Raleigh[19] brought him more forcibly to my recollection. I turned over various histories to obtain all I could relating to him,—State Trials, Biographia Britannica, Gibbon’s Memoirs, Osborne’s detached remarks. I stayed at Saltram till the 22nd September. Ye time slipped away easily. Ld. Bor. was really happy at seeing us, and cordiality combined with goodheartedness and temper are such excellent ingredients in a character, that if there are any deficiencies they are overlooked. I had the misfortune—and a most severe, heartfelt one it was—to lose my faithful companion, my attached Pierrot.[20] He died! I loved him for his own merits, and was grateful for his devotion to me; indeed, I am convinced that he could not have survived my loss. Ld. H. made impromptu the following lines for his epitaph:—

Pierrot, of race, of form, of manners rare,

Envied alike in life and death lies here.

Living he proved the favourite of the fair,

And dying drew from beauty’s eye a tear.

He was the gift of Ld. Henry.[21] He faithfully maintained the love for me his master felt whilst living. Peace to them both!

I viewed the dockyard and Mt. Edgecombe from it; I was too timid to venture in a boat across the Hamoaze. Many people came to dinner; Colonels of the Militia Regiments quartered at Plymouth, the celebrated Tommy Onslow,[22] who was full of jokes and puns. Some are good; to me he was entertaining, as I did not know his stock, but that is slender, and they are often repeated. Seeing him but once or twice did not exhaust them. Sir John Frederick[23] is a mild, gentlemanlike man; he has the manners of a man of the world, pleasant conversation, and a fair portion of information. Colonel Montagu[24] I saw but once. Ld. Bor. announced him as a superior man, and I was therefore prepared for something remarkable, tho’ his praises are often queerly bestowed, frequently for the love of paradox, to surprise by admiring what others disapprove. However, Col. M. appears to be clever: he launched forth upon the topics he is au fait of, and during a three-hours’ assemblage of people at and after dinner he gave the natural history of every bird that flies and every fish that swims. He is a man of bad temper, nor does it sound creditable to him that none of his officers speak to him, and they are upon the eve of bringing him to a Court-martial. He is separated from his wife, and might inherit an estate of his brother’s if he would be united to her; but the condition is too hard, and he renounces the possession of a benefit so encumbered.

DUKE OF SOMERSET

The Duke of Somerset[25] came over and stayed at two different times. He would have liked to have made a longer visit, but his mother was arrived at Plymouth, and she is a jealous bigot. He possesses a plain understanding and a mind in a progressive state of improvement. He reads and reflects and judges for himself, mixed with great diffidence and caution. He has had no advantage from an intercourse with the world. He lives retired, and it is quite singular to observe the impression a common, sensible remark, which might be made by anybody, makes upon him; he looks at one, pauses, and exclaims ‘Very true!’ in a sincere way, that manifests that he is struck with the justness of the observation, and that he admires the sagacity of the person. I perceived this during the conversation I had with him, and the points that struck him were merely such as any person at all au courant of common events would make, rather commonplace, tho’ true. His politics are just and temperate; his principles precisely those of a reflecting man, not actuated by any party motives, viewing things not men. He deprecates the inadvertencies of Opposition, as they have rendered themselves so obnoxious that they are dreaded in the country, and have been the means of throwing an unfounded popularity upon King and Ministers. He feels the necessity of abridging the power of the Crown, which he thinks has made rapid strides towards absolute, independent Monarchy. The first step to be taken, he thinks, is to obtain peace almost upon any terms, and the next to retrench the dangerous extension of prerogative this unfortunate war has given to the King. He has a taste for literature, rather free upon religious subjects, a great admirer of Gibbon—not his style, but his sentiments; many passages he knew by heart and repeated, tho’ from diffidence he could hardly finish a sentence, but that soon wore off. He seems well-read in polemics, knew the arguments urged on both sides in all the modern controversies, Parr, Travis, Curtis, Porson, Paley, Gisborne, etc. Upon the whole, I should be pleased to improve my knowledge of him. His brother[26] is a great mathematician and man of science. He would not come, but proposed solving an abstract problem with Mr. Playfair,[27] which had occupied him for some days.

MR. DUGALD STUART

On ye 25th we arrived here, Bowood, where we have found a numerous party. The Archbishop of Bordeaux,[28] a man who practises the piety and resignation his profession bids him teach. Tho’ fallen from a high dignity which he supported with honour, he has not been heard to utter an unavailing regret upon the past; he is truly respectable. His Grand Vicaire, L’Abbé Landrecelles, is also entitled to praise for his philosophy. Another Abbé, who is sensible, also was here. Indeed, the whole class of clergy have alone distinguished themselves by their conduct; they acted from principle, and are rewarded with universal esteem and respect. Mr. Dugald Stuart[29] and his wife, from Edinburgh, were here: he is reserved, and I did not hear him speak, but he is supposed deservedly to enjoy a high reputation. She is clever, well-informed, and pleasing.

I read Voltaire’s Memoirs, written by himself; I do not think any of his works abound with more genuine wit. The whole narrative of his connection with the King of Prussia is a chef d’œuvre, but tho’ he tells his own story, yet it is evident that he was in the wrong in their quarrel.

The Duke of York has met with a check in his attack on Alkmaer; he seems to have quarrelled with Abercromby,[30] as his official dispatch is silent in his praise. I fear the whole expedition will fail, and prove a useless waste of blood and treasure.

There is some perverse quality in the mind that seems to take an active pleasure in destroying the amusement it promises to itself. It never fails to baffle my expectations; so sure as I propose to my imagination an agreeable conversation with a person where past experience warrants the hope, so sure am I disappointed. I feel it perpetually, for example, with Dumont; with him I have passed very many cheerful hours. This knowledge tempts me to renew our walks, the consequence is we both yawn. I can only account for it from a mutual effort to revive the same topics, or that we both endeavour to infuse a liveliness equal to what we remember pervaded our past conversations; and where there is labour there is always failure. It is now got over; we have ascertained that we each vary in agrément, either from condition, weather, or other circumstances; and we have made up our minds to it, and are four times in five highly gratified. I am convinced there is a period in all intimacies where that feeling takes place. I am so persuaded of the impracticability of arranging, ‘Now we will be pleasant,’ that I shun settling a meeting: chance does favourably what method would destroy. He possesses a fund quite inexhaustible of amusement, literature, anecdotes, lively observation, disquisition upon grave subjects; all this combined with a good heart and temper. He spends his leisure too much upon an occupation that I should doubt repaying him with fruit equal to the labour. He is translating and elucidating a metaphysical system upon legislation, jurisprudence, etc., of Bentham’s. His imagination appears better calculated to adorn the belles lettres with just criticism than to define the Penal Code. But no person of abilities finds out exactly their excellence. Boccaccio despised the only work which makes him immortal. He never showed his friend Petrarch his Decamerone, tho’ upon second thoughts Petrarch must have known parts at least of the work, as he tells him in their letters he frequently reads Griselda, but never without shedding tears. Beautiful as the Griselda is in ye Italian, I am almost disposed to prefer our Chaucer’s English version; there is a pathetic simplicity that touches the heart. The expressions are very natural where one can understand the language.

The day before we left Bowood Mr. Jekyll came. He is never so pleasant where Ld. L. is, as elsewhere; he aims at being the grave senator, and becomes pompous, didactic, and, with his merry little figure, one may add ridiculous.

MR. FOX’S ACCIDENT

On Tuesday we left Bowood. Our long conversations and disputes upon Stonehenge and the Druidical worship made us desirous of seeing that remarkable place: we therefore went by it to London. It is, to be sure, a most wonderful edifice, let it be raised by who it may. I shall transcribe great part of the description of its situation, etc., from Gough’s edition of Camden’s Britannia.

We arrived that night at Basingstoke, and arrived here on Wednesday. We found Ste. in perfect health and spirits; he is fat and ugly, but very merry and strong. His head is beautifully shaped; his ears are as pretty as his father’s; he will be darker than Charles. In the eve. Ld. H. went to see his uncle Mr. Fox, who was confined in town under the care of two surgeons. A gun burst in his hand and shattered his fingers. There was for some time a danger of his losing one of them. Hamilton came and stayed a night. There is a great perplexity in the family about his brother’s name, whether it is to be Douglas or Clydesdale.[31] The Chancellor has started the difficulty, but Scotch etiquettes are a mer à boire. The late Duke made no will, but left bonds to a great amount, for which his personal property must answer; thus the fine pictures at the Palace of Hamilton will go to the hammer. There is no danger of Ld. Stanley claiming the dukedom.

I went on Thursday to the play; General Fitzpatrick came with us. Sr. Lionel[32] dined with us on Saturday, and Hamilton. On Sunday, General Fox.[33] He is going immediately to Minorca, where he is appointed Governor. His wife is not to accompany him now; she imputes her not doing so to Sr. James St. Clair’s pompous dispatches, in which he announces the intention of the Spaniards to attack that place, a vapour to give himself importance.

10th October, ’99.—On Monday last Ld. H. moved for leave to bring in an Address to his Majesty upon the Russian Treaties;[34] consequently the House is summoned, and to-morrow he is to bring it forward. He is extremely nervous, not having spoken in public for some months till the other two days last week. The Treaty for ye 17,000 men employed in Holland contains an article contrary to ye constitution: ‘His Majesty engages, in case the troops should be compelled to leave Holland at a season when the Baltic is frozen over, that they shall pass ye winter in England.’ This article is a direct violation of the laws, and without precedent. He means to introduce at the same time a wish that measures may be taken to manifest a desire of peace.

EXPEDITION TO HOLLAND

Alkmaer is taken with a great loss of men; the details are not yet come. Tierney was here this morning in a sort of perplexity at a suspicion of Nepean’s,[35] the Under-Secretary of State. It seems that in a private letter from General Coote to Sr. Charles Grey[36] the truth is told of the conduct of the Russians, who absolutely refused to advance, throwing themselves flat on their bellies and declaring they would not stir. This letter Tierney saw, and it was known to Nepean that he had seen it. Combining that with Ld. H.’s motion to-morrow, they feared this circumstance would be made public, and Sr. C. Grey came to town this morning, in a fright, to explain matters. The fact is, Ld. H. knew nothing of the affair till to-day, and at Tierney’s request from Sr. C. G. of course will not make any use of the knowledge.

11th October, ’99.—On Wednesday, 9th October, Ld. King[37] passed the day and dined. He is young and handsome. His political principles are strongly anti-Government; his liking to Ld. H. makes him act with him, tho’ his opinion disposes him to exceed the limits Opposition have drawn to themselves; pour trancher le mot, he is what is called a Jacobin. His dislike to what is established is more against the Church than to the State: he quite abhors the Christian religion. He has a considerable share of information in theology, metaphysics, and political economy. Seeing him but once sociably, I cannot accurately estimate his worth. He is a most affectionate, excellent son. He came to town on purpose to second Ld. H. to-night. Tho’ he is not a remarkable speaker, yet he is stout, and Ld. H. expects to find a consolation in having him; as any person who is warm on the same side must be a relief from the agony of a solitary opposition. Yesterday I had a visit from a strange man, a Dr. Hager;[38] he was employed by ye King of Naples to detect a literary fraud in Sicily. One of the impostures was a supposed Arabic translation of all the works of Livy containing the lost books: this curiosity he discovered to be an ingenious fabrication. The other was some grants to the Church during the period where there is a hiatus in ye Sicilian history. His head is crammed full of metaphysics and erudition, to the total exclusion of every particle of common sense. I could perceive rays of illumination about him, when he talked of his admiration of truth and the necessity among enlightened people to substitute a moral catechism for that built upon the credulity and superstition of mankind. His generous spirit of converting those misled by error, alias religion, will involve him in scrapes should he not be wiser before he publishes in this country, as I suspect it has done already in Germany. He is one of Ld. Wycombe’s strange men; he picked him up in Sicily.

LORD AMHERST

Amherst came; I complimented him upon his speech. He seconded the Address.[39] He was sure to do it with propriety, therefore a congratulation was safe; as he is as certain of not exposing as he is of not distinguishing himself. He has a good heart, with a narrow mind; of all the young men he is the most borné in point of intellect. Nature seems to have determined upon confining him within proprieties. He was born to be a courtier, to live upon the terrace at Windsor, and wear the uniform; beyond that he will never get, unless Canning may want a tête-de-perruque to fill up a gap in any motley Administration he may have the forming of hereafter.

Tierney spent the whole morn.; I am very happy to discover that he has dropped the folly that made him tiresome and ridiculous this summer. To-day Mr. Grey came to assist Ld. H. in some calculations and in drawing up the Address; he is very pleasing when at his ease. We laughed over Tierney’s unsteadiness; one day his determination to make motions upon every great question, the next his abattement and timidity. Grey told a good answer of Mr. Beddinfield’s to Dundas. A few years ago the mob attacked ye King’s carriage and were going to commit some violence. Mr. B. was in the park; he immediately pulled out a pistol, and dispelled the rioters. The next day Dundas asked him what he would have bestowed upon him as token of favour. He said, ‘I wish only, Sir, that you would make me a Scotchman.’

He read the surgeon’s letter giving an account of his brother’s wound; the ball went through the knee, and was extracted from the hollow ham within. It seems to have been an escape. Grey was going over to see him, unless this good report had come.

Sunday, October 13th, ’99.—Ld. H. made a motion for peace. He was satisfied with himself, especially in his reply to Ld. Grenville. From his account I should fear that, tho’ it was able, it was too personal.

On that very night came the news of the strange reverse the Allies have experienced, 19,000 Austrians and Russians captured and slaughtered, Zurich retaken, and many other places in Switzerland; Hotze, the Austrian General, killed;[40] Suwarrow had crossed the St. Gothard to relieve that army, and when they were defeated he was advancing to assist. Ld. Macartney has just brought me the further news, which is that the cruel, bloody Suwarrow is totally defeated and probably taken prisoner. The monster who in cold blood cut the throats of women and children in Warsaw and the suburbs, and who exceeded his orders to make them more barbarous at Ismail, will not excite my pity even under the most rigorous captivity. There let him groan. The day of retribution ought to be in this life, to convince one that punishment is not withheld to a dubious period. These famous Russians, who have been so puffed since they have been subsidised, turn out to be the only fit food for powder, as nowhere do they fight; in Italy all the glory of the expulsion of the French from thence is due to the brave Austrians. Thus has this mighty horde of barbarians dwindled to a handful of tattered, ill-disciplined, worse-officered, half-starved savages.

PARIS FASHIONS

Ld. Macartney was present at the debate; he said Ld. H.’s reply was excellent, that it proved him to have very superior abilities, but he altogether disapproves so much of the line he has taken that he cannot be hearty in any praise.

Bonaparte has gained a great victory at Aboukir;[41] the tower is defended, but must fall. It is supposed Sr. Sidney Smith is in it. When he is Bonaparte’s prisoner it is to be hoped he will assist him to correct his narrative of the affair of Acre, as Sr. Sidney’s rhodomontades do not accord much with probability. It was an unnatural state of things that Bonaparte should have for a moment such a buskin hero for a competitor; whilst he was eclipsed, one might say:—

An eagle tow’ring in its height of pride

Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at, and killed.

I went yesterday morning to see a milliner who is just arrived from Paris; she brings strange dresses and fashions, and some sumptuous, costly to a degree that she cannot get a purchaser. She complains that a Deputy’s wife at Paris spends more upon her attire than a duchess does here. She has veils that cost 50 guineas, morning head-dresses 20, and so on in proportion. She says Paris never was yet at such a pitch of luxury and recherche in dress as at present.

Saturday, 19th.—On Sunday last Mr. and Mrs. Stuart and Dr. Hager dined here. On Monday we went to the play with the Stuarts. On Tuesday Ld. Macartney, Calonne, James, and the Fish dined, very tolerably pleasant. On Wednesday I went to see Mr. James’s pretty room and fine books; he has given in to the luxury of splendid editions, broad paper, and sumptuous bindings. The collection is as complete as possible for the sort of thing, but the expense is enormous, and hardly answers in point of enjoyment, tho’ one is not sorry to see fine specimens of the various arts of printing, papermaking, bookbinding, etc., etc. He has contrived to spend 5000l. upon articles that lie in a very small compass.

The Bessboroughs, who have just returned from ye Isle of Thanet, dined with us; they brought Ld. Boringdon. There was besides Mr. Wm. Smith,[42] an Irish orator, who made a fine speech and wrote a good pamphlet in favour of the Union. He is uncommonly bashful, an infirmity not peculiar to his nation, but one which impedes his being reckoned as able as he is to common observers.

The whole Dutch expedition has failed, and the troops are coming back forthwith, tho’ there are great apprehensions entertained as to their being able to withdraw without immense loss; they calculate upon losing their rearguard of 3000 men.[43] Out of evil there is good: Lds. Morpeth and G. Leveson had offered their services, and were upon the point of going. Ld. G. is raising a regiment, and is appointed Lt.-Col. I am sorry he throws away very excellent abilities upon a profession where so little is required—at least, as it is practised in this country; and I believe as a good patriot one ought to hope it may for ever remain as insignificant as it has done hitherto. Parliament is adjourned until January. We went to the play, Tierney, Mr. Hoare, and Capt. Murray. Confirmation of the French accounts of the losses of the Allies in Switzerland, etc., etc.

PRICE OF SUGAR

Sunday, 20th, ’99.—The whole day I was confined to my own den by a most villainous cold. After we had finished our dinner Ld. Morpeth came to dine. He arrived in town only the preceding evening.

The immense price of sugar has defeated the avarice of the proprietors of it; various experiments have been made, first, to extract sugar from saccharine vegetables, and then to grow it in different climates. In Prussia they obtain 8 lbs. weight of good sugar from 100 lbs. of beet root. In America a settlement called the Notches, above the river Ohio, has grown a large quantity from the sugar cane. The price is only kept up by some commercial artifice winked at by the Government. The revenues of the West Indians will be considerably diminished, and tho’ I ultimately may suffer I confess I should feel very little sorrow if they had been at 0 for the last four years; then he would not have added another example to the many—that injustice thrives.

25th, Friday, Money Hill.—On Sunday, 20th, Curran[44] dined with us. He was intimidated at the sight of the tables as he passed through the room, and told Mr. Tierney he feared he should not be able to speak. He kept his word, as he did not utter three sentences during dinner. We had, besides, Mr. Grey, ye Bessbro’s, Mr. Weld, Mr. George Ponsonby[45] (the Irish orator), and the Duke of Bedford. On Monday Mr. Wm. Smith, the Irish Unionist, Mr. Hoare, whom I knew at Sherborne, and Calonne. Calonne slept. He gave us a most interesting narrative of the assembling of the Notables, and many particulars of the latter event during his Administration; if ever I have patience I believe I would detail the account. We went the next day to Money Hill, where we found the Smiths. They stayed till Thursday, on which day Ld. Bor. came. He went on Friday; we returned home on Saturday....

On Tuesday the Beauclerks went. She wished very much to stay, as her health required repose; the motion of the carriage disagrees with her always, and she was not recovered from the journey of the day before. This consideration, added to her being far advanced with child, had no effect upon Beau.; he was positive. I fear he is disposed to be peremptory in trifles. I do not like to give way to all my fears upon the score of his temper, but she is all sense and gentleness. Ld. Morpeth and Dumont dined, a very pleasant dinner. Ld. M. stayed, and cause’d late; Dumont slept. Ld. M. is very amiable in a small party, where he is quite at his ease.

Bonaparte is returned with his staff to Paris. The cause of his return is involved in mystery as yet.[46]

A MIXED PARTY

7th November.—I have just begun La Harpe’s Cours de Littérature; they are lectures upon les belles lettres, delivered at the Lycée. On Friday, 1st Nov., a remarkable pleasant day, Ld. Ossory, Macartney, Morpeth, Calonne, Fish Craufurd, Tierney. The youth of Ld. M., and the Jacobinism of the latter did not promise to accord with the years and gravity of the rest of the party, but the singularity gave a zest, and everybody was delighted. Tierney won so much upon Ld. Macartney, that I am sure he might be made coadjutor to any outlandish embassy Ld. M. may be appointed to: he boasts of being homme à tout plat. Ld. Ossory was very happy, notwithstanding my Lady’s prohibition of his being so within these walls.

The Smiths came in the evening. We were to have taken them next day to my mother’s in Suffolk, that Mrs. S. might visit her father at Newmarket, but during the night Ld. H. was seized with some sharp twinges of the gout, which obliged us to delay our journey, much to my disappointment, as by it I lost the sight of my dear little Harriet. Saturday alone with the Smiths. Sunday Dr. Hager came; Smiths went away. Ld. H. continued ill; not so bad as the fit last autumn. It is curious that the pain seized him almost the day twelvemonth.

10th Nov. Sunday.—The failure of the Dutch expedition has created at the time a great sensation, but the public mind is absorbed in the expectation of another enterprise upon the French coast. All parties disclaim having projected it. Pitt’s friends say it was all Dundas’s scheme; he again lays it to the Queen and Princess of Orange; and they to the map-makers for placing dry land where there ought to be swamps. The only person who uniformly disapproved of the undertaking was the Stadtholder.

Public affairs everywhere have assumed a gloomy aspect. The badness of the season has destroyed the corn in many counties, and the increased price of provisions in the setting in of a threatening winter announces misery to the wretched poor and perhaps no small clamour from them, as certainly the corn sent to Holland must have taken considerably from the stock here, besides that the transports employed to convey the troops were chiefly North-country colliers. Thus the price of coals is at an unknown height, 60 shillings the chauldron. (In December 1799, 6 guineas.)

I have been reading Joseph Andrews. It is, in point of interest, inferior to Tom Jones. There are scenes where the wit is even more excellent, but the nature of his characters are sacrificed to a love of buffoonery. Parson Adams is frequently put into situations so extravagant that the ludicrous is destroyed by the impossibility of the events. Fielding had a model, his tutor, a Dr. Young,[47] who was full of learning and simplicity. There is a story of him whilst he was chaplain to one of the Duke of Marlborough’s regiments. The enemies were encamped near each other expecting to be engaged; the distrait chaplain walked out, and was so absorbed in the perusal of his Æschylus that he passed the lines. A sentinel seized him for a spy, and carried him to the general. During his examination he stated so naturally that without thinking of anything one foot followed the other, and brought him without his knowledge where he was, adding that he assured his Excellence he was no spy. ‘Ah, mon ami, I sincerely believe you. The D. of M. ne vous aurez jamais choisi pour espion, mais vous resterez dîner.’ He was sent off, fully acquitted of the suspicion.

CALONNE

I have endeavoured to persuade Calonne to write his Mémoires. Even those of his own life would be interesting; but the period of his Administration, and his generous sacrifices to the Princes subsequent to their emigration, would fill up a period in the history of the Revolution which can only be well done by him. He set the best machine of revolt in motion. His own story is that when at the head of the Finance he found that for many years the expenditure of the Government had exceeded its receipts, and that Necker’s compte rendu was a false assertion upon false fact: that to remedy this deficit he had persuaded the King to let him propose an equal taxation to the Noblesse and Clergy; that the Queen also was got over, till the night before he was to make his speech to the Notables, when she joined the faction headed by the Archevêque de Sens.[48]

A bon mot of Mirabeau upon him. He was a rash, impetuous man, without conduct or judgment. ‘L’Archevêque de Sens est toujours hors de son diocèse.’

I am reading the Arabian History in the most methodical way, too laborious to continue. I read Marigny, and refer to Ockley, the Universal History, and Gibbon. The latter I shall read when I have finished the others, because to read Gibbon one must understand the history he writes of à fond—at least so from his summary way of describing one should infer he thought it necessary for his readers.

Sunday, we had a very pleasant party, Hare, Fitzpatrick, Ld. Robert, Mackintosh, Mr. Scarlett, Smiths, Dumont. Mackintosh talked very pleasantly: his efforts to please were guided by good taste. His memory is very correct and retentive; he illustrated literary criticisms with lively quotations, particularly from Burke and Gibbon. Mr. Scarlett[49] is a rising man at the Bar; his profits are more upon the circuit than in the King’s Bench, but when Erskine and some few of the monopolists are removed he will distinguish himself there. He has an uncommonly benevolent countenance; his heart seems full of mild virtues; tho’ very unassuming, he yet is agreeable in a mixed conversation. Smith’s boisterous yet superior intellect did not dominate; Hare’s keen wit and the General’s discerning taste subdued his usual propensity to overpower with clamour and dispute for victory alone. He was temperate and entertaining.

Hare was in full glee; they had all dined at the Lord Mayor’s Feast the day before. Combe[50] is an Opposition man, and the patriots were received with acclamations in the City; Fox was dragged by the populace, so was the Duke of Bedford. The whole civic festival went off with triumph to the party.

Whitbread, the arch-seceder, is disposed to return to his duty in Parliament, and measures are to be taken to persuade Mr. Fox to do the same. God knows whether they will succeed. It is a matter of very little consequence whether they do nor not, as the prejudice in the country is too strong to be conquered even by the misconduct and failure of Ministers. The General stayed all night.

DUMONT

This morning, Monday, 11th, Dumont left. I was sorry to lose him, as he is facile à vivre and full of amusement to me. He is very universally liked by all who have the least relish for literature and good conversation. We had rather a motley mixture at dinner: Hare, Fitzpatrick, General Dalrymple,[51] Capt. Murray, and the Duke of Bedford. The latter is in very bad health; his spirits are visibly affected. On ye 12th the General left us to make some alterations at Sunning Hill; Hare, only, to dinner. On Wednesday Ld. H. went out for the first time. Lewis dined: he repeated some verses he wrote this last summer in Scotland, ‘Reflections in a Royal Burying-ground.’ They are the best of his, quite in a grand style; there are parts full of philosophy and feeling. In the evening a very comfortable gossiping coze with Hare.

The price of porter is raised; the augmentation has been admitted without clamour. Every article of first necessity is alarmingly dear.

14th Nov., ’99.—I continue reading the Arabian history with interest, especially in Ockley, whose style is plain and manly, tho’ criticism might be busy detecting vulgarisms. A comical observation of Gibbon’s upon himself in his Memoirs just occurs. He says, ‘Ye year 1770 was particularly favourable to the growth of my intellectual stature.’ The expressions are uncommonly ludicrous, combining it with the recollection of his misshapen, grotesque figure; for he was a monster, and so filthy withal that one could not endure being close to him.

On Thursday, Tierney, Dumont, Sr. Lionel, and Hare to dine; very lively and pleasant. Tierney bore a very equal share in the task of amusing with Hare, who is unique in excellence.

Friday alone. Saturday Mr. Morrice came to stay. Went to the play, where I gained a violent migraine and additional cold; brought the Smiths home.

Sunday, 17th.—Sick with headache. Hare to dinner, Duke of Bedford, Robinson, Major Hare, Hare’s son. Laughed so immoderately at Hare’s liveliness that my head was much worse, and I went to bed seriously ill. The Duke of Bedford looks infinitely better. I am in great hopes he will recover. He is in better spirits.

12th January, 1800.—A variety of little circumstances and frequent illnesses have prevented me from continuing regularly my notes. I went in the course of the month of December to Dalham.[52] I saw my dear child. Mrs. Smith went with us. Our visit did not exceed four days; we returned by the way of Cambridge, Ld. H. Petty and Mr. Debarry dined with us there. I was curious to ascertain whether the Gothic architecture of Henry VII. [sic] chapel would please me now, as it did many years ago, long before I saw the wonders of Italy: I found time and comparison had not in the least diminished my admiration of it.

NAPOLEON’S LETTER

Bonaparte returned suddenly from Egypt to France. He has overthrown the Directory, and the then form of Governt., and established a constitution at the head of which he is placed as Grand Consul. Should it be a permanent usurpation I will learn with accuracy the outlines, but the revolutions have been as variable as chemical nomenclature or systems of metaphysics. He opened a negotiation for peace lately by writing a letter directly to the King: his offer was rejected upon frivolous and peevish pretexts. The reply was made in the most barbarous language, crabbed, ungrammatical, and incomprehensible.[53] The joke of the day was that each of the Ministers who were present contributed their phrase: Mr. Pitt, ‘ye limited possibilities’; to Mr. Windham, ‘the line of hereditary Princes’; Ld. Grenville, ‘rapine, anarchy, and plunder’; nor were Lds. Westmoreland and Camden forgotten by giving ‘their explicit acquiescence’ to all that was done.

I went to a Harlequin farce on ye 28th December after dining in Cavendish Square; a gun was fired off, which frightened me, and on the morrow I was taken ill. I was very weak and confined to my bed many days; this day is ye 13th, and I am still indisposed.

During my confinement I have been reading among other things multitudes of novels, most of them sad trash, abounding with the general taste for spectres, hobgoblins, castles, etc., etc. Godwin has added to his publications; critics say, not to his reputation. In his preface he announces that he has not abided by the principles contained in his Political Justice, as he throughout the work shows that the greatest calamity is to loosen the ties of social confidence and domestic love.[54] Poor Mr. Weld, who dined here occasionally, dropped dead at the Tower, playing at whist with Ld. Thanet. He died under great pecuniary embarrassments. Marsh came to us the first day of the vacation; Ly. Lucy and the Dss.[55] were in the house, but it so happened by Ly. L.’s illness and sure management on our part that they never met.

13th Jan.—Monsieur de Bouillé se plaignant de la Révolution dit, ‘Ce sont nos gens d’esprit qui nous ont perdu.’ ‘Ah, Monsieur, que ne nous sauviez-vous’ [sic], said Mde. de Coigny.

Quand le mariage de Lord Paget fut remis à cause de l’accident qu’il eut en se tirant la botte, elle dit, ‘C’était un mariage remis àpropos de bottes.’

Une personne, attaquée de paralisie à mi-corps, étant depuis grosse, elle dit, ‘Elle accouchera donc d’un profil.’

Lorsque Monsr. d’Épremesnil perdit sa popularité, il demanda à Mde. de Coigny pourquoi le même peuple qui l’avait couronné de laurier l’accablait d’injures et le brûlait en effigie. ‘C’est,’ dit-elle, ‘que rien ne brûle plus vite que le laurier dépêché.’

Allant dîner oû elle comptait s’ennuyer, elle dit, ‘Ce dîner me pèse sur le cœur avant de me peser sur l’estomac.’

A polacre conveying dispatches from Alexandria to France was taken off Toulon, carried into Minorca, and the dispatches, which did not sink when thrown overboard, have been forwarded by General Fox to the Governt. They contain minute details of the military colony, and complaints of their being in total want of ammunition, etc., etc. The official letter is from Kléber; he conveys a sort of censure upon Bonaparte for his having quitted the army. He encloses Bonaparte’s letter to the army upon his quitting Egypt, in which various reasons for his departure are given; among them is l’obéissance. There is also a letter from the Contrôleur des Finances d’Égypte. He complains bitterly of the difficulty in levying the taxes, and the stubbornness of the Turks, who, sooner than pay will submit to stripes and even death. These letters and many private ones are to be made public and commented on by the mild spirit of Mr. Gifford.[56] They will be published in a few days, before the meeting of Parliament, in order to give the proper cue to those country members whose warlike spirits may have been subdued at the sight of the universal suffering throughout the country—a suffering aggravated, if not caused, by the horrors of war.

There can be nothing more contemptible than the personal pique all Ministerial people seem to feel towards him. The object in publishing these letters is merely to gall him by an expression or two, and for this gratification they shabbily put in the names of individuals, which may be the means of much private ruin. They say, ‘Aye, this will do him up!’

LORD ANDOVER’S DEATH

Poor Ld. Andover![57] Unfortunately, in giving his gun to his groom the piece went off, and the whole contents were lodged in his body: he retained his senses 7 hours after the accident, and died shortly after. His wretched wife! What must her feelings be! Each most tenderly attached to the other. It is the only tie which when dissolved makes the vast world a wilderness. How can piety, fortitude, or reason bear up against such a dreadful calamity? Indeed, one cannot wish it should prolong the existence of the miserable relict. That direful separation alone can shake the love of life so deeply rooted in us all. Canning says Ld. Andover used to remind him of Ld. H. at times. Great heavens! how far beyond a remedy must be her sorrows. Without knowing any of the parties, the despair of the situation quite overcomes me, and draws tears of unfeigned pity from my eyes; how fortunate for her should she never awaken to her wretchedness, but die in the agonies of delirium. Oh! in mercy let such be my close if I am doomed to the—oh! I cannot with calmness suppose the case.

Ye Friday party[58] did very well, dissimilar as are the opinions of the parties. On Saturday Ld. Wycombe brought a Spaniard,[59] who is just come from Paris, and is in England without the knowledge and against the consent of the Ministers. He has resided in Paris during the last four years, and he has adopted the principles of Revolution con amore. He calls the Church Establishment an infamous institution, and appears quite ripe to back his principles by his practice.

Mr. Fox was persuaded to come and attend the House of Commons on the day the subject of the negotiations was discussed. He always must speak well, but I should have preferred an oratorical, philosophical survey of the events that had arisen during the secession to a mere debating speech, which he made.

The intercepted letters are published with a preface avowedly by Canning; the notes are certainly by another hand. During the debate which Mr. Fox attended Canning launched out with his usual flippancy of tongue against the D. of Bedford, and said he would not lose his time in replying to arguments brought forward from a man of such an intellect. Fox gave him the retort uncourteous and made the little great man shrink. In going out he asked him if he seriously thought he could persuade the country that the D. of B. was an idiot. ‘No, I don’t; but why did he attack my publication?’ ‘My publication!’ And such a thing it is; the prophecies announcing the Messiah could not usher him in with more awful pomp than he does these letters to the notice of the public.

LORD KING

It was lucky that the first time Mr. Fox heard his nephew speak, should be when he spoke the best. Tho’ his terror was excessive, yet he possessed himself, and made upon the subject of the negotiation a very able speech. On the Dutch inquiry, moved by Ld. H., Ld. King spoke uncommonly well. Ld. H. was the more pleased, as it was merely out of friendship to him that he prevailed upon himself to conquer his dread of addressing a public assembly. He is a very young man, very handsome, very awkward, and very shy, but very full of most excellent qualities. He is a good son, a warm and generous friend. His principles, political and religious, are inimical to the actual state of those in force. The first are moderated: he was a lover of liberty even to democracy, and still abhors religion to impiety, but the experience that has corrected him of one excess will cure him of the other, and doubtless he will become very like other people.

When the division was coming on, Ld. Liverpool and Ld. Malmesbury and many others called out, ‘Pooh, pooh! you won’t divide! Why, you will have but three. Pooh, pooh! Don’t think of it!’ ‘Aye, but I will divide!’ cried Ld. H. ‘If I am single I will have a division’; when, to his great surprise and pleasure, the Duke of Somerset and Ld. Mansfield divided with him, besides King and Bessborough. Ld. Camelford did the same, but pique against Ld. Grenville explains his conduct.

From several conversations I had alone this summer with the D. of Somerset I collected that he was, tho’ not disposed towards Opposition, yet averse to Ministers. He is a sensible man, inclined to act upon his own judgment: his manner, from shyness, is against him. I suspect that he has a love of fun in him, for he told me that he was occupied in persuading Lewis to write a book on moral philosophy, as he was certain from the opinions he heard from Lewis that it would be at least entertaining. ‘For,’ says he, ‘he calls virtues what the world holds in abhorrence as great vices, and these paradoxes he maintains so strangely that I cannot illustrate them stronger than by telling you that he confesses himself surprised that Wilberforce should have published his book after The Monk. He thinks it great want of taste to give a system of morality in a dry, forbidding form, whereas “mine is given in a popular, pleasing manner, which diverts whilst it instructs, annner to upbraid him for his vote the night before, but hed is adapted to every capacity.”’ Yesterday when he came in to dinner Lds. Boringdon and Amherst lifted up their hands in a ma rather showed an unwillingness to be tutored. Again, during a dinner, Ld. B. leant across me to tell him he was a rival to Julian. I immediately said, ‘I see no apostasy in being guided by good sense and not biassed by interest.’ Ld. B. said no more, and the Duke looked thanks for the reproof. Again Ld. B. asked how he meant to vote upon a question which is coming on. The question is improper to ask, and the Duke replied very well, ‘I shall decide when I hear the arguments on both sides.’

We had a numerous party; Sir James St. Clair is lately returned from Minorca, of which place he gives but a sorry account. His wife is handsome; she did not love him when they first married, but his good nature has conquered her dislike, and she is almost in love with him. In most marriages a material change occurs in the course of ten years, but she has the merit of singularity in hers. Ld. Lorne is an old favourite of mine; his good humour, cheerfulness, and ease is quite charming. Lewis’ lines in an epilogue to Barbarossa, which they acted at Inverary, are very descriptive of him:—

And Lord Lorne’s easy air, when he got in a passion, Proved a tyrant must needs be a person of fashion. He seemed much at home through the whole of the play; He died in a style that was quite dégagé. And his orders for murder, disclosed by their tone, ’Twas the same if he gave them or let them alone.

14th Feb., 1800.—Bob Heathcote came for the first time. ‘A fool and his money are soon parted.’ Most of his is squandered at the gaming table, Newmarket, rare editions, sums lent to ——, splendid dinners, and, in short, in every way that it can go. He is, however, very good-natured, and not conceited—merits that cover a thousand blemishes, and in society make up for most deficiencies.

MR. KINNAIRD

A few days back Mr. Kinnaird,[60] eldest son of Ld. Kinnaird, dined here for the first time. Being a Scotchman and having studied in a Scotch University, report puffs him high, of course. Tho’ it overdoes his deserts, yet he merits some praise. He is clever and willing to please; one cannot pity him for shyness, as he labours under no embarrassment upon that score. Living in the world will set his head right and render him useful. He is an eager politician against Ministers.

Ld. H. is gone down to the H. of Lords, as a message from the King to subsidise the German Princes is before the House. It is conjectured that our magnanimous ally, the Imperial Paul, is deserting the cause he espoused so vehemently; whilst we are to continue fighting until ‘experience and the evidence of facts’ render a peace proper with Bonaparte. One of the finest passages in Mr. Fox’s speech was where he took up the expression of those who gave for reason the not negotiating immediately, that ‘we should pause.’ He described with energy the calamities of war, the villages sacked, cattle destroyed, the field of battle covered with agonised victims weltering in their blood, who, if questioned as to the cause they were fighting in, could not answer as in other wars, ‘ambition,’ ‘aggrandisement of territory,’ etc., etc. ‘No, we fight because the English Ministers are doubtful as to the moral qualities of Bonaparte.’

Lord Carlisle is mightily disposed to vote against the Ministers, a propensity which gives his son great alarm, as he is riveted to all the dogmas of the Ministerial creed, the necessity of the war, faith in the prowess of Suwarrow, the infallibility of Mr. Pitt, etc., etc.

General Fitzpatrick has published his letters to Lord Kenyon.[61] Previous to doing so he sent them to the King, accompanied by a letter calculated to delight him, appealing to him as the head of the school of honour and chief among gentlemen. The motto to the publication is very happy; it is taken from Kenyon’s own speech on the trial of Horne Tooke in 1792: ‘Mr. Horne Tooke, I cannot sit here to hear names calumniated and vilified, persons who are not in this case, persons who are absent, and cannot defend themselves. A Court of Justice is no place for calumny. You must see the impropriety of it, and it does not become the feelings of an honourable mind.’

I heard of a great trait of Scotch nationality. At a dinner at the Chief Baron’s,[62] where Sylvester Douglas[63] was, the news, just then fresh, of Bonaparte’s seizure of the Governt. was mentioned, upon which both the Scotchmen at the same moment inquired, ‘And what did Macdonald[64] do?’

THE PRINCE’S HEALTH

The Prince of Wales is supposed to be dying: whatever his illness may be besides, revived love for Mrs. Fitzherbert has aggravated and added to the measure of it. Mde. de Coigny says it’s like a rondeau, in which variations are made ad libitum, but the return is to the first air. He had a numerous dinner last week, composed solely of parsons; whether this was fun or fear is uncertain. If he had been in a vein for the former, it might have been indulged, as no set of men abhor each other with more heartfelt hatred than those pious brethren; each is in the way of the other, like an overloaded market in Bengal of English beauties. The other night at D. House he fell back in his chair and pointed to have his neckcloth loosened; fortunately Farquhar was there, and ordered proper remedies for his recovery.

The French have played a very good trick in return for our publishing the intercepted letters. They pretend to have found hidden in the wall of a house belonging to a Chouan chief, letters written by Pitt, Windham, etc., to recommend the Royalists to make peace with the Republicans at any rate, and then break it when the English succours arrive. This may be a real correspondence, but if not, è bene trovato.

Menzini,[65] the satirist, was derided for his poverty by an insolent and haughty Cardinal, who from his balcony perceived him walking, shabbily dressed. The Cardinal expressed his contempt in the lines of Petrarch:—

Povera e nuda vai Filosofia.

Menzini, with great quickness, replied by the next line of the poet:—

Dice la turba al vil guadagno intesa.

Caraccioli said of England, ‘Que c’était un pays où il y avoit mille religions, et qu’une sauce.’

M. de Lauragais[66] said of it, ‘Qu’il n’y avoit rien de poli que l’acier, point de fruits mûrs que les pommes cuites.’

1st March, 1800.—Within these last ten or twelve days Mrs. Beauclerk and Mrs. Smith have each added their individual contributions to the population of the world: a little Mimi, and a still smaller boy are the production.

COMTE D’ARTOIS

Tierney told me of a circumstance which had been conveyed to him from authority. At one of the dinners given by the Comte d’Artois to Pitt and the Cabinet Ministers, the Cte. expressed his astonishment and indignation to Pitt, that a man possessing such principles as Mr. Tierney does, and uttering all that his turbulent and discontented disposition gives rise to, was allowed to go about; that such a man in a well-regulated Governt. should be confined, and not allowed to be at large to preach politics. Pitt replied that Mr. Tierney was a member of Parliament, a very loyal subject, and respectable in his private character. This was said drily, and intended as a reproof to a very ill-judged question. Nothing could show a greater want of taste and knowledge of English customs, than to abuse a member of Parliament to the Prime Minister of England, and tho’ I would not detract from Mr. Pitt, yet his defence of Tierney was such as the occasion extorted, and ought to have been made for any man in Parliament who has not outraged the laws. Even Sir Francis Burdett is as yet entitled to a similar justification. The Cte. d’Artois (at present, according to the ancien régime, Monsieur) is a man of slender abilities with violent passions; before the Revolution he was weak and volatile, he is now weak and revengeful.

Bonaparte gives fresh proofs every day of his talents for governing, both in his disposition to conciliate and resist. He has issued letters to recall most of the emigrant nobles who have not borne arms against their country, infants, women, and priests; he manifests a strong determination to fight as well as he did formerly, and not allow of anything being wrested from the nation.

There is upon record a very curious fact, that well considered might abate the ardour of those who are disposed to fight on for the Restoration ‘of the line of Hereditary Princes,’ as it shows that that event would not in all probability induce France to fall back within her ancient limits—one of the objects proposed by the restoration of ye Bourbons. Upon the restoration of Charles II., the Spaniards applied to the English Court for the surrender of Jamaica, upon the ground of its being conquered by an usurper.[67] The English Ministers submitted the question to the ablest civilians in the country, and they were unanimous in their opinion that whatever conquest had been achieved by the arms of G. Britain, whether under lawful or usurped authority, that acquisition, once annexed and become an integral part of the Dominion, it was safe to maintain even by force of arms. And can it seriously be supposed, first, that the French nation will ever receive a Monarch forced upon them at the point of the bayonet by the allied armies, knowing that the incentive that provokes those allies is the partition of France? And, 2ndly, admitting the restoration were practicable, would the Kings, whose object would be popularity, venture to dismember their country? Why, even the unhappy emigrants, starving and exiled, feel triumph and exultation at every victory obtained by their countrymen.

Washington died towards the close of the year 1799. His name will stand high in the page of history, and posterity will be apt to outstep truth to bestow enthusiastic eulogy upon him, who has been great from his mediocrity. Mankind delight in assigning deep designs to very obvious facts. We shall hear of his being the first among generals, legislators, patriots, and practical philosophers, of his integrity, his disinterestedness in sacrificing to the public, of his well understood ambition in preferring a splendid obscurity to elevated insignificancy; in short, what will not be said except the truth—a plain, painstaking, plodding man, whose profession of land surveyor taught him a smattering of mixed mathematics which became useful when military positions were to be conceived, a mild, even temper, that neither offended nor captivated. So much will be said, and hitherto so little has been said, that I shall wait and hear. All France and America mourned at his death.

Canning sent to beg we would fix a day that he might dine here. He came, we had only Lds. G. Leveson, Boringdon, and Ly. Bess. Went off very agreeably. He was witty upon the new Institution,[68] which is a very bad imitation of the Institut at Paris; hitherto there is only one Professor, who is a jack-of-all-trades, as he lectures alike upon chemistry and shipbuilding.

HORNE TOOKE’S ELECTION

When Horne Tooke harangued the electors of Westminster from the hustings he was often put out by one of the mob closing his sentences with a nasal ‘Amen.’ This ridiculous finale did him more mischief than all the arguments of his adversaries to prove his incapacity, on account of having taken Priest’s orders, and now the Bishop of London refuses to induct him because he is a layman. He is ingenious enough, I doubt not, to reconcile these seeming contradictions.[69]

Hare, joking with Ld. H. upon his small divisions, some of which have been composed of Ld. King and himself only, says he ought to say, ‘Ego et Rex meus.’

Marquis de la Rivière[70] has with a degree of superabundant loyal zeal, vexed me. At dinner here he overheard me telling Calonne the story of the Cte. d’Artois asking Pitt why a man like Tierney was not shut up. He straight went and asked Monsieur if it was true; he, of course, said no, and contradicted it plump. This contradiction Rivière believes implicitly, and wrote me a formal denial of the charge. This provokes me, as I hate being made a party in a tracasserie, and still more hate having named any person. However, the thing is of no importance, because I certainly credit Tierney’s statement in preference to Monsieur’s asseveration to the contrary.

I was childish enough last night to go and see the new play; it was almost my first sortie from my couch, but I am not punished for the imprudence, as I have been perfectly well all day. I found Lewis in my box; he is the only person I give leave to enter at all times. He was just returned from Cambridge, where he had heard Ld. Henry Petty deliver a declamation, composed in the very best taste, full of feeling and ingenuity.

I have been reading Le Brun’s journey to Persepolis in 1704, the ruins of which (Persepolis) seem equal to anything of antiquity in point of solidity, size, and extent.

In future times when this little island shall have fallen into its natural insignificancy, by being no longer possessed of a fictitious power founded upon commerce, distant colonies, and other artificial sources of wealth, how puzzled will the curious antiquary be when seeking amidst the ruins of London vestiges of its past grandeur? Acres now covered by high, thin walls of brick, making streets tirés à cordon, divided into miserable, straitened, scanty houses, will, when decayed, crumble into a vast heap of brick-dust. No proud arch to survive the records of history, no aqueduct to prove how much the public was considered by ye Governt., no lofty temples, no public works! St. Paul’s anywhere would be a grand edifice; finer as a ruin than in its present state, disfigured with casements, whitewashed walls, pews, etc. The bridges alone would strike the eye as fine remains; they are magnificent. The reason of the meanness of everything throughout England proceeds from two causes. One is the scantiness of materials for great works, viz., stone and marble; second is, that commerce begets independence, from whence springs selfishness and the wish to enjoy what you acquire. Hence there is no ambition, no desire of perpetuating by great works fame to posterity.

THE HUMANITARIANS

Hobhouse,[71] who dined here last week for the first time, is a leading man among the Dissenters. He and Mr. Wm. Smith have written controversial books, and he has distinguished his own sect by the denomination of Humanitarians, not to be confounded with Unitarians. Priestley, in fact, is the founder of their doctrines, which doctrines they say are drawn from the New Testament in conformity with the primitive practice of Christianity. They assert that most points of faith in the Established Church proceed from the corruptions of Christianity. Christ they believe to have been the son of Joseph and Mary, but that he became inspired by a divine gift. They deny the Trinity, original sin, and the soul; their paradise is composed of material objects, not admitting the separation of soul and body. The Bible they hold to be an historical chronicle, Moses merely a legislator, the Prophets inspired darkly announcing Christ.

Sheridan by chance dined here on Friday, with a whole troop of Frenchmen. I was afraid he would be annoyed, as he does not speak French (which is the strangest thing imaginable for a man in his situation), but he, on the contrary, was pleased with his party. The company were ye Archevêque de Bordeaux, Calonne, Rivière, and Mr. Lattin. He was diverted at seeing the Archevêque laugh heartily at some sallies which might have shocked a bigot or a prude.

Crébillon Père, when upon his deathbed, sent for his son. ‘Ah! mon fils, est-ce donc bien vrai que vous soyez un de ces philosophes à la mode, qui veulent le bouleversement de la religion?’ He drew from behind his pillow a crucifix, and pointing to it, ‘Vous voulez donc détruire ce qu’il lui a tant coûté pour établir?’ This story Condorcet used to be very fond of telling.

Lady Ann Hatton speculates upon marrying Lord Abercorn. Lady Bessborough, who is all credulity, believes de bonne foi that this marriage will take place; even I, who am incredulous, have doubts in his favour, provided what I am told is true, such as, that Ld. A. has taken his daughters to visit their future mother. Beauclerk thinks Ly. Ann dreams, and imparts the vision to Lady B. for facts. Ld. Morpeth behaves admirably, but has wisely not given in a contre projet to the project upon the tapis. For a moment I thought the marriage story with Ld. A. was a scheme to obtain a real one from him, but nous verrons. Tho’ I do not particularly like Ly. Ann, I shall be glad to see her rescued from the humiliating state she is in; neglect, poverty, and discredit are horrid sufferances. If she closes her career with one of the greatest matches in the kingdom, I don’t know how young women will credit wise precepts of ‘virtue alone is rewarded,’ etc. She is 36, her appearance is so youthful that no one guesses her to be above 24, if so much. Her figure is light, airy, and graceful; Hare says she has a sort of vivacity that raises your expectations, but what she says is so flat that it damps curiosity.

Bonaparte allows of the return of the emigrants; I almost fear he extends that indulgence too far. Once restored to their possessions they will long for their titles, and a King will be the fountain of honour. The Duc de Liancourt has obtained all his estates which were not sold, and those of the Duc de la Rochefoucauld; this makes him among the number of the richest individuals in Europe.[72]

TALLEYRAND’S SARCASMS

A very profligate man, who was an agent of the Duc de Richelieu in all his vicious debaucheries, said in a company one day where Talleyrand (L’Évêque d’Autun) was, how much he was injured by the calumnies propagated against him, ‘Et vraiment je n’ai jamais fait qu’une méchanceté de ma vie.’ Talleyrand, with calm indifference, replied, ‘Et quand finira-t-elle?’ I rather think the man’s name was Rulhière.[73]

Talleyrand is remarkable for his cold sarcasms. When M. de Narbonne was Minister at War, Mde. de Staël was his protecting mistress, she guided everything; and one day at a Council of War, at which, very improperly, she was present, each Minister gave their opinion upon the different projects proposed for the plan of attack by some generals. She delivered, among the rest, hers with great warmth and decision; when she had finished she turned to Talleyrand, and said, ‘Why, you do not say a word! What do you think?’ He coldly replied, ‘C’est que je ne m’y entends nullement dans les affaires militaires.’ This bitter reproof vexed her to a degree of passion that she burst into tears; she merited the chastisement, for ‘qu’avait-elle à faire dans ce galère-là?’

An excellent pamphlet, called Observations upon the Preface to the intercepted correspondence, contains some witty and severe strictures upon Canning’s highly absurd arguments contained in said preface. It has been imputed to Grey, Lds. Wycombe, Holland, and to Tierney. Ld. H. admired it so much that his uncle Fitzpatrick said he could not resist telling him it was his, but it is a profound secret.

Mr. Fox is employed in writing the history of some late period in the British annals, but whether King William’s reign or Charles II., I am not certain, but I rather believe the latter.[74] I sent him by his desire some books upon the subject, Ld. Grey’s narrative of the Rye House Plot, Baxter’s Life of himself, and I have proposed to him various other miscellaneous tracts. A philosophical history from such a pen will be beyond praise, but I much fear his habitual indolence will interfere too much to allow a shadow of hope that he will finish a section even.

Ld. H. has a quality in common with him that is very serviceable in many ways—a great enduring patience in listening to the arguments of any fool, however great, and of always doing his best to answer them; of never allowing himself to feel, ‘Why exert myself for this fellow?’ Fox says he always likes to hear the opinion of a fool, as he gets by it two opinions, that of the person who gave him the opinion, and his own as he adopts it.

General Smith lost a great deal of money at Brookes’; to dissipate his chagrin he walked about the room, and at length joined in a conversation upon religion. ‘For my part,’ said he, ‘I cannot understand what they mean with their Trinity and Holy Ghost.’ ‘I wonder at that,’ replied General Fitzpatrick, ‘as the symbol is a pigeon.’

GENERAL FITZPATRICK

The General is less remarkable for brilliant repartees than Hare, but all he says shows a profound knowledge of the world, life, manners, and character; his observations are mostly just and expressed in the best and purest language, adorned with an undescribable good taste. His conversation and writings remind me of Addison. Leave out the morality and piety, and the two characters are the same: mild, gentlemanlike, and each possessing chaste humour. The General is by far the better poet of the two. I am told that my taste is corrupted by that which prevails, but I think energy of expression is oftentimes wanting in both of the above styles.

North,[75] the Bishop of Winchester’s son, Ld. H.’s old friend, brought his wife to dine here some days ago. She is pretty rather, but looks sour-tempered.

Bread is 17 pence the quartern loaf, coals six guineas the chaldron, turkeys 16 shillings, capons 8s. 6d., meat dearer than usual. During this scarcity, be it natural or artificial, we adopt the regulations of the H. of Lords; each person in the family is limited to a quartern loaf per week, no pastry, no fine bread for breakfast.

19th March, 1800.—A satirical poem called The Campaign is just published; it abuses the Duke of York and the Dutch Expedition. It is imputed to Mr. Courtenay,[76] an old member of Opposition, a man of great coarseness, but some wit. In the House of Commons some supporter of Mr. Pitt’s Administration complimented him on having conducted the machine of Government with such success, in spite of the drag chain of Opposition. Mr. Courtenay, in his reply, remarked upon the beauty and correctness of ye metaphor, since the machine was confessedly going downhill.

22nd March.—Erskine and Mr. Lattin (and a foolish, handsome Irishman, Mr. Henry) dined, and were extremely entertaining yesterday. Erskine, I have always found hitherto far from agreeable, but yesterday was an exception. He talked strangely upon religion; he pretends to Christianity, but the Mother Church would not take him into her bosom. Bishops and churches, he declares, have destroyed true religion; had he the power of Christ he would drive the doctors out of the Temple as he did, and out of Lincoln’s Inn besides. The Church Establishment he maintains to be the total ruin of the simple, primitive worship. The Trinity he explains with ingenuity, and reprobates the Incomprehensible Mystery of three separate and individual persons.

The little Monk Lewis has behaved like a great fool, and made himself highly ridiculous. He sent to the Duke of Somerset and desired he would wait upon him the next day at 1 o’clock. The Duke obeyed the summons, and did wait upon him. ‘I understand, D. of Somerset, that you have exposed me to the contempt of being again blackballed by the New Club. I think the part you have acted by so doing unbecoming the character of a friend; thus I desire our acquaintance may drop here.’ He rung the bell, and bid the servant open the door for the D., and thus dismissed him. The D. of S. is remarkably good-natured, and most certainly did what he thought Lewis would like, but, poor little man, he is very irritable and quarrelsome, and will shortly be left not only friendless, but without many acquaintances.

THE ROYAL INSTITUTION

This Institution[77] of Rumford’s furnishes ridiculous stories. The other day they tried the effect of the gas, so poetically described by Beddoes; it exhilarates the spirits, distends the vessels, and, in short, gives life to the whole machine. The first subject was a corpulent, middle-aged gentleman, who, after inhaling a sufficient dose, was requested to describe to the company his sensations; ‘Why, I only feel stupid.’ This intelligence was received amidst a burst of applause, most probably not for the novelty of the information. Sir Coxe Hippisley was the next who submitted to the operation, but the effect upon him was so animating that the ladies tittered, held up their hands, and declared themselves satisfied. The experiment to remove the popular prejudice in favour of silver teapots failed, as the thermometer gave the lie to the Professor’s learned dissertations, but it must have been from the malice of his evil genius, for the fact is in his favour.

The Bishop of Killala’s[78] narrative of what passed in the town and neighbouring district whilst the French were in possession of it in ’98 under Humbert, is extremely interesting. It is written simply, with a great appearance of truth and feeling. His palace was the headquarters of the General and his officers. He speaks with highest admiration of their humanity, civility, and incredible discipline. There is even humour in his description of some of the scenes, particularly that in which he describes the mixture of mirth and contempt with which the French officer thrust indiscriminately upon the noddles of the Irish the gaudy helmets. He yields the palm of superiority to the English for their dexterity in pillaging and in plunder; indeed compared with every European army, save the Papal one, it is the only excellence in candour we can admit them to lay claim to.

Great embarkations are making at Plymouth of the Guards and other troops. Their destination is not known, but rumour says they go to the Mediterranean. Were I not satisfied how harmless an English military force is against an enemy in battle array, I should wish contrary winds to waft them leagues out of their course, if they are destined for Egypt; but they inspire as little alarm to their enemies as they do confidence in their countrymen, for they are, as one of their commanders in Ireland said publicly of them, ‘Formidable only to their friends.’

PICTURES BY VAN DYKE

This house[79] has contained many remarkable and interesting persons; there are curious stories about its origin. Some say it was a nunnery, others, that it was built by a Cope in the reign of Philip and Mary. It came by marriage into the possession of Rich, Earl of Holland.[80] He was a most accomplished and gallant cavalier, and so amiable that Charles I. conceived a jealousy against him, probably not totally without foundation. In consequence of this he was confined by order to his house, but his Royal mistress refused to cohabit with the King until her favourite chamberlain was at large. During his residence here Van Dyke passed a year with him, and probably painted some of those portraits which now decorate most of the best collections in England.[81] There is a very fine portrait of ye Earl of Holland, done by this celebrated artist, in the possession of Lord Breadalbane, at Taymouth.[82] It represents him in the prime and beauty of manhood, arrayed in the apparel of a bridegroom, such as he was when he represented his Royal Master at the Court of France to the lovely Henrietta Maria. His left leg is covered with white satin, it being the one put into bed to the bride when Royal marriages are made by proxy. He held employments of considerable trust, but was accounted wavering in his politics and irritable in his temper. He retired here just when the Civil war broke out, in disgust. Clarendon says, ‘He was visited by all the disaffected Members of Parliament, who held frequent meetings at Holland House.’ Some time after, when the Civil war was at its height, he offered to join the King’s party at Oxford, but being coldly received he returned to the Parliament forces. On 6th August, 1647, ‘The Members of Parliament who were driven from Westminster by tumult met General Fairfax at Holland House and subscribed to the declaration of the Army, etc.’[83] Some ascribe his desertion of the Royal cause to his hatred of Ld. Strafford. He gave a proof of his wish to restore it; in consequence of which he was taken prisoner, confined to his house, and dragged to execution the 9th of March, 1648–9. His body is buried in Kensington Church. In the July following, Lambert, then General of the army, fixed his headquarters here. It was restored to the family of Rich. When the Puritans shut up public theatres, the actors used to act at the houses of the nobility, and this house is mentioned as having frequently been the scene of much dramatic mirth and festivity.

ADDISON

Addison was tutor to the Earl of Warwick.[84] He married the Countess, his mother, a marriage which made no addition to his happiness; it neither found them nor made them equal. She always remembered her own rank, and thought herself entitled to treat with very little ceremony the tutor of her son. Rowe’s ballad of despairing love is said to have been written either before or after marriage upon this memorable pair, and it is certain Addison has left behind him no encouragement for ambitious love. There is a pretty little poem by Rowe upon the occasion of his first visit to Holland House to see the Countess of Warwick. It is said by some author, “Holland House is a large mansion, but could not contain Mr. Addison, the Countess of Warwick, and one guest, Peace.” During his residence here the house was frequented by the wits and poets of the time, Pope, Tickell, Steele. Upon his deathbed he sent for Gay, with whom he had had little previous intercourse. He told him he had injured him, but would recompense him if he recovered: ‘What the injury was, he did not explain.’ Lord Warwick was a disorderly young man, and had received without heed the advice of Addison, who used his utmost to reclaim his morals and mend his life; when he found himself dying he sent for him, ‘That he might see how a Christian can die.’[85] He expired under this roof in 1719.

Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace

Rear’d by bold chiefs of Warwick’s noble race,

Why, once so loved, whene’er thy bower appears,

O’er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears!

How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,

Thy sloping walks and unpolluted air!

How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees,

Thy noontide shadows, and thy evening breeze!

His image thy forsaken bowers restore;

Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;

No more the summer in thy glooms allay’d

Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade.

Tickell, on the death of Addison.

And again in his Kensington Garden:—

Where now the skies high Holland House invades

And short-lived Warwick sadden’d all the shades.

Johnson repeats with great indignation Mandeville’s observation upon Addison. It was that he appeared to him like a parson in a tye wig: a laughable and, I daresay, a true remark.

In 1762, Henry Fox, Secretary of State (afterwards Lord Holland), inhabited, and shortly after purchased this house.[86] During his life it was frequently the resort of the great politicians. Sir Robert Walpole, unless he died before, was certainly a frequent visitor, at least he was a friend; Lds. Bute and Chatham, etc. Lady Sarah Lennox resided with her sister Ly. H.[87] at the period of the present King’s love, a love that might have elevated her to the throne, but for her levity and total disregard for appearances. Both Ld. and Ly. Holland died here. During his long illness he one day forbade admittance to all his friends who might call, with the exception only of George Selwyn, ‘For if I am alive I shall be very happy to see him, and if I am dead he will be very glad to see me,’ alluding to George Selwyn’s extraordinary passion for beholding death in any shape. He rarely missed the sight of an execution. He was supposed to have incensed George II. extremely by having indulged this curiosity about Queen Caroline, to obtain a sight of whose corpse he concealed himself under the bed, and during the absence at night of the attendants examined the body. George II. had such an aversion to him that he always called him ‘That rascal George.’ Selwyn once overheard him and exclaimed, ‘What can that mean? Rascal! Oh! I forgot that it was a hereditary title of the Georges.’ The King (George III.) the year after he had been at G. Selwyn’s house at Matson (famous in history for the escape of Charles I.) went mad. G. Selwyn upon this observed, ‘that it was odd enough that the only two Kings that had visited Matson had both lost their heads.’

LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE

This singular marriage of Lady Ann’s is going on rapidly, nay, the nuptials are to take place in the course of this week; but till the holy knot is tied, I confess such mystery hangs upon the affair that I shall continue withholding my full belief. He consults Ly. B. about the equipages, fêtes that are to be given upon the occasion, etc., and yet insists upon her keeping her promise of secrecy, and even goes so far as to beg she will contradict the report if she hears it. He was always supposed to be a little cracked, and his pride is beyond belief. When travelling in Italy during the life of his uncle and he was only Mr. Hamilton, to distinguish himself he left upon his cards, ‘D’Hamilton, Comte Héréditaire d’Abercorn.’ His language is so outré from the manners of common life that it would appear caricatured and chargé’d even upon the stage. Should the union really take place, the first step will be a rupture between Ly. Ann, his daughters, and Miss Copley their aunt, as Ly. A. is both violent and peevish, and little disposed to submit to the gêne of bienséance with regard to them.

I hear from my dear Webby frequently. The others I know are well, but poor Harriet is placed in a cheap school, and will be educated among people and with ideas that certainly are not adapted to her way of life I hope and trust in future.

17th April, 1800.—Abbé de Lille to-day shone. He aimed not at proving himself a political prophet: he contented himself with being a pleasant companion and a poet unique. In conversation he was very amusing; he told several stories about Voltaire, with whom he had been intimate in the early part of his life. The Collège de Montaigne was remarkable for its filthiness; the régent of it, when the écoliers were to act a play, was puzzled at their choice. It was Mérope. The female name offended him, and he altered it to Méropus: upon which Voltaire said it was in compliment of the place to call it Mère au puce, it being the foyer of dirt. Necker’s conduct in France, he said, was exactly like that of a Curé, who at a jovial dinner heard the bell ringing to Vespers, upon which he immediately chanted the Psalm of Deus in adjutorium meum intende, etc.; the people made the response Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui sancto; a man next to the Curé gave him a soufflet, saying if he had not begun the people would not have sung. The application to Necker was that he first sounded the alarm and roused the people of France. At the beginning of the Revolution, when things that now seem insignificant were looked upon as of great importance, two men were overheard talking of the calamities of the country in the Thuileries. One said, ‘Ah! bon Dieu, c’est la fin du monde.’ ‘Bah! bah!’ replied the other, ‘Comment donc, Monsr., il y a des exemples?’

He recited his translation of the fourth book of the Aeneid; the tender passages prove his ignorance of the sentiment he expresses. The famous tirade is admirably rendered.

LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE

Lord Abercorn’s singular union has at length taken place contrary to every plausible speculation. A few days before it was declared he confided to a friend his intended marriage, without naming the lady. ‘The world will be surprised, do not contradict the report, nor deny it.’ As soon as the event was public the Queen sent Ly. Ely to Miss Copley[88] to desire her to come to Buckingham House. ‘I hear that in consequence of this business, that you intend quitting Ld. A.’s house; remember, Miss Copley, that the worse the affair is, the stronger is the necessity of continuing with your nieces, and remember you have my advice and sanction.’ This maternal, majestic speech had its effect. Sir Lionel Copley told me both of these anecdotes.

The day of the marriage Ly. A. was sitting with Ly. Bess. talking of the event that was fixed for 8 o’clock in the ensuing eve., when their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the porter to inform them, ‘That Lord Abercorn had just called and left word that Ly. Ann must make haste, as she was to be married at 4.’ This intelligence so communicated surprised them, but compliance and punctuality are indispensable qualities where Ld. A. is concerned, therefore they obeyed. As soon as the ceremony was over, which was performed at Lord Sudley’s,[89] Ld. A. made the Marchioness a low bow, handed his eldest daughter out to his carriage, and went and dined with his own family, whilst the Marchioness went and dined in Cavendish Square. He came with a cavalcade of servants and flambeaux to bear off his prize to the Priory.

He is haughty and capricious, with enough of vanity to make him do a generous action, and with a dash of madness to make him do a lively one. Ly. Bess. went down for a few days; she described an evening between the new married pair, which was an exact reproduction of a scene in The Taming of the Shrew. To cure a headache he made her play blindman’s buff, and the more she complained the more violent he made the sport. A person remarked the livery, which is the same as the younger branches of the Royal Family, and said, ‘I suppose your family took it from them.’ ‘My family took it from them? No, it was the livery of the Hamiltons before the House of Brunswick had a servant to put it on.’ When he told the Dowager Lady Warwick that Sir Wm. Hamilton (her brother) was to marry Mrs. Hart, and that he should give her away, she said it was a disgrace to the family, but if done by any of them the deed was fitted to the one who had the blot in his escutcheon and a crack in his skull.

The Duke of Somerset is to marry Ly. Charlotte Hamilton;[90] his mother withholds her consent. She is much older than the Duke. Her superior coquetry has obtained the palm, for his love began with her younger sister, Lady Susan.

A circumstance, half ridiculous, half distressing, embarrassed me last Saturday at Lansdown House. I met an old lover whom I had not set eyes on for 14 years; the last time I beheld him was when he solicited an interview to propose marriage. His mode of making the overture was singular at least. He began by approaching his chair close to mine, and followed this close-quartering with an endearing embrace round my waist; he then complimented me upon my love of literature, and said, ‘I love books as much as you do, and we may fairly hope to have a very literary little family.’ Tho’ barely fifteen years old, the ridicule of the man’s proceeding struck me so much that I could scarcely contain my laughter, and my mother did for me that which my own timidity prevented, for he immediately received his final congé. He used to write verses upon me, and sent me a copy, with a dog, the turn of which was that as I was afraid of thieves this cur would protect me until I ‘a bolder guardian took,’ meaning his precious self.

A FORMER SUITOR

22nd April, 1800.—Ld. Thurlow yesterday in the House of Lords, with every expression of contempt, animadverting upon the folly of the Bills now brought before Parliament, the one for protecting bull baiting, the marriage of a divorced woman with the culprit, etc., addressed himself sarcastically to Lord Auckland, and said, ‘And pray, my Lord, why do you not bring in a Bill against ingratitude,’ alluding to Ld. A.’s desertion of Ld. North.[91] The reproof was coarse and uncalled for. The Union was debated last night in both Houses. Mr. Grey, in spite of secession, attended and made a very able speech.

The above story of Ld. Thurlow’s sarcasm is murdered. The sting lies in the absurdity of attempting to correct moral vices by law, which makes the sneer wittier.

Ly. Ann’s change from poverty and dependence to stately grandeur reminds me of the pretty Epître des Vous et des Tu, in which Voltaire sketches the delights of his youthful mistress, contrasted with the dull pomp she was surrounded by after a splendid alliance:—

Philis, qu’est devenu ce temps

Où dans un fiacre promenée

Sans laquais, sans ajustements,

De tes grâces seules ornée, etc.

I invited Mr. Lattin to dine here to-day, and as an inducement mentioned that it was to meet Dr. Parr. He wrote a gallant reply, accompanied by the following verses, which he says are the first he ever wrote in French:—

L’Histoire nous apprend, que pour être écoutée

La Sagesse eut recours

Aux grâces, aux amours,

Et même de la Fable, à la voix empruntée.

Mais pour nous persuader, c’est la première fois

Que la beauté s’adresse

A la froide sagesse,

Où Vénus de Minerve ait employé la voix.

27th April.—On Wednesday, ye 23rd, Dr. Parr dined and slept here. He was pleasant enough and not too full of grammatical niceties. I overheard him and Knight condemn various corrupt pronunciations and agree in saying, ‘You and I can never pass them: we can never call Xenophon otherwise than Xenopho.’

THE CZAR PAUL

The French army under Kléber, by a convention between it, Sir Sidney, and the Turks, is to quit Egypt; the Turks are to furnish transports. The Governt. here are incensed against Sir Sidney; they complain of the terms, and wish the French had been necessitated to remain and perish from the plague, etc.[92] The plausible objection is, that the Austrians have just come to be dissatisfied at the augmentation of 17,000 efficient, hardy troops to their enemy just at the beginning of the campaign. The magnanimous Emperor of all the Russias is in a passion; he has written to our Court to insist upon the recall of Sir C. Whitworth,[93] who has committed the unpardonable offence of visiting Count Cobenzel, the Austrian Minister; and his Imperial Majesty has besides withdrawn his Russians in our pay. The high pay may however tempt him to relent.[94] About a month ago he sent to Mr. Pitt, Ld. Grenville, and Mr. Huskisson, 3 crosses of the Order of Malta, of which order he has constituted himself the head, altho’ one of the fundamental rules requires that every knight should be a Catholic and a bachelor. He is of the Greek Church, and husband to a prolific Empress. The great source of his wrath is about the island of Malta, which he wants to possess, and which we will not agree to his having.

Mr. Grey made his annual motion for reform last Friday.[95] He made it so moderate by softening down the rough edges that Wilberforce and Dr. Laurence voted with him. Sheridan, Sir F. Burdett, Jones,[96] etc., were deterred from attending, as he was what they called too moderate. After the debate he came and supped, and slept here. He lamented his own precipitation and bad judgment in urging the measure of secession, and very distinctly declared that whatever blame might attach to it, he was responsible for, as it was pressed upon Mr. Fox against his opinion and inclination. I conveyed to him very cautiously, that his attendance, unless he had an explicit and a sort of public declaration from Mr. Fox that he wished himself to be considered as null, would not be looked upon as fair; he assured me that Fox had oftentimes urged him to attend.[97] I implied that such an assurance was of course all his conscience could require, yet that public opinion demanded more publicity to be given to the wish of Mr. F. than the report of a private conversation; to which he said he never could ask Mr. Fox to declare himself for ever withdrawn from public affairs.

I dined on Saturday, 26th, at L. H. In the morning Ld. Wycombe called upon me; we were standing in the porch just as Ld. Lansdown drove into the iron gate, upon which this dutiful son flew off in a tangent, and exhibited a scene before my servants and his father’s.

The following verses are written by Lewis, a pretty address from Friendship to Youth:—

Turn, Wanderer, turn, and rest with me,

Let not yon glittering fane allure you:

My temple shall your shelter be,

My sacred fire from cold secure you.

Nor scorn it, though your dazzled sight

No burst of lustrous flame surprises

As with mild warmth and lambent light

It gently from the altar rises.

More vivid fires gild yonder shrine,

More heat and radiance round them casting,

But trust me, Youth, though bright they shine,

Their rage is fierce, their power is blasting.

Ah! pilgrim, shun the fatal blaze,

Thy forward steps forbear to number;

The blaze which on my altar plays

Gives genial warmth and gentle slumber.

Here Reason as the priestess stands,

Here Tranquil Pleasure often lingers;

At Friendship’s fire then warm thy hands,

At Love’s thou’lt surely burn thy fingers!

‘Friendship,’

A PARODY

I showed them to Tierney, who parodied them almost offhand as an address from a Warming-Pan to Old Age:—

Turn, dotard, turn, and rest with me,

Let not yon glittering fane allure you:

My presence shall your comfort be,

My sacred fire from cold secure you.

Nor scorn it, though your dazzled sight

No burst of lustrous splendour meets,

As with mild warmth each chilly night

It gently glides between the sheets.

More vivid fires gild yonder shrine,

Their blaze, ’tis true, more fiercely rages,

But, know, they give, unlike to mine,

More smoke than heat at certain ages.