CHAPTER XXII.

The Speaker a Knight of the Bath--Lord Wellesley Lord Lieutenant

of Ireland--M. Thiers in England--Prince Esterhazy's Opinion of

the State of England--Queen of Portugal at Windsor--The Duke of

Leuchtenberg--Macaulay and Sydney Smith--Brougham's Anecdotes

of Queen Caroline--Judicial Committee of the Privy Council--Sir

Stratford Canning and M. Dedel--Sydney Smith and the 'Siege of

Saragossa'--Edward Irving--The Unknown Tongues--Tribute to Lord

Eldon--W. J. Fox--Lord Tavistock on the Prospects of his

Party--Moore at the State Paper Office--Russia and England--

Belvoir Castle--The Duke of Wellington at Belvoir--Visit to

Mrs. Arkwright--Sir Thomas Lawrence and the Misses Siddons--A

Murder at Runton--Sandon--Lord and Lady Harrowby--Burghley--

Railroads talked of--Gloomy Tory Prognostications--State of

Spain--Parliament opens--Quarrel of Sheil and Lord Althorp--

Unpopularity of Lord Palmerston--Mrs. Somerville--O'Connell's

Attack on Baron Smith--Lord Althorp's Budget--The Pension

List--Lord Althorp as Leader of the House--Sir R. Peel's

Position in the House--Meeting of Supporters of Government--Mr.

Villiers on the State of Spain--Predicament of Horne, the

Attorney-General.

September 5th, 1833 {p.030}

At Court yesterday, the Speaker[1] was made a Knight of the Bath

to his great delight. It is a reward for his conduct during the

Session, in which he has done Government good and handsome

service. He told them before it began that he would undertake to

ride the new House, but it must be with a snaffle bridle.

Bosanquet and Sir Alexander Johnston were made Privy Councillors

to sit in the Chancellor's new Court. The Privy Council is as

numerous as a moderate-sized club, and about as well composed.

Awful storms these last few days, and enormous damage done, the

weather like the middle of winter.

[1] [Rt. Hon. Manners Sutton, afterwards Viscount

Canterbury.]

September 6th, 1833 {p.030}

[Page Head: LORD WELLESLEY.]

Yesterday the announcement of Lord Wellesley's appointment to be

Lord Lieutenant of Ireland was received with as great astonishment

as I ever saw. Once very brilliant, probably never very efficient,

he is now worn out and _effete_. It is astonishing that they

should send such a man, and one does not see why, because it is

difficult to find a good man, they should select one of the very

worst they could hit upon. It is a ridiculous appointment, which

is the most objectionable of all. For years past he has lived

entirely out of the world. He comes to the House of Lords, and

talks of making a speech every now and then, of which he is never

delivered, and he comes to Court, where he sits in a corner and

talks (as those who know him say) with as much fire and liveliness

as ever, and with the same neat, shrewd causticity that formerly

distinguished him; but such scintillations as these prove nothing

as to his fitness for business and government, and as he was quite

unfit for these long ago, it is scarcely to be supposed that

retirement and increased age and infirmities should have made him

less so now.[2] They have judiciously waited till Parliament is up

before the appointment was made known. Lord Wellesley is said to

be in the hands of Blake the Remembrancer, a dangerous Jesuitical

fellow.

[2] [This opinion of Lord Wellesley was, however, speedily

changed by his successful and vigorous administration

of Ireland. See _infra_, November 14th.]

September 10th, 1833 {p.031}

At Gorhambury on Saturday till Monday. Dined on Friday with

Talleyrand, a great dinner to M. Thiers, the French Minister of

Commerce, a little man, about as tall as Sheil, and as mean and

vulgar looking, wearing spectacles, and with a squeaking voice.

He was editor of the 'National,' an able writer, and one of the

principal instigators of the Revolution of July. It is said that

he is a man of great ability and a good speaker, more in the

familiar English than the bombastical French style. Talleyrand

has a high opinion of him. He wrote a history of the Revolution,

which he now regrets; it is well done, but the doctrine of

fatalism which he puts forth in it he thinks calculated to injure

his reputation as a statesman. I met him again at dinner at

Talleyrand's yesterday with another great party, and last night

he started on a visit to Birmingham and Liverpool.

After dinner on Friday I had rather a curious conversation with

Esterhazy, who said he wanted to know what I thought of the

condition of this country. I told him that I thought everything

was surprisingly improved, and gave my reasons for thinking so.

He then went off and said that these were his opinions also, and

he had written home in this strain, that Neumann had deceived his

Government, giving them very different accounts, that it was no

use telling them what they might wish to hear, but that he was

resolved to tell them the truth, and make them understand how

greatly they were deceiving themselves if they counted upon the

decadence or want of power of this country; a great deal more of

the same sort, which proves that the Austrian Court were all on

the _qui vive_ to find out that we are paralysed, and that their

political conduct is in fact influenced by their notion of our

actual position. They probably hardly knew what they would be at,

but their hatred and dread of revolutionary principles are so

great that they are always on the watch for a good opportunity of

striking a blow at them, which they know they can only do through

England and France. They would therefore willingly believe that

the political power of England is diminished, and Neumann, who

wrote in the spirit of a disappointed Tory rather than of an

impartial Foreign Minister, no doubt flattered their desires in

this respect. Last night I sat by Dedel, the Dutch Minister, who

told me he knew Neumann had given very false accounts (not

intentionally) to his Government, that Wessenberg took much

juster views, and he (Dedel) agreed with Esterhazy, who said that

nobody could understand this country who had not had long

experience of it, and that he found it impossible to make his

Government comprehend it, or give entire credit to what he said.

Dedel told me that Holland is ruined, that the day of reckoning

will come, when they will discover what a state of bankruptcy

they are in, that the spirit of the nation had been kept up by

excitement, and that therein lay the dexterity of the King and

his Government, but that this factitious enthusiasm was rapidly

passing away. They now pay fifty millions of florins interest of

debt, about four millions sterling, and their population is not

above two millions.

[Page Head: QUEEN OF PORTUGAL IN ENGLAND.]

The young Queen of Portugal goes to Windsor to-day. The King was

at first very angry at her coming to England, but when he found

that Louis Philippe had treated her with incivility, he changed

his mind, and resolved to receive her with great honours. He

hates Louis Philippe and the French with a sort of Jack Tar

animosity. The other day he gave a dinner to one of the regiments

at Windsor, and as usual he made a parcel of foolish speeches, in

one of which, after descanting upon their exploits in Spain

against the French, he went on: 'Talking of France, I must say

that whether at peace or at war with that country, I shall always

consider her as our natural enemy, and whoever may be her King or

_ruler_, I shall keep a watchful eye for the purpose of

repressing her ambitious encroachments.' If he was not such an

ass that nobody does anything but laugh at what he says, this

would be very important. Such as he is, it is nothing. 'What can

you expect' (as I forget who said) 'from a man with a head like a

pineapple?' His head is just of that shape.

The history of the French King's behaviour is that he wanted the

young Queen of Portugal to marry the Duke de Nemours, and when he

found that impossible (for we should have opposed it) he proposed

Prince Charles of Naples, his nephew. This was likewise rejected.

The Emperor Don Pedro wants the Duke of Leuchtenberg, his wife's

brother, to marry her.[3] This Duke went to Havre the other day,

where the Prefet refused to admit him, though he went with (or

to) his sister, pleading the law excluding Napoleon's family. He

went to the Prefet to say that he protested against such

application of the law, but, as he would not make any disturbance

there, desired to have his passports _vise_ for Munich, and off

he went. At the same time he wrote a letter to Palmerston, which

George Villiers, to whom Palmerston showed it, told me was

exceedingly good. He said that though he did not know Palmerston

he ventured to address him, as the Minister of the greatest and

freest country in the world, for the purpose of explaining what

had happened, and to clear himself from the misrepresentations

that would be made as to his motives and intentions in joining

his sister; that it was true that Don Pedro had wished him to

marry his daughter, and that he had written him a letter, of

which he enclosed a copy. This was a very well written letter,

begging the Emperor to pause and consider of this projected

match, and setting forth all the reasons why it might not be

advantageous for her; in short, Villiers says, exhibiting a very

remarkable degree of disinterestedness, and of longsighted views

with regard to the situation of Portugal and the general politics

of Europe.

[3] [Queen Donna Maria did eventually many the young Duke

of Leuchtenberg, son of Prince Eugene Beauharnais and a

Bavarian Princess. But he survived his marriage only a

few months, and died of a fever at Lisbon.]

He told me another anecdote at the same time. Palmerston showed

him a letter he had received from Charles Napier, in which,

talking of the possible interference of Spain, he said; 'Your

Lordship knows that I have only to sail with my fleet (enumerating

a respectable squadron of different sizes) to Cadiz, and I can

create a revolution in five minutes throughout the whole South of

Spain.' Palmerston seems to have been a little amused and a little

alarmed at this fanfaronade, in which there is, however, a great

deal of truth. He said that of course they should not allow Napier

to do any such thing, but as nothing else could prevent him if we

did not, the Spaniards may be made to understand that we shall not

be at the trouble of muzzling this bull-dog if they do not behave

with civility and moderation.

London, November 13th, 1833 {p.034}

[Page Head: SYDNEY SMITH AND MACAULAY.]

Nothing written for nearly two months. I remained in town till the

end of September, when I went to Newmarket, and afterwards to

Buckenham, where I met Sir Robert Peel. He is very agreeable in

society, it is a toss up whether he talks or not, but if he thaws,

and is in good humour and spirits, he is lively, entertaining, and

abounding in anecdotes, which he tells extremely well. I came back

to town on Friday last, the 8th, dined with the Poodle, and found

Rogers, Moore, and Westmacott (the son); a very agreeable dinner.

On Sunday dined with Rogers, Moore, Sydney Smith, Macaulay. Sydney

less vivacious than usual, and somewhat overpowered and talked

down by what Moore called the 'flumen sermonis' of Macaulay.

Sydney calls Macaulay 'a book in breeches.' All that this latter

says, all that he writes, exhibits his great powers and

astonishing information, but I don't think he is agreeable. It is

more than society requires, and not exactly of the kind; his

figure, face, voice, and manner are all bad; he astonishes and

instructs, he sometimes entertains, seldom amuses, and still

seldomer pleases. He wants variety, elasticity, gracefulness; his

is a roaring torrent, and not a meandering stream of talk. I

believe we would all of us have been glad to exchange some of his

sense for some of Sydney Smith's nonsense. He told me that he had

read Sir Charles Grandison fifteen times!

Not a word of news, political or other; the Ministers are all

come, Spain and Portugal potter on with their civil contests and

create uneasiness, though of a languid kind. I came to town for a

meeting at the Council Office, the first under Brougham's new

Bill, to make rules and regulations for the proceedings of the

Court. All the lawyers attended, not much done, but there do not

seem to be any great difficulties. There was Brougham, with Leach

next him, and Lyndhurst opposite, all smirks and civility, he and

Leach quite fondling one another. Dined yesterday with Stanley,

who gave me a commission to bet a hundred for him on Bentley

against Berbastes for the Derby, and talked of racing after

dinner with as much zest as if he was on the turf. Who (to see

him and hear him thus) would take him for the greatest orator and

statesman of the day?

November 14th, 1833 {p.035}

Dined with Sefton yesterday; after dinner came in the Chancellor

in good humour and spirits; talked of Lord Wellesley, who, since

he has been in Ireland, has astonished everybody by his activity

and assiduity in business. He appeared, before he went, in the

last stage of decrepitude, and they had no idea the energy was in

him; but they say he is quite a new man, and it is not merely a

splash, but real and bona-fide business that he does. The

Chancellor talked over some of the passages of the Queen's trial,

to which he loves to revert. It was about the liturgy. The

negotiations which had taken place at Apsley House between the

Duke of Wellington and Lord Castlereagh on one part and Brougham

and Denman on the other were broken off on that point. It was

then agreed to refer the matter to others; the Duke and

Castlereagh were to meet Lord Fitzwilliam and Sefton; a queer

choice, old Fitzwilliam a driveller, and Sefton, with all his

sharpness, totally unfit for the office of negotiator in a grave

matter. He can't be grave, life itself is to him a plaything; but

the night before they were to meet, Fitzwilliam took fright, and

backed out. Notice was sent to the other party, but they did not

get it, owing to some mistake. In the morning Brougham came to

Sefton and asked him to drive him up to the Queen's house, and as

they passed through Grosvenor Square, to their amazement they saw

Wellington and Castlereagh alighting (full dressed for the levee)

at Lord Fitzwilliam's door. Sefton went into the house, and found

them already in the dining-room, the table covered with papers,

when an explanation ensued, on which they had to bundle up their

papers again and trot off.

[Page Head: BROUGHAM'S ANECDOTES OF QUEEN CAROLINE.]

When the deputation from the House of Commons went up with the

address to the Queen, entreating her to come to terms (Banks,

Wortley, Acland, and Wilberforce), she had got all her Council

assembled, and before receiving the deputation from the Commons,

she asked their advice. Brougham said that she was disposed to

acquiesce, but wanted _them_ to advise her to do so, and that her

intention was, if they had, to act on that advice, but to save

her popularity by throwing the odium on them, and devoting them

to popular execration. He therefore resolved, and his brethren

likewise, to give no advice at all; and when she turned to him,

and said, 'What do you think I ought to do?' he replied, in a

sort of speech which he gave very comically, 'Your Majesty is

undoubtedly the best judge of the answer you ought to give, and I

am certain that your own feelings will point out to you the

proper course.' 'Well, but what is your opinion?' 'Madam, I

certainly have a strong opinion on the subject, but I think there

cannot be a shadow of doubt of what your Majesty ought to do, and

there can be no doubt your Majesty's admirable sense will suggest

to you what that opinion is.' 'Humph,' said she, and flung from

him; turning to Denman, 'And Mr. Solicitor, what is your

opinion?' 'Madam, I concur entirely in that which has been

expressed by the Attorney-General;' and so they all repeated. She

was furious, and being left to herself she resolved not to agree.

Sefton was on horseback among the crowd which was waiting

impatiently to hear the result of the interview and her

determination. He had agreed with Brougham that as soon as she

had made up her mind he should come to the window and make him a

sign. He _was to stroke his chin_ if she refused, and do

something else, I forget what, if she agreed. Accordingly arrived

Brougham at the window, all in gown and wig, and as soon as he

caught Sefton's eye began stroking his chin. This was enough for

Sefton, who (as he declares) immediately began telling people in

the crowd who were wondering and doubting and hoping that they

might rely upon it she would 'stand by them,' and not accept the

terms.

November 21st, 1833 {p.037}

Another meeting at the Council Office the day before yesterday.

The Chancellor arranging everything, but proposing many things

which meet with opposition, wants people to be allowed to plead

_in forma pauperis_ before the Privy Council, which they object

to. I have doubts whether this Court will work well after all,

and foresee great difficulty about the rota; everybody had

something to prevent their attendance; however we meet on the

27th for the despatch of business. I have just finished

'Clarissa;' never was so interested or affected by any book.

November 28th, 1833 {p.038}

Yesterday the first meeting under Brougham's new Bill of 'the

Judicial Committee,' the Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Baron Parke,

Justice Bosanquet, and Erskine (Chief Judge in Bankruptcy). I

can't perceive that matters are likely to go on a bit better than

when one Judge sat there, though the Chancellor endeavours to

confer all the importance he can on his Committee, that he may

hereafter figure there himself. There has been a lively

controversy between the Whig and Tory papers, of which he has been

the object, the former lauding his law reforms, the latter

attacking his judicial incompetence. It is actually true that

hardly any original causes are brought before him, and he has

little business except appeals which must come into his Court. He

feels himself every day in a more unpleasant predicament, and of

course has a growing impatience to get rid of his judicial duties.

That he will by a series of tricks wriggle out of them there can

be no doubt, for just now he can do whatever he pleases. What he

wants is to be Prime Minister; his restless and versatile mind

will then find sufficient occupation, and there is no department

of Government which he does not think himself capable of presiding

over, leaving as he would do all troublesome details to be worked

out by others.

November 30th, 1833 {p.038}

A long sitting of our Court yesterday. The Chancellor comes

regularly. Jenner (the King's Advocate) told me that he believed

the Chancellor's object was to transfer all appeals from the

House of Lords to the Privy Council. Lyndhurst (whom I met at

Mrs. Fox's) said that it was quite true that he had no business

in his own Court, for nobody would plead there, that he wanted to

be Prime Minister, retaining the emoluments and patronage of the

Great Seal, and getting rid of its duties. There can be no doubt

that he does, and if Lord Grey dies, or is ill (in which case he

will resign), he probably will succeed. It is amusing to see

Brougham's tricks in small things; his present object is to raise

the Judicial Committee as much as he can, and bring all the

business there he can collect; in order to increase the appeals

he proposed to allow of them from the Indian Courts _in forma

pauperis_. This, however, was strenuously resisted by all the

Judges and others present, and as he always takes the lead in all

discussions relating to rules and regulations, when he found that

the unanimous opinion of the Committee was the other way, he

turned himself round and argued against his own proposal, stating

or anticipating the objections of the others, just insinuating

incidentally counter-arguments, and ending by letting the

question remain in abeyance.

[Page Head: STRATFORD CANNING AND DEDEL.]

Madame de Lieven told me an anecdote of Stratford Canning which

highly delighted her, because it justified the resistance which

the Court of Russia made to his nomination to that Embassy. The

other day Dedel called on Palmerston. When shown into the

waiting-room, he said, 'Tell Lord Palmerston that the Dutch

Minister will be glad to see him,' when a man who was there, and

whom he did not know, jumped up and said, 'And I desire you will

tell Lord Palmerston that I have been waiting here these two

hours, and that I expect to see him before anybody else;' and

then, turning to Dedel, 'Sir, this is too bad; two persons have

been already shown in to Lord Palmerston, both of whom came after

me, and I expect that you will not go in to his Lordship till

after me.' Dedel, who is the mildest and civillest of men,

replied, 'Sir, far be it from me to dispute your right, and I

assure you I have no desire to go in before you, but I only beg

that if Lord Palmerston should send for me first you will

understand that I cannot help going;' and then the other, 'Sir, I

am Sir Stratford Canning.' 'And I am Mr. Dedel.' This extraordinary

scene he told Madame de Lieven, not knowing what had passed about

the mission. Touching that affair, there is an understanding that

he shall not go there, and no other Ambassador is to be named till

it is quite convenient to Palmerston.

The day before yesterday I met Sydney Smith at dinner at Poodle

Byng's, when a conversation occurred which produced a curious

coincidence. We were talking of Vaughan, the Minister in America,

how dull he appeared, and yet how smart and successful had been

'The Siege of Saragossa,' which he published at the time of the

Spanish war. Sydney Smith said that the truth was he had not

written a word of it, and on being questioned further said that

he was himself the author. Vaughan, who was a friend of his, had

given him the materials, and he had composed the narrative. He

then went on to say that it was not the only instance of the

kind, for that the celebrated pamphlet which had been attributed

to Lady Canning had not been written by her, not a word of it,

that it had been written by Stapleton. I said that I had it in my

power to contradict this, for that I had been privy to the

composition of it, had seen the manuscript, and had at her

request undertaken the task of revising and correcting it. Thus

were two mistakes accidentally cleared up, by the circumstance of

the only persons who could have explained them being present.

December 2nd, 1833 {p.040}

[Page Head: THE UNKNOWN TONGUES.]

I went yesterday to Edward Irving's chapel to hear him preach, and

witness the exhibition of the tongues. The chapel was formerly

West's picture gallery, oblong, with a semicircular recess at one

end; it has been fitted up with galleries all round, and in the

semicircle there are tiers of benches, in front of which is a

platform with an elevated chair for Irving himself, and a sort of

desk before it; on each side the chair are three arm-chairs, on

which three other preachers sat. The steps from the floor to the

platform were occupied by men (whether peculiarly favoured or not

I don't know), but the seats behind Irving's chair are evidently

appropriated to the higher class of devotees, for they were the

best dressed of the congregation. The business was conducted with

decency, and the congregation was attentive. It began with a hymn,

the words given out by one of the assistant preachers, and sung by

the whole flock. This, which seems to be common to all dissenting

services, is always very fine, the full swell of human voices

producing a grand effect. After this Irving delivered a prayer, in

a very slow drawling tone, rather long, and not at all striking in

point of language or thought. When he had finished, one of the men

sitting beside him arose, read a few verses from the Bible, and

discoursed thereon. He was a sorry fellow, and was followed by two

others, not much better. After these three Spencer Perceval stood

up. He recited the duty to our neighbour in the catechism, and

descanted on that text in a style in all respects far superior to

the others. He appeared about to touch on politics, and (as well

as I recollect) was saying, 'Ye trusted that your institutions

were unalterable, ye believed that your loyalty to your King, your

respect for your nobility, your'--when suddenly a low moaning

noise was heard, on which he instantly stopped, threw his arm over

his breast, and covered his eyes, in an attitude of deep devotion,

as if oppressed by the presence of the spirit. The voice after

ejaculating three 'Oh's,' one rising above the other, in tones

very musical, burst into a flow of unintelligible jargon, which,

whether it was in English or in gibberish I could not discover.

This lasted five or six minutes, and as the voice was silenced,

another woman, in more passionate and louder tones, took it up;

this last spoke in English, and words, though not sentences, were

distinguishable. I had a full view of her sitting exactly behind

Irving's chair. She was well dressed, spoke sitting, under great

apparent excitement, and screamed on till from exhaustion, as it

seemed, her voice gradually died away, and all was still. Then

Spencer Perceval, in slow and solemn tones, resumed, not where he

had left off, but with an exhortation to hear the voice of the

Lord which had just been uttered to the congregation, and after a

few more sentences he sat down. Two more men followed him, and

then Irving preached. His subject was 'God's love,' upon which he

poured forth a mystical incomprehensible rhapsody, with

extraordinary vehemence of manner and power of lungs. There was

nothing like eloquence in his sermon, no musical periods to

captivate the ear, no striking illustrations to charm the

imagination; but there is undoubtedly something in his commanding

figure and strange, wild countenance, his vehemence, and above all

the astonishing power of his voice, its compass, intonation, and

variety, which arrests attention, and gives the notion of a great

orator. I daresay he can speak well, but to waste real eloquence

on such an auditory would be like throwing pearls to swine. 'The

bawl of Bellas' is better adapted for their ears than quiet sense

in simpler sounds, and the principle 'omne ignotum pro magnifico,'

can scarcely find a happier illustration than amongst a

congregation whose admiration is probably in an inverse ratio to

their comprehension.

December 6th, 1833 {p.042}

The Vice-Chancellor, Parke, Bosanquet, and Erskine met yesterday

to consider a judgment, and took three hours to manage it;

business does not go on so quickly with many Judges as with one,

whether it be more satisfactory or not. The Chancellor, the last

time we met, announced to the Bar (very oddly) that for the

future their Lordships would give judgment in turn. (He had

himself delivered the only judgment that had been given.) The

Vice-Chancellor, who I thought was his friend, laughed at this

yesterday with me, and said that he wanted to throw off from

himself as much as he could. I asked him (he had said something,

I forget what, about the Chancery Bill) what would be left for

the Chancellor to do when that Bill was passed. He said,

'Nothing, that he meant to be Prime Minister and Chancellor, and

that it was what he had been driving at all along, that the Bill

for regulating the Privy Council was only a part of his own plan,

and that all his schemes tended to that end.' Setting political

bias aside, it is curious, considering his station, to hear the

lawyers talk of him, the contempt they universally have for him

professionally, how striking the contrast with the profound

respect which is paid to Lord Eldon. The other day, in the action

brought against the Chancellor for false imprisonment, Lord Eldon

was subpoenaed, and he appeared to give evidence; when he entered

the Court, while he was examined, and when he departed, the whole

Bar stood up, and the Solicitor-General _harangued_ him,

expressed in the name of his brethren the satisfaction they felt

at seeing him once more among them. There is something affecting

in these reverential testimonials to a man from whom power has

passed away, and who is just descending into the grave, and I

doubt if, at the close of his career, Brougham will ever obtain

the same.

December 9th, 1833 {p.043}

Went yesterday with Frederic Elliot and Luttrell to hear Fox, a

celebrated Unitarian preacher, at a chapel in South Place,

Finsbury Square. He is very short and thick, dark hair, black

eyes, and a countenance intelligent though by no means handsome;

his voice is not strong, and his articulation imperfect, he cannot

pronounce the s. His sermon was, however, admirable, and amply

repaid us for the trouble of going so far. He read the whole of

it, the language was beautiful, the argument clear and unembarrassed,

the reasoning powerful, and there were occasionally passages of

great eloquence. The conclusion, which was a sort of invocation to

the Deity, was very fine. I like the simplicity of the service:

hymns, a prayer, and the sermon, still I think a short liturgy

preferable--our own, much abbreviated, would be the best.

December 13th, 1833 {p.043}

[Page Head: LORD TAVISTOCK ON THE LIBERAL PARTY.]

Met Tavistock at dinner the other day, and talked about the

Government; from his intimacy with Althorp and connection with

the others he knows their sentiments pretty accurately. He said

that Lord Grey had so high an opinion of Althorp that he made his

remaining a _sine qua non_, and accordingly he does remain. He

thought Lord Grey would be glad to retire, but that he will go on

as long as he can, because the Government would be placed in such

great embarrassment by his retreat. He did not think Brougham

could succeed him, though he believed his popularity in the

country to be great; that all depended on the part Peel took in

the next session, for in the event of Lord Grey's resignation he

looked to the King's sending for Peel to form a Government (much

as Canning did when Lord Liverpool died), principally composed of

course of the _purest_ materials, but not exclusively, and that

he did not think the great body of the Liberal party would make

any difficulty of accepting office under Peel; that Stanley would

not. He (Tavistock) thinks that Peel could not come into office

_with_ the Duke of Wellington; the Tories (Irvine, e.g.) think he

would not come in _without_ him.

December 18th, 1833 {p.044}

Went with Moore yesterday morning to the State Paper Office, and

introduced him to Lemon.[4] It was at the new office, where the

documents are in course of arrangement, and for the future they

will be accessible and useful. John Allen told Moore the other

day that he considered that the history of England had never

really been written, so much matter was there in public and

private collections, illustrative of it, that had never been made

use of. Lemon said he could in great measure confirm that

assertion, as his researches had afforded him the means of

throwing great light upon modern history, from the time of Henry

VIII. The fact is, that the whole thing is conventional; people

take the best evidence that has been produced, and give their

assent to a certain series of events, until more facts and better

evidence supplant the old statements and establish others in

their place. They are now printing Irish papers of the time of

Henry VIII., but from the folly of Henry Hobhouse, who would not

let the volume be indexed, it will be of little service. In the

evening dined with Moore at the Poodle's. He told a good story of

Sydney Smith and Leslie the Professor. Leslie had written upon

the North Pole; something he had said had been attacked in the

'Edinburgh Review' in a way that displeased him. He called on

Jeffrey just as he was getting on horseback, and in a great

hurry. Leslie began with a grave complaint on the subject, which

Jeffrey interrupted with 'O damn the North Pole.' Leslie went off

in high dudgeon, and soon after met Sydney, who, seeing him

disturbed, asked what was the matter. He told him what he had

been to Jeffrey about, and that he had in a very unpleasant way

said, 'Damn the North Pole.' 'It was very bad,' said Sydney;

'but, do you know, I am not surprised at it, for I have heard him

speak very disrespectfully of _the Equator_.'

[4] [Robert Lemon, Esq., F.S.A., was the Deputy Keeper of

the State Papers, who rendered the greatest services in

the classification of the Records, which at this time

were but little known and had not been opened to

literary investigation.]

December 21st, 1833

[Page Head: HOSTILITY TO RUSSIA.]

There is great talk of war with Russia, which I don't believe will

take place. I had a long talk with Madame de Lieven the day before

yesterday, and was surprised to find her with such a lofty tone

about war. She said that it was '_chance egale_;' that they

neither desired nor feared it; that our tone had latterly been so

insulting that they had no option but that of replying with

corresponding hauteur; that if we sent ships to the Mediterranean

they would send ships: that if those measures were pursued, and

such language held, it was impossible to say that circumstances

might not bring about war, though equally against the wishes and

interests of all parties. In such a case we might destroy their

fleet and burn their harbours, but we could not exclude them from

Turkey, nor once established there get them out again. That we

must not fancy we should be able, in conjunction with France, to

keep the rest of Europe in check; for it was the opinion of the

wisest heads, and of Louis Philippe himself, that a war would

infallibly bring about his downfall. (This latter opinion is

likewise, I find, that of the French ultra-Radicals; but they

think the war must be a war of opinion, and that the extreme

Liberals, who would thereby gain the ascendency, would make the

King the first victim.) She complained bitterly of the language of

our newspapers, and of our orators in Parliament, described the

indignation of the Russian Court, and the dignified resentment

mixed with contempt of the Emperor; in short, talked very big, but

still there will be no war.--I met Dedel afterwards, and he told

me that at Broadlands, where they all met, some explanations in a

tolerably friendly tone did take place. The truth is that we have

divested ourselves of the right of objecting to Russia's measures

with regard to Turkey, although we do not dare acknowledge what we

have done, nor our motives. We were (and we are) in a false

position, and she has played her cards with great dexterity; but

the Treaty[5] is another thing, and is justly calculated to excite

our jealousy and suspicions. We have held this language to Russia

with regard to the Treaty: 'We do not remonstrate, because we

admit your right to make what treaties you think fit; but we give

you notice, that if any attempt is made to enforce the stipulations

of it against us, we shall not endure it, and you must be prepared

for the consequences.'

[5] The treaty of Unkiar Skelesi.

* * * * *

1834.

Belvoir Castle, January 7th, 1834 {p.046}

[Page Head: BELVOIR CASTLE.]

After many years of delay, I am here since the 3rd, to assist at

the celebration of the Duke of Rutland's birthday. The party is

very large, and sufficiently dull: the Duke of Wellington,

Esterhazy, Matuscewitz, Rokeby, Miss d'Este (afterwards Lady

Truro), and the rest a rabble of fine people, without beauty or

wit among them. The place is certainly very magnificent, and the

position of the castle unrivalled, though the interior is full of

enormous faults, which are wholly irretrievable. This results from

the management of the alterations having been entrusted to the

Duchess and Sir John Thurston (the former of whom had some taste

but no knowledge), and they have consequently made a sad mess of

it. There is immense space wasted, and with great splendour and

some comfort the Castle has been tumbled about until they have

contrived to render it a very indifferent house; no two rooms

communicating, nor even (except the drawing-room and dining-room,

the former of which is seldom or never inhabited) contiguous. The

gallery, though unfinished, is a delightful apartment, and one of

the most comfortable I ever saw. The outside of the Castle is

faulty, but very grand; so grand as to sink criticism in

admiration; and altogether, with its terraces and towers, its

woods and hills, and its boundless prospect over a rich and

fertile country, it is a very noble possession. The Duke lives

here for three or four months, from the end of October till the

end of February or March, on and off, and the establishment is

kept up with extraordinary splendour. In the morning we are roused

by the strains of martial music, and the band (of his regiment of

militia) marches round the terrace, awakening or quickening the

guests with lively airs. All the men hunt or shoot. At dinner

there is a different display of plate every day, and in the

evening some play at whist or amuse themselves as they please, and

some walk about the staircases and corridors to hear the band,

which plays the whole evening in the hall. On the Duke's birthday

there was a great feast in the Castle; 200 people dined in the

servants' hall alone, without counting the other tables. We were

about forty at dinner. When the cloth was removed, Esterhazy

proposed His Grace's health, who has always a speech prepared in

which he returns thanks. This time it was more simple than usual,

and not at all bad. To-night there is a ball for the servants,

which could not take place on the real birthday, as it fell on a

Saturday.

I have had snatches of talk with the Duke of Wellington, and

yesterday morning he retired with Matuscewitz, and had a long

conference with him. The absolute Courts have a great hankering

after the Duke, though their Ministers here can hardly look for

his return to office; nor do I believe that if he was to come

back he would be found indulgent to the projects of Russia,

though he might be disinclined to continue so very intimate as we

now are with France. He told me this morning he thought the

French King's speech to his Chambers exceedingly good. He of

course disapproves of all our foreign policy, particularly in the

Peninsula. He says he sees no daylight whatever through the

Portuguese affair. The Spanish may terminate in the success of

the Queen, but only by her opposing Liberalism. He is convinced

that if she introduces Liberal principles she will be lost. He

says that the Spanish Government will be too happy to interfere

in the Portuguese contest (as in fact I know that they have

offered to do), but that we never can allow this, which besides

the consequences of interference (as a principle) would

necessarily make Portugal dependent on Spain. Arbuthnot, who is

here, told me (and he hears these things from the Duke) that

Matuscewitz had expressed the greatest contempt for Palmerston,

and not the less for Lord Grey; and that, with regard to the

latter, he had been much struck with his ignorance. I do not know

on what points he meant, but it must be in history or diplomacy,

which I am surprised at, because I thought he was a man of a

cultivated mind and general information, who would be found, as

far as knowledge goes, competent to any discussion. He likewise

said that he found him slow of comprehension.

Belvoir, January 8th, 1834 {p.048}

There was a ball for all the servants and tenants on Monday,

which the Duke of Rutland opened with Lady Georgina Fane, and the

Duke of Wellington followed with Lady Brownlow. Yesterday half

the people went to Belton; it was nearly impossible to get any

talk with the Duke. He told me that the Russians were in no hurry

to do any overt act in Turkey, and that their policy was as it

had always been--to work very gradually. I asked him if he

thought they really intended a permanent occupation of Turkey. He

said certainly not; that they could not bear the expense of a

war, which in that case would ensue; that the difference of the

expense between their own and a foreign country was as between

10d. and 4s. a man.

To-day I have been all over this Castle; the arrangements are

admirable, and the order and cleanliness of every part of the

offices and the magnitude of the establishment are very

remarkable, and such as I have never seen elsewhere. This

afternoon Gosh [Mr. Arbuthnot] came and sat with me, and talked

over all matters, which I have heard from him before, though he

has forgotten it, which he well may, for his intellect, never

very bright, seems to be almost entirely obscured. I daresay I

have put down these things before, but as they are curious scraps

of history they may as well go down again. It all relates to the

break-up of Lord Grey's Government in '32, and the abortive

attempts of the Duke to form an administration.

The King had given his word that he had never promised to make a

single peer. Doubts arose whether he had not told a lie; they

pressed him on this point (Wellington and Lyndhurst); he

persisted in his denial, upon which they requested Taylor might

be sent for, and all the correspondence produced, when they found

he was pledged up to the throat, and without reserve. The King

then attempted to get out of it by saying he had consented to

call up the sons of Scotch peers and give to Irish peers English

peerages, which he did not consider a creation of peers!

[Page Head: DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MR. PEEL.]

When the Duke accepted the commission to form a Government, it

was resolved to prorogue Parliament, and Lyndhurst was desired by

the King to go to Lord Grey and tell him such was his pleasure.

Lyndhurst forgot it! In after times, those who write the history

of these days will probably discuss the conduct of the great

actors, and it will not fail to be matter of surprise that such

an obvious expedient was not resorted to, in order to suspend

violent discussions. Among the various reasons that will be

imagined and suggested, I doubt if it will occur to anybody that

the real reason was that it was _forgotten_.

Arbuthnot says they know that Lyndhurst was intriguing with the

Whigs when the Duke was turned out in '30, and that it had been

settled that he was to remain their Chancellor; and so he would

have been if Brougham would have consented to be Attorney-General,

and had not run restive, and given clear indications of his

resolution to destroy the Government if he was left out of it. He

says that notwithstanding the duplicity of Peel's conduct in 1832,

he and the Duke are always on good terms, and no great question is

ever agitated without Peel's coming to the Duke and talking it

over with him; that Peel is determined to have nothing to do with

the Whigs, and told him (Arbuthnot) so very lately, but the High

Tories are just as unmanageable as ever. Chandos came to the Duke

the other day, and told him he thought they ought to get up

petitions against the malt tax. The Duke said he would countenance

no such thing; that he thought the revenue of the country should

be supported; for if it failed, recourse must be had to a property

tax, which would fall on the aristocracy; and so he persuaded him

to let the malt tax alone.

January 26th, 1834 {p.049}

I left Belvoir on Friday, the 10th, and went to Mrs. Arkwright's,[6]

at Stoke, where I found nobody but her own family. I was well

enough amused for two days with her original conversation and her

singing, and her cousin, Miss Twiss, who, with a face of uncommon

plainness and the voice of a man, is sensible and well informed.

Then they both liked to have me, and that is a great charm; a

little agreeableness goes a great way in the Peak, and it is not

difficult to procure a triumph to one's vanity from people who,

with a good deal of power of appreciation, have very little

opportunity for comparison, and are therefore easily satisfied.

Arkwright told me that it was reported by those who were better

informed than himself of his father's circumstances, that he is

worth from seven to eight millions. His grandfather began life as

a barber, invented some machinery, got a patent, and made a

fortune. His son gave him offence by a marriage which he

disapproved of, and he quarrelled with him, but gave him a mill.

Arkwright, the son, saw nothing of his father for many years, but

by industry and ability accumulated great wealth. When Sir Richard

served as Sheriff, his son thought it right to go out with the

other gentlemen of the county to meet him, and the old gentleman

was struck with his handsome equipage, and asked to whom it

belonged. Upon being informed, he sought a reconciliation with

him, and was astonished to find that his son was as rich as

himself. From that time they continued on good terms, and at his

death he bequeathed him the bulk of his property.

[6] [Mrs. Arkwright was a Kemble by birth, and had much of

the musical and dramatic genius of that gifted family.

Her singing was most touching, and some of her musical

compositions were full of originality and expression.]

Mrs. Arkwright told me the curious story of Sir Thomas Lawrence's

engagements with her two cousins, the daughters of Mrs. Siddons.

They were two sisters, one tall and very handsome, the other

little, without remarkable beauty, but very clever and agreeable.

He fell in love with the first, and they were engaged to be

married. Of course under such circumstances he lived constantly

and freely in the house, and after some time the superior

intelligence of the clever sister changed the current of his

passion, and she supplanted the handsome one in the affection of

the artist. They concealed the double treachery, but one day a

note which was intended for his new love fell into the hands of

the old love, who, never doubting it was for herself, opened it,

and discovered the fatal truth. From that time she drooped,

sickened, and shortly after died. On her deathbed she exacted a

promise from her sister that she would never marry Lawrence, who

firmly adhered to it. He continued his relations with her with

more or less intimacy up to the period of her death, the date of

which I do not recollect.

[Page Head: A MURDER NEAR RUNTON.]

From Stoke I went on Monday, 13th, to Drakelow, which Sir Roger

Gresley has lent to Craufurd, and stayed there two nights. It is

a miserable place, with the Trent running under the windows, and

Lord Anglesey's land close to the door. Thence on Wednesday to

Runton Abbey--Lord Lichfield's--who has added to it a farm-house,

and made a residence in the midst of his property, where he has

the best shooting in England. He and I went out the day after I

got there, and killed 41 pheasants, 74 hares, 24 rabbits, 8

woodcocks, and 8 partridges. He is a fine fellow, with an

excellent disposition, liberal, hospitable, frank and gay, quick

and intelligent, without cultivation, extravagant and imprudent,

with considerable aptitude for business; between spending and

speculating, buying property in one place, selling in another,

and declining to sell in a third, he has half ruined a noble

estate.

Just before I got there a murder had been committed close to his

house under very curious circumstances, of which some notice

appeared in the newspapers. A soldier in the Artillery got a

legacy of L500, with which he bought his discharge, went down to

the village near Runton, and took a very pretty girl of

indifferent character to live with him. He gave her shawls and

trinkets, and spent a good deal of money on her. Having addicted

himself immoderately to drink, he soon spent all his money, and,

to supply himself with the means of getting drunk, he began

robbing his mistress of the articles he had given her. It

happened that about this time somebody in the village who had

been robbed consulted a cunning man of great repute in the

neighbourhood, and so alarmed was the thief at the bare idea of

what this oracle might utter, that the stolen property was

secretly restored. The girl upon hearing of this restitution

resolved to have recourse to the cunning man, and invited her

lover to escort her to his abode. After endeavouring in vain to

dissuade her they set out together, but he was so overcome with

terror as he went along that he stopped short in the road and

refused to proceed. On this the girl said that it was easy to see

who was the thief, and that the reason he would not face the

conjuror was that he was conscious of his own guilt. Upon this

they fell to high words, then to blows, and he finished by

murdering her. He did not attempt to escape, but repaired to a

public-house, where he was soon after taken into custody. He

acknowledged the crime, and said he was weary of life, and

deserved to be hanged. Here is an example of the miserable

effects of good fortune upon a man who was unfit to use it, and

of the strange superstition of the common people. The murderer

will be tried at the next assizes.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD HARROWBY.]

I stayed at Runton till Sunday, 19th, when I came here,[7] where

there was nobody but the family and Ralph Sneyd. The place is

exceedingly beautiful, and arranged with excellent taste. It has

been very agreeable. Lady Harrowby is superior to all the women I

have ever known; 'her talk is so crisp,' as Luttrell once said of

her. She has no imagination, no invention, no eloquence, no deep

reading or retentive memory, but a noble, straightforward,

independent character, a sound and vigorous understanding,

penetration, judgment, taste. She is perfectly natural, open and

sincere, loves conversation and social enjoyment; with her

intimate friends there is an _abandon_ and unreserved communion

of thoughts, feelings, and opinions which renders her society

delightful. Of all the women I ever saw she unites the most

masculine mind with the most feminine heart. Lord Harrowby[8] has

all the requisites of disagreeableness, a tart, short, provoking

manner, with manners at once pert and rigid; but he is full of

information, and if made the best of may yield a good deal of

desirable knowledge. Though not illiberal in politics, he has

fallen into the high Tory despondency about the prospects of the

country, and anticipates every evil that the most timid alarmist

can suggest. Still, justice should be rendered to Lord Harrowby;

a purer and more disinterested statesman never existed. He was

always devoid of selfishness and ambition, honourable and

conscientious to a degree which rendered him incapable of a

sordid or oblique action. Always acute, but sometimes crotchety,

he had the same fault in politics which was the reproach of Lord

Eldon in law--indecision; and this in no small degree impaired

both his efficacy and his authority. His great idol was Pitt,

and, after him, he was the friend and admirer of Perceval. Bred

in their school, and a Tory by taste, by habit, and in opinion,

it is not a little to his honour that he was able to comprehend

the mighty changes which time and circumstances had effected, and

to perceive that an inflexible adherence to high Tory maxims was

dangerous, because their practical operation was no longer

possible; but justice must be rendered to him hereafter, for he

will never obtain it in his own time. By endeavouring to steer

between two great and exasperated factions he became thoroughly

obnoxious to both. After having refused the post of Prime

Minister, no one can doubt the sincerity of his desire to retire

from public life, and in the consciousness of rectitude, the

disgust of parties, and a calm and dignified philosophy, he finds

ample consolation for all the obloquy with which he has been

assailed.

[7] [This must have been written at Sandon, Lord Harrowby's

seat in Staffordshire, but the entry is not dated.]

[8] [Dudley Ryder, second Baron and first Earl of Harrowby,

born in 1762; married in 1795 Susan, a daughter of the

Marquis of Stafford.]

Burghley, January 28th, 1834 {p.053}

Came here yesterday, and found Lady Clinton, Lady Frederic

Bentinck, Lyne Stephens and Irby, not amusing. Captain Spencer

came to-day. I had almost forgotten the house, which is

surprisingly grand in all respects, though the living rooms are

not numerous or handsome enough. I just missed Peel, who went to

Belvoir yesterday. I heard wonderful things of railroads and

steam when I was in Staffordshire, yet by the time anybody reads

what I now write (if anybody ever does), how they will smile

perhaps at what I gape and stare at, and call wonderful, with

such accelerated velocity do we move on. Stephenson, the great

engineer, told Lichfield that he had travelled on the Manchester

and Liverpool railroad for many miles at the rate of a mile a

minute, that his doubt was not how fast his engines could be made

to go, but at what pace it would be proper to stop, that he could

make them travel with greater speed than any bird can cleave the

air, and that he had ascertained that 400 miles an hour was the

extreme velocity which the human frame could endure, at which it

could move and exist.

February 1st, 1834 {p.054}

Lord Wharncliffe has been here and is gone. He, like Harrowby, is

very dismal about the prospects of the country, and thinks we are

gravitating towards a revolution. He says that the constituency

of the great towns is composed of ultra-Radicals, and that no

gentleman with really independent and conservative principles can

sit for them, that the great majority of the manufacturers and of

the respectable persons of the middle class are moderate, and

hostile to subversion and violent measures, but that their

influence is overwhelmed by the numerical strength of the low

voters, who want to go all lengths. He says that he has received

greater marks of deference and respect in his own county, and

especially at Sheffield, where a short time ago he would have

been in danger of being torn in pieces, than he ever experienced,

but that he could no more bring a son in for Sheffield than he

could fly in the air. Sir John Beckett is just gone to stand for

Leeds, and certainly the catechism to which he was there forced

to submit is very ominous. A seat in the House of Commons will

cease to be an object of ambition to honourable and independent

men, if it can only be obtained by cringing and servility to the

rabble of great towns, and when it shall be established that the

member is to be a slave, bound hand and foot by pledges, and

responsible for every vote he gives to masters who are equally

tyrannical and unreasonable. I know nothing more difficult than

to form a satisfactory opinion upon the real state and prospects

of the country amidst the conflicting prejudices and impressions

of individuals of different parties and persuasions, and there

are so many circumstances that tell different ways, that at this

moment my judgment is entirely suspended on the subject.

[Page Head: STATE OF SPAIN.]

George Villiers gave a deplorable account of the state of Spain,

but he (unlike the Duke of Wellington) thinks that the only

chance of safety for the Queen is to make common cause with the

Liberals. He has been greatly instrumental to Zea's removal,

having conveyed to the Queen Regent that England by no means

considered his continuance in the Ministry indispensable, and

this intimation, together with the storm which assailed him from

all parts, determined her to dismiss him. Palmerston has never

written to George Villiers once since _October_. I heard the same

thing of him in some other case, I forget which.

February 6th, 1834 {p.055}

Returned to town yesterday from Newmarket, which I took in my way

from Burghley. Parliament had opened the day before, with a long

_nothingy_ (a word I have coined) speech from the throne, in

which the most remarkable points were a violent declaration

against O'Connell, that is, against Irish agitation, and strong

expressions of amity with France. It is comical to compare the

language of the very silly old gentleman who wears the crown, in

his convivial moments, and in the openness of his heart, with

that which his Ministers cram into his mouth, each sentiment

being uttered with equal energy and apparent sincerity. Lord Grey

is said to have made a very good speech on the Address. The House

of Commons has commenced with all the dulness imaginable, but it

was enlivened last night by a squabble on the Hill and Sheil

business[9] (dragged on by O'Connell), and the ultimate arrest of

Althorp and Sheil by the Serjeant-at-arms, a very foolish affair,

which must end as it began, in much declaiming and swearing, and

no positive conviction, though complete moral certitude. It

afforded much amusement, as everything personal does. The present

expectation is that the session will go off rather quietly.

[9] [Mr. Hill, a member of Parliament, had stated in a

speech that some of the Irish members most vehemently

opposed to the Coercion Bill in the House of Commons

had nevertheless privately stated to members of the

Government that they were glad the Act should be

renewed. This charge was denied with great heat by the

Irish members in the House when Parliament met. But

upon Mr. Sheil's calling upon Lord Althorp to state

whether he was one of the members alluded to, Lord

Althorp replied that the honourable gentleman was one

of them. Sheil immediately denied it in the most solemn

and emphatic terms; and as it was feared that a hostile

meeting might ensue between him and Lord Althorp, they

were both taken into custody by the Serjeant-at-arms.

Further explanations ensued, and Lord Althorp

subsequently withdrew the charge, stating that he

believed Mr. Sheil's asseveration, and that he must

himself have been misinformed.]

February 13th, 1834 {p.056}

[Page Head: UNPOPULARITY OF LORD PALMERSTON.]

It is observed by everybody that there never was a session of

Parliament which opened with such an appearance of apathy as

this. After the violent excitement which has almost incessantly

prevailed for the last two years or more, men's minds seem

exhausted, and though the undergrowl of political rancour is

still heard, and a feeble cry of the Church is in danger, on the

whole there is less bitterness and animosity, and a tolerably

fair promise that things will go on in a smooth and even course.

The storm that impended over Europe has blown off, and there

seems to be no danger of any interruption of the peace. Esterhazy

and Madame de Lieven both told me last night that they thought so

now, and the former that he had told Palmerston that we might

rely upon Austria's not being an indifferent spectator of the

political conduct of Russia, and if we would place confidence in

them, they would not only prevent any dangerous aggression on the

part of Russia in Europe, but would take such measures as should

contribute largely to the security of our Eastern dominions,

though that was no object of immediate interest to them. Madame

de Lieven told me that it was impossible to describe the contempt

as well as dislike which the whole corps diplomatique had for

Palmerston, and pointing to Talleyrand, who was sitting close by,

'surtout lui.' They have the meanest opinion of his capacity, and

his manners are the reverse of conciliatory. She cannot imagine

how his colleagues bear with him, and Lord Grey supports him

vehemently. The only _friend_ he has in the cabinet is Graham,

who has no weight. His unpopularity in his own office is quite as

great as it is among the foreign ministers, and he does nothing,

so that they do not make up in respect for what they want in

inclination. George Villiers complains that for above three

months he has not received a single line from him, and he is a

young minister, unpractised in the profession, to whom is

committed the most delicate and difficult mission in Europe. He

spends his time in making love to Mrs. P---- whom he takes to the

House of Commons to hear speeches which he does not make, and

where he exhibits his conquest, and certainly it is the best of

his exploits, but what a successor of Canning, whom by the way he

affects to imitate. What would be Canning's indignation if he

could look from his grave and see these new Reformers, who ape

him in his worst qualities, and who blunder and bluster in the

seat which he once filled with such glory and success. It must be

owned that we are in a curious condition, and if the character of

the Government, moral and intellectual, be analysed, it will

exhibit a very astonishing result: with a great deal of loose

talent of one sort or another scattered about it, but mixed with

so much alloy, that, compounded as it is, the metal seems very

base. However, we are not likely to get anything better, and

these people will very likely hammer on tolerably well.

Since Parliament met, the foolish business of Sheil and Hill has

been the sole topic of discussion, to the unspeakable disgust of

every sensible person in and out of the House. All feel the

embarrassment, the ridicule, the disgrace of such an occupation,

and the members of Parliament are provoked that the affair was

not strangled at the outset. The Speaker is now generally blamed

for not having prevented Althorp from answering O'Connell's

question, which he ought to have done, at least ought to have

warned the House of the consequences, when undoubtedly the matter

would have been stifled. They say Althorp did what he had to do

very well, like a gentleman and man of honour, and in excellent

style and taste, though many think he need not have said so much.

The committee began to sit yesterday; it was not a secret

committee, but they agreed to request members not to come in;

however, the tail would go in, and they found it would be a

difficult matter to exclude them, for which reason, and because

Sheil had no friend on the committee, they unanimously agreed

that the House should be invited to add O'Connell to it, and

after some difficulty raised by John Russell, this was consented

to.

February 14th, 1834 {p.058}

Last night at Miss Berry's met Mrs. Somerville, the great

mathematician. I had been reading in the morning Sedgwick's

sermon on education, in which he talks of Whewell, Airy, and Mrs.

Somerville, mentioning her as one of the great luminaries of the

present day. The subject of astronomy is so sublime that one

shrinks into a sense of nothingness in contemplating it, and

can't help regarding those who have mastered the mighty process

and advanced the limits of the science as beings of another

order. I could not then take my eyes off this woman, with a

feeling of surprise and something like incredulity, all

involuntary and very foolish; but to see a mincing, smirking

person, fan in hand, gliding about the room, talking nothings and

nonsense, and to know that La Place was her plaything and Newton

her acquaintance, was too striking a contrast not to torment the

brain. It was Newton's mantle trimmed and flounced by Maradan.

February 17th, 1834 {p.058}

In the House of Commons the Sheil committee came to a sudden

termination. It was a silly and discreditable business, and

people were glad it ended. The course adopted was this: they took

the 'Examiner' newspaper, containing the paragraph inculpatory of

Sheil, and they called on Hill to prove his case. Hill called

witnesses, one of whom, Macaulay, refused to speak. He said he

would not repeat what had passed in private conversation. The

committee approved, and Hill threw up his case, held out his hand

'with strong emotion' to Sheil, made ample apologies, and Sheil

was acquitted. Then came the apologies in the House of Commons.

Peel told me that he was convinced Sheil really had never said

what was imputed to him; but that he said something tantamount,

though very loosely, is probable, and the people who had told

Althorp would not come forward to bear him out, so that he was

forced to apologise too, but he did it very reluctantly. The

Irishmen, however, had not done, and O'Dwyer (formerly a

reporter) attacked Pease, asked for explanations, his card and

address. Pease, who is a Quaker, said 'he gave no explanations

but on his legs in the House of Commons, had no card and no

address.'

[Page Head: O'CONNELL'S ATTACK ON BARON SMITH.]

But there was a more serious matter than Sheil and Hill's

trash--O'Connell's attack upon Baron Smith, the circumstances of

which exemplify the way the House of Commons is managed under

Althorp's auspices, and the general mode of proceeding of the

Government there. O'Connell gave notice of a motion for an address

to the Crown to remove the Baron. Government resolved to oppose it.

Littleton authorised Shaw to write to him and say so, and that he

would say nothing in the debate offensive to him, though he could

not but disapprove of his charge. Nobody thought of any support the

motion would receive beyond that of the tail. The Ministers came

down to the House in this mind. Stanley and Graham went away for

some purpose or other, and when they came back they found that

O'Connell had altered the terms of his motion, and that Althorp,

Littleton, and the Solicitor-General had agreed to support it; in

short, that O'Connell had laid a trap for them, and they had gone

ding-dong into it. Stanley was very angry and much annoyed, but the

thing being done he knocked under, and tried to bolster up the

business. Graham would not, and in a maudlin, stupid sort of speech

declared his opposition, which was honest enough. All this annoyed

the Government very much, and now O'Connell is said to be quite

satisfied with what he has done, and does not want to have a

committee, but (having thrown a slur on the Judge by the vote of

Parliament) to let the matter drop. Spring Rice also voted against

the Government, and said that he had never known a worse case since

he sat in Parliament, and that nothing could be more mischievous

than the effect such a vote would produce in Ireland. Scarlett,

Peel, and Spankie made very good speeches; Stanley, John Russell,

and Campbell as bad.

[Page Head: STATE OF THE TORY PARTY.]

The same night Althorp made his financial statement, exhibiting a

surplus revenue and reduction of taxation, all very flourishing

and promising; but in announcing his intended reduction of the

House Tax, he said without any disguise that he did not think it

an objectionable tax, but that he took it off on account of the

clamour against it. Here are three exhibitions in one week, and

this is the Minister of our finances and organ of Government in

the House of Commons. No matter how he blunders in word or deed,

he smiles in dogged good-humour at ridicule or abuse; his

intentions are good, his mind is straightforward, and his

conscious rectitude, his personal popularity, enable him to

commit his blunders with impunity; but the authority of

Government suffers in his hands; maxims get into vogue which are

incompatible with good and strong government, and the effects of

his weakness and facility may be felt long after the cessation of

their immediate operation.

February 19th, 1834 {p.060}

Last night Whittle Harvey's motion on the Pension List. He made

admirable speeches; but had a majority of nine against him. This

division is not a bad exemplification of the state of parties and

of the House of Commons. Some of the Tories voted (in the

majority of course), many others would not. I asked one of them

(Henry Hope, a man of no consequence, certainly) if he was not

going to vote. 'No,' he said, 'I shall not vote, the Government

must manage their own business as they can.' He would not vote

against a proposition he must regard with the greatest aversion,

because he would thereby be supporting the Government and prefers

the chance of giving a victory to the Radicals, establishing a

dangerous principle, and doing a great injury to a host of

individuals, the greater part of whom are of his own party or

among his own friends, because he thinks that the result may be

productive of some embarrassment to Ministers. This is one of the

cases in which the conduct of Government has been such as their

bitterest enemies must applaud, when they risk their popularity

to support a very unsightly list of pensions, not granted by

themselves, or to their friends, from a sense of justice; and yet

these high Tories will not support them even in fighting such a

battle as this. On the other hand, the Government reject their

support when they might avail themselves of it against the

Radicals and ultra-Whigs, in such a case as that of Baron Smith

the other night; and so ill blood is constantly increasing

between them, while O'Connell and his tail and the Radical

blackguards sit by and chuckle at the evils these mutual

jealousies and antipathies produce. Richmond told me yesterday

that Stanley was greatly annoyed at Baron Smith's affair; but

finding the mischief done, and feeling the embarrassment that

would arise from his opposing Althorp, he threw himself into the

breach; said he had advised him never to do so again. The conduct

of Althorp, Littleton, and Campbell is inconceivable, unless it

were to give a fresh triumph to O'Connell (he has just carried

Dungarvan, Jacob _v._ Barron; 'it is the voice of _Jacob_ but the

hand of _Esau_'), who has had his own way hitherto in this

Parliament. In this business and in Sheil's he has done just what

he pleased, and made the Government appear in as pitiful a light

as he could possibly desire. O'Dwyer told the Speaker that

O'Connell had never expected _or even wished_ that Ministers

should give way to him to the extent they did.

[Page Head: LORD ALTHORP'S DEFECTS AS LEADER.]

Knatchbull has given notice of a motion to reverse the decision

for a committee on the case of Baron Smith, and in conjunction

with Peel. It must embarrass the Government, but it is not, I

think, judicious, because it is not the same question, and affords

them the opportunity of treating it on different grounds. In the

division last night the three Lennox's all voted with the

minority, brothers of a Cabinet Minister, and all their sisters

being on the Pension List. Molyneux was going out, and was

forcibly retained by Stanley. It looks as if the whipping in was

very unskilfully managed. Notwithstanding the present prosperity

and tranquillity, it is impossible not to be disturbed at the mode

in which business is conducted in the House of Commons, and at the

state and animus of parties, and above all at Althorp being the

leader there. His character is peculiarly fitted to do mischief in

these times, and his virtues are unfortunate, for they serve to

bolster him up, and to keep him where he is in spite of his

blunders. His temper is so admirable, his personal popularity so

great, that there is an impression that the House will be led by

him more easily than by Stanley, who alone, of the present

Government, could aspire to that post. Nobody imputes to Althorp a

spark of ambition, and ample credit is given him for the most

disinterested motives, and for making a great personal sacrifice

in retaining his present situation. The consciousness of this

makes him comparatively indifferent to victory or defeat, and

careless of that nice management which formerly was indispensable

in a leader. He seems totally blind to the consequences of his

errors, and the advantage that is taken of them by those who not

only meditate mischief to the Administration, but to the great

interests they are bound to protect. Occurrences and circumstances

that would have filled former leaders with vexation, and their

followers with dismay, seem to pass over him without ruffling his

serenity or alarming his mind. He acts as if in utter unconsciousness

of a restless spirit of popular aggrandisement, as if the House of

Commons was an innoxious and manageable machine, as if it was

sufficient to mean well, and he lets matters take their chance,

without any of that vigilant and systematic direction which, if

guided by a nice discrimination, might regulate the movements and

check the eccentricities of this vast and unruly body. Since the

opening of this session, all that he has said and done has proved

his utter unfitness for the place he occupies. First, his

imprudent answers to O'Connell, and the turn he gave to that

affair. Then, in bringing forward his financial statement, the

naivete with which he admitted that he had submitted to the

clamour against the House Tax, and withdrawn it contrary to his

own judgment; then the facility with which he gave in to

O'Connell's motion about the Irish Judge, and threw over his

colleagues and his party without an apparent reason or motive. It

produces a feeling allied to despair, all security is at an end,

for that which would be produced by his good intentions is

destroyed by reflecting on his miserable judgment; half republican

in his principles, and incredulous of any danger to be apprehended

from the continual increase of popular influences in the House of

Commons, he does not perceive how much the authority of a leader

is diminished in his hands, and how difficult it will be for any

successor of his to gain that sort of ascendency which is

indispensable for the effective conduct of public business, and

the moral character of the Government. To effect this, besides

great talents, great tact, discretion, sagacity, and temper will

be required; more, I fear, than fall to the share of Stanley, who

is better qualified to be a debater than a leader. Moderate men,

who do not approve of this Government, but who do not desire to

turn them out, if they would only act upon tolerably conservative

principles, are thrown into despair by the behaviour of Althorp,

and regard with consternation the inevitable increase of anarchy

in the House of Commons, and consequent prevalence of Radical

principles, from the sluggish, inert, vacillating, unforeseeing

character he displays.[10]

[10] [These remarks made at the time are not altogether just

to Lord Althorp, and it is now well known from other

sources, equally authentic, that he was more conscious

than anyone else was of his own shortcomings, and

passionately desirous to be released from office. But

it was notorious that the retirement of Lord Althorp

from the leadership of the House of Commons would be

the signal for the dissolution of Earl Grey's

Government, and so within a few months the result

proved.]

February 22nd, 1834 {p.063}

[Page Head: SIR ROBERT PEEL'S FUTURE.]

Went to the House of Commons last night, where I have not been

for many years. A great change, and hardly a human being whose

face I knew. I heard the end of the debate on Chandos' motion,

when Peel gave O'Connell a severe dressing, and I heard the

debate on rescinding the order for a committee on Baron Smith.

Shaw, who held the Baron's brief, made a very fine speech, but

afforded a memorable example of the danger of saying too much,

and of the importance of knowing when to stop. Not contented with

a very powerful and eloquent appeal, which he wound up with an

energetic peroration, he suffered himself to be led away into a

tirade about O'Connell's enmity to religion, and instead of

ending as he might have done with shouts of applause, was coughed

and 'questioned' to the close. Stanley made a wretched speech;

O'Connell very bad, affecting to be moderate, he was only dull.

Peel spoke very shortly, but very well indeed. Peel's is an

enviable position; in the prime of life, with an immense fortune,

_facile princeps_ in the House of Commons, unshackled by party

connections and prejudices, universally regarded as the ablest

man, and with (on the whole) a very high character, free from the

cares of office, able to devote himself to literature, to

politics, or idleness, as the fancy takes him. No matter how

unruly the House, how impatient or fatigued, the moment he rises

all is silence, and he is sure of being heard with profound

attention and respect. This is the enjoyable period of his life,

and he must make the most of it, for when time and the hour shall

bring about his return to power, his cares and anxieties will

begin, and with whatever success his ambition may hereafter be

crowned, he will hardly fail to look back with regret to this

holiday time of his political career. How free and light he must

feel at being liberated from the shackles of his old connections,

and at being able to take any part that his sense of his own

interests or of the public exigencies may point out! And then the

satisfactory consciousness of being by far the most eminent man

in the House of Commons, to see and feel the respect he inspires

and the consideration he enjoys. It is a melancholy proof of the

decadence of ability and eloquence in that House, when Peel is

the first, and, except Stanley, almost the only real orator in

it. He speaks with great energy, great dexterity--his language is

powerful and easy; he reasons well, hits hard, and replies with

remarkable promptitude and effect; but he is at an immense

distance below the great models of eloquence, Pitt, Fox, and

Canning; his voice is not melodious, and it is a little

monotonous; his action is very ungraceful, his person and manner

are vulgar, and he has certain tricks in his motions which

exhibit that vulgarity in a manner almost offensive, and which is

only redeemed by the real power of his speeches. His great merit

consists in his judgment, tact and discretion, his facility,

promptitude, thorough knowledge of the assembly he addresses,

familiarity with the details of every sort of Parliamentary

business, and the great command he has over himself. He never was

a great favourite of mine, but I am satisfied that he is the

fittest man to be Minister, and I therefore wish to see him

return to power. Stanley told me yesterday how very glad they

were at having been defeated on Baron Smith's case, and that they

were thereby relieved from a great embarrassment. Times are

mightily altered, when such defeats and such scrapes produce no

effect upon Government, and when they can go on upon two

majorities of 4 and 8 and one defeat.

February 25th, 1834 {p.065}

There has been a meeting at Althorp's to-day, numerously

attended, in which he talked with some effect as it is said, the

audience having gone away in a humour to support Government. He

took occasion, on somebody hinting at the disunion among

themselves, to say that though there might exist differences of

opinion on some minor points, he believed there never had existed

a Cabinet of which the members were more firmly knit together by

private friendship and political concurrence.

It was Methuen who harangued, and who said that the meeting was

very unsatisfactory. Althorp began by saying that unless

gentlemen would more regularly and consistently support the

Government it could not be carried on, when Paul[11] rejoined

that the Government did not support itself, and that they seemed

divided. Moreover, that when the Chancellor of the Exchequer

himself talked with so much doubt and uncertainty about reducing

particular taxes, he must not be surprised if everybody tried to

get what they could for themselves in the general scramble.

[11] [Paul Methuen, Esq., M.P. for Wiltshire. It was to him

that O'Connell made the memorable but somewhat profane

retort, 'Paul, Paul, why persecutest thou me?']

There are letters from George Villiers to-day (not to me, but to

his mother), in which he gives a deplorable account of Spain,

that Carlos has a large party in the north, where the Queen's

person is odious, the monks have persuaded the people that she is

atheistical and republican, that she has not force enough to

crush the rebellion, and what she has is scattered on different

points, without being able to make any combined or vigorous

efforts, that she has no money. The Cortes is to be assembled,

but they (I suppose the Ministers) have rejected all good advice

on this subject, and nobody can anticipate the effect that will

be produced by 300 or 400 individuals meeting in a legislative

capacity. If Miguel had resolved to give effectual aid to Carlos,

and dashed into Spain, he might certainly have placed him on the

throne, and then secured him as a powerful ally to himself in his

own contest. Miguel's own case he (George Villiers) by no means

considers hopeless, thinks him much better off than Pedro was

when at Oporto. The stories of the Queen's[12] gallantries are

true. He does not say so _totidem verbis_, because he does not

dare, but he manages to convey as much in answer to a question

his mother asked him. He thinks that the great probability is

that universal anarchy will convulse that country with civil war

of the most destructive character, and that the provinces,

kingdoms, and districts will be arrayed against each other. The

Carlists of Spain being in the north, and those of France in the

south, it is very likely they will endeavour to make common

cause, in which case it will be difficult for France not to

interfere, so he thinks; so do not I, and am more disposed to

believe that Louis Philippe is too prudent to run his head into

such a hornet's nest, and that he will content himself with

keeping matters quiet in France, without meddling with the

Spanish disputes. He had not yet received any letters from

Palmerston.[13]

[12] [Queen Christina the Regent is here meant. Queen

Isabella II. was a young child.]

[13] [Within a few days of the date of this note the

Ministry of March 1st was formed in France, with M.

Thiers (for the first time) at the head of it. The

avowed object of that Minister was to induce the King

to interfere more actively in Spain in conjunction with

England, 'Nous entrainerons le Roi' was a boast he was

heard to utter. But he utterly failed. Mr. Greville's

prediction turned out to be correct, and in a few

months Thiers was again out of office.]

February 26th, 1834 {p.067}

[Page Head: HORNE AND BROUGHAM.]

Horne, the late Attorney-General, seems likely to fall between

the stools. When Brougham proposed to him to take a puisne

judgeship, he said he had been an equity lawyer all his life, and

had no mind to enter on a course of common law, for which he was

not qualified, and proposed that he should not go the circuits,

and be Deputy-Speaker of the House of Lords. Brougham told him

there would be no difficulty, and then told Lord Grey he had

settled it with Horne, but did not tell him what Horne required.

The general movement was made, and when Horne desired to see Lord

Grey he told him that his terms could not be complied with, so he

became a victim to the trickery and shuffling of the Chancellor,

who wanted to get him out, and did not care how. I hear that his

colleagues are quite aware of all his tricks and his intrigues,

and have not the slightest confidence in him. He thinks of

nothing but the establishment of political power on the basis of

patronage, and accordingly he grasps at all he can. All the

commissions of enquiry which are set on foot afford him the means

of patronage, but I doubt all will not do. He is emasculated by

being in the House of Lords, and he will hardly get anybody to do

his business for him in the House of Commons.