CHAPTER XXIV.

Return from Paris--Possibility of a Tory Government--Hostility

to Lord Palmerston--Lord Aberdeen's Dissatisfaction--The

Duke's short View of the Case--Sir Robert Peel's Repugnance

to take Office--Lord John Russell--Further Disputes of Guizot

and Lord Normanby--The Quarrel with the Embassy--Lord Stanley

attacks the Government--The Normanby Quarrel--Lord Palmerston

threatens to break off Diplomatic Relations with France--Sir

Robert Peel's Opinion of Lord Palmerston--Mr. Walter--The

'Times'--The Normanby Quarrel made up--Mr. Greville's Opinion

of his own Journals--Income of the Royal Family--Lord George

Bentinck--Lord Normanby's _…tourderies_--The Government gains

Strength--The Irish Poor Law--The Czar places a large Sum with

the Bank of France--State of Ireland--Lord George Bentinck

as a Leader--Foreign Affairs--Archbishop Whately--Birthday

Reflexions--Lord Dudley's Diary--Power of the Press--Mr.

Disraeli and Mr. Moxon--The Defence of the Country--Troubles

in Portugal--Illness of Lord Bessborough--The Duke of

Wellington on the Army--Spain and Portugal--Abolition of the

Lord-Lieutenancy contemplated by Lord John--Difficulty of

abolishing the Lord-Lieutenancy--Deaths of Lord Bessborough

and of O'Connell--Lord Clarendon's Appointment--The End of

O'Connell--The Governor-Generalship of India--Sir James Graham

thought of--Failure of Debates on the Portuguese Question--The

Duke's Statue--The Governor-Generalship of India offered to

Sir James Graham--Sir Robert Peel's Position--Failures of the

Government--The Duke of Wellington's Popularity--Opinion in

Liverpool--Bitter Hostility of Mr. Croker to Peel.

_London, February 3rd, 1847._--I got to town on Monday; one hour and

fifty minutes crossing the sea, which was like a duck-pond. Saw Lord

Clarendon the same night for a long time, and Lord Lansdowne yesterday

for a shorter. Told the first all I knew and thought, and gave the

latter a succinct account of affairs in France, but did not say a word

of Normanby and Guizot. He has heard of it, however, as I find others

have likewise; and he asked Clarendon if I had said anything to him

about Normanby's goings on at Paris. But Clarendon said he had not asked

me, as living as I had done in Normanby's house I should not like (if

it were the case) to say anything about it. I have not yet had time to

look round me and see the state of things here. It is determined not to

have any discussion on foreign affairs if they can possibly prevent it.

[Sidenote: LORD STANLEY'S VIEWS OF OFFICE.]

_February 6th._--I called on Graham yesterday, and sat with him for two

hours and a half, discussing _res omnes_. He is not very well satisfied

with the Government, though wishing to keep them in rather than let in

the Protectionists; but he thinks they are inclined to curry favour with

the Protectionists, and they are disgusted (he and Peel) at the soft

sawder that is continually bandied backward and forward between John

Russell and George Bentinck, which nettles Peel very much; and they both

think, considering the avowed sentiments of George Bentinck towards him

and his conduct, that it is very insulting to Peel. He thinks they don't

take an independent line enough, and ominously hinted that if they meant

to try to obtain the support or the forbearance of George Bentinck and

Co. they must abide by the consequences as far as Peel and his friends

were concerned. He thinks the aspect of affairs very threatening both

abroad and at home, Stanley evidently looking to the Government and

ready to try and form one, but saying 'he does not desire it.' After a

sort of estrangement between him and Stanley ever since their Government

broke up, they met in the House of Commons the night of George

Bentinck's Railroad motion, when Stanley very cordially proposed they

should walk home together, and then talking over the state of affairs

Stanley said, 'This can't go on.' Graham: 'Well, perhaps not; and then

it must fall on you.' Stanley: 'I do not desire it.' The event is by no

means impossible, for this Railroad question may turn the Government

out; everything, however, indicates that Stanley, as head of his party,

is endeavouring to work his way into office. He is all for moderation

and conciliation, and wants to allure back the mass of the Conservatives

to his standard. Goulburn they count upon; Aberdeen says they have

secured him; Gladstone they expect to get. But it is endless to

speculate on all the possible or imaginary contingencies by which they

think they can form a Government. Stanley must now be ready to tear his

hair at having quitted the House of Commons, for with all his great

power of speaking (never greater than now) he is lost in the House of

Lords where it is all beating the air. Then in the House of Commons he

must trust to George Bentinck and Disraeli: the former with an

intemperance and indiscretion ever pregnant with dangerous dilemmas; and

the other with a capacity so great that he cannot be cast aside, and a

character so disreputable that he cannot be trusted. The Duke of

Wellington would give Stanley every support, and would bring Dalhousie

with him if Dalhousie was not afraid of embarking in such a concern and

with such associates. What Stanley and his party would like best would

be to get Palmerston to join them and be leader in the House of Commons,

which Palmerston would himself delight in if he dared run the risk. At

this moment, however, everything is in a fearful state of uncertainty,

and the weakness of the Government and their total want of power are

lamentably apparent.

Aberdeen is in a state of violent indignation at the brutal and stupid

attacks on him in the 'Morning Chronicle,' which he attributes to

Palmerston; and he is so provoked that he says he is disposed to bring

on a foreign discussion after all, that he may vindicate himself. He

says that nothing could exceed the abhorrence in which Palmerston was

held all over Europe, at the small courts more than at the great ones,

from Washington to Lisbon but one sentiment. I sat next to Palmerston at

the Sheriffs' dinner, and told him a great deal about Paris, and

especially the mischief which the 'Morning Chronicle' had done there. He

said, 'I dare say they attribute the articles to me.' I told him (since

he asked me) that they did, and that it was difficult to convince them

that they did not emanate from him. He affected to know nothing about

them, but I told him it really would be well to find means to put a stop

to them. Meanwhile, the attacks on Aberdeen have drawn down on

Palmerston two vigorous articles in the 'Times,' which may teach him

that he has everything to lose and nothing to gain by such a contest;

the very inferior articles in the 'Chronicle' not being read by a fifth

part of those who read the far better ones in the 'Times.' I met

Beauvale[8] last night at Palmerston's, and found he took precisely the

same view of foreign affairs (especially of the Spanish question of

succession and renunciations) that I do, and it is pretty evident that

he has as little respect as anybody for his brother-in-law's foreign

policy. He said he could do no good, and therefore held his tongue, but

that he had written to John Russell in the beginning, and told him he

did not think the case on the Treaty of Utrecht could be maintained.

Lady Palmerston had told me that Beauvale had examined the matter, _and

entirely concurred in their view of it_!

[Footnote 8: [Sir Frederick Lamb, Lady Palmerston's brother, had

recently been created Lord Beauvale.]]

[Sidenote: HOSTILITIES IN THE PRESS.]

_February 8th._--With Aberdeen yesterday for a long time. He complained

much of the articles in the 'Chronicle' against him, and said he had

acted towards Palmerston throughout in the most amicable manner. He

still is reluctant to believe Guizot so false as our case against him

tends to prove, and thinks that he was sincere in his distrust of

Palmerston and in his conviction that the Coburg marriage was

_imminent_; and he cannot believe he was so _stupid_ as to say what

Normanby represents about _en mÍme temps_, &c. Nevertheless, he blames

much that Guizot has done, thinks his letter to John Russell the height

of indiscretion, and has not a word to say for the secret despatch to

Bresson of December 10, which he never saw and which never was

communicated to him. He said it was written just when the Government

appeared about to break up and Palmerston to be coming in; but he

acknowledged that as long as he remained in he was left in complete

ignorance of it. He said he was the more surprised at Palmerston's

delays because he had told him (and John Russell too) that the French

Government were positively insane on the Marriage question; that great

as their confidence was in him, they were in a state of continual

suspicion and alarm, and always _at_ him about it; that the memorandum

of February 27 was no more than they had repeated verbally fifty times,

and he had told Palmerston that they always said they should hold

themselves free from their engagement if they saw this danger, but that

he (Aberdeen) had constantly told them nothing was doing or intended,

and that they need not alarm themselves. I asked him what necessity

there was for this memorandum at that particular time? He said that

about that time Prince Leopold did go to Lisbon, and they fancied he was

going to Madrid, and the danger therefore increasing.

Aberdeen declared that Peel would never take office; it had been

suggested to him that the country was in such a state that he might be

called for by a great public cry. Peel replied, 'Let them call, but I

will not respond.' There is great doubt and uncertainty about the

Railroad measure of Thursday next. John Russell is thought to have acted

very weakly not to have made up his mind till so late. He sent word to

George Bentinck in the middle of his speech that he meant to let him

bring in his bill. Now it is suspected he means to give way in whole or

in part; if he does, I think it will be fatal to his Government. Lincoln

said last night that it would be handing it over to the Protectionists,

nothing else.

I dined with M. de St. Aulaire last night, who talked much of Guizot and

Normanby, and of Guizot's _heroism_ in foregoing the temptation to speak

in the Chamber (as if he had meant to forego it), and to vindicate

himself from the aspersions thrown on him by Normanby's despatch, which

he was aware had done him the greatest injury here. However, he will not

have done himself much good by his speech, which seems only to make bad

worse. The result, too, of all the intimacy between Thiers and Normanby,

by Palmerston's desire, is amusing when Thiers does not make half a case

against Guizot, and announces to the Chamber that Palmerston is odious

to all Europe and hateful to the three Northern Courts.

[Sidenote: CONVERSATION WITH THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.]

_February 15th._--Called on Friday morning at Apsley House and had a

long talk with Arbuthnot. The Duke came into the room, stayed a very

little while, but excited himself talking about Spain and the Treaty of

Utrecht, the pother about which he declared was 'all damned stuff.'

Arbuthnot told me he was most anxious for the prosperity of this

Government. Arbuthnot did not confirm what Graham said about the Duke's

leaning to Stanley; on the contrary, he talked of Stanley's being lost

amongst such associates as he has; he talked with bitterness of Peel's

conduct and the breaking up of the party, and said he was quite sure he

would never come into office again; he gave me a more detailed account

of his parting request to the Queen, when he said, after begging her

never to ask him to take office again, that he could not help

remembering that Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Canning had all died in

office, and victims of office; that he did not dread death, and this

recollection would not deter him; but when he recollected also that Lord

Castlereagh and Lord Liverpool had also died in office, the one a maniac

and the other an idiot, that recollection did appal him, and he trembled

at the idea of encountering such a fate as theirs.

Yesterday morning John Russell sent for me, and I told him all about

Paris and the state of affairs there. I did not conceal from him my

opinion of Palmerston's conduct, though I had done all I could to defend

him. He said in many respects Guizot's was as bad, especially as to the

newspapers. I found fault with the negotiations with other Powers to

join with us in a demonstration about the Treaty of Utrecht, but that he

defended. I told him we totally differed on the question; but we had no

time to discuss it, indeed, little to discuss anything, for he was going

to a deputation, so we walked together from his house to the office. I

told him I had intended to urge him to do something, but that Guizot's

speech made it almost impossible to do anything. He begged me to see St.

Aulaire and talk to him about it, and to tell him the Queen had a great

regard for him, and did not mean to do anything neglectful by him. He

gave me an account of the strange state of things at Madrid, and of the

confusion and quarrels which have followed this fine marriage the French

have effected.

_February 16th._--I saw Jarnac yesterday and had a long conversation

with him. He defends Guizot, of course, but a great deal that he says is

reasonable enough. Normanby took up Guizot's speech with a very

unnecessary display of resentment, and fancied that he intended to

impeach his veracity in respect to his second report of conversation.

Accordingly he wrote an angry letter home, to which Palmerston

immediately wrote an answer. Both these letters (_Normanby's altered

here_) were laid before Parliament, and at the same moment published in

the 'Morning Chronicle.' This was quick work, and on the whole

irritating and offensive, but Normanby says all Paris considered that he

was affronted by Guizot, and he was obliged to take it up. Here no one

individual that I have seen construed what Guizot said in that sense.

Such is the difference of the respective atmospheres of the two towns.

There all fire, here all ice. It seems that Normanby made no

communication on the subject to Guizot, but that the latter became aware

of the resentment he had caused and made some sort of indirect offer to

say something in the newspapers. This Normanby would not hear of, and

said the reparation must be made in the tribune where the affront was

given. There the matter stands. Jarnac thinks the appearance of the two

last letters will rouse great indignation at Paris and complicate

matters still more. He denies that there was any intention on the part

of Guizot to impeach Normanby's veracity, and that his very vague and

guarded intimation that the report was not accurate by no means implies

such a charge. I think it very questionable whether any report of a

_conversation_ ought to be published without the party being referred

to, and having an opportunity of admitting or denying the accuracy of

such a report. It is a very nice matter, especially when the

conversation passes in one language and the report is made in another.

But Jarnac complains (and not without reason) of the tone of

Palmerston's letter. He says he was quite right to support his

Ambassador, but he has done so in terms unnecessarily offensive to

Guizot, and when he says that he has no doubt, notwithstanding what

passed in the Chambers, of the perfect accuracy of the report, he

transgresses the bounds of courtesy, and speaks positively to that of

which he cannot by possibility have any knowledge. This criticism

appears well founded. He said that similar circumstances had occurred

here about reports of conversations, and that Palmerston himself had

denied the accuracy of a report he had made of a conversation, and that

his denial was admitted.

[Sidenote: LORD GEORGE BENTINCK'S RAILWAY SCHEME.]

Jarnac says if Guizot had been informed by Normanby or by any common

friend that what he had said was offensive to Normanby, he is sure he

would have given a sufficient explanation, but unluckily none of the

Embassy are on such terms with him as admit of an amicable remonstrance.

I told him what had passed between John Russell and myself, and that he

wished me to see St. Aulaire. We agreed, however, that it was no use

saying anything more till we saw how this matter proceeded at Paris.

Matters are now as bad as possible there, and the French Embassy here

think that the King alone can make them up. He is, however, exasperated,

it seems, for Howden attempted to talk to him the other night, when he

got excited and flew out, especially about the attempts to assail

Guizot. Of course this squabble renders his position only the more

secure, for his removal now on any pretext would be a dastardly

concession to England which nobody in France would endure.

_February 19th._--George Bentinck's railway scheme was signally defeated

on Tuesday night: he had 118 with him, many less than he expected. He

made a great exposure of himself in a reply full of bad taste, bad

judgement, and impertinence. Peel made a very able speech, his attempts

to reply to which were pitiable; the minority consisted of sad rubbish.

Yesterday morning I was with Lord Lansdowne, and took the opportunity of

pouring a broadside into him about the management of foreign affairs,

and the necessity of his taking some decisive steps to prevent that

everlasting _petite guerre_ that Palmerston will wage. I spoke very

strongly indeed, and told him what the real state of affairs was at

Paris. He made great grimaces and seemed vastly struck with what I said,

and I hope something may come of it. This morning I have a letter from

Normanby bitterly complaining of the article in the 'Times,' in which he

is accused of holding communication with the enemies of the Government,

and says it came at a very critical moment and prevented Guizot making

the _amende_ he otherwise would have done.

_February 20th._--Matters get blacker and blacker at Paris, and Normanby

has got himself into a deplorable fix from which at present there seems

to be no exit. I have letter upon letter on the subject, all full of

grief and confusion. Normanby himself writes to complain of the harm the

'Times' has done him (a second letter), but seems still unconscious that

it is his own precipitancy and Palmerston's violence that have got him

into the scrape. The agitation at Paris is extreme, and the whole

Embassy now seem frightened and to be recovering (now that it is too

late) from their hallucinations about getting rid of Guizot, and their

being able to carry everything with a high hand. William Hervey even now

writes something like sense; and Howden tells Clarendon the truth, and

just what I have been saying all along. Craven writes to me and

anticipates nothing but Normanby's return and eventually war.

_February 22nd._--On Friday Lord Lansdowne called me into his room, and

told me I should be glad to hear that there was a probability of the

quarrel at Paris being settled, as the King had undertaken to mediate

between the parties. I went up to St. Aulaire directly after, but he had

heard nothing of it. He expressed joy, and said it had all along been

the only solution he had looked to. He then showed me a letter from

Guizot to him, written two days after the debate, in which he said that

he had spoken of Normanby with the greatest reserve, and avoided saying

anything which could impugn his veracity or the intentional

incorrectness of his report. I asked him whether Guizot would have said

this to Normanby if he had applied to him, and he said certainly he

would, he had no doubt of it. He then told me that a fresh ingredient

had been cast into the cauldron from the foolish incident of the

invitation to Guizot, and he read me a letter from M. de Cazes with an

account of it. Normanby gave a great assembly on the 19th, and amongst

the invitations, one was sent _by mistake_ to Guizot. Nothing ought to

have been done but to let it alone; but very foolishly they made a great

noise about it, and in a manner which was considered personally

insulting to Guizot; they proclaimed all over Paris that they never

intended to invite him. It had been settled in the first instance that

the Ministers and others belonging to the Government should go to this

party, and Guizot wished them to go; but after this incident M. de Cazes

said it was thought impossible to go, and he believed none would. So

much for _gaucherie_ and _maladresse_.

[Sidenote: DEFEAT OF THE PROTECTIONISTS.]

On Friday there was a fight and a division, in which the Government beat

Stanley by eight. He probably did not make great exertions, but, on the

other hand, not one of the Peelite peers, members of the late

Government, voted with this. The whole affair was characteristic of

Stanley, and, as such, is worth recording. He had resolved to attack the

Sugar measure of the Government by proposing to refer it to a committee,

and he sent for his peers to come up and support him. Clarendon asked

him if he really intended to do this, and suggested he had better inform

himself of the merits of the question before he decided. He agreed, and

they sent Wood, the Chairman of the Excise, to him, who was with him for

two hours, explained everything, and satisfied him the measure was

unobjectionable. After this Clarendon asked him again if he still meant

to bring on his motion. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'I mean to give you a gallop.

It is a long time since you have had one, and it will do you good.

Besides, I have brought my people up, and I must give them something to

do now they are come.' If he had got a majority he would have been more

perplexed than the Government, and this is the man the peers are ready

to follow and to make Prime Minister. The Railway debate and the speech

of George Bentinck have thrown the Protectionists into consternation

and dismay. Any remaining illusion about him has been entirely

dissipated by the display of his intemperance and incapacity, but they

have got him mounted on their backs, and they don't know how to shake

him off. It is pretty clear too that there is no cordiality between him

and Stanley, and that the Carlton dinner scene is still rankling in the

mind of George Bentinck, as was sure to be the case, for he never

forgets or forgives anything or anybody. He held forth the other night

to Charles Villiers against Stanley's folly for bringing forward this

sugar affair; said he had no case, and that he was 'a pretty fellow to

find fault with him for proposing the advance of public money he had

done: he who had proposed first a loan of twelve, and then a gift of

twenty millions to the West Indians.'

_February 23rd._--The Normanby quarrel is not made up: very far from it.

The King had an interview with Normanby, but does not seem to have

attempted a reconciliation. Lord Lansdowne, it seems, fancied he was

going to do so from something which Howden had written. I had a long

letter yesterday from Normanby full of futilities and excitement, and

still fancying that Guizot is weak. Normanby's assembly on Friday was

attended by none of the Government or Court people, and Guizot's (for it

was one of his nights) was crammed full. The _corps diplomatique_ went

to both. Nothing can be more deplorable than the state of the affair,

and Normanby seems quite unconscious of the poor figure he is cutting.

Jonathan Peel came to me yesterday fresh from Paris, and says the spirit

rising there and the excitement are very great, and matters have got

into such a state, that the least collision anywhere, or any difference

however slight, would produce an explosion and most likely a war. He

says the people most against Guizot are now still more against England.

One man (he would not tell me his name) said to him, 'M. Guizot has rode

his race in a manner that gives us great satisfaction, but there seems

to have been a little crossing and jostling in it.' The King

_insinuated_ to Normanby the other day that he did not approve of

Guizot's conduct, and that though he must support him _now_, he might

get rid of him by and by--at least it appears Normanby put this

construction on what he said, and continues in the miserable delusion

that Guizot will fall. This cauldron is now boiling furiously: the

bitterest resentment, immense excitement, continual mischief-making,

passion, incapacity, falsehood, treachery, all mingling in the mass, and

making a toil and trouble which everybody looks at with dismay and

disgust, except probably Palmerston himself. The Chancellor of the

Exchequer introduced his Budget last night with the loan, and was very

well received. I was sure it would take.

[Sidenote: ATTEMPT AT RECONCILIATION.]

_February 24th._--Went to John Russell yesterday morning to talk to him

about French affairs; found him just going to Cambridge House, so walked

there with him. I told him all I thought and all I heard from Paris. He

said it was all very bad, but that Guizot's conduct had been atrocious.

He let it be said all over Paris that he had given the lie to Normanby

and never made any explanation. I said I was not inclined to defend

Guizot, but that he was not just in this respect. We had not much time

to talk it over, and he ended at the gate by saying, 'Well, I think they

have both behaved as ill as possible.' 'There,' I answered, 'I entirely

agree with you: but what is to be done?' He said he would do what he

could, but he knew not what could be done. I suggested that Normanby had

better come away for a time to get a break or a pause. He said Normanby

wished this, but they were against it, and so we parted. I see that it

will be very difficult to whip him up to any sustained exertion, and

everything will probably go on _au jour la journÈe_.

_February 25th._--I did not think anything could surprise me about

Palmerston or his colleagues--the audacity of the one or the endurance

of the other; but I was surprised yesterday. In the morning I went to

the Euston Station to meet the Duke of Bedford and bring him to Belgrave

Square. I then told him the state of affairs at Paris, what I had said

to Lord John and Lord Lansdowne, and entreated him to try and do

something and get something done. On Saturday last there was as usual a

dinner at Palmerston's, where John Russell dined. At night, Clarendon

had some talk with Beauvale who asked him how long this state of things

was to go on, and if he was not aware of the danger of it; that it was

no use to speak to Palmerston, but he thought _he_ (Clarendon) might do

something, and that he had been just talking to St. Aulaire on the

subject. There they parted; but on Sunday morning he received a note

from Beauvale saying that he found matters were much more serious than

he had been aware of, and by a communication he had had from St. Aulaire

that morning he learnt that Palmerston had formally announced to him

that _unless Normanby received an immediate and satisfactory reparation

the intercourse between the two countries should cease_. This was done

by Palmerston without any concert with, and without the knowledge of,

his colleagues; and though John Russell, _the Prime Minister_, dined

with him the same day, he did not think proper to impart to him what he

had done. Clarendon then resolved to act without loss of time, but he

first went to call on Charles Wood, where he found John Russell. He

opened on the subject of the state of the French quarrel and its

possible consequences, and said, 'What should you say if Palmerston was

to make a communication to St. Aulaire that unless reparation was

offered to Normanby, all intercourse between France and England should

cease?' 'Oh no,' said John, 'he won't do that. I don't think there is

any danger of such a thing.' 'But he has done it,' said Clarendon; 'the

communication has been made, and the only question is whether St.

Aulaire has or has not forwarded it to the French Government.' This at

once roused Lord John, and he instantly wrote to St. Aulaire requesting

him, if he had not sent this communication to his Government, to suspend

doing so. Fortunately it was not gone. What passed between Lord John and

Palmerston I do not know, but the result has been a more moderate

instruction to Normanby from both of them.

[Sidenote: LORD PALMERSTON THREATENS A RUPTURE.]

Lady Palmerston had a letter from Madame de Lieven last night,

expressing her hopes that it would be arranged, which looks as if

Guizot would not reject the overture. She told me in the morning that

St. Aulaire had asked Palmerston to get Normanby away, and whether they

could not _send him out to India_!!! All this supplies very serious

matter for reflexion. It exhibits in the first place in the most

striking manner the character and the determination of Palmerston, and I

have not the least idea that the check he has received will either

discourage or deter him for the future. He will soon begin again on this

or some other matter. It exhibits likewise the tameness of his

colleagues, who will submit to this and anything else he may choose to

do. Most of his colleagues, indeed, will never be aware of what has

occurred. Lord John, Charles Wood, Clarendon, and probably Lord

Lansdowne know it; but most likely the others will remain in ignorance.

Lansdowne may tell Auckland. It strikes me that there is something base

and false in the transaction. Palmerston, in a manner which ought not to

be forgiven, takes this important and violent step by his own authority,

and without the knowledge of any of his colleagues. He is found out,

baffled, and he ought to be mortified, and to think himself to a certain

degree dishonoured. To have a communication of his[9] countermanded,

without his knowledge, by the Prime Minister, is a sort of affront which

any high-spirited man would naturally resent; but he is too much in the

wrong to resent it; so he submits. An honourable, straightforward man

would not have acted as he did; a high-spirited one would not have

endured such a rebuff and mortification. But a Prime Minister who was

sensible of the right and the duty of his position would not endure such

conduct as Palmerston's, would not be satisfied with interfering in this

particular case, but would at once assert his authority, loftily,

firmly, and with a determination that it should be permanently

respected. This I am pretty sure Lord John has not done.[10] How he has

settled the affair with Palmerston I know not, but it is certain that

he has done no more than stop this attempt, and has left everything to

go on as it may. The consequence is a state of things at once dangerous

and disgraceful: he dissatisfied with Palmerston and entirely

distrusting him; Palmerston dissatisfied and angry with him; the rest of

the Cabinet either ignorant of what is going on, or disinclined and

afraid to interfere. I have not the least idea of Palmerston's changing

his conduct or his policy. His fixed idea is to humble France, and to

wage a diplomatic war with her on the Spanish marriages, and to this

object to sacrifice every other. He is moving heaven and earth to

conciliate the Northern Courts. Ponsonby is doing everything he can at

Vienna, and holding the most _despotic_ language. While there is the

finest field open for us in Italy, and a noble part to be played,

Palmerston is ready to truckle to Austria, and to abandon or counteract

the Pope.[11]

[Footnote 9: It was verbal.]

[Footnote 10: [He did not do it in 1847; but in 1850 a similar

transaction led to Lord Palmerston's expulsion from the Foreign Office,

to which he never returned, though he subsequently filled other and

higher offices of State.]]

[Footnote 11: [Pius IX., who had recently been elected to the Papal See,

signalised the commencement of his reign by liberal measures, which were

vehemently opposed by the Austrian Government.]]

I met Sir Robert Peel yesterday and walked with him some time. I have

not had so much conversation with him for years. He praised the Budget,

lamented the state of foreign affairs, and talked of Palmerston as

everybody else does. I said we were always in danger from him, and he

must know how difficult it was to control him. He said, 'I am only

afraid that Lord John does not exert all the authority and determination

which, as Prime Minister, he ought to do'. I said, he did it _by

flashes_, but not constantly and efficiently.

Yesterday young Mr. Walter was brought to the office and introduced to

me. Old Walter is dying, and his son is about to succeed (in fact has

succeeded) to the throne of the 'Times,' and to all the authority,

influence, and power which the man who wields that sceptre can exercise.

He seems mild, sensible, and gentlemanlike. Though it was the first time

we ever met, he talked to me with great openness about the affairs of

the paper and the people connected with it. I was surprised to hear

from him that my original friend Barnes, who left behind him a great

reputation, was (though a good scholar) an idle boy, who never wrote a

line in the paper, and never had anything to do with any one of the

articles which all the world attributed to him.

[Sidenote: LORD JOHN RUSSELL THREATENED.]

_February 28th._--At Court yesterday to make Lord Grey Lord-Lieutenant

of Northumberland. They were in high spirits at the Prince's election at

Cambridge.[12] Lord John Russell told me that the work of reconciliation

at Paris was going on favourably. He asked St. Aulaire to give him a

copy of what Guizot had written to him about his speech as to Normanby,

which he did, and then asked him to write it officially to Palmerston.

St. Aulaire said he could not do this without Guizot's consent, but he

would ask him, and had no doubt he would give it. St. Aulaire read me a

letter from Guizot, in which he said that he had no desire to get rid of

Normanby, and begged me to write to Normanby and tell him so, which I

did. Palmerston was at the Council yesterday with his usual gay and

_dÈgagÈ_ air. The day before _for the first time_ the matter was

mentioned in the Cabinet, but in Palmerston's most offhand and dashing

style. I found, however, that Grey was acquainted with what had passed,

for he spoke to me about it. I did what I could to inspire him with a

security I do not myself feel. There have been reports abroad of a

dissension in the Cabinet about the Irish Poor Law, but it is not true.

They have been all agreed, and in fact there has been no disagreement on

any subject hitherto.

[Footnote 12: [Prince Albert was elected Chancellor of the University of

Cambridge on February 27, 1847.]]

I always forget to notice a thing I heard many months ago, but which has

never been known or talked of. A man (whose name and history I have now

forgotten), who thought he had some claims on the Government for

remuneration or employment, made several applications to John Russell,

who would not attend to them. The fellow turned savage, and was heard to

utter threats of personal violence, which from his determined character

gave great alarm to the friends and adherents who heard of them. Great

uneasiness prevailed for a time, and many consultations were held, and

the matter was deemed so serious, that at last they resolved to get the

man out of the country, and to purchase his forbearance, though not with

public money. In this emergency the Duke of Bedford came forward and

agreed to pay him a pension of 300_l._ a year, with which he was

satisfied, and went abroad. The Duke, intimate as I am with him, never

mentioned the matter to me in any way, and he does not know I am aware

of it. I think it was Le Marchant who settled this affair, and I do not

believe Lord John himself has ever been informed of it.

_March 2nd._--Accounts came yesterday that this miserable quarrel of

Normanby's was made up, but the end answered to the beginning, and

nothing could be more pitiful than the reconciliation. Howden wrote

Clarendon an account of it, in which he said very truly that Normanby

was like the month of March--coming in like a lion, and going out like a

lamb. He got the worst terms he possibly could, very different from his

first pretensions. Apponyi managed it, and they met at his house. Guizot

gave Apponyi a verbal assurance that he never intended to impugn

Normanby's veracity, and he received one that Normanby had not intended

any incivility in the matter of the card, nothing more, and this after

Normanby had proclaimed that he would accept nothing but an apology in

the Tribune of the Chamber of Deputies, and Palmerston had informed St.

Aulaire that if such an apology was not made, the diplomatic relations

should cease, and that it was for Guizot to consider whether he should

establish between England and France the same state of things as existed

between France and Russia--the business of the two Governments being

transacted by ChargÈs d'Affaires. A most lame and impotent conclusion

indeed. Normanby feels this acutely, for he writes to me a querulous

letter, in which he says that, 'if he had obtained less than he had a

right to expect, and if his position _there_ should not be quite as good

as if he had insisted on more, it would be owing to the cavils and

criticisms of those over-candid friends who allowed their opinions of

the probability that there must have been some _indiscretion_ on his

part to be known through Jarnac or some one of that description exactly

in the quarter where it was calculated to do the most mischief.' It is

really a comical instance of self-delusion, to see Normanby going on

even to me, protesting his innocence of the charge of indiscretion and

of communication with the French Opposition, _notamment_ Thiers. It

really is incredible that he can so deceive himself, and fancy he can

deceive others.

[Sidenote: THE DUCHY OF CORNWALL.]

_March 8th._--At the Stud House on Thursday and Friday. There I read one

evening a part of one of my journal books, and I am glad I made the

experiment, because I discovered how trivial, poor, and uninteresting

the greater part of it is. I had read it over myself the night before,

and did not find this out; but when I came to read it aloud, I saw at

once that such was the case, with a few things worth hearing scattered

about it, but on the whole dull. This has satisfied me that a very

careful revision of the whole is necessary, and a selection of such

parts as may hereafter be deemed readable.

George Anson told me yesterday that the Queen's affairs are in such good

order and so well managed, that she will be able to provide for the

whole expense of Osborne out of her income without difficulty, and that

by the time it is furnished it will have cost 200,000_l._ He said, also,

that the Prince of Wales when he came of age would not have less than

70,000_l._ a year from the Duchy of Cornwall. They have already saved

100,000_l._ The Queen takes for his maintenance whatever she pleases,

and the rest, after paying charges, is invested in the funds or in land,

and accumulates for him.

_March 13th._--On Thursday night 'Cracow'[13] came on again, when George

Bentinck made a long, violent, foolish speech, running counter to

everybody's sentiments, and extravagantly praising the three Great

Powers who had perpetrated the deed. Peel followed in a speech full of

sense and judgement, and very good for the Government, the whole of

whose conduct in this matter he warmly supported. Nothing can exceed the

disgust and despair of the Protectionists at the extravagance and folly

of their leader, but they have got him, and cannot get rid of him; they

are in a regular fix, and every day becoming more disorganised and

discontented. Meanwhile he, by all accounts, improves in manner and

facility, which only makes him the more dangerous because he is full of

increased confidence in himself, and pours forth with the utmost

volubility the nonsense with which his head is full. I met Lyndhurst at

dinner the other day, whom I have not seen for a long time, and he began

talking in his usual offhand style: said that George Bentinck had ruined

the party, and, if it was not for him and for Peel, that the

Conservatives would all come together again. If this Government would

now avoid all extremes, he thought they were in for a long time. He had

told Stanley that, unless they could make some great exertion before the

next election, the party was at an end. Stanley said 'they should do

very well.' I asked Lyndhurst what could be expected of any party of

which Stanley was the head, to say nothing of George Bentinck, and he

owned he was utterly unfit; still, Lyndhurst has a hankering after

patching up the party. He insists that Brougham has persuaded himself

that this Government cannot go on, and that in any fresh combination a

Chancellor will be wanted, and that somehow the Great Seal will fall

into his hands. Brougham made a display of more than usual violence and

indecency in the House of Lords last night, and proved (if there was any

doubt) how necessary it is to have a Speaker to keep order there. He has

really made the House of Lords a bear-garden.

[Footnote 13: [The conduct of the British Government with reference to

the annexation of Cracow was again discussed by Lord George Bentinck.

Eight or ten years before it had been proposed, and even promised, to

send a British Consul to Cracow, but this design being strongly opposed

by the three Northern Powers, Lord Palmerston abandoned it.]]

[Sidenote: MORE BLUNDERS AT PARIS.]

Normanby writes from Paris out of humour: he has lost his senses and his

temper; he harps querulously upon the details of his miserable quarrel,

and thinks the Government have used him ill by not supporting him. He is

writhing under the consciousness of cutting a poor figure, and of the

triumph Guizot has gained over him, but there is no end of his

_gaucheries_. When the quarrel was made up, and he invited Guizot to

dinner, he selected the day on which Guizot himself always receives his

friends. Guizot accepted, and announced that he should not receive that

day, but of course the invitation was attributed either to stupidity or

to impertinence. St. Aulaire asked me, 'Est-ce que c'Ètait une

Ètourderie, ou l'a-t-il fait exprËs?' I assured him it must have been an

_Ètourderie_, but an unpardonable one. What was graver, however, was

that the first night of Guizot's reception after the reconciliation,

when he ought to have taken care to go there, he went to MolÈ instead,

and never went to Guizot at all. However, John Russell is now alive to

foreign affairs, and his brother is keeping him up to it. The Duke told

me he wrote him six sheets on the subject of our foreign relations,

especially with France, '_very confidential_.' The Government here are

going on very well. Lord John speaks excellently; the Speaker says he

never saw any Government do their business so well. Charles Wood's

success is an immense thing for them; a good Chancellor of the Exchequer

is a tower of strength to a Government. Goulburn was only Peel's chief

clerk; Wood is taking a flight of his own. Every day strengthens the

Government by exhibiting the utter incapacity of the Opposition, and the

impossibility of any other Government being formed; and people who have

no party heat or prejudices will have the best workmen; but there is a

disposition to _fronder_ in some quarters. I observed to Lincoln, whom I

met, that the Government were going on very well, but he would not admit

it.

_March 14th._--Saw Graham yesterday, and had a long talk with him. He

said John Russell's speech on the Irish Poor Law was the best thing he

had done since he was Minister, and proved his competence for his high

office; that he viewed with the deepest alarm the measure itself, but

that, in the temper of the House of Commons and the country, it was

inevitable; the Government could have done nothing but what they have,

and, having come to that resolution, nothing could exceed the skill and

judgement with which John Russell has dealt with it, and his speech had

carried the question. He thinks the consequence will be a complete

revolution of property, the ruin of the landed proprietors, and the

downfall of Protestant ascendency and of the Church. He expects that the

first to abandon the Church will be the Protestant proprietors

themselves; that a tremendous ordeal is to be gone through, involving

vast changes and social vicissitudes, but that on the whole, and at a

remote period, it will produce the regeneration of Ireland. This, much

elaborated, was the substance of his opinion. I do not pretend to

enunciate any opinion as to the solution of this tremendous problem

which gives rise to so many thoughts--social, political, and

religious--perplexing the mind upon all. How those devout persons who

are accustomed to find in everything that happens manifestations of

divine goodness and wisdom, and are always overflowing with thanksgiving

and praise, accommodate this awful and appalling reality with their

ideas and convictions, I do not divine. To me no difficulty is

presented, because I never have allowed my mind to be exposed to the

hazard of any such perplexity. I do not pretend to define the

attributes, nor to pass judgement on the counsels of God; 'me‚

ignoranti‚ et debilitate me involvo,' and I submit and resign myself,

with an implicit and unrepining humility, to all things that are

decreed, public or private, without venturing to pronounce an opinion,

and without wishing to give vent to a feeling on things which are far

beyond the reach of any human comprehension.

_March 23rd._--Last week the political and commercial world were struck

with astonishment at the sudden and unexpected announcement of a

financial arrangement between the Emperor of Russia and the Bank of

France, of which nobody, either politicians or financiers, could make

head or tail, nor up to this moment has any light been thrown upon

it.[14] Excursive and eager political minds, however, instantly jumped

to very vast conclusions, and beheld deep political designs, a monstrous

union between France and Russia, French divisions crossing the Pyrenees,

and Russian the Balkan.

[Footnote 14: [The Emperor of Russia placed a sum of two millions

sterling in the hands of the Bank of France. The motive of this

investment was never discovered, but it proved that the finances of

Russia were then in a flourishing condition.]]

[Sidenote: STATE OF IRELAND.]

For the last week the accounts from Ireland have been rather better, but

the people are, without any doubt, perishing by hundreds. The people of

this country are animated by very mixed and very varying feelings,

according to the several representations which are put before them, and

are tossed about between indignation, resentment, rage, and economical

fear on the one hand, and pity and generosity on the other; and the

circumstances of the case, which will appear fabulous to after ages,

will account for this. There is no doubt whatever that, while English

charity and commiseration have been so loudly invoked, and we have been

harrowed with stories of Irish starvation, in many parts of Ireland the

people have been suffered to die for want of food, when there was all

the time plenty of food to give them, but which was hoarded on

speculation. But what is still more extraordinary, people have died of

starvation with money enough to buy food in their pockets. I was told

the night before last that Lord de Vesci had written to his son that,

since the Government had positively declared they would not

furnish seed, abundance of seed had come forth, and, what was more

extraordinary, plenty of potatoes; and Labouchere told me there had been

three coroner's inquests, with verdicts 'starvation,' and in each case

the sufferers had been found to have considerable sums of money in their

possession, and in one (if not more) still more considerable sums in the

savings bank: yet they died rather than spend their money in the

purchase of food.

_March 31st._--George Bentinck made another exhibition in the House of

Commons the night before last in the shape of an attack on Labouchere

more violent and disgusting than any of his previous ones. He seems to

have lost all command over his temper, and his indiscretion and

arrogance have excited a bitterness against him not to be described.

The Protectionists are overwhelmed with shame and chagrin, and they know

not what to do: he has ruined them as a party; he was hooted even by

those who sat behind him, and all the signs of disapprobation with which

he was assailed only excited and enraged him the more. The Government

are now anxious to dissolve as soon as they possibly can, justly

thinking that the time is very ripe for them. There is at this moment

certainly no party spirit, no zeal and animation in any quarter, and

there are neither great principles nor measures in dispute to serve as

war cries or rallying points. The only party, therefore, that has any

interest in exerting itself is that of the Government, who naturally

wish to keep the power of which they have got possession. The Irish Poor

Law Bill is going through the House of Commons with hardly any

opposition, and everybody, willingly or unwillingly, has made up his

mind that the great experiment must be tried.

[Sidenote: BIRTHDAY REFLEXIONS.]

The Government meanwhile are in a state of great uneasiness at the

condition of foreign affairs[15] in almost every quarter of the

world--in Spain, Portugal, and Greece particularly; in Switzerland, in

Italy, and Germany to a less degree; and they are not only in a state of

uneasiness, but in one of extreme perplexity, because they by no means

clearly see their way or have any accurate knowledge of the designs and

objects of the different European Powers; they think, however, that

France is now willing to let the _entente_ with England drop, and is

disposed to form connexions with Russia and Austria in a sort of

semi-hostility to England, and by a mutual connivance at each other's

objects. They suspect, without being sure of it, that the recent

financial operation has a deeper political significance, and that the

object of France is to secure the neutrality of Russia and Austria in

the affairs of Spain, and to repay it by suffering the Austrians to

coerce the Pope and put down the rising spirit of Italian improvement.

Then the condition of Spain and Portugal excites the greatest

apprehension, and the more because it is evident we do not know what we

can or what we ought to do. I never saw people so perplexed and with so

little of fixed ideas or settled intentions on the subject.

[Footnote 15: [The effect of the quarrel arising out of the Queen of

Spain's marriage, and the squabble between M. Guizot and Lord Normanby,

began to bear fatal consequences on the politics of Europe. The amicable

relations which had subsisted between France and England until Lord

Palmerston returned to power were at an end. Lord Normanby, though

ostensibly reconciled to M. Guizot, remained in close alliance with M.

Thiers and the leaders of the French Opposition, and his efforts to

overthrow the Government to which he was accredited contributed to the

overthrow of the Monarchy. M. Guizot, at variance with the English

Minister of foreign affairs, and assailed by the English Ambassador in

Paris, drew nearer to the policy of the Northern Courts, and especially

of Prince Metternich. Such were the signs of the approaching tempest

which broke over Europe in the following year.]]

I met the Archbishop of Dublin, Whately, at dinner yesterday at Raikes

Currie's. I don't think him at all agreeable; he has a skimble-skamble

way of talking as if he was half tipsy, and the stories he tells are

abominably long and greatly deficient in point.

_April 2nd._--My birthday: a day of no joy to me, and which I always

gladly hasten over. There is no pleasure in reaching one's fifty-third

year and in a retrospect full of shame and a prospect without hope; for

shameful it is to have wasted one's faculties, and to have consumed in

idleness and frivolous, if not mischievous pleasures that time which, if

well employed, might have produced good fruit full of honour and of

real, solid, permanent satisfaction. And what is there to look forward

to at my time of life? Nothing but increasing infirmities, and the

privations and distresses which they will occasion. I trust I shall have

fortitude and resignation enough to meet them, and I pray that I may be

cut off and be at rest before I am exposed to any great trials. When we

have no longer the faculty and the means of enjoyment in this life, it

is better to quit it. With regard to that great future, the object of

all men's hopes, fears, and speculations, I reject nothing and admit

nothing.

Divines can say but what themselves believe;

Strong proof they have, but not demonstrative.

I believe in God, who has given us in the wonders of creation

irresistible--to my mind at least irresistible--evidence of His

existence. All other evidences offered by men claiming to have divine

legations and authority, are, to me, imperfect and inconclusive. To the

will of God I submit myself with implicit resignation. I try to find out

the truth, and the best conclusions at which my mind can arrive are

really _truth_ to me. However, I will not write an essay now and here.

Sometimes I think of writing on religious subjects amongst the many

others which it occurs to me to handle. Ever since I wrote my book on

Ireland, I have been longing to write again, and for more than one

reason: first, the hope of again writing something that the world may

think worth reading; secondly, because the occupation is very

interesting and agreeable, inasmuch as it furnishes a constant object

and something specific to do; and thirdly, because I find that nothing

but having a subject in hand which renders enquiry and investigation in

some particular line necessary is sufficient to conquer idleness. Mere

desultory reading does not conquer it, and there is a want of

satisfaction in reading without an object. Why then do I not write, when

I am conscious that I have a very tolerable power of expressing myself?

It is because I am also conscious that I want knowledge, familiarity

with books, recollection sufficiently accurate of the little I have

read, and that facility of composition which extensive information and

the habit of using it alone can give. It is when this struggle is going

on in my mind between the desire to write and the sense of incapacity,

that I feel so bitterly the consequences of my imperfect education, and

my lazy, unprofitable habits. But no more of this now. To-morrow I am

going to Newmarket to begin another year of the old pursuits.

[Sidenote: THE POWER OF THE PRESS.]

I dined with David Dundas the Solicitor-General the day before yesterday

at the Clarendon Hotel: splendid banquet; twenty miscellaneous friends.

Labouchere there told me that Lord Hatherton had not long ago shown him

Dudley's diary, which is very curious.[16] It was very regularly kept,

and told of everything he did, giving minute details of his adventures

both in high and low life. Certainly nothing could be more injudicious

than to commit to paper and to leave behind him such memorials as these,

and accordingly Labouchere advised Hatherton to commit the MS. to the

flames. Dudley speaks of his friends, and even of his acquaintances

generally, in a very good-natured spirit, and of himself with modesty

and diffidence. He was in a dreadful state of nervousness whenever he

had to make a speech in Parliament. He felt very bitterly against his

father, who, he thought, had ruined his prospects and character by the

way he had brought him up. I hope Hatherton will not burn this MS., and

that I shall some day manage to see it.

[Footnote 16: [Lord Hatherton and the Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts) were

Lord Dudley's executors. This diary never saw the light.]]

Yesterday Le Marchant told me an anecdote illustrative of the power of

the press. He called late one night many years ago on Barnes at his

house, and while there another visitor arrived whom he did not see, but

who was shown into another room. Barnes went to him and after a quarter

of an hour returned, when Le Marchant said, 'Shall I tell you who your

visitor is?' Barnes said yes, if he knew. 'Well, then, I know his step

and his voice; it is Lord Durham.' Barnes owned it was, when Le Marchant

said, 'What does he come for?' Barnes said he came on behalf of King

Leopold, who had been much annoyed by some article in the 'Times,' to

entreat they would put one in of a contrary and healing description. As

Le Marchant said, here was the proudest man in England come to solicit

the editor of a newspaper for a crowned head!

Moxon told me on Wednesday that some years ago Disraeli had asked him to

take him into partnership, but he refused, not thinking he was

sufficiently prudent to be trusted. He added he did not know how Dizzy

would like to be reminded of that now.

_April 10th._--Just before I left town last week I saw Arbuthnot, who

entreated me, if I had any influence with the Government, to get them to

take up the subject of the defence of the country. He said it haunted

the Duke of Wellington, and deprived him of rest, and night and day he

was occupied with the unhappy state of our foreign relations, the danger

of war, and the defenceless state of our coasts. He afterwards wrote to

the Duke of Bedford on that, as well as about the Enlistment Bill, the

provisions of which he does not approve of. The Duke of Bedford spoke to

me about these things, and we agreed that it was desirable Lord John

should see the Duke of Wellington very soon, and come to some

understanding with him. On the defences, Lord John agrees in the

propriety of doing what the Duke wants, but he thinks the danger of war

is not imminent, and that it is better to do what is necessary gradually

and without noise.

_April 18th._--In consequence of the communications between the Duke of

Bedford, Arbuthnot and me, Lord John saw the Duke of Wellington and has

come to an agreement with him. The Duke will support their Enlistment

Bill, and they give way to him in what he wished about the pensioners.

Arbuthnot told me that the Duke was rather surprised that Lord John did

not mention the subject of the defence of the country, nor tell him if

he had seen the letters he has lately written to Lord Anglesey on that

subject. It is impossible to describe his anxiety or his indignation at

the supineness of the Government and the country in reference to this

matter. What he wants is that the militia shall be called out, and

20,000 men added to the regular army, but this latter he knows he cannot

hope for. His letters to Lord Anglesey are very strong. The Duke knows

that some of the Cabinet entirely take his views; the subject has been

brought before them, and Clarendon and Palmerston are as strong in this

sense as the Duke himself. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is against

anything expensive. Lord John seems to have been rather neutral. The

Duke attributes all the obstacles his plans encounter to Grey; however,

it seems probable that something will be done. Lord John will act,

though not so rapidly or decisively as the Duke wishes.

[Sidenote: ILLNESS OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.]

Amongst other troubles the state of affairs in Portugal has exceedingly

perplexed the Government, and a great diplomatic blunder seems to have

been committed in regard to them. Some time ago Clarendon wanted to

propose to France a joint interference and mediation with Spain, to

settle the miserable quarrel which is ruining the country. The Cabinet

would not agree to it, Palmerston being always against France, and the

others disinclined to make any proposals to the French Government; but

now they find out that they are wrong and that they had better have done

this at first, for France has offered the Portuguese Government its

assistance or interference, and the knowledge of this has induced us to

make the proposal now which we had better have done long ago. It was an

excellent opportunity for renewing amicable relations with France,

properly, prudently, and without affectation.[17]

[Footnote 17: [An insurrection had broken out in Portugal in October

1846 against the authority of Queen Donna Maria. In the following month

the British fleet entered the Tagus to support the Queen. The contest

continued for some months, and in May 1847 a conference was held in

London between the representatives of Great Britain, France, Spain, and

Portugal--the original parties to the Quadruple alliance--to settle the

disorders which had broken out in the last-mentioned kingdom.]]

_April 30th._--Troubles and difficulties of various kinds have not

diminished since I wrote last. The state of Ireland continues not only

as bad, but as unpromising as ever, and, in addition, there is the great

misfortune, public and private, of the approaching death of Lord

Bessborough, the Lord Lieutenant. His illness was very sudden, at least

the dangerous symptoms were, and he is dying amidst universal sympathy

and regret. Lord John has made up his mind as to his successor, but

without telling his colleagues his intentions; he may have told some,

but certainly not all, for he has not told Clarendon, with whom he is on

very confidential terms.[18] The Duke of Bedford told Clarendon Lord

John had talked it all over with him, and had settled what to do, but

that he was not at liberty to reveal his intentions. This is acting

independently and _en maÓtre_.

[Footnote 18: [The successor was Lord Clarendon himself.]]

The other night the Enlistment Bill was debated in the House of Lords,

and the Government got a small majority by the aid of the Peelite peers.

The Opposition were full of eagerness and heat on this Bill and quite

persuaded that the Duke of Wellington was with them. He had certainly

given them to understand that he was so. Last week Stanley and Richmond

were at Newmarket, and one day after dinner at the Duke of Rutland's we

talked it over. I said they would find the Duke was not opposed to the

Bill. 'Then,' said Stanley, 'he must be very much changed since I talked

to him about it. There can be no secret as to what passed, because three

or four people were present. I said to him, "Pray, sir, what is the

necessity for this Bill?" and he said, "I'll tell you: they have got a

d----d good army, and they want to make it a d----d bad one."' This,

which was very characteristic, might very well convince Stanley and the

rest that he was against Grey's measure, as, in fact, and in spite of

this support, he really is, but he came to an agreement with the

Government and promised to speak in favour of the Bill. So he did, but

he spoke in such a way that though the Opposition were surprised and

vexed at his supporting it at all, they saw pretty clearly that he did

not like it, and they accordingly were not deterred from voting against

it. Ellesmere told me yesterday that the Government must not attempt to

try any fresh experiments with the army, for if they did the Duke would

certainly resign.

[Sidenote: THE QUEENS OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.]

Affairs in Spain and Portugal are in a very strange state. The young

Queen of Spain exhibits some character and some talent, but she is

unsteady and uneducated. The turn matters have taken at Madrid is,

however, enough to provoke and annoy the French, while every day

exhibits more and more the infamy and disgrace of the marriage which the

French Government forced upon the Queen. Her husband is a wretched

imbecile sulky fanatic, who passes his life in trying to make

embarrassments for the Queen, and in praying to the shade of his mother

to forgive him for having married the usurper of his cousin's throne.

They have been endeavouring to effect the semblance of a reconciliation

between them, but he is incurably sulky, and will not make it up. Not

long ago he sent for Pacheco, and told him it was his desire that a

Council should be convened forthwith. Pacheco said very well, but begged

His Majesty would be so good as to tell him for what purpose he wished

for it. The King replied that his object was to lay before the Council

proofs of the Queen's infidelity to him. Pacheco said if that was his

object he must beg to decline to summon the Council. On this he

announced that he had prepared a manifesto to the nation setting forth

his wrongs, and that it should be immediately published. They persuaded

him to desist from this scandalous intention, and as a sort of

compromise they got Serrano to quit Madrid. It appears that the

Queen-mother, seeing how matters were going on, intended to return; but

her daughter had no mind she should, and told her Ministers they had

better look to it. It was their affair, but that if Mama came back

matters would go ill. On this they sent Concha to Paris to stop her.

Christina wrote Isabella a lecture on her proceedings, and told her that

she was too little educated to know how to conduct herself properly, to

which she replied, 'Mama knows that I did not educate myself.' However,

everything is in a state of the greatest doubt and uncertainty there,

and the French are sure to begin their intrigues again and to create as

much confusion as they can.

In Portugal, the other Queen continues as obstinate as ever, yielding

inch by inch as the danger approaches her more nearly, and is supported

in her obstinacy by the security she is still able to find in foreign

intervention. We have anchored our ships close to the town, and are

prepared to land our Marines to protect her person, and, thus knowing

she is personally safe, she is emboldened to refuse or demur to the

terms of accommodation which Palmerston has suggested, and to try on the

chances of war totally regardless, of course, of the misery of

prolonging the contest. The natural course for us to take would be to

offer our mediation, and if she refused it to withdraw our ships and

leave her to her fate. But we cannot do this, because if we were to

desert her the Spaniards and French would instantly step in and

reconquer her kingdom for her. Such is the _nodo sviluppato_ in which

these wretched affairs are involved. Lisbon is ready to rise in

insurrection the moment the army of the Junta makes its appearance.

Southern writes very curious accounts to Clarendon of the state of the

town. The jealousy and aversion of the Queen of Portugal to him have

compelled him to withdraw altogether from the affairs of the mission,

though he is still Secretary of Legation. Our Court continues to take

the same interest in the Lisbon Coburgs, and would willingly interfere

in their favour with more vigour if the Ministers would consent to do

so. Palmerston's defects prove rather useful in his intercourse with the

Court. To their wishes or remonstrances he expresses the greatest

deference, and then goes on in his own course without paying the least

attention to what they have been saying to him.

_May 2nd._--Yesterday morning the Duke of Bedford called on me, and told

me Lord John's secret intentions about Ireland, which he said he had not

yet imparted to any of the Cabinet, and only discussed with him. I

believe, however, that Lord John has told Labouchere, and nobody else.

He thinks of taking this opportunity of abolishing the office of

Lord-Lieutenant and making a Secretary of State for Ireland, who is not

to reside permanently but go there occasionally, and he destines this

office for Clarendon. This is his plan, which, however, he has by no

means determined on, and they both think it doubtful if it would do. The

moment, however, seems propitious for effecting this alteration; there

is no O'Connell either to inveigh against it or to seize any power that

may be, or appear to be, relinquished, and the difficulty of selecting a

successor to Lord Bessborough is so great as to be almost insuperable.

Meanwhile the town is full of reports about a new Lord-Lieutenant,

nobody dreaming of what Lord John is resolving in his mind. Everybody

has got some story (_from the best authority_) of the post having been

offered to this person, and pressed upon that. Bessborough still lingers

on, and a more striking and touching deathbed has seldom been seen. He

is surrounded by the whole of his numerous family, overwhelmed with

affliction, a general manifestation of sympathy and regret, and the deep

sense which is entertained of the loss which the country will sustain by

his death, afford the best and most feeling testimony to his capacity

and his merit. He is perfectly aware of his condition, and in full

possession of his faculties. Duncannon wrote to John Russell yesterday,

as I am told, an admirable letter, which was sent to the Queen.

Bessborough was bent upon writing himself to John Russell before he

died, and was preparing to do so. Certainly a greater loss both public

and private has seldom occurred.

[Sidenote: THE LORD-LIEUTENANCY OF IRELAND.]

_May 3rd._--The Duke of Bedford came here this morning. They now find

there are immense difficulties in the way of abolishing the office of

Lord-Lieutenant at present; they are assured that if it was proposed the

Repealers would raise a furious clamour and be joined by the Orangemen.

Some Irishman (he did not tell me who), a sensible man and favourable to

the abolition, tells him and Lord John this, consequently Lord John has

told the Duke that _his_ going there would be the only solution of the

difficulty. This difficulty, he says, is enormous and increasing; that

everything tends to prove that dangers are thickening round them, and

that next year they will have to propose measures that will be very

unpopular. Bessborough has dictated to Lord John a most affecting

letter; his daughter, Lady Emily, wrote also, saying that her father was

so weak that he was scarcely intelligible, and she was not sure she had

quite faithfully written what he had dictated, but that she had given

the substance of it as well as she could. He tells Lord John that the

dangers and difficulties are very great, and that he foresees their

increase, and he expects him to appoint a man to succeed him who shall

be firm and bold, and, above all, who will not seek for popularity. I

found the Duke most unwilling, and almost, but not quite, decided not to

go. He will go if Lord John insists on it, but he dreads and shrinks

from it; neither his health, nerves, nor spirits are equal to such a

task. The principal reason for his going is, that he alone can go

temporarily, and Lord John does not contemplate his remaining. Lord

John says he cannot ask Clarendon to go on account of the expense,

unless he was to stay there for three years. He says that not one of the

men who have been mentioned will do for the office, especially Morpeth;

and he thinks Bessborough's warning as to the sort of man they ought to

choose was intended to point at Morpeth as the one they ought not to

appoint. Morpeth himself is longing to go. 'It is now come to this,' the

Duke said: 'it must be either Clarendon, myself, or Lords Justices.' He

went from me to Clarendon to talk it over with him. Grey and Labouchere

are the only members of the Cabinet to whom he has mentioned the matter.

The Duke has had a long confidential letter from Arbuthnot about the

Duke of Wellington, and his dread of Grey and his reforms, the object of

it being to deter the Government from attempting anything else. It is

clear they have dragged the Duke with them as far as he can be persuaded

to go, and if they try anything more, and make any further attempts on

his patience or condescension, he will then turn restive and resign.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.]

_June 7th._[19]--More than a month has elapsed since I have written

anything, and from the usual cause, that of having been occupied with

Epsom, Ascot, and Newmarket. The principal events which have occurred

have been the deaths of Bessborough and O'Connell, which took place

almost at the same time, within a day or two of one another. The

departure of the latter, which not long ago would have excited the

greatest interest and filled the world with political speculations, was

heard almost with unconcern, so entirely had his importance vanished; he

had in fact been for some time morally and politically defunct, and

nobody seems to know whether his death is likely to prove a good or an

evil, or a mere matter of indifference. The death of Bessborough excited

far greater interest, and no man ever quitted the world more surrounded

by sympathy, approbation, respect, and affection, than he did. During

his last illness, which he himself and all about him knew to be fatal,

he was surrounded by a numerous and devoted family, and the people of

Dublin universally testified their regard for him, and their grief at

losing him. He continued in the uninterrupted possession of his

faculties almost to the last hour of his existence, and he calmly

discussed every matter of public and private interest, in conversation

with his children and friends, or dictating letters to John Russell and

his colleagues at home. He expired at eleven o'clock at night; at nine

he felt his pulse and said he saw the end was approaching. He then sent

for all his family, seventeen in number, saw them and took leave of them

separately, and gave to each a small present he had prepared, and then

calmly lay down to die; in less than two hours all was over. They say

that his funeral was one of the finest and most striking sights possible

from the countless multitudes which attended it, and the decorum and

good feeling which were displayed. Clarendon has kept the whole of

Bessborough's staff and household, with one exception; and he told them

that he kept them on account of their attachment to his predecessor.

[Footnote 19: [In this interval Lord Clarendon consented to accept the

Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland from a sense of public duty. He remained

there five years, and, during a very stormy period, proved himself one

of the best Viceroys who ever governed Ireland.]]

The reputation which Bessborough had acquired, which at the time of his

death and since his Irish administration was very considerable, affords

a remarkable example of the success which may be obtained by qualities

of a superior description, without great talents, without knowledge and

information, and without any power of speaking in Parliament. He had

long been addicted to politics, and was closely connected by

relationship or friendship with the most eminent Whig leaders. His

opinions had always been strongly Liberal, and he seemed to have found

the place exactly adapted to his capacity and disposition when he became

the Whig whipper-in of the House of Commons; he was gradually initiated

in all the secrets of that party, and he soon became a very important

member of it from his various intimacies and the personal influence he

was enabled to exercise. He had a remarkably calm and unruffled temper

and very good sound sense. The consequence was that he was consulted by

everybody, and usually and constantly employed in the arrangement

of difficulties, the adjustment of rival pretensions, and the

reconciliation of differences, for which purposes some such man is

indispensable and invaluable in every great political association. He

continued to acquire fresh weight and influence, and at length nothing

could be done without Duncannon as he then was. Everybody liked him, and

King William, when he hated the rest of the Whigs, always testified good

humour and regard for him. He took office and became a Cabinet Minister,

and he contrived to do a vast deal of Parliamentary business, especially

in the House of Lords, and carry bills through Parliament without ever

making the semblance of a speech. In this way by his good nature and

good sense, and an extreme liveliness and elasticity of spirits, which

made him a very pleasant and acceptable member of society, he continued

to increase in public reputation and private favour, and when the

Government was formed last year, his appointment to the Lord-Lieutenancy

of Ireland was generally approved of. He had almost always been on good

terms with O'Connell, indeed he never was on bad terms with anybody; and

as an Irishman he was agreeable to the people. In his administration,

adverse and unhappy as the times were, he displayed great industry,

firmness, and knowledge of the character and circumstances of the Irish

people, and he conciliated the good will of those to whom he had been

all his life opposed. Lord Roden, the head of the Orange party, who has

all along acted a very honourable and patriotic part, afforded ample

testimony to his merits, and gave him a very frank and generous support.

[Sidenote: LORD CLARENDON GOES TO IRELAND.]

There was a great pother for some time before his death about a

successor. The candidates soon became reduced to three, though

candidates they must not be called; that is, the choice lay between the

Duke of Bedford, Clarendon, and Morpeth. Lord John communicated with the

Duke and with Labouchere upon the subject, and perhaps with Lord

Lansdowne, and, for a long time, he rather leant to the Duke's going,

and tried to persuade him, not, however, without misgivings; but he

thought it not fair to ask Clarendon, and he had no mind to send

Morpeth, who was dying to go. The Duke was rather tickled at the idea of

the appointment, somewhat encouraged by the numerous invitations he

received to take it, but desperately afraid of it all the time. To my

surprise he did not absolutely reject it, as I thought he would have

done. In this wavering and uncertain state of mind he broached the

matter to Clarendon, who affected to repudiate it and to dread and

dislike it, and urged the Duke to go himself. I say _affected_, because

it soon became very clear to me, as it did to the Duke, that Clarendon

had no disinclination to go, and would in fact be excessively mortified

and disappointed if anybody went but himself. The play of human nature

was amusing; the Duke was not quite willing to give it up, but much more

afraid to go, and he enjoyed mightily all the expressions of a desire

that he should be Lord-Lieutenant, which were addressed to him from

various quarters; on the other hand, Clarendon treated it as a sacrifice

and a misfortune; hesitated, objected, and did everything to make it

appear as if it were a painful burthen cast upon him, but he was all the

time in a great fright lest the Duke should be persuaded to accept it,

and he said, and made me say to him, that one of his principal motives

for accepting it himself was his desire to save the Duke from a burthen

which would, he was sure, break him down with anxiety and labour. A

great deal of time was wasted and much useless talk expended in

fictitious fears and scruples, but at last it was settled that he should

go, as it might just as well have been without any fuss or difficulty,

for the truth is that he is the fittest man, and is universally

considered so. Nothing can be more flattering and gratifying than the

reception he has met with from all ranks and all parties, and he is now

(whatever doubts or misgivings he may have had, and, in spite of his

secret wishes, he probably had some) quite satisfied with his

appointment.

The death of O'Connell, I have said, made little or no sensation here.

He had quarrelled with half of his followers, he had ceased to be the

head of a great party animated by any great principle, or encouraged to

pursue any attainable object; the Repeal cause was become despicable and

hopeless without ceasing to be noisy and mischievous. O'Connell knew not

what to say or what to do; he had become bankrupt in reputation and in

power, and was no longer able to do much good or much harm; broken in

health and spirits, and seeing Ireland penetrated by famine and

sickness, and reduced to a condition of helpless dependence on England,

having lost a great part of his _prestige_ in Ireland without having

gained respect or esteem in England, he went away unregretted and

unnoticed to breathe his last in a foreign land. He was received

everywhere on his route with the marks of respect and admiration which

were considered due to his wonderful career and to the great part he had

played in the history of his country, and his memory has been treated

with some appearance of affection in Ireland, and with a decent respect

and forbearance here. History will speak of him as one of the most

remarkable men who ever existed; he will fill a great space in its

pages; his position was unique; there never was before, and there never

will be again, anything at all resembling it. To rise from the humblest

situation to the height of empire like Napoleon is no uncommon destiny;

there have been innumerable successful adventurers and usurpers; but

there never was a man who, without altering his social position in the

slightest degree, without obtaining any office or station whatever,

raised himself to a height of political power which gave him an enormous

capacity for good or evil, and made him the most important and most

conspicuous man of his time and country. It would not be a very easy

matter to do him perfect justice. A careful examination of his career

and an accurate knowledge of his character would be necessary for the

purpose. It is impossible to question the greatness of his abilities or

the sincerity of his patriotism. His dependence on his country's bounty,

in the rent that was levied for so many years, was alike honourable to

the contributors and the recipient; it was an income nobly given and

nobly earned. Up to the conquest of Catholic Emancipation his was

certainly a great and glorious career. What he might have done and what

he ought to have done after that, it is not easy to say, but undoubtedly

he did far more mischief than good, and exhibited anything but a wise,

generous, and patriotic spirit. In Peel's administration he did nothing

but mischief, and it is difficult to comprehend with what object and

what hope he threw Ireland into confusion, and got up that Repeal

agitation, the folly and impracticability of which nobody must have

known so well as himself.

[Sidenote: THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP OF INDIA.]

_June 14th._--The Duke of Bedford has been telling me what has been

going on about India and the appointment of Hardinge's successor. In the

first place Normanby has been making desperate attempts to get it, but

Lord John will not hear of it, and believes the Directors would object

to him if he was proposed. Lord John is resolved that this great

appointment shall not be made an affair of party, and he desired the

Chairs to furnish him with a list of the persons they would consider

most eligible for the office of Governor-General without distinction of

party. They sent him four or five names--Clarendon, Graham, I think

Dalhousie, and the others I forget, but Normanby's was not among them.

Lord John has made up his mind to offer the post to Graham, and has

communicated his intention to the Duke of Wellington, at the same time

consulting him about the military appointment. The Duke approves of

Graham, and proposes Sir George Napier for Commander-in-Chief, to which

Lord John agrees. Normanby, who had a suspicion that Graham was thought

of, from something the Duke of Bedford had said to him, wrote him a long

letter, strongly arguing against this appointment, and not a very bad

argument either. Meanwhile I have seen Graham, and had a long

conversation with him. It began about the Portuguese question, which is

now going on in the House of Commons; but after discussing this and some

electioneering matters, I asked him what his own projects were. He said

he was indifferent about them and had settled nothing. I said, 'You know

that it is reported in the world that you are likely to go to India.' He

said he had three times refused to go there; that it would always be a

matter of much doubt and deliberation, both on private and public

grounds, whether he should accept it if offered; but at present it was

out of the question, for Lord John Russell was evidently animated by

very implacable sentiments towards him, and he never would take an

office from him while he was in such a disposition, and when the

appointment would be clearly offered at the suggestion of others, and

not by his own free will. He then talked a great deal about the feeling

which subsisted between himself and the Whigs--of their resentment

towards him; of the way in which he had been persecuted by them; of Lord

John's sending for him in the autumn of 1845; about the change of

government; how gratified he had been; how frankly he had behaved; how

desirous he had been to give every aid in his power to his successor;

how generally friendly to the Government, of which he gave instances;

and then how hurt he had been at the bitterness and severity of Lord

John's attack upon him in reply to his speech objecting to the exclusion

of Catholics from the grant; that that speech had proved to him that

Lord John's dislike of him was unmitigated and unappeasable. This is a

very brief summary of a long discourse he made to me on the subject. I

told him he was mistaken in Lord John's sentiments, which were by no

means so bitter and hostile as he imagined, and on the occasion he

alluded to, Lord John had spoken under great irritation and with strong

resentment, thinking that Graham had made a most offensive and unjust

speech, and that he had most unfairly done his best to embarrass the

Government; that such was the general opinion of Lord John's friends,

and I would not conceal from him my own opinion; that his speech had

been calculated to produce that effect; that it had appeared to many

people, to me amongst them, that Peel had been conscious of the effect

produced by his (Graham's) speech, and had spoken, as he did, in a very

different tone to repair the effect of it. He must not therefore infer

from the vivacity of Lord John's tone on that occasion that he was

animated by such sentiments as he ascribed to him; that I did not mean

to say he had any feelings of extreme cordiality; but I had reason to

know that he rendered ample justice to his public character and

capacity, and felt no bitterness towards him; that some day I would give

him proofs of the truth of what I said, but that in the meantime I must

beg him to take my word for it; and I entreated him not to deceive

himself by the exaggerated, and, I was convinced, unfounded notion he

entertained of Lord John's disposition. A great deal passed on this

subject, and I found that he was very low and very much vexed, both on

the above ground and about a very mortifying communication that had been

made to him about Cumberland.

[Sidenote: THE CUMBERLAND ELECTION.]

Aglionby had informed him they were going to put up Charles Howard and

William Marshall, which was an intimation that that they would not have

him. He replied that he would not pledge himself about the two

candidates, but would support Howard, saying civil things about Lord

Carlisle and the whole family. The other day he got a letter, not very

judiciously worded--cold, but intended to be civil--from Morpeth,

announcing that he was going to support the _two_ candidates on his own

side of the House, accompanied with some expression of regret that his

support could not rather have been given to him. Graham took this very

ill, and was evidently excessively hurt at the way in which he was thus

excluded from the representation. All these things were evidently

souring his mind, and I strongly suspect stimulating him to act an

unfriendly part in the Portuguese discussion, and I was therefore very

glad that I had an opportunity of saying what I did, for I said quite

enough to let him see that India is full in view, and I do not think he

will now do anything to mar this prospect. He would not tell me what he

or Peel meant to do, and Peel happens to be exceedingly out of humour in

consequence of young Campbell's speech at Cambridge; so is Graham.

Graham told me he never saw Peel so put out and so angry with anything,

and they are the more so because old Jack (Lord Campbell) went down,

they say, to Cambridge with his son.

_June 19th._--I was obliged to break off in the midst of the above

conversation, and have since been out of town. I told the Duke of

Bedford all that had passed between Graham and me, and advised that Lord

John should show him some civility, which he undertook that he should

do. On Tuesday evening the Portuguese discussion was resumed in the

Commons and came on in the Lords. I went down to hear Stanley speak,

never having heard him before. His style and manner, fluency and

expression, are admirable, and he speaks with an appearance of

earnestness, even of dignity, that is marvellously striking; but nothing

could be more injudicious than his speech, and I was as much

disappointed with the matter of it as I was charmed with the manner.

Never was there so ridiculous and contemptible an ending to an affair

begun with such a flourish of trumpets and note of preparation, and

which for a moment put the Government into a state of alarm. The

whippers-in in both Houses had collected all their forces, and when the

House of Lords met, a long night and a doubtful division were announced.

The first thing that happened was that Peel made an admirable speech in

the House of Commons, strong in defence of Government, and without any

'buts' or drawbacks. He spoke very early. Very few people were there,

and many went away after; so, finding the House in this state, George

Bentinck made Newdigate count it out, and the whole thing thus fell to

the ground. This he considered a very skilful piece of jockeyship,

apparently unconscious of the ridicule which it cast on the whole

affair. Great was the astonishment in the Lords when news was brought

that the House of Commons had been counted out. Stanley had gone home to

dinner, and after a few insignificant speeches (the Duke of Wellington

having spoken strongly for the Government) nobody seemed disposed to go

on. Clarendon went to Ellenborough and to Brougham, and asked them if

they would not speak: both declined; the latter said it was very dull

and he should say nothing. Accordingly they divided, many on both sides

absent, and Government had a majority of twenty. Stanley was not

present, and when he came back to the House found it all over. So ended

this solemn farce. Stanley would have beaten the Government if he could,

and have thought it very good fun, trusting to the majority he knew they

would have in the Commons to induce them to put up with a defeat. Lord

John, however, was not disposed to take it so quietly, and there can be

very little doubt that Brougham and the rest saw that a division against

Government in the Lords without any division for them in the Commons

would make matters very different, and the sudden termination of the

debate in the other House greatly cooled their ardour.

[Sidenote: WYATT'S STATUE OF THE DUKE.]

The other day I met John Russell in the Park as he was going to Apsley

House by appointment with the Duke. He said he was going on important

business (it was about the Indian appointments), and he asked me if I

thought he had better say anything to him or not about the Statue.[20] I

said 'Better not.' The Duke of Bedford told me after that it was very

fortunate advice I gave Lord John, for if he had said anything there

would have been an explosion. The Duke said to Arbuthnot, when Lord John

wrote to say he wished to see him, 'What can he want? what can he be

coming about? do you think it is about the Statue?' and then he went off

on that sore subject, and said he should place his resignation in Lord

John's hands! However, Lord John said nothing about it, and the Duke was

put into great good humour by being consulted about the Indian affairs;

and he said afterwards that he only wished they would get the pedestal

made, put the Statue up, and have done with it. But it is curious, as

showing how sensitive and irritable he is become, how the strong mind

is weakened. He is, however, very happy on the whole, in excellent

health, and treated with the greatest deference and attention by

everybody. The Queen is excessively kind to him. On Monday his

grand-daughter was christened at the Palace, and the Queen dined with

him in the evening. She had written him a very pretty letter expressing

her wish to be godmother to the child, saying she wished her to be

called Victoria, which name was so peculiarly appropriate to a

grand-daughter of his. All these attentions marvellously please him.

[Footnote 20: [About this time the proposal was made, chiefly by Sir

Frederic Trench, to place the equestrian statue of the Duke of

Wellington (by Wyatt) on the top of the archway opposite Apsley House.

Most people thought that it was absurd and in bad taste to place a

statue there. It was, however, agreed to erect it provisionally; but,

once there, the Duke showed great irritation at the idea of removing it,

which he declared would be an indignity: so there the statue stood until

it was removed to Aldershot in 1884. It was the first instance of an

equestrian statue erected in London to a subject.]]

_June 20th._--The Duke of Bedford told me he wanted to speak to me. I

called on him, and he said, 'I wish you would see Graham again; a good

deal has passed; I won't tell you what now, but I am curious to know

what he will say to you in reference to his last conversation.' I

accordingly called on Graham; he talked incessantly _de omnibus rebus_,

but never alluded to Lord John or himself, or India, or to what I had

before said to him. I had considerable difficulty in getting anything

in, but at last, just as I was going and seeing he was resolved to say

nothing, I said 'I hope you have thought on what I said to you the other

day, for I am quite certain I was right.' He broke in 'Oh, no, that is

quite impossible,' and then began again upon Ireland, evidently

determined to avoid the former subject. I returned to the Duke and told

him what had passed between us, when with some difficulty I got him to

tell me what had occurred. As soon as the Portuguese debate was over,

Lord John wrote to Graham a very kind and handsome letter, and offered

him India, saying that he wished to forget all their differences and

only to remember that they had been colleagues in Lord Grey's

Government. Graham asked leave to consult Peel, who at once put an

extinguisher upon it, entreated him to decline it, and said that their

support of the Government would be considered to have been given in

reference to this appointment. Peel gave many reasons, which I now

forget, against his taking it, and (as I suspect very reluctantly)

Graham did decline the offer, of course with many expressions of

gratitude and gratification. Peel himself said nothing could be

handsomer than the offer. Lord John, however, would not accept the

refusal as final, and caused Graham to be informed that he should not

appoint anybody else, but wait and see what might occur. Graham might

not get a seat in the next Parliament, or the reasons which now

influenced him might cease to exist; he would, therefore, not fill up

the office till Sir John Hobhouse told him it was absolutely necessary

to do so. So the matter stands at present. It is a profound secret only

communicated 'to _some_ of the Cabinet,' and Graham has not even told

his wife. No wonder he was so reserved with me, though the Duke thinks

he might as well have said that he was satisfied my opinion of Lord

John's sentiments towards him was correct. Graham, who is always in the

garret or in the cellar, was in such spirits the other day as compared

with the day before, that it was easy to see something agreeable had

happened to him. He talked of all sorts of things: poor laws, railroads,

abolition of Lord-Lieutenancy, very good sense and friendly to the

Government; said that they had been unlucky in Strutt's appointment, of

which great things had been expected and which was a complete failure,

and he strongly advised the Government should not persist in their Bill

this year.[21] I told the Duke of Bedford this, and I find the Bill was

withdrawn last night.

[Footnote 21: [The Right Hon. Edward Strutt, afterwards Lord Belper, was

a distinguished member of the advanced Liberal Party. He brought in a

Bill at this time for the regulation of railways, which the Government

soon withdrew.]]

[Sidenote: OFFERS TO SIR JAMES GRAHAM.]

It is very curious how jealously and anxiously Peel's actions and

disposition are scanned, and amusing to hear what people say of them.

Bonham went to Arbuthnot the other day, and told him Peel was getting up

a party, and expected to have 250 people in the next Parliament. Then

Lady Westmorland went and told him that Peel had told her he had 120

followers in the House of Commons, and that he alone kept the Government

in office. They put these things together, and inferred all sorts of

deep designs and ambitious projects on his part. Arbuthnot told the Duke

of Bedford, who told me. I laughed at them, and said that probably what

Bonham and Lady Westmorland reported was false or exaggerated, and it

was better to look at Peel's acts and see how they corresponded with

such supposed intentions. He disclaims being the leader of any party at

all, _totidem verbis_, and the other day he did not tell anybody what he

was going to do. His speech was calculated to strengthen the Government,

and to render them independent, whereas his policy would be to weaken

them, if he had such designs as are imputed to him. I told Graham what I

had heard, and what I had said. He said, 'Peel's position is a very

extraordinary one, and he is determined to enjoy it. He has an immense

fortune, is in full possession of his faculties and vigour, has great

influence and consideration in Parliament and in the country; he has

shown the world that he is _capax imperii_. In this position he will not

retire from public life to please any man; he does not want to be the

head of a party, still less to return to office, but he will continue to

take that part in public affairs which he considers best for the public

service, reserving to himself the faculty of acting according to

circumstances in any political contingency.' I forget the exact

phraseology he used, but what he conveyed was that Peel had made no

positive resolution never to enter into the public service again, and

that circumstances might occur to induce him to do so, but that he

neither desired nor expected anything of the kind, nor would do anything

to bring it about. At present he is certainly acting a very creditable

and a very useful part, and one, if he persists in it, which will

redound to his honour, and greatly enhance his reputation. But it is

difficult to feel entire confidence in a man who is not really

high-minded. If he once begins to shuffle and intrigue, he is lost. The

best security for his good conduct is that it is not only his best

policy, but it is almost his only possible policy. His influence and his

power depend upon his great abilities, and upon his judicious and

honourable employment of them; he has no party at his back, he has few

political and still fewer personal adherents, nor does he seem to make

any exertions to acquire either the one or the other.

[Sidenote: A BAD WEEK FOR GOVERNMENT.]

_June 28th._--The last week was a bad one for the Government. One

incident was ridiculous, one unfortunate. Strutt came down to the House

on Monday, made a speech of two hours on his Railroad Bill, developing

the whole plan, and ended by withdrawing it: a mountain and a mouse.

Great was the surprise, and great the ridicule. The _dessous des cartes_

was that Strutt had got up his speech with much labour, and was only

told just before the House met that Government had resolved to withdraw

the Bill. All this comes of having an inefficient man and a bad measure;

thence vacillation, uncertainty, failure, and mortification. This was

bad. Then they suffered a defeat on the Poor Law. The clause for

prohibiting the separation of old people was carried against them; it

was a mistaken piece of humanity, for the old people would be better off

as the Bill was. All this shows that it is high time the session should

be brought to a close.

_July 13th._--The session is drawing to a close, but far from

satisfactorily for the Government, who have lost ground in public

estimation. Bill after bill has been thrown over, and, after a great

deal of time entirely wasted, the session will end with hardly anything

having been done. The last two measures given up were the Health of

Towns and the Irish Estates Bills, and then the affair of the Wellington

Statue came to crown all, in which the Government were bullied and

tricked by Croker and Trench, who contrived to enlist the passions or

prejudices of the Duke in their cause, made him their cat's-paw, and so

accomplished their ends. The vexatious opposition to the Health of Towns

Bill by George Bentinck, Hudson, and Co., made it very difficult to

carry it, but the truth is they were wrong to bring in such measures so

late in the session, and the measures were not framed in a manner to get

through with short discussions. It is easy to say 'What could they do?'

and 'They could not help it,' but the public does not analyse but looks

to results, and therefore sees in the whole conduct of affairs proofs of

weakness, vacillation, and mismanagement. This discredits the

Government; they had before no popularity, and were accepted as a

necessity under circumstances rather than as desirable. Ellesmere, who

is very friendly to them, tells me they have no credit or fame so far as

his observation goes in the country, and people say 'this can't go on,'

though without any fixed idea what is to be done. All this is very

deplorable. Then Lord John does not make up by his personal qualities

for his political mistakes or shortcomings; he is not conciliatory, and

sometimes gives grievous offence. The other night in the House of

Commons he was so savage with Hume, without any cause, that he enlisted

all sympathies in Hume's favour, and was generally blamed for his tone

and manner. He is miserably wanting in amenity, and in the small arts of

acquiring popularity, which are of such incalculable value to the leader

of a party, still more of a Government; then, while he has the

reputation of being obstinate, he is wanting in firmness. His conduct

about his own election has been very unwise, and has given great

offence; he has suffered himself to be persuaded to stand for the City

of London in conjunction with three other Liberals, including

Rothschild, and to make a great contest, instead of coming quietly in by

a compromise, which all moderate men desired, and none more than Lord

John himself. He was so opposed to a contest, and especially to

Rothschild's standing (which is a great piece of impertinence, when he

knows he can't take his seat), that he threatened to resign himself if

they persisted in their scheme of bringing in all four, and then he was

over-persuaded to consent to the contest. They offered to pay his

expenses; this he refused, and the Duke will have to pay them. In short,

on the whole, the Government is not in good odour: they don't inspire

confidence; they are neither popular nor respected, but they are

indispensable, and have the strength of circumstances. If the country

was polled, nineteen out of twenty would vote for Peel's being minister;

the Queen would be enchanted to have him back; but Peel has no party,

and can have none unless circumstances and necessities make one for him.

The great Tory party is acephalous, or rather they are weak from the

utter incompetence of their leaders, so that matters are in that sort

of lock which prevents any other combination and any change, but which

renders the present Government very powerless.

[Sidenote: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S VAGARIES.]

The Cambridge installation went off with prodigious _Èclat_, and the

Queen was enchanted at the enthusiastic reception she met with; but the

Duke of Wellington was if possible received with even more enthusiasm.

It is incredible what popularity environs him in his latter days; he is

followed like a show wherever he goes, and the feeling of the people

_for him_ seems to be the liveliest of all popular sentiments; yet he

does nothing to excite it, and hardly appears to notice it. He is in

wonderful vigour of body, but strangely altered in mind, which is in a

fitful uncertain state, and there is no knowing in what mood he may be

found; everybody is afraid of him, nobody dares to say anything to him;

he is sometimes very amiable and good-humoured, sometimes very irritable

and morose. About this affair of the Statue, Croker and Trench contrived

to work him up to a state of frenzy; he was as near as possible

resigning upon it. When Lord John wrote to him the other day in

consequence of what passed in the House of Commons, he wrote a long

rigmarole of an answer, which Lord John did not read yesterday, but gave

the substance of it. All this is very unlike him. Then he is astonishing

the world by a strange intimacy he has struck up with Miss ---- ----,

with whom he passes his life, and all sorts of reports have been rife of

his intention to marry her. Such are the lamentable appearances of decay

in his vigorous mind, which are the more to be regretted because he is

in most enviable circumstances, without any political responsibility,

yet associated with public affairs, and surrounded with every sort of

respect and consideration on every side--at Court, in Parliament, in

society, and in the country.

_July 22nd._--All last week at Croxteth for Liverpool races, on Saturday

to Worsley, passing four hours at Liverpool to see sights; went to the

docks, town hall, &c.; and met Cardwell canvassing. I was told there

that Peel is very unpopular in Liverpool on account of the heavy losses

that have been sustained this year by mercantile men, all of which they

attribute to his Currency Bill, consequently the Peelite Conservatives

are very few; but my informant added that nevertheless everybody, even

those who were most angry with him on account of this Bill, would be

glad to see him in office again. I expressed surprise at this; he said

they all thought him the best workman, and found when they approached

him on business that he knew everything about the subjects which

interested them. Liverpool is increasing enormously in trade, which is

now greater than in London. Last week appeared Peel's letter to the

electors of Tamworth, and John Russell's speech in the City. The latter

was very good, and the former not bad in its way; but Peel's case for

himself, however well put, is no answer to the accusations which have

been elaborated in the 'Quarterly Review' with all the malignity and

virulence of ungovernable hatred. There is some truth in the article,

which is, however, revolting from its coarse and savage spirit.

Arbuthnot told me yesterday an anecdote about that article. It was a

review of a pamphlet called 'Pitt and Peel Policy.' Croker contrived to

get hold of a copy of the proof-sheets of it, and sent it to the Duke of

Wellington, pointing out a passage rather offensive to him, and

informing the Duke he meant to review it. The Duke in sending it back

advised Croker if he did review it to do so in terms of decency and

moderation, and asked to see the review before it was printed. The

passage about the Duke was struck out in the process of correction, and

Croker had to alter his review in consequence; but he disregarded the

Duke's advice, and published the article without letting the Duke see

it. He gave as his reason for this that he wished the Duke to be able to

say that he had never read a word of it. It seems that after some of his

former attacks he tried to put himself on his former footing of intimacy

with Peel, and wrote to him 'My dear Peel.' Peel would not hear of it,

wrote to him a dry, formal answer, and told him in so many words that

their intimacy was at an end. Croker was furious, and has been

overflowing with gall and bitterness ever since.[22]

[Footnote 22: [These letters have been published in the Croker Papers,

vol. iii. p. 94.]]

[Sidenote: PANIC IN THE MONEY MARKET.]