RomÊ,' from racing and politics, on Monday last, and came down with De
Mauley to this place. We have passed four days here pleasantly enough;
it is exquisitely beautiful, so is the country round about it; a mass of
comfort and luxury; house perfection, and everything kept as English
houses alone are. This place was a creation of the Duke's. The house,
which is a cottage, cost between 70,000_l._ and 80,000_l._, and the
grounds, laid out with inimitable taste, must have cost thousands more.
There are sixty miles of grass rides and gravel walks. Yesterday we went
to see a farmhouse, once one of the hunting seats of the Abbot of
Tavistock, a great man whose ample domains were granted to the Earl of
Bedford, who was gorged with ecclesiastical spoils here and at Woburn.
We then went to see the great copper mine discovered three or four years
ago, the best and most profitable in the West of England. The ground was
leased three and a half years ago to certain adventurers, who covenanted
to give the Duke one-fifteenth of the _gross_ produce; and as soon (if
ever) as they made 30,000_l._ a year from it, one-twelfth. After some
fruitless attempts they came upon this lode very near the surface, and
found it of the best copper. A fortune was made _instanter_. The shares
were at one time worth 700,000_l._, i.e. 700_l._ apiece; since that
there has been a great fall, but they are now worth 200_l._ apiece. The
expense of working is, however, so much increased, that the Duke's agent
told me he got nearly one-half the _net_ profits. All this country is
full of copper, but the Duke told me he was resolved not to grant any
more leases for mining, although he had applications every day and could
make a great deal of money by giving them; but he does not want the
money, and he is averse to promote the spirit of gambling, which money
speculations very generally excite among the people, often greatly to
their loss and always to the detriment of the agriculture of the
country; the latter is neglected for the chances of the former; the
farmers let their carts and horses to the miners instead of employing
them on their own farms; and though mining is both a profitable and a
popular employment, the Duke deems it so mischievous that he will not
suffer any more of his ground to be broken up for the chance of the
copper that may be found underneath it. I have not heard a word here in
the way of politics.
[Footnote 61: [The Duke of Bedford's residence in Devonshire.]]
[Sidenote: A TOUR IN DEVONSHIRE.]
_London, July 21st._--Left Endsleigh on Saturday and went to Plymouth;
received by two Admirals to whom Auckland recommended us, and we saw
everything--the breakwater, the new docks, a magnificent work, and Mount
Edgecumbe. On Sunday, after church, went on board the 'Caledonia' (120),
and visited every part of the ship; then to the citadel, the whole thing
well worth seeing. On Sunday afternoon went on to Exeter; in the morning
saw the Cathedral and went to church; a beautiful choir, church handsome
inside, poor in monuments. Then De Mauley and I separated. I went to
Wells; was delighted with the Cathedral and with the Bishop's palace. On
Tuesday to John Thynne's parsonage, Walton, near Glastonbury; on
Wednesday returned to town, having seen a great deal and passed the time
very agreeably.
When I got here, found that Clarendon, whose arrival had been announced
to me, and who was to have come on Monday, had been obliged to give up
coming in consequence of the threatening aspect of affairs in Ireland,
and he himself writes word that he does not think an outbreak can be
prevented.[62] The disgust felt here at the state of Ireland and the
incurable madness of the people, constantly worked upon by the
agitators, is now so great that most people appear to think the sooner
the collision takes place the better, and that nothing is now left to be
done but to fight it out and reconquer the country. I have certainly
arrived at a conviction that no political measures can now avail to
restore peace and to cement the Union, which in point of fact only now
exists in name. There is no union for any of the real purposes of a
union. What makes the Irish question, the more dreadful is that the
potatoes are again failing, and starvation will be the inevitable lot of
the people. In that emergency, when it arrives, the Irish will look in
vain to England, for no subscriptions or parliamentary grants or aid of
any sort, public or private, will they get; the sources of charity and
benevolence are dried up; the current which flowed last year has been
effectually checked by the brutality and ingratitude of the people, and
the rancorous fury and hatred with which they have met our exertions to
serve them. The prospect, neither more nor less than that of civil war
and famine, is dreadful, but it is unavoidable.
[Footnote 62: [On July 18 the Lord Lieutenant issued a Proclamation
against the treasonable proceedings of the Repeal Clubs in Dublin,
Waterford, Cork, and Drogheda. On July 21 Lord John Russel announced
that the Habeas Corpus Act would be suspended in Ireland. The Bill was
brought in on the 22nd, and carried through the House of Commons in one
day, and passed the House of Lords on the 24th. It came into operation
in Dublin on the 26th.]]
John Russell gave notice the other night of the measures he meant to go
on with, and those he meant to abandon; nobody expected anything more,
so no great complaints were made. The Government is safe enough, but
they fall more and more into discredit. There has been a blunder about
the sugar duties, which makes Ministers look ridiculous, and it is in
fact the constant repetition of small things which damages their credit,
and makes them so miserably weak. The funds have been rapidly rising and
trade improving little by little, but this Irish affair has checked the
rise and produced alarm. Then the potatoes are failing in England, and
we have every chance of low prices of agricultural produce without
abundance, and if this should happen we shall have an unquiet winter. So
far as I can form an opinion from what I heard in my tour, the state of
the country is not satisfactory. Chartism seems to increase, and the
masses, the operatives in villages, are restless, ill-disposed, and want
they know not what. It is a great evil that while education is
sufficiently diffused to enable most people to read, they get either
from inclination or convenience nothing but the most mischievous
publications, which only serve to poison their minds, to render them
discontented, and teach them to look to all sorts of wild schemes as
calculated to better their position. The best part of the press (the
'Times,' for instance) seldom finds its way to the cottages and
reading-rooms of the lower classes, who are fed by the cheap Radicalism
of the 'Weekly Dispatch,' and other journals, unknown almost to the
higher classes of society, which are darkly working to undermine the
productions of our social and political system. The lessons of
experience which might be so well taught by the events now passing in
France and elsewhere, are not presented to the minds of the people in a
manner suggestive of wholesome inferences, but on the contrary they are
only used as stimulants and for purposes of misrepresentation and
perversion.
[Sidenote: STRONG MEASURES IN IRELAND.]
_July 22nd._--Last night Lord John Russell gave notice of a Bill to
enable the Lord Lieutenant to apprehend any suspected persons, and Lord
Lansdowne did the same in the House of Lords. Lord Lansdowne made a very
animated speech, but it was impossible not to think that all he said and
was going to do might as well have been said and done long ago. Brougham
said as much; Stanley spoke very well; and the announcement was hailed
with universal satisfaction. It would have been still better in my
opinion if they had suspended the Habeas Corpus at once.
_July 24th._--The House of Commons was wonderful on the 22nd; nobody had
the least idea of it, not the Cabinet. It was an inspiration of John
Russell's; he began by making an excellent speech, an hour and a half.
When they divided he made a speech in the lobby, begged the people not
to go away, and said he meant to propose to go on with the Bill. To his
own amazement as much as anybody's, he found no opposition, and carried
the Bill through at the sitting. By seven o'clock it was completed and
he was on his way to Richmond, where I dined with him. He was in high
spirits; Sheil and Ward were there, and we talked over the payment of
the priests, which we all agreed (Lord John included) must be soon done,
or at least attempted. Yesterday was spent in searching for precedents,
to see if it was possible to pass the Bill to-day through the Lords. The
Chancellor, Duke of Wellington, and others, said it was impossible, as
notice must be given of the suspension of the Standing Orders. Lord
Lansdowne said if only _one_ precedent could be found he would take it,
and carry the Bill through; but if not, they must wait till to-morrow. I
should have _made_ the precedent: a more fitting occasion could not be.
However, what was done in the House of Commons will infallibly produce
all the effect that is required, and will strike terror into the Irish
rebels. It was a great event, for which neither the Lord Lieutenant nor
anybody in Ireland will have been the least prepared.
[Sidenote: THE OUTBREAK AT BALLINGARRY.]
_July 31st._--At Goodwood all last week, but I found no time to write or
do anything there. The day after we arrived we were startled by the
intelligence of the rebellion in Ireland having actually broken out; it
was not, however, believed, and turned out to be a mere hoax.[63]
Instead of breaking out, it has not shown a symptom of vitality, and all
the swaggering and boasting and the dreadful threats and exhibition of
physical force have absolutely shrunk into nothing and evaporated before
the formidable preparations and determined attitude of the Government.
The leaders are skulking about nobody knows where; the clubs are either
suppressed or self-dissolved; the people exhibit no disposition to rise;
the sound and fury which were echoed and re-echoed from the clubs and
meetings, and through the traitorous press, have been all at once
silenced. The whole thing is suddenly become so contemptible as to be
almost ridiculous. My own conviction was that there would be no
outbreak; but I did not contemplate that all these mighty preparations,
this club organisation and universal arming would all at once dwindle
into nothingness and general submission just as easily as the Chartist
demonstrations did here some weeks ago; but so it is, and it is now
pretty clear that in a short time Ireland will be just as quiet and
submissive as if Conciliation Hall had never existed. The most
satisfactory part of the business is the good conduct of the Catholic
clergy, who appear to have very generally used their influence over the
people to deter them from their rebellious courses. It is to be hoped
that the recollection of their behaviour on this trying occasion will
have a considerable effect in paving the way for the payment of the
Irish clergy, when that vital question comes on, as very soon it must.
George Grey declared himself in favour of it in a speech which he made
on Saturday last, and it is clear that as soon as Ireland is thoroughly
pacified, this question must be regularly taken up by the Government,
and in spite of all the opposition which pride, prejudice, and bigotry
will throw in its way, it must be forced through. It seems at first
sight as if the best thing which could happen was the bloodless
suppression of this talking rebellion, but I am not sure that it would
not have been better in the end if the leaders had succeeded in bringing
together a body of insurgents, and if a signal chastisement and
ignominious dispersion of them had taken place. There would be a great
advantage in letting them see the fearful consequences of a collision,
and as far as England is concerned, the people of this country would be
better disposed to clemency and conciliation after they had severely
punished the Irish for their turbulence and folly. As matters are,
though there will be no outbreak, no bloodshed, and an easy triumph, it
will leave the great chronic disease of the country just where it was;
the disaffection, the hatred of the Union, the enmity to law, will
remain the same; the people will be subdued but not reconciled; and
these feelings will be the stronger because the distress will be greater
than ever. No country can be so shaken to pieces without enormous
distress to the masses; and if the potato crop again fails (as it has
threatened to do) the misery will be appalling and irremediable. By what
has passed and is still passing, England will not be softened towards
Ireland, but contempt will be added to resentment.
[Footnote 63: [Upon the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland,
Smith O'Brien and the other leaders of the Repeal movement fled to
Ballingarry, where they were ignominiously hunted down by a party of
fifty policemen and soon afterwards captured. The crisis had arrived,
and the whole agitation collapsed.]]
Clarendon will, I take it, have been astonished at the result
corresponding so little with the beginnings of this Irish manifestation.
He evidently considered an outbreak as imminent and almost certain. The
Duke of Bedford showed me a letter from him which he received at
Goodwood, bitterly complaining of the Government for not having at an
earlier period furnished him with the powers he demanded, and saying
that though he had repeatedly asked both John Russell and George Grey to
do so, they never would. He said he had never to any human being
disclosed what had passed between himself and the Government on this
matter, but he evidently feels deeply hurt both at their not attending
to his request, and at the blame of stronger and earlier measures not
having been applied for, being thrown upon him. It is certainly true
that the Government have allowed it to be believed that they have all
along been ruled by his advice, and that they have done at each
successive stage of the business all that he desired. Even Lord
Lansdowne in the House of Lords the other night declared that there had
been the most perfect agreement all along between the Government and the
Lord Lieutenant.
[Sidenote: THE THIRD DUKE OF PORTLAND.]
I dined at Holland House yesterday, and sat next to old Sir Robert
Adair, eighty-five years old, but with mind very fresh. He lived in
great intimacy with all the 'great of old, who still rule our spirits
from their own,' and I believe possesses a great store of anecdotes of
bygone days. He gave me an account of young Burke's preventing the
reconciliation between his father and Fox, which, however, is too well
known to require repetition; but he told me how the Duke of Portland[64]
came to be put at the head of the Whig party on the death of Lord
Rockingham in 1782, which I had not heard before. There was a meeting of
the party to choose their chief; the Duke of Richmond put forth his
pretensions, but he was so great a Radical (having views of
Parliamentary Reform not only far beyond those of any man of that day,
but beyond the Reform we have actually got), that they were afraid of
him; and Charles Fox got up and said that he thought he, as leader of
the House of Commons, had claims at least as good as the Duke of
Richmond's, but that they ought both of them to waive their own claims,
and in his judgement the man they ought to place at their head was the
Duke of Portland. This compromise was agreed to, but the Duke of
Richmond was so disgusted that he joined Lord Shelburne. My grandfather
was a very honourable, high-minded, but ordinary man; his abilities were
very second-rate, and he had no power of speaking; and his election to
the post of leader of the great Whig party only shows how aristocratic
that party was, and what weight and influence the aristocracy possessed
in those days; they would never have endured to be led by a Peel or a
Canning. Adair told me that old Lord George Cavendish expressed the
greatest indignation at their party being led by Burke in the House of
Commons, and it was this prevalent feeling, together with the
extraordinary modesty of Burke, who had no vanity for himself, though a
great deal for his son, which accounts for the fact, so extraordinary
according to our ideas and practice, that though Burke led the Whig
party in the House of Commons for four or five years, when that party
came into power he was not offered a place in the Cabinet, but put in a
subordinate office, which he condescended to accept, seeing men so
immeasurably inferior to himself occupying the highest posts.
[Footnote 64: [William Henry Cavendish, third Duke of Portland, born
April 14, 1738; died October 30, 1809, haying been twice Prime Minister.
He was the father of Mr. Greville's mother, Lady Charlotte Greville.]]
_August 5th._--In Ireland there has hardly been a semblance of
resistance; flight and terror and sulky submission have been the order
of the day. Meanwhile the military preparations and arrangements have
not been relaxed, and the arrests have been multiplied. Hitherto the
search for O'Brien and the other leaders has been fruitless, and it is
currently reported that the former has escaped; letters have been
written with detailed accounts of his escape, but this is believed to be
only a trick to facilitate it. The rebellion is effectually suppressed,
but the state of Ireland is lamentable, and a great and long futurity of
difficulties and evils may be expected. Very few arms have been taken;
they are all hid by the peasantry, to be drawn forth when occasion
offers itself.
Brougham in the House of Lords delivered a flaming panegyric on
Hardinge's patriotism in going to Ireland, and the Duke of Wellington's
wisdom in appointing him; but the real truth is that he was selected
for this post by the Queen and Lord John Russell, without the knowledge
and not entirely to the satisfaction of the Duke. Hardinge himself,
though he evinced a proper readiness and immediately consented to go,
begged he might be released as soon as possible. Arbuthnot told the Duke
of Bedford that it was a pity Lord John had not consulted the Duke about
sending Hardinge, instead of only telling him after it was settled,
which sufficiently shows the Duke's feeling; and Clarendon, though he
made no objection, evidently did not like it. If they had known how
little there would be to do, he probably would not have been sent to
Ireland at all. The Duke does not think very highly of Hardinge's
military talents. The two men whom he places his confidence in are Sir
Charles Napier and Sir Harry Smith; he was asked the question, and this
was his answer; and moreover he thinks that on one occasion in India
Hardinge committed a dangerous military blunder which Gough repaired;
whereas all the world believes that Gough, though a very brave soldier,
was a very inefficient commander, and that to Hardinge was attributable
the success of the Sikh campaign.
[Sidenote: THE SIKH CAMPAIGN.]
The true history of that campaign is as yet little known, but whenever
it is fairly put before the world it will exhibit one of the most
striking and extraordinary examples of the chances and accidents on
which the fate of empires depend that has ever been recorded. I have
often heard that the events of those Sikh battles were very precarious,
but it was only the other day that I heard on what a marvellous accident
the last great battle depended. Hardinge considered the battle lost, and
the destruction of his army inevitable. Not expecting to survive the
defeat, he gave his watch and some other things about him to one of his
officers, desiring him to have them conveyed to his wife, with the
assurance that his last thoughts were with her. At this juncture a staff
officer (whose name I did not hear), who from nervousness or fear had
lost his head, went to the commander of our cavalry, and told him that
he was the bearer of an order to him to retire; that officer asked if he
had no written order, he said he had not, but he spoke so positively as
to the instruction with which he was charged, that the other believed
him and began to draw off his men. This movement was seen by the Sikhs,
and, mistaking its purport, they fancied it indicated a disposition to
take them in flank and cut off their communications. They were seized
with a sudden panic, and immediately commenced their retreat: it was
thus that this victory was won when it was all but lost, and won by the
mistake or the invention of an officer who in terror or confusion had
communicated an order which never was given to him, and which he had
himself invented or imagined. It is universally agreed that if we had
been defeated in that action our Eastern Empire would have been lost to
us, for the prestige of our power would have been lost, and all India
would have risen to cast off our yoke. After the action the question
arose how this officer was to be dealt with, but it was not considered
prudent to bring him to a court-martial, when the consequences of his
conduct had been such as they were, and the inquiry might have revealed
the magnitude of the peril from which we had escaped.
_August 8th._--At Latimers from Saturday till Monday. Called on
Wriothesley Russell at Chenies, and Lady Wriothesley told me that there
is not far off a Chartist establishment; a society of Chartists located
and living on land bought by Chartist subscriptions; a sort of communist
society. It has existed some years, but is now falling into decay.
Feargus O'Connor spoke to Charles Russell about it, and said he wished
his brother would take some notice of them, _for they liked to be
noticed by people of rank_; and, he added, 'Collectively they are with
me, but individually they are with you.' In these words a great lesson
and significant fact are contained well worth attention.
On arriving in town yesterday found the news of Smith O'Brien's capture,
which some think a good thing and some a bad one; some say he is mad,
some are for hanging him, some for transporting, others for letting him
go; in short, _quot homines tot sententiÊ_. He is a good-for-nothing,
conceited, contemptible fellow, who has done a great deal of mischief
and deserves to be hung, but it will probably be very difficult to
convict him.
_August 10th._--On Tuesday evening Stanley made a brisk attack on the
Government for their Sicilian policy; Lord Lansdowne made a moderate
defence.[65] They refused to say whether they had or had not instructed
Admiral Parker to prevent the Neapolitan fleet from attacking Sicily,
from which it is of course inferred that such instructions have been
given him in violation of the principle of non-intervention and the law
of nations. The man in the Cabinet who has been most strenuous for
intervention, after Palmerston, has been Grey.
[Footnote 65: [An insurrection broke out in Naples on May 16, and soon
afterwards the people of Sicily declared their independence. This
movement was much favoured and indirectly aided by the British
Government.]]
_August 16th._--Went on Saturday with Lord Lansdowne and Granville to
Stowe:[66] it was worth seeing, but a sorry sight; a dull, undesirable
place, not without magnificence. The garden front is very stately and
palatial; the house full of trash mixed with some fine things;
altogether a painful monument of human vanity, folly, and, it may be
added, wickedness, for wickedness it is thus recklessly to ruin a great
house and wife and children.
[Footnote 66: [The Duke of Buckingham being ruined, all the contents of
the great house of the Grenvilles at Stowe were sold by auction. All
London went to see the place, the furniture, and the curiosities. Even
the deer in the park were for sale.]]
[Sidenote: LORD CLARENDON'S POLICY IN IRELAND.]
Thence to Nuneham, a charming place, and on Monday to London. I heard an
anecdote at Nuneham which was new to me: Harcourt gave it on the
authority of Sir Robert Peel. He said that when the discussion took
place about the East Retford question during the Duke of Wellington's
Government, _in the Cabinet_ Peel was for giving the representation to
one of the great towns, and Huskisson against it; that Peel was
overruled by a majority of his colleagues and consequently took the part
he did in Parliament; while Huskisson was induced to change his opinion
and to take in Parliament the opposite line from that which he had taken
in the Cabinet; he and Peel, in fact, both changing sides. His
colleagues were naturally very indignant with Huskisson, and this
accounts for the bitterness which the Duke of Wellington evinced, and
for his celebrated 'No mistake.' This seemed to me a strange story,
though some people there wondered I had never heard it before. If it be
true, it is equally discreditable to both Peel and Huskisson; in the
former it was both a fault and a crime; it was a great error in
judgement and very wrong in itself.
I found a letter from Clarendon when I got to town, telling me he had
been 'much bothered by the vacillation and timidity of our rulers on
this occasion as on the preceding ones, when I was compelled to insist
on further power for the protection of life and the maintenance of law
and order. It is not pleasant to have to poke a Cabinet into a sense of
duty, or to extract by threats as if for a personal favour that which
should be readily acceded to when the public necessity for it was proved
and manifest. However, that has been my task, and I don't much care if
the thing is achieved and nobody knows it.... Against the clubs a law of
some kind was necessary. No one could doubt that, and so I insisted,
making _for the third time_ my remaining here conditional upon it. So
they succumbed, but not with a good grace.' All along the Government
have been afraid to adopt a vigorous and decided course, and have been
fencing with Clarendon, who has insisted on it. The consequences of
endeavouring to make the law work are now apparent in the failure of the
first of the trials. It is trying to make bricks without straw; the
people will not work the machinery of the law, but, on the contrary,
abhor and will oppose the law itself; everybody sees that and still the
Government do not dare openly say so, and adopt the measures that are
necessary to cope with the difficulty. There was an excellent article in
the 'Morning Chronicle' yesterday in this sense. I pointed it out to
Lord Lansdowne, who expressed his concurrence with it. However, for the
present I believe Clarendon is in possession of power enough to keep the
country in order. He can imprison everybody and put down the clubs by so
doing, but he will never be able to obtain convictions. Indeed, it
would probably be better they should all fail at first than have one
succeed every now and then, just enough to prevent their having recourse
to another system.
The brilliant success of the Austrians and the disgraceful termination
of Charles Albert's campaign[67] has produced a fresh interest in
foreign affairs and great anxiety as to the result of the offered
mediation of England and France. Palmerston's conduct throughout the
Milanese war has been very extraordinary, but I will pronounce no
positive opinion on it till I am better informed of all the hidden
circumstances in which the question has been involved. What appears is
this: some time ago the Austrians invited our mediation, sent Hummelauer
over here for that purpose, and were prepared to make great sacrifices
to settle the question. Palmerston refused; he thought the Austrian
cause was irretrievably ruined, that all Italy would be lost to them,
and he wished that result to take place. Old Radetzky _cunctando
restituit rem_, and the tide of war was on a sudden victoriously rolled
back, and the King of Sardinia completely baffled. Then Palmerston
stepped in with his offer of mediation when there were no longer any
parties to mediate between, or matters to mediate about, losing sight of
his own conduct in the Swiss affair, when after the defeat of the
Sunderbund he declared that the quarrel was decided and no mediation was
necessary. He is now on the best possible terms with Cavaignac, and
acting cordially with France. Cavaignac seems to have behaved with great
frankness and good sense; he sent M. de Beaumont here with the most
amicable professions;[68] he said that his object was to preserve peace,
did not attempt to disguise the fact of the deplorable state of his
finances, and the great object it therefore was to abstain from war;
but he appears to have assumed that the honour of France was in some way
concerned in delivering by fair means or foul the Milanese from the
Austrian yoke. How far Palmerston has admitted this pretension remains
to be seen, and we do not yet know whether he has come to an
understanding with France as to what is to be done by her in the event
of the joint mediation being declined; whether or no he has tacitly or
expressly assented to the invasion of Italy by the French, and their
making war on Austria to expel her from Lombardy. It would hardly appear
possible that he should have done so, if it were not for his conduct in
reference to Naples and Sicily, for if it turns out to be true that the
British Admiral is ordered to prevent the King of Naples from making any
attempt to reconquer Sicily, he cannot object to the French Government's
interfering in the affairs of the North of Italy. But if the Austrians
reject the mediation (as they probably will), and Cavaignac sends an
army across the Alps with our connivance and consent, we shall not play
a very dignified part, and I question if such policy will find general
acceptance here.
[Footnote 67: [On July 25 the Piedmontese army was defeated by the
Austrians under Marshal Radetzky, near Verona, and again three days
later at Gotto. Milan capitulated on August 5, and thus ended, for the
time, the hopes of independence of Italy.]]
[Footnote 68: [M. Gustave de Beaumont came to London as French
Ambassador under Cavaignac. His accomplished wife was a grand-daughter
of M. de Lafayette.]]
[Sidenote: MEDIATION IN ITALY.]
_August 20th._--On Wednesday night Disraeli made a very brilliant speech
on foreign affairs in the House of Commons, and Palmerston a very able
reply which was received with great applause and admiration. It was,
however, only a simulated contest between them; for Dizzy, while
pretending to attack Palmerston with much fire and fury, did not in
reality touch him on difficult points. In reference to the mediation,
Palmerston had with his usual good luck received on the morning of the
debate a communication from the Austrian Minister stating the desire of
his Court to avail itself of our mediation, which he employed with great
effect. His speech was certainly very dexterous, and all the more so
because he contrived to glide undetected over the weak points, and to
satisfy the House of Commons without giving them any information
whatever.
All the people who come from Paris represent the state of affairs there
and in France in a curious light. The tranquillity is complete, the
submission general, and there is little probability of any fresh
outbreak, none of a successful one. The Republic is universally
despised, detested, and ridiculed, but no other form of Government and
no Pretender is in much favour or demanded by public feeling or
inclination. They hate the Republic because they are conscious that the
Revolution which turned France into one has inflicted enormous evils
upon them. The best chance at the present moment seems to me to be that
of the Duc de Bordeaux, Henry V., not because anybody cares about _him_,
for he is almost unknown in France, and what is known of him does not
make him an object of interest to Frenchmen, nor (what is by no means
unimportant) to Frenchwomen; but he represents a principle, and there
still lingers in many parts of France, and reigns in some, a sentiment
of attachment and loyalty to the elder branch and the legitimate cause.
This gives him a chance, but nobody seems to have any idea what sort of
monarchy could be restored, if to a monarchy the French eventually
recur. But I was told last night by Bulwer, who is just come from Paris,
a fact which if it be true is of great importance, namely, that there
has sprung up in France a great respect for station and position, a
sentiment that did not exist before, indicating a revolution in the
minds of men of a very reactionary and beneficial character.
[Sidenote: IRISH DISAFFECTION AND REMEDIES.]
Bessborough, who is just come back from Ireland, brings a very bad
account of the state of the country, and Clarendon seems to have talked
to him very openly upon all matters connected with Irish administration,
and the views and conduct of the Government here. Though the rebellion
is put down, the whole animus of the people is as bad as ever; they
brood over their defeats, and only long for revenge and action at some
future time. The outbreak was within an ace of taking place, and seems
to have been prevented by an accident and by the pusillanimity or
prudence of the clubs. They had established a very perfect club
organisation and were in a state of great preparation, but had resolved
not to rise till September. When the suspension of the Habeas Corpus
was proposed, Smith O'Brien and the other leaders saw that they must
proceed to action instantly or that they should be taken up, and they
proceeded to Carrick, addressed the people, and asked them if they were
ready; they said they were, but the clubs must be consulted; he sent to
the clubs, but a small body of troops having marched into Carrick the
same day, the clubs were intimidated and refused their consent to the
rising. This put an extinguisher on the whole thing; if the clubs had
consented many thousands would have poured down from the hills, and the
country would everywhere have been up. He says Clarendon does
everything in Ireland himself, and directs judges, law-officers,
commander-in-chief, stipendiary magistrates, police constables--his work
enormous. He wants to come over here that he may see the Cabinet
collectively and explain his own views and opinions; he is evidently
disgusted to the greatest degree at the impossibility of getting them to
move out of the beaten track, and face the difficulties of the case by
measures of a decisive character.
_September 5th._--On Saturday to the Grange, where Charles Buller showed
me a paper he has drawn up with suggestions of measures for Ireland,
which are very sound and good on the whole, though I do not know that I
should agree as to all the details. He proposes strong government,
abolition of jury unanimity in criminal cases, emigration on a large
scale--particularly to the Cape of Good Hope, and the constitution of a
Board of employment and cultivation, who are to borrow money and invest
it just as an individual capitalist might do. He adds to this, payment
of the Catholic clergy by funds to be raised in Ireland, not asking
imperial aid nor touching the Protestant Church; he only allots to this
purpose 350,000_l._, not enough. He very justly says, however, that
unless Government do something bold, new, comprehensive, and on a great
scale, they will incur disgrace and ultimately ruin.
We had a Council yesterday for the parting Speech, and to-day this long
session, the longest and most tedious ever known, closes. On Wednesday
last, Disraeli with a great flourish of trumpets and note of
preparation delivered an oration _‡ la_ Lyndhurst, of three hours long,
to which John Russell made a pretty good reply. Dizzy's speech was very
sparkling and clever, but it was, after all, nothing but a theatrical
display, without object or meaning but to show off his own powers. It
was prefaced by a sort of advertisement that the great actor would take
his benefit that morning on the stage of St. Stephen's; an audience was
collected, and he sent word to Delane that he was going to speak in
order that he might have one of his best reporters there. He quizzed
Charles Wood unmercifully, and showed up a good many of the blunders and
really stupid things which the Government did in the course of the
session.
_September 22nd._--No sooner was Parliament up than every creature took
flight, and London became more empty and deserted than ever I saw it.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.]
_September 28th._--I was about to record my own proceedings and such
other scraps as occurred to me, when my mind was diverted from all other
topics by the intelligence of the death of George Bentinck.[69] This
event was so strange and sudden, that it could not fail to make a very
great sensation in the world, and so it did. It would be false and
hypocritical were I to pretend that it affected me personally with any
feeling of affliction, but I can say with truth that I was much shocked,
and that I was sincerely sorry for it. I was sorry for the heavy blow
thus inflicted on his father and his family, and it was impossible not
to regard with compassion and something of regret the sudden termination
of a career which promised to be one of no small prosperity and success.
He was in truth a very remarkable man, of very singular character and
disposition, and his history is one very much out of the common way. I
am in one respect better, and in another worse, fitted to describe him
than any other person, for nobody knew him so intimately and so well as
I once did, nobody is so well acquainted with his most private thoughts
and feelings as well as with his most secret practices; but, on the
other hand, I should never be deemed an impartial biographer of a man
from whom I had been so long and completely estranged, and between whom
and myself there existed such strong feelings of alienation and dislike.
Nevertheless, I will try to describe him as I think he really was,
nothing extenuating, and nothing setting down in malice. The world will
and must form a very incorrect estimate of his character; more of what
was good than of what was bad in it was known to the public; he had the
credit of virtues which he did not possess, or which were so mixed with
vices that if all had been known he would have been most severely
reproached in reference to the matters in which he has been the most
loudly and generally bepraised; but his was one of those composite
characters, in which opposite qualities, motives, and feelings were so
strangely intermingled that nothing but a nice analysis, a very close
and impartial inspection of it, can do him justice. His memory has been
kindly and generously dealt with; he was on the whole high in favour
with the world; he had been recently rising in public estimation; and
his sudden and untimely end has stifled all feelings but those of
sympathy and regret, and silenced all voices but those of eulogy and
lamentation. He has long been held up as the type and model of all that
is most honourable and high-minded; 'iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,'
indeed, but the lofty and incorruptible scorner of everything mean and
dishonourable, and the stern exposer and scourger of every species of
delinquency and fraud, public or private. Oh for the inconsistency of
human nature, the strange compound and medley of human motives and
impulses, when the same man who crusaded against the tricks and
villanies of others did not scruple to do things quite as bad as the
worst of the misdeeds which he so vigorously and unrelentingly attacked!
But it is only possible to make his character intelligible by a
reference to certain passages of his life, especially to his
transactions and connexions with myself.
[Footnote 69: [Lord George Bentinck died very suddenly on September 21,
1848. He was Mr. Greville's first cousin, and they had been in early
life intimate friends, but circumstances had led to a complete
estrangement between them.]]
He was brought up at home under a private tutor, was not studious in
early life, and very soon entered the army. I do not remember whether he
went to a public school. He soon distinguished himself in the army by
his great spirit and courage, and by that arrogance which was his
peculiar characteristic, and which never deserted him in any situation
or circumstance in which he was placed. I well remember his getting into
a quarrel which would have led to a duel, if his father had not got me
to go to the Duke of York, by whose interposition the hostile collision
was prevented.[70] I have, however, forgotten both the name of his
antagonist and the merits of the case. He very soon quitted the army,
and when Mr. Canning became Prime Minister he made George his private
secretary. It has been said that Canning predicted great things of him
if he would apply himself seriously to politics, but I do not know
whether this is true. It is certain that after Canning's death, although
by no means indifferent to public affairs, he took no active or
prominent part in them, and the first development of his great natural
energy took place in a very different field. He fell desperately in
love, and he addicted himself with extraordinary vivacity to the turf.
At this time and for a great many years we were most intimate friends,
and I was the depositary of his most secret thoughts and feelings. This
passion, the only one he ever felt for any woman, betrayed him into
great imprudence of manner and behaviour, so much so, that I ventured to
put him on his guard. I cannot now say when this occurred, it is so long
ago, but I well recollect that as I was leaving----after the races I
took him aside, told him it was not possible to be blind to his
sentiments, that he was exposing himself and her likewise; that I did
not mean to thrust myself into his confidence in so delicate a matter,
but besought him to remember that all eyes were on him, all tongues
ready to talk, and that it behoved him to be more guarded and reserved
for her sake as well as his own. He made no reply, and I departed, I
think I repeated the same thing to him in a letter; but whether I did or
no, I received from him a very long one in which he confessed his
sentiments without disguise, went at great length into his own case,
declared his inability to sacrifice feelings which made the whole
interest of his existence, but affirmed with the utmost solemnity that
he had no reason to believe his feelings were reciprocated by her, and
that not only did he not aspire to _success_, but that if it were in his
power to obtain it (which he knew it was not), he would not purchase his
own gratification at the expense of her honour and happiness; in short,
his letter amounted to this--
'Let me but visit her, I'll ask no more;
Guiltless I'll gaze, and innocent adore.'
I allude to this to show the terms of intimacy on which he and I were,
and likewise to do justice to the purity and unselfishness of his
devotion, for I am certain that all he said to me was true. He was,
however, not of a very warm temperament, and this may perhaps materially
diminish the virtue and the value of his high-flown and self-immolating
sentiments; but let them pass for what they are worth.
[Footnote 70: He had a great many quarrels, and at last he fought a
duel, in which Admiral Rous was his second, who knows all the details of
it.]
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.]
The first time I ever knew him much occupied with politics was during
the great Reform battles in 1831 and 1832, when he was member for Lynn.
He took much the same views that I did, and was very anxious to modify
the Reform Bill and render it a less Radical measure. The people of Lynn
wanted a member and commissioned him to find one, and he exerted himself
greatly for that purpose. By his desire I applied to Kindersley, then a
man of some eminence at the Chancery bar, but he declined. I remember
that he and his father did not coincide in their opinions. The Duke was
frightened out of his wits, dreaded the loss of his vast property, and
thought that the only safe policy was unconditional submission to the
roar for Reform. Hating the measure in his heart, he was against any
endeavour to arrest its progress; and he was not at all pleased with
George for the part which he took. The latter, however, to do him
justice, was never afraid of anybody or anything; and he sturdily but
deferentially adhered to his own opinion in opposition to the Duke's.
Meanwhile, he constantly attended Newmarket, and it was not long before
he began to have horses of his own, running them, however, in my name.
The first good racehorse he possessed was 'Preserve,' which I bought for
him in 1833, and she, alas! was the cause of our first quarrel, that
which was made up in appearance, but in reality never. Of course in this
quarrel (which took place in August 1835) we both thought ourselves in
the right. Till then not an unkind word had ever passed between us, nor
had a single cloud darkened our habitual intercourse; but on this
occasion I opposed and thwarted him, and his resentment broke out
against me with a vehemence and ferocity that perfectly astounded me,
and displayed in perfection the domineering insolence of his character.
I knew he was out of humour, but had no idea that he meant to quarrel
with me, and thought his serenity would speedily return. I wrote to him
as usual, and to my astonishment received one of his most elaborate
epistles, couched in terms so savage and so virulently abusive, imputing
to me conduct the most selfish and dishonourable, that I knew not on
reading it whether I stood on my head or my heels. I was conscious that
his charges and insinuations were utterly groundless, but what was I to
do? I could not tamely endure such gross and unwarrantable insults, and
I could not challenge my uncle's son. In this dilemma I consulted a
friend, and placed the letter in his hands; he went to him, and (not I
believe without great difficulty) he persuaded him to _ask_ to withdraw
it. It was agreed that the letter should be destroyed, and that there
should be no ostensible quarrel between us; but it was evident that our
turf connexion could no longer subsist, and accordingly it was instantly
dissolved, and other arrangements were made for his stud.
[Sidenote: RACING RECOLLECTIONS.]
Then commenced his astounding career of success on the turf; he soon
enlarged the sphere of his speculations, increased his establishment,
and ultimately transferred it all to John Day at Danebury, where he
trained under all sorts of different names, it being a great object
with him to keep his father in ignorance of his proceedings.[71] He and
I met upon civil but cool terms, according to the agreement; but in
about two years we began to jumble into intimacy again, and at length an
incident happened which in great measure replaced our relations on their
former footing. My horse Mango was in the St. Leger, and I wanted to try
him. John Day told me he was sure Lord George would gladly try him for
me. I proposed it to him, and he instantly assented. We went down
together and tried the horse. Mango won his trial, won the St. Leger,
and George won 14,000_l._ on the race. All this contributed to efface
the recollection of past differences, and we became mutually cordial
again.[72] With me the reconciliation was sincere. I had forgiven his
behaviour to me, and desired no better than to live in amity with him
for the rest of my life; whether it was equally sincere on his part he
alone knew, but I very much doubt it. We continued, however, to live
very well together up to the time when he brought out the famous
'Crucifix,' when, without any fresh quarrel, our intimacy became
somewhat less close in consequence of my perceiving a manifest intention
on his part to keep all the advantage of her merits to himself without
allowing me to participate in them. Still we went on, till the
occurrence of the notorious 'Gurney affair,' on which he and I took
opposite sides, and in which he played a very conspicuous and violent
part. While this was going on we were brought into personal collision at
Newmarket in a matter relating to the revision of the rules of the
Jockey Club, when his arrogance and personal animosity to me broke out
with extraordinary asperity. There was still no regular and avowed
quarrel till the spring following, when at a meeting of the Jockey Club
I made a speech in opposition to him which he chose to construe into an
intentional insult, and the next time he met me he cut me dead. I made
several attempts, as did our mutual friends, to do away with this
impression and to effect a reconciliation, but he refused to listen to
any explanation or overture, and announced his resolution not to make it
up with me at all. From that time our estrangement was complete and
irreparable. He was now become the leviathan of the turf; his success
had been brilliant, his stud was enormous, and his authority and
reputation were prodigiously great.
[Footnote 71: Some years before he had lost 11,000_l._ at Doncaster,
which he could not pay. The Duke was greatly annoyed, but paid the money
for him, exacting a promise that he would not bet any more on the turf.
Of course, he never dreamt of his keeping racehorses.]
[Footnote 72: It was not long after this that a very important incident
in his turf life occurred. The Duke, his father (the most innocent of
men), had his curiosity awakened by seeing a great number of horses
running in the names of men whom he never saw or heard of. These were
all his son's aliases. He asked a great many questions about these
invisible personages, to the amusement of all the Newmarket world. At
last it was evident he must find out the truth, and I urged George to
tell it him at once. With reluctance and no small apprehension he
assented, and mustering up courage he told the Duke that all those
horses were his. The intimation was very ill received; the Duke was
indignant. He accused him of having violated his word; and he was so
angry that he instantly quitted Newmarket and returned to Welbeck. For a
long time he would not see George at all; at last the Duchess contrived
to pacify him; he resumed his usual habits with his son, and in the end
he took an interest in the horses, tacitly acquiesced in the whole
thing, and used to take pleasure in seeing them and hearing about them.]
In 1844 he became still more famous by his exertions in detecting the
'Running Rein' fraud, and in conducting the 'Orlando' trial. There can
be no doubt that the success of that affair was in great measure
attributable to his indefatigable activity, ingenuity, and perseverance.
The attorney in the cause was amazed at the ability and dexterity he
displayed, and said there was no sum he would not give to secure the
professional assistance of such a coadjutor. He gained the greatest
credit in all quarters by his conduct throughout this affair, which was
afterwards increased by his manner of receiving a valuable testimonial,
subscribed for the purpose of honouring and rewarding his exertions: he
refused to accept anything for himself, but desired the money might be
applied towards the establishment of a fund to reward decayed and
distressed servants of the turf, which was eventually denominated 'The
Bentinck Fund.'[73] He was exceedingly self-willed and arrogant, and
never could endure contradiction; and whatever he undertook he entered
into with an ardour and determination which amounted to a passion. As he
plunged into gaming on the turf, he desired to win money, not so much
for the money, as because it was the test and the trophy of success; he
counted the thousands he won after a great race as a general would count
his prisoners and his cannon after a great victory; and his tricks and
stratagems he regarded as the tactics and manoeuvres by which the
success was achieved. Not probably that the money itself was altogether
a matter of indifference to him: he had the blood of General Scott in
his veins, who won half a million at hazard, and the grandson most
likely _chassait un peu de sa race_. But to do him justice, if he was
'alieni appetens,' he was 'sui profusus.' Nobody was more liberal to all
his people, nor more generous and obliging in money matters to his
friends, and I am inclined to think that while he was taking to himself
the mission of purifying the turf, and punishing or expelling wrongdoers
of all sorts, his own mind became purified, and (though I do not know
it) I should not wonder if he looked back with shame and contrition to
all the schemes, plots, and machinations to which, in the ardour of his
racing pursuit, he had been a party. What makes me think that it was
less the base desire of pecuniary gain than the passionate eagerness of
immense success which urged him on, is the alacrity with which he cast
away his whole stud, at a moment when it promised him the most brilliant
results and most considerable profits, as soon as another passion and
another pursuit had taken possession of his mind; one in which there was
not only no pecuniary benefit in view, but the occupation of which
obliged him to neglect his turf concerns so entirely that he lost a
great deal of money in consequence.
[Footnote 73: [Here follow, in Mr. Greville's manuscript, several
details of racing transactions in which Lord George Bentinck took a
part, which Mr. Greville strongly disapproved; but they have now lost
their interest, and are omitted.]]
[Sidenote: LORD GEORGE SELLS HIS STUD.]
This brings me to his very extraordinary political career. I well
remember, in the winter of 1845, when Peel's intentions began to be
known or suspected, what indignation he expressed and what violent
language he used about him. As soon as Parliament met he began to take
an active part amongst the Protectionist malcontents, and he devoted
much time to getting up the _pro_ Corn Law case. He had never studied
political economy, and knew very little on the subject, but he was
imbued with the notions common to his party that the repeal of the Corn
Laws would be the ruin of the landed interest; he therefore hated the
Anti-Corn Law League, and--considering that the first and most paramount
of duties was to keep up the value of the estates of the order to which
he belonged, and that Peel had been made Minister and held office mainly
for this purpose--he considered Peel's abandonment of Protection, and
adoption, or rather extension, of Free Trade, as not only an act of
treachery, but of treason to the party which claimed his allegiance, and
he accordingly flung himself into opposition to him with all his
characteristic vehemence and rancour. Still neither he himself nor any
one else anticipated the part he was about to play, and the figure he
was destined to make. One of the men whom he was in the habit of talking
to, was Martin, Q.C.,[74] and he told him that he had a great mind to
speak on the Corn Law debate, but that he did not think he could; he had
had no experience and could not trust himself.[75] Martin told me this.
I said I thought he could; that I had been much struck with a speech he
had made at the Jockey Club, when he had spoken for two hours, and in a
way which satisfied me he had _speaking in him_. Martin went and told
him this, which struck him very much, and it decided him (so Martin told
me) to make the attempt. His _dÈbut_ in the House of Commons was a
remarkable exhibition, and made a great impression at the time: not that
it was a very good, still less an agreeable speech; quite the reverse.
He chose the worst moment he possibly could have done to rise; the House
was exhausted by several nights of debate and had no mind to hear more.
He rose very late on the last night, and he spoke for above three hours;
his speech was ill-delivered, marked with all those peculiar faults
which he never got rid of; it was very tiresome; it contained much that
was in very bad taste; but in spite of all defects it was listened to,
and it was considered a very extraordinary performance, giving
indications of great ability and powers which nobody had any idea that
he possessed.
[Footnote 74: [Afterwards a Baron of the Court of Exchequer.]]
[Footnote 75: He told Martin that he had carefully and elaborately got
up the case, but he could not make the speech, and he begged him to find
a man who would use his materials and speak for him. The man found, he
undertook to provide him with a seat in Parliament. The first man they
applied to was Humphry. George saw and conversed with him, and
immediately said he would not do. They then went to Serjeant Byles. He
was delighted with the Serjeant, and would gladly have taken him, but,
after at first consenting, the Serjeant drew back and declined the task.
After this, Martin asked Frederick Robinson if he knew of a man, when he
replied, 'It is all nonsense, looking out for a man; he must make the
speech himself. Do you think the House of Commons would listen to a
hired orator, brought down for the purpose? They will listen to him and
to nobody else.' This Martin repeated to him, telling him it was very
true; and then he added what I had said about his speech at the Jockey
Club. He said, 'Did he really say so? I thought it very bad, and I was
disgusted at doing it so ill, and making such bad use of the good
materials I had.' The next day he wrote word to Martin that he had made
up his mind to make the attempt himself. This was ten days or a
fortnight before the night on which he spoke.]
[Sidenote: LORD GEORGE'S POLITICAL CAREER.]
The rest of his career is well known. He brought into politics the same
ardour, activity, industry, and cleverness which he had displayed on the
turf, and some of the same cunning and contrivances too. He never was
and never would have been anything like a statesman; he was utterly
devoid of large and comprehensive views, and he was no pursuer and
worshipper of truth. He brought the mind, the habits, and the arts of an
attorney to the discussion of political questions; having once espoused
a cause, and embraced a party, from whatever motive, he worked with all
the force of his intellect and a superhuman power of application in what
he conceived to be the interest of that party and that cause. No
scruples, moral or personal, stood for a moment in his way; he went into
evidence, historical or statistical, not to inform himself and to accept
with a candid and unbiassed mind the conclusions to which reason and
testimony, facts and figures, might conduct him, but to pick out
whatever might fortify his foregone conclusions, casting aside
everything inimical to the cause he was advocating, and seizing all
that could be turned to account by any amount of misrepresentation and
suppression he might find it convenient to employ. It was thus he acted
in the West India Committee; his labour and application were something
miraculous; he conducted the enquiry very ably, but anything but
impartially; having had no political education, and being therefore
unimbued with sound principles on fiscal and commercial questions, he
had everything to learn; and having flung himself headlong into the
Protectionist cause, he got up their case just as he did that of
'Orlando' or 'Running Rein,' and ran amuck against everything and
everybody on the opposite side.
Against Peel he soon broke out with indescribable fury and rancour. Such
was the attack he made upon him about his conduct to Canning, which has
been since ascribed to his attachment to the latter, and a long
cherished but suppressed resentment at Peel's behaviour to him. Nothing
could be more ridiculously untrue; he did not care one straw for
Canning, alive or dead, and he did not himself believe one word of the
accusations he brought against Peel; but he thought he had found
materials for a damaging attack on the man he detested, and he availed
himself of it with all the virulence of the most vindictive hatred. It
was a total failure, and he only afforded Peel an opportunity of
vindicating himself once for all from an imputation which had been very
generally circulated and believed, but which he proved to be altogether
false. The House of Commons gave Peel a complete triumph, and George
Bentinck was generally condemned; nevertheless, with more courage and
bull-dog perseverance than good taste and judgement, he returned to the
charge, and instead of withdrawing his accusations, renewed and insisted
on them in his reply. This was just like him; but though his conduct was
very ill advised, I well remember thinking his reply (made too against
the sense and feeling of the House) was very clever.
[Sidenote: LORD GEORGE'S POPULARITY.]
I have always thought that his conduct in selling his stud all at one
swoop, and at once giving up the turf, to which he had just before
seemed so devoted, was never sufficiently appreciated and praised. It
was a great sacrifice both of pleasure and profit, and it was made to
what he had persuaded himself was a great public duty. It is true that
he had taken up his new vocation with an ardour and a zeal which
absorbed his old one, but still it was a very fine act, and excessively
creditable to him. He never did anything by halves, and having accepted
the responsible post of leader of his party, he resolved to devote
himself to their service, and he did so without stint or reserve; and
when he had ceased to be nominally their leader, a transaction in which
his behaviour was honourable and manly, he still voluntarily and
gratuitously imposed upon himself an amount of labour and anxiety on
particular questions, which beyond all doubt contributed to the accident
which terminated his life. Notwithstanding his arrogance and his
violence, his constant quarrels and the intolerable language he indulged
in, he was popular in the House of Commons, and was liked more or less
wherever he went. He was extremely good-looking and particularly
distinguished and high-bred; then he was gay, agreeable, obliging, and
good-natured, charming with those he liked, and by whom he was not
thwarted and opposed. His undaunted courage and the confident and
haughty audacity with which he attacked or stood up against all
opponents, being afraid of no man, inspired a general sentiment of
admiration and respect, and his lofty assumption of superior integrity
and his resolute determination to expose and punish every breach of
public honour and morality were quietly acquiesced in, and treated with
great deference by the multitude who knew no better, and were imposed on
by his specious pretensions. The sensation caused by his death, the
encomiums pronounced on his character, and the honours paid to his
memory, have been unexampled in a man whose career has been so short,
and who did not do greater things than he had it in his power to
accomplish. He had become, however, the advocate of powerful interests,
and of vast numbers of people whose united voices make a great noise in
the world, and there is something in the appalling suddenness of the
catastrophe which excites general sympathy and pity, and makes people
more inclined to think of his virtues, his powers, and his promise, than
of his defects. Of the latter perhaps the greatest was his constant
disposition to ascribe the worst motives to all those to whom he found
himself opposed;
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
and when he invariably fancied that he saw intentional fraud and the
utmost baseness in the conduct of his antagonists, it is impossible not
to ascribe such false and erroneous views of human nature to the moral
consciousness which was the result of his own former courses, constantly
suspecting others of the same sort of practices with which he was once
so familiar. I have not the least doubt that, for his own reputation and
celebrity, he died at the most opportune period; his fame had probably
reached its zenith, and credit was given him for greater abilities than
he possessed, and for a futurity of fame, influence, and power which it
is not probable he ever would have realised. As it is, the world will
never know anything of those serious blemishes which could not fail to
dim the lustre of his character; he will long be remembered and
regretted as a very remarkable man, and will occupy a conspicuous place
in the history of his own time.
[Sidenote: STATE OF FRANCE.]