Louis Blanc on France--The Catholic Priesthood--Failure of
Scheme for Ireland--Evils of Total Repeal of Duties--Reaction
in Prussia--A Message from M. Thiers--Conversation of Louis
Philippe with Lord Clarendon--Dinner at Mr. Reeve's--Death of
Lord Melbourne--Death of Charles Buller--Their Characters--Plans
for Ireland--A Dinner of Historians--Election of Louis
Napoleon as President of the French Republic--Death of Lord
Auckland--The Saturnalia of 1848--The Admiralty offered to
Sir James Graham--Graham declines--Lord Palmerston's Attacks
on Austria--Grounds of Sir J. Graham's Refusal--Opening of
Parliament--Debate in the Lords--Debate in the Commons--Mr.
Disraeli the Leader of the Tories--The Irish Policy of the
Government--Lord John Russell limits the Suspension of the
Habeas Corpus Act to Six Months--The Irish Grant--Dreadful State
of Ireland--Admiral CÈcille Ambassador in London--The Ceylon
Committee--Affair of the Sicilian Stores--The Fall of Hudson,
the Railway King--Sir Charles Napier's Appointment to command in
India--The Sicilian Arms.
_London, October 20th, 1848._--One day the week before last, I dined
with D'Orsay to meet Louis Blanc. Nobody there but he and I. We had a
great deal of talk. He is very gay, animated, and full of information,
takes in very good part anything that is said to him, and any criticisms
on his Revolution and the Provisional Government. After that, a week at
Newmarket, and last week at the Grange with a large party, agreeable
enough. M. Dumon[76] was there, and we asked him to explain why the
Government of which he was a member had so obstinately refused to
concede any reform. He gave an explanation and apology for their
conduct, which was not very satisfactory, and amounted to little more
than the old story of the necessity of keeping together the Conservative
majority. Louis Blanc told me the Revolution had not ruined France; that
the ruin was already consummated, and the Revolution only tore away the
veil which concealed it.
[Footnote 76: [M. Dumon had been Minister of Finance in M. Guizot's
Cabinet.]]
_November 7th._--While I was at Newmarket, Lord Clarendon came over
here, but I never succeeded in seeing him till yesterday. He is to have
the Garter, the Duke of Leinster and Lord Fitzwilliam having both
refused it, and he wished to refuse it also, but Lord John made a point
of his taking it. A Committee of Cabinet is appointed to consider Irish
measures, but I see very clearly that no attempt will be made to pay the
priests; and though I have not changed my opinion as to the measure
itself, I am disposed to think that at this time it could not be
attempted with any chance of success. While everything else is in a
constant state of change, Protestant bigotry and anti-Catholic rancour
continue to flourish with undiminished intensity, and all the more from
being founded on nothing but prejudice and ignorance, without a particle
of sense and reason.
_November 11th._--George Bentinck's servant called on me the other
morning, and told me that he had a strong impression his Lord would have
soon thrown up politics and taken to racing again as suddenly as he took
to the former; that his interest in the turf continued to be very great;
and that his disappointment at the failure of the West Indian attempt
had been excessive, having been confident of success, and of turning out
the Government upon it. This man gave me many details of his labours and
exertions, all corresponding with what I had heard before. He often sat
up all night, never got any air or exercise, and passed his whole time
between his own house and the House of Commons, writing, reading, and
seeing people, often as many as twenty or thirty in a day.
Just after writing the above I saw the correspondence which took place
between George Bentinck and Bankes on his giving up the leadership, from
which it was evident that the labour and anxiety had already begun to
make no inconsiderable inroad on his constitution, and that he was quite
conscious of the risk he incurred by continuing his parliamentary and
political career with the same intensity.
[Sidenote: RAISING MONEY FOR IRELAND.]
The Irish scheme propounded by Charles Buller, and so readily taken up
by the Government (at first), seems now likely to vanish into smoke. It
was soon evident that the payment of the priests would not be attempted.
Clarendon has been always against it, and he showed me two days ago a
letter from Redington (who had undertaken during his absence to sound
the Catholic prelates), with an account of his conversation with
Archbishop Murray, from which it was clear that it would be useless to
attempt it, and so Redington himself said, he being the man (so
Clarendon told me) above all others most strongly feeling the
degradation of his Church; so that this matter will be left _in statu
quo_. Last night I met Charles Wood, and soon found from his
conversation that there is not much greater probability of the financial
part of the scheme being carried out. He, at all events, is dead against
it, against raising money and expending capital _by the Government_. I
said something about this part of the plan, when he said, very
contemptuously, 'What, you are in favour of that scheme, are you? I am
surprised that with your sense you should think it practicable.' He then
went off upon the inexpediency of any government interference. He
admitted the evils that existed, the ruin that would overtake a great
many people, but nevertheless was for letting matters take their course.
He said: 'You are in too great a hurry. I admit that capital is required
for improvement, but it must come in the regular way and by private
investment. There is great depreciation, and there will be more, and in
the end this will attract capital, and people who have money to lay out
will have recourse to this as a profitable investment.' It is needless
to detail our several arguments, and sufficient to say that with the
Chancellor of the Exchequer of this mind it is not likely that anything
will be done. I told Charles Buller in the evening what had passed, and
he said it was only what he expected, as from the moment a _Committee_
of Cabinet was appointed he was sure nothing would be done.
Charles Wood lamented to me very bitterly the fatal effects of the
mistake Peel had made in abolishing all Corn duty whatever
(prospectively) and the Timber duties. He said George Bentinck was quite
right in his preference for low duties instead of abolition, and that if
we could now have the above duties they would relieve the revenue from
almost all its difficulties, and be felt by nobody; and the unhappy
thing is that this mistake is irretrievable, for _revocare gradum_ is
totally impossible. Peel acknowledged his error about timber, and
probably he might also about corn. He was, in fact, misled and carried
away by his flourishing revenue, and acted without consideration.
_November 15th._--The scheme for improving Ireland seems likely to fall
to the ground altogether. Everybody affirms or admits that the time is
so unpropitious for 'endowment' that it is useless to think of it, and
Charles Wood and George Grey have convinced themselves that Parliament
and the country will not be disposed to advance money in any shape for
Irish purposes. I had a long conversation with Clarendon on the subject
yesterday, and laboured to persuade him that this was an error, and that
if Government can show that the money will be judiciously employed, and
in all probability that there will be no ultimate loss to the State,
there will be no difficulty in gaining the assent of Parliament to the
fiscal part of the proposed plan.
[Sidenote: THE FRENCH ROYAL FAMILY.]
In the morning I met Bunsen, who said the King of Prussia was going on
well, and he augured success to his present measures. It is a great
thing to see reaction anywhere, and the revolutionary and democratic
tide rolled back which has been deluging all Europe; but this is a very
doubtful contest, and the King inspires no confidence. The Prussian
affair points a great moral, and reads an important lesson. It shows at
once the danger of resistance to just demands and reasonable desires,
and the dangers and evils of full democratic sway, sweeping everything
before it. If the King of Prussia had long ago fulfilled his promises,
and given a constitution to his country while he could have done so
gracefully and safely, the new institutions would have had time to
develope and consolidate themselves, and would in all probability have
proved the security of the Crown when the flood of revolution broke
over Europe. He refused, and fought it off so long that at last his
people grew discontented and angry, and when the French Revolution set
all Germany on fire, the work was so far from being perfected that the
Crown was left to battle with the democratic fury that broke forth, and
its own weakness and vacillation rendered the power irresistible which
might have been coerced and restrained. Whether it is still time to
retrace his steps remains to be seen. The success of Louis Napoleon in
France now seems beyond all doubt. Thiers has sent a message to Guizot,
through a friend of both, to say that he is resolved to take no part in
his Government, and Normanby informs me that Odilon Barrot is to be his
Minister. This will make the whole thing perfect, Odilon Barrot being of
all men the most unpractical, and having failed ridiculously in
everything he ever undertook.
_November 25th._--I met Guizot at dinner twice last week. He told me
Thiers had sent a man over to him, _and to the King_, to make to him the
assurance above stated. Rather curious his keeping up this communication
with the exiled Sovereign and Minister--the two men, too, whom he most
detests. I asked him if he believed what he said, when he intimated that
it might or might not be true. They have never sent the Royal Family any
money up to this time, though the Chamber long ago voted back their
property; but the Government have promised to send the King 20,000_l._,
and the Duc d'Aumale 10,000_l._; the latter has 50,000_l._ a year and no
debts. From what Guizot's daughter said to me, it is clear they by no
means give up the idea of returning to France and of his taking a part
in public affairs, but not yet.
Lord Clarendon went to see the King a few days ago, and was with him two
hours, when he told him the whole history of his flight and all his
adventures. He said, he should not know which to vote for, Cavaignac or
Louis Napoleon, if he had a vote to give. Guizot, however, is all for
the latter, I can very well see. He told me it would be the first step
towards a monarchy, but he did not say what monarchy he meant. The King
told Clarendon we need not fear a war; that the army knew its strength,
and meant to exercise it, and would insist on deciding on the political
futurity of France; that it detested the Republic, but had no desire to
go to war, and moreover it could not, for it was _dÈnuÈe de tout_. He
said nobody knew how ill provided the French army was, and that this was
alone a security against war. Clarendon told him he did not consider it
as such, as a country like France could always provide everything very
quickly, but that he thought there were other causes operating in the
direction of peace. He found him very well and in very good spirits; he
has been greatly pleased at the visits of the National Guards to him
(who went in great numbers); but it drives him wild when they say to
him, 'Sire, pourquoi nous avez-vous quittÈs?' He knows he threw
everything away, and constantly tries to persuade himself and others
that the army would not have supported him. Flahault said to him the
other day that he had no right to cast such an imputation on the army,
which had proved its fidelity in all circumstances and to all
Governments, even in July, and that the army would have saved him if it
had been allowed to act. Everybody now knows that if he had done
anything but run away, if he had gone to St. Cloud only, or anywhere,
and called the troops about him, all would have been saved. He threw his
cards on the table, and the game was stupidly and disgracefully lost.
I met Guizot at a dinner at Reeve's on Thursday, with M. Lemoinne, one
of the _rÈdacteurs_ of the 'Journal des DÈbats,' and the man who wrote
the excellent articles on England and our politics and condition,
showing great knowledge of this country. There were besides, Woodham,
who writes in the 'Times,' a clever man; Longman, Lord Clarendon, and
Mr. Wheaton, the author of a well-known work on the 'Law of Nations.'
_November 29th._--Lord Melbourne died on Friday night at Brocket,
without suffering pain, but having had a succession of epileptic fits
the whole day, most painful and distressing to his family collected
about him.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD MELBOURNE.]
This morning has occurred the death, after a short illness, of another
remarkable man, Charles Buller. He had an operation successfully
performed about ten days ago, but he was afterwards attacked by typhus
fever and diarrhoea. The case became hopeless, and be expired at
half-past five this morning in the forty-first year of his age. The
career of Melbourne was over; that of Charles Buller for great and
useful purposes may be said to have been only just beginning. His
friends are deeply annoyed and angry at a biographical article on
Melbourne which appeared in the 'Times' the morning after his death; and
it certainly was coarse, vulgar, and to a great degree unjust. It was a
mere daub and caricature, and very discreditable to the paper.
But it is a difficult thing to write a good article upon Melbourne,
one which shall delineate his character with impartiality and
discrimination, and describe fairly and truly his political career. I
have known a great deal of him in the course of my life, but I never
lived in real intimacy with him; and as he at no time seemed to have
much inclination for my company, though we were always very good
friends, I saw but little of him; but every now and then we had
something to say to each other, and at rare intervals we met on intimate
and confidential terms. He was certainly a very singular man, resembling
in character and manner, as he did remarkably in feature, his father,
the late Lord Egremont.[77] He was exceedingly handsome, when first I
knew him, which was in 1815 or thereabouts. It was at this period that
the irregularities of his wife had partly estranged him from her, though
they were not yet separated, and he was occasionally amused by her into
condonation of her amours, and into a sort of half-laughing,
half-resentful reconciliation. They lived in this queer way. He,
good-natured, eccentric, and not nice; she, profligate, romantic, and
comical. Both were kept together, as they had been brought together, by
the influence and management of their common relations and connexions;
but it was during this period that he devoted himself with ardour to
study, and that he acquired the vast fund of miscellaneous knowledge
with which his conversation was always replete, and which, mixed up with
his characteristic peculiarities, gave an extraordinary zest and
pungency to his society. His taste for reading and information, which
was confirmed into a habit by the circumstances of these years,
continued to the end of his life, unbroken, though unavoidably
interrupted by his political avocations. He lived surrounded by books,
and nothing prevented him, even when Prime Minister, and with all the
calls on his time to which he was compelled to attend, from reading
every new publication of interest or merit, as well as frequently
revelling amongst the favourite authors of his early studies. His memory
was extremely retentive, and amply stored with choice passages of every
imaginable variety, so that he could converse learnedly upon almost all
subjects, and was never at a loss for copious illustrations, amusing
anecdotes, and happy quotations. This richness of talk was rendered more
piquant by the quaintness and oddity of his manner, and an ease and
naturalness proceeding in no small degree from habits of self-indulgence
and freedom, a license for which was conceded to him by common consent,
even by the Queen herself, who, partly from regard for him, and partly
from being amused at his ways, permitted him to say and do whatever he
pleased in her presence. He was often paradoxical, and often coarse,
terse, epigrammatic, acute, droll, with fits of silence and abstraction,
from which he would suddenly break out with a vehemence and vigour which
amused those who were accustomed to him, and filled with indescribable
astonishment those who were not. His mother-in-law, Lady Bessborough,
told me that high office was tendered to him many years before he began
to play any political part, but at that time he preferred a life of
lettered and social idleness, and he would not accept it. He never was
really well fitted for political life, for he had a great deal too much
candour, and was too fastidious to be a good party man. It may be said
of him, at least in his earlier days, that he was
'For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient,
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.'
[Footnote 77: [This sounds strange, but it was believed by those who
were acquainted with the _chronique scandaleuse_ of a former generation,
in the last century, that William Lamb and Lady Cowper (afterwards Lady
Palmerston) were not the children of their putative father, the Lord
Melbourne of that day, but of Lord Egremont, who never married, but had
numerous illegitimate offspring. William, Lord Melbourne, whose death is
here recorded, was the husband of Lady Caroline, a daughter of the Earl
of Bessborough, the authoress of 'Glenarvon,' celebrated for her passion
for Lord Byron and her subsequent quarrel with him.]]
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF LORD MELBOURNE.]
And still less was he fit to be the leader of a party and the head of a
Government, for he had neither the strong convictions, nor the eager
ambition, nor the firmness and resolution which such a post requires.
From education and turn of mind, and from the society in which he was
bred and always lived, he was a Whig; but he was a very moderate one,
abhorring all extremes, a thorough Conservative at heart, and
consequently he was only half identified in opinion and sympathy with
the party to which he belonged when in office; he often dreaded and
distrusted his colleagues, and was secretly the enemy of the measures
which his own Government originated, and of which he was obliged to take
the credit or bear the obloquy. No position could be more false than the
position in which Melbourne was often placed, and no man ever was more
perplexed and tormented than he was by it, for he was remarkably
sensitive; and most of the latter years of his administration were
passed in a state of dissatisfaction with himself and with all about
him. He hated the Reform Bill, which he was obliged to advocate. He saw,
indeed, that Reform had become irresistible, and therefore he reconciled
it to his conscience to support the Bill; but he had not sufficient
energy of character or strength of will to make a stand against the
lengths which he disapproved, and he contented himself with those
indirect attempts to modify it which I have narrated in their proper
place. It was probably his personal popularity, and the reluctance of
Lord Lansdowne to take so laborious a post,[78] which led to his being
made Prime Minister on the resignation of Lord Grey, for there never was
a man more incapable of exercising the vigilance and supremacy which
that office demands. After the great breach of 1835, and the abortive
attempt of William IV. to throw over the Whig Government, his relations
with his Ministers became very uncomfortable; but Melbourne was a
good-natured man, and a gentleman, and perhaps no one else would have
gone on with the King so harmoniously as he managed it.
[Footnote 78: I read this to Lord Lansdowne, and he told me what had
occurred about himself. When the Whigs came in, in '30, Lord Grey
proposed to him to be First Lord of the Treasury, and offered to take
the office of Privy Seal himself. Lord Lansdowne told him the Government
must be _his_ Government, that he should only be _his_ First Lord, and
that it was fitter and better he should take the post himself: besides
that, for various reasons, he had no disposition for it, and he would
rather take some other office. When Lord Grey retired, and the King sent
for Melbourne, Melbourne spoke to Lord Lansdowne and said, 'I believe
you do not wish to take Lord Grey's place, is not that the case?' Lord
Lansdowne said it was so, and that he might make himself quite easy as
far as he was concerned. He had no objection to remain where he was, but
would not be at the head of the Government.]
[Sidenote: MELBOURNE'S DEVOTION TO THE QUEEN.]
But it was upon the accession of the Queen that his post suddenly grew
into one of immense importance and interest, for he found himself placed
in the most curious and delicate position which any statesman ever
occupied. Victoria was transferred at once from the nursery to the
throne--ignorant, inexperienced, and without one human being about her
on whom she could rely for counsel and aid. She found in her Prime
Minister and constitutional adviser a man of mature age, who instantly
captivated her feelings and her fancy by his deferential solicitude, and
by a shrewd, sagacious, and entertaining conversation, which were
equally new and delightful to her. She at once cast herself with
implicit confidence upon Melbourne, and, from the first day of her
reign, their relations assumed a peculiar character, and were marked by
an intimacy which he never abused; on the contrary, he only availed
himself of his great influence to impress upon her mind sound maxims of
constitutional government, and truths of every description that it
behoved her to learn. It is impossible to imagine anything more
interesting than the situation which had thus devolved upon him, or one
more calculated to excite all the latent sensibility of his nature. His
loyal devotion soon warmed into a parental affection, which she repaid
by unbounded manifestations of confidence and regard. He set himself
wisely, and with perfect disinterestedness, to form her mind and
character, and to cure the defects and eradicate the prejudices from
which the mistakes and faults of her education had not left her entirely
free. In all that Melbourne said or did, he appears to have been guided
by a regard to justice and truth. He never scrupled to tell her what
none other would have dared to say; and in the midst of that atmosphere
of flattery and deceit which kings and queens are almost always destined
to breathe, and by which their minds are so often perverted, he never
scrupled to declare boldly and frankly his real opinions, strange as
they sometimes sounded, and unpalatable as they often were, and to wage
war with her prejudices and false impressions with regard to people or
things whenever he saw that she was led astray by them. He acted in all
things an affectionate, conscientious, and patriotic part, endeavouring
to make her happy as a woman, and popular as a queen.
It is notorious that he committed two great errors in judgement, both of
which were attended with disastrous consequences, and I believe that in
both cases his discretion was misled by his feelings, and that it was
his care for her ease and happiness which betrayed him into these fatal
mistakes. The first was the Flora Hastings affair, the scandal of which
he might certainly have prevented; the other was the Bedchamber quarrel,
when her reluctance to part with him, and his tenderness for her,
overruled his better judgement, and made him adopt a course he must have
known to be both impossible and wrong. In these affairs (especially the
first), Melbourne must have suffered torments, for his tender solicitude
for the Queen, and the deep sense of his own responsibility, were sure
to weigh heavily upon him. His influence and authority at Court were not
diminished, nor his position there altered by her marriage; but the
Prince, though always living on very friendly terms with him, was
secretly rejoiced when the political power of this great favourite was
brought to a close; for, so long as Melbourne was there, he undoubtedly
played but an obscure and secondary part. When the inevitable change of
Government at last took place, the parting between the Queen and her
Minister was very sorrowful to both of them, and it was then that he
gave his last and generous proof of his anxiety for her happiness in
sending me with his advice to Peel.
It would be rendering imperfect justice to Melbourne's character to look
upon him rather as a courtier than as a statesman, and to fancy that he
made his political principles subordinate to his personal predilections.
He was deeply attached to the Queen, but he had all the patriotism of an
English gentleman, and was jealous of the honour and proud of the
greatness of his country. He held office with a profound sense of its
responsibilities; there never was a Minister more conscientious in the
distribution of patronage, more especially of his ecclesiastical
patronage. He was perfectly disinterested, without nepotism, and without
vanity; he sought no emoluments for his connexions, and steadily
declined all honours for himself. The Queen often pressed him to accept
the Garter, but he never would consent, and it was remarked that the
Prime Minister of England was conspicuous at Court for being alone
undecorated amidst the stars and ribands which glittered around him. He
has been not inappropriately compared to Sallustius Crispus, as
described by Tacitus: 'Quamquam prompto ad capessendos honores aditu,
sine dignitate senatori‚ multos triumphalium consulariumque potenti‚
anteiit; diversus a veterum instituto per cultum et munditias; copi‚que
et affluenti‚ luxu propior. Suberat tamen vigor animi ingentibus
negotiis par, eo acrior, quo somnum et inertiam magis ostentabat. Igitur
incolumi MÊcenate proximus; mox prÊcipuus cui secreta Imperatorum maxime
inniterentur.'[79]
[Footnote 79: [The passage occurs in the 'Annals of Tacitus,' book iii.
ch. 30. Sallustius Crispus was a descendant of the sister of Caius
Sallustius, the historian who allowed him to assume the name of Sallust.
Horace addressed to him the second Ode of the second book of Odes.]]
[Sidenote: MELBOURNE'S CONVERSATIONS AND OPINIONS.]
At the time Melbourne left office he was only an occasional guest at
Court, but the Queen continued to correspond with him constantly, and
gave him frequent proofs that her regard for him was undiminished. He
took very little part in politics after 1841, and it was not long before
his health began to give way. He had been so completely absorbed by the
Court, that for many years he had been almost lost to society; but as
soon as he was out of office, he resumed his old habits, and was
continually to be found at Holland House, at Lady Palmerston's, and with
a few other intimate friends. There he loved to lounge and sprawl at his
ease, pouring out a rough but original stream of talk, shrewd, playful,
and instructive. His distinctive qualities were strong sound sense, and
an innate taste for what was great and good, either in action or
sentiment. His mind kindled, his eye brightened, and his tongue grew
eloquent when noble examples or sublime conceptions presented themselves
before him. He would not have passed 'unmoved by any scene that was
consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by wisdom.' But while he pursued
truth, as a philosopher, his love of paradox made him often appear a
strange mass of contradiction and inconsistency. A sensualist and a
Sybarite, without much refinement or delicacy, a keen observer of the
follies and vices of mankind, taking the world as he found it, and
content to extract as much pleasure and diversion as he could from it,
he at one time would edify and astonish his hearers with the most
exalted sentiments, and at another would terrify and shock them by
indications of the lowest morality and worldly feelings, and by thoughts
and opinions fraught with the most cold-hearted mocking and sarcasm. His
mind seems all his life long, and on almost every subject, to have been
vigorous and stirring, but unsettled and unsatisfied. It certainly was
so on the two great questions of religion and politics, and he had no
profound convictions, no certain assurance about either. He studied
divinity eagerly and constantly, and was no contemptible theologian;
but he never succeeded in arriving at any fixed belief, or in anchoring
himself on any system of religious faith. It was the same thing in
politics. All the Liberal and Constitutional theories which he had ever
entertained had been long ago more than realised, and he was filled with
alarm at the prospect of their further extension. All his notions were
aristocratic, and he had not a particle of sympathy for what was called
progressive reform. He was a vehement supporter of the Corn Laws, abused
Peel with all the rancour of a Protectionist, and died in the conviction
that his measures will prove the ruin of the landed interest.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF CHARLES BULLER.]
During his administration his great object seemed to be to keep a
rickety concern together, less from political ambition than from his
personal feelings for the Queen. He abhorred disputes and quarrels of
every description, and he was constantly temporising and patching them
up when they occurred in his Cabinet (as they often did) by all sorts of
expedients, seldom asserting either the dignity or the authority of his
position as head of the Government. Such weak and unworthy misrule
brought his Cabinet, his party, and himself into contempt, and it was
unquestionably in great measure owing to his want of judgement and
firmness that they became so unpopular, and at last fell with so little
credit and dignity as they did in 1841. He was capricious about money,
and generous and stingy by fits and starts. Easy and indolent, he
suffered himself to be plundered by his servants, and took little
trouble in looking after his affairs. He was fond of his family, and
much beloved by them, but, both with regard to them and his friends, he
was full of a jealousy and touchiness, which made him keenly alive to
any appearance of indifference, and equally sensible of any attentions
that were shown him. This grew into a morbid feeling after his health
had given way, and tinged his latter days with melancholy, for he
fancied himself neglected and uncared for. On the promotion of Lord John
Russell's Government, he was mortified at not being invited to take a
share in it. It was evident that he was conscious of, and bitterly
felt, the decay of his own powers, and the insignificance to which he
was reduced. He would, if he could, have disguised this from himself and
others, but it preyed on his mind, and made him very unhappy, and often
apparently morose. Sometimes his feelings would find vent in these lines
from the 'Samson Agonistes,' which he would repeat with a sad memory of
the past, and sense of the present:
So much I feel my general spirit droop,
My hopes all flat, nature within me seems
In all her functions weary of herself,
My race of glory run, and race of shame,
And I shall shortly be with them that rest.
Taking him altogether, he was a very remarkable man in his abilities and
his acquirements, in his character and in his career, with virtues and
vices, faults and merits, curiously intermingled, and producing as
eccentric results as society has often beheld.
_December 2nd._--The death of Charles Buller has occurred when he can be
ill spared to the party of which he was rapidly becoming an important
member, and to the country which he was capable of serving. He is a
great social and a great public loss, more especially in days of
mediocrity and barrenness like the present. He was clever, amiable,
accomplished, and honest. His abilities were of a very high order, and
though he loved the world and its pursuits, he had great powers of
application. Few people were more agreeable and entertaining in society,
and he had a very gentle and affectionate disposition. He never made,
and never would have made, much progress in the profession of the law,
which he originally embraced. It was evidently unsuited to his genius,
his taste, and his habits, and he judged rightly in exchanging it once
for all for a political career in which, had his life been spared, he
would have achieved great eminence. In politics he was originally a
Radical, but though the old leaven not unfrequently showed itself, it
was greatly modified in his latter years; and when he manifested
ultra-Liberal sympathies, it was probably more from love of paradox and
controversy, than from real and sincere conviction. His political
opinions, however, which for a long time seem to have been in an
unsettled and transitional state, he never suppressed or compromised for
any personal interest; and though he was both very ambitious and very
poor, he never committed a mean or discreditable act for the sake of
either favour or office. A man more honourable and independent never
existed, and he would have been indebted for the political exaltation
which was certainly in store for him to nothing but the force and
influence of his own capacity and power. His career of usefulness was in
fact only beginning. Up to a very recent period he had made no progress
in public life commensurate with his ability, and especially with his
parliamentary talents; but if justice was not done him, it was mainly
because he did not do justice to himself. He was perhaps the most
popular member of the House of Commons. By universal acknowledgement he
was an admirable speaker, full of matter, lucid, never dull, and
generally very amusing, so that he never rose without being sure of an
attentive and favourable audience. His greatest speeches were on dry and
serious subjects, such as colonisation, emigration, or records, none of
which became heavy or uninteresting in his hands. He had, however, one
great defect, which not only rendered him less agreeable in society than
he would otherwise have been, but which had a very serious and unhappy
influence on his political career. He was seduced by his keen perception
of the ridiculous and an irresistible propensity to banter into an
everlasting mockery of everything and everybody, which not only often
became tiresome and provoking, but gave an appearance of levity to his
character that largely deducted from the estimation in which he would
otherwise have been held. It was impossible to be sure when he was in
earnest and when he was in jest, when he really meant what he said, and
when he was only jeering, gibing, and making game. It is incredible what
damage this pernicious habit did him; for it created a notion that
though he was very witty and entertaining, he had no settled principles
and convictions, and that he 'made a mockery of life.' Of this defect
(with which his friends had often reproached him) he was manifestly
curing himself. He had begun to take a more sober and earnest view of
the great concerns of the world, and his really excellent understanding
was asserting its predominance over the wild vagaries of his wit. In
thus disciplining his mind into more of practical wisdom, he was paving
the way for his own success; and had he not been snatched away thus
suddenly, 'while his hopes were as warm and his desires as eager as
ours,' he would have become an eminent man. As it is he has left behind
him a memory cherished for its delightful social qualities, and a vast
credit for undeveloped powers.
[Sidenote: PLAN FOR IRISH EMIGRATION.]
Yesterday, Clarendon went to the Grange on his way to Dublin. I had a
long conversation with him before he went. He told me what they are
meditating for Ireland. They give up all idea of paying the priests, and
laying out money for any purpose but that of emigration. For this,
however, they have a great scheme connected with Canadian railways.
Their purpose is to establish a vast line of railways in Canada, and to
make a large emigration from Ireland for this purpose. A tax on Canadian
timber, and a sum of money to be borrowed here, the interest on which
Clarendon thinks he can supply (180,000_l._), are to provide the
necessary funds. They have satisfied themselves that this is as much as
they can venture to attempt.
He informed me that Wylde (to whom the Prince is in the habit of talking
very openly) told him that the Prince had been discussing with him the
possibility of some change of government being rendered necessary by
Lord John's health breaking down, and that they would like him
(Clarendon) to succeed him, and that if such an event occurred, the
Queen would certainly send for him to consult him on the subject.
Clarendon desired him to take an opportunity of telling the Prince that
no power on earth should induce him to accept such a post, and as it was
much better the Queen should never make an overture which would not be
accepted, he wished none such might ever be made to him. He then gave
his reasons for considering himself disqualified. I told him they would
not accept his excuses, because since his Irish administration he had
acquired a reputation which rendered him in the eyes of the world fit
for any post, but that I understood well why for various reasons he
might wish to decline the office. He said he could not speak, and had
not had parliamentary experience enough, having come too late into the
House of Lords, and never having been in the House of Commons. Finally
he begged me to tell anybody who suggested such a possible contingency,
that no power on earth would ever induce him to take it. But I don't
think he was displeased when I told him I should certainly not say that,
because I did not consider it so absolutely impossible, and that events
might occur, and the state of parties be such, that his acceptance of
the post would become a matter of public duty on his part. The truth is,
he is sincere in his disclaimer, but with an _arriËre pensÈe_ of
ambition, which not unnaturally smiles on the idea of such a prodigious
elevation.
_December 9th._--I dined on Tuesday last with Milman, Guizot, Macaulay,
and Hallam; Macaulay receiving felicitations with great modesty and
compliments on his book,[80] of which the whole impression was sold off,
and not a copy was to be got, though it had only been out three days.
Macaulay and Hallam talked of a branch of our literature of which
Guizot, well informed as he is, could know nothing. Macaulay's French is
detestable, the most barbarous accent that ever has _ÈcorchÈ les
oreilles_ of a Parisian.
[Footnote 80: [Lord Macaulay's 'History,' or at least the first two
volumes of it, had just been published.]]
On Tuesday I breakfasted with Macaulay, very small party and nothing
remarkable. Went in the afternoon to see Lord Beauvale.[81] He talked to
me of Melbourne, and so did she. They are not at all pleased at
Brougham's being his executor, which astonishes everybody. It would be
mighty inconvenient to have Melbourne's papers overhauled by Brougham.
Ellice has written to him to propose that they should all be delivered
to Beauvale unseen by anybody. He left a letter for Beauvale. In this
letter he gives certain pecuniary directions in favour of Lady Brandon
and Mrs. Norton, and a solemn declaration that what he had instructed
the Attorney-General to say on the trial as to her purity was true. He
said that, as his indiscretion had exposed her to obloquy and suspicion,
he was bound to renew this declaration.
[Footnote 81: [The Hon. Frederic Lamb, raised to the peerage as Lord
Beauvale for his diplomatic services, succeeded his brother William as
Viscount Melbourne. He was married to Mdlle. de Maltzahn, daughter of
the Prussian Minister at Vienna, but left no offspring, and with him
both titles expired.]]
[Sidenote: ELECTION OF LOUIS NAPOLEON.]
_Bowood, December 20th._--The result of the French election for
President has astonished the whole world.[82] Everybody thought Louis
Napoleon would be elected, but nobody dreamt of such a majority. Great
alarm was felt here at the probable consequences of Cavaignac's defeat
and the success of his rival, and the French funds were to rise if
Napoleon was beaten, and to fall if he won. The election has taken
place: Napoleon wins by an immense majority, the funds rise, confidence
recovers, and people begin to find out that the new President is a
marvellous proper man. I really believe that the foolish affair of the
tame eagle in 1840 was the principal cause of the contempt with which he
was regarded here; added to this, he led an undistinguished life in this
country, associating with no conspicuous people, and his miserable
failure in the Chamber when he attempted to speak there, confirmed the
unfavourable impression. But Van de Weyer, who is here, says that he has
long known him and well, that he is greatly underrated here, and is
really a man of considerable ability. He crossed the water with him when
he went to take his seat after his election to the Assembly, and he then
expressed the most undoubting confidence in his own success at the
Presidential election, and said that he had every reason to believe, if
he chose to put himself forward, he would be supported by an immense
force, and that he might assume any position he pleased; but that he
should do nothing of the kind, that he had a legal position beyond which
he would not force himself, but that he was prepared to accept all the
consequences to which it might lead. And now there is a pretty general
opinion that he will be Emperor before long. The ex-Ministers and
Legitimists, who were hot for his election, considering him merely as a
bridge over which the Bourbons might return to power, begin to think the
success greater than is agreeable, and that such a unanimous expression
of public opinion may lead to the restoration of the Bonapartes instead
of to that of the Bourbons.
[Footnote 82: [On December 20 Louis Charles Napoleon Bonaparte was
proclaimed President of the French Republic. He was elected by 5,534,520
votes, General Cavaignac having 1,448,302 votes. From this moment the
Prince becomes one of the most important personages in the political
world, and virtually the master of the French nation.]]
_London, January 2nd, 1849._--The past year, which has been so fertile
in public misfortunes and private sorrows, wound up its dismal catalogue
with a great and unexpected calamity, the death of Auckland, who went to
the Grange in perfect health on Friday last, was struck down by a fit of
apoplexy on his return from shooting on Saturday, and died early on
Monday morning, having only shown a slight and momentary consciousness
on seeing his sister Fanny in the course of Sunday. His loss to the
Government is irreparable, and to his family it is unspeakably great. To
his sisters he was as a husband, a brother, and a friend combined
in one, and to them it is a bereavement full of sadness almost
amounting to despair. He was a man without shining qualities or showy
accomplishments, austere and almost forbidding in his manner, silent and
reserved in society, unpretending both in public and in private life,
and in the House of Lords taking a rare and modest part in debate, and
seldom speaking but on the business of his own department. Nevertheless
he was universally popular, and his company more desired and welcome
than that of many far more sprightly and brilliant men. His
understanding was excellent, his temper placid, his taste and tact
exquisite; his disposition, notwithstanding his apparent gravity,
cheerful, and under his cold exterior there was a heart overflowing with
human kindness, and with the deepest feelings of affection, charity, and
benevolence. Engaged from almost his earliest youth in politics and the
chances and changes of public life, he had no personal enemies and many
attached friends amongst men of all parties. His colleagues in office
were fully sensible of the merits which he never endeavoured to push
forward, and he was successively raised to the posts of President of the
Board of Trade, First Lord of the Admiralty, and Governor-General of
India; and he was a second time First Lord of the Admiralty on the
formation of John Russell's Administration in 1846.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD AUCKLAND.]
His government of India was the subject of general applause till just as
it was about to close, when the unfortunate Cabul disaster tarnished its
fame, and exposed him to reproaches which he did not deserve. Whether
that expedition was wisely or unwisely undertaken, it is incontestable
that it was suggested or sanctioned by some of the greatest authorities
both in England and in India; that the military operations were
completely successful, and that the subsequent misfortunes were not
attributable to any neglect or impolicy on the part of the civil
government. But rage and shame took possession of the public mind at the
bloody and discreditable reverse which befel our arms, and without any
discrimination all who were concerned in the invasion were involved in a
common sentence of indignant reprobation. Lord Auckland bore this bitter
disappointment with the calmness and dignity of a man who felt that he
had no cause for self-reproach, probably trusting to an ultimate and
unprejudiced estimate of the general merits of his laborious and
conscientious administration.
His conduct of affairs at the Admiralty, his diligence, his urbanity,
his fairness and impartiality have been the theme of loud and general
praise. In an office in which jobbing and partiality have so often
prevailed, in which from the nature of the service the Minister is
compelled to disappoint many fair hopes and just expectations, and to
wound the pride, the vanity, and the feelings of many brave and
honourable men, it requires the greatest firmness to be just, and the
nicest tact and delicacy to avoid giving offence. In this most difficult
function no First Lord ever was more successful than Auckland. Always
patient and affable, holding out none of the false hopes which in the
end make sick hearts, dealing openly and frankly with his officers, he
inspired the whole profession with confidence and esteem. Such a
character and such a career may well be envied by every well-regulated
mind; nor can the termination of that career, however grievous and
deplorable to all who loved him, be regarded as an unhappy destiny for
himself, for if the pursuits and pleasures of existence were suddenly
and prematurely cut off, he was spared from sickness and infirmity with
their train of suffering and sorrow, and from the privations which
attend the approaches of old age and the gradual decay of the bodily and
mental powers. He closed a useful, honourable, and prosperous life with
his faculties unimpaired, leaving behind him a memory universally
honoured and regretted, and cherished by the tender affection and
inconsolable grief of his family and his friends.
[Sidenote: RETROSPECT OF THE YEAR.]
This _Annus Mirabilis_, as it may well be called, is at last over, and
one cannot but feel glad at getting rid of a year which has been so
pregnant with every sort of mischief. Revolutions, ruin, sickness, and
death have ravaged the world publicly and privately; every species of
folly and wickedness seems to have been let loose to riot on the earth.
It would be easy to write a great deal of wise matter, but very little
that is new, on these topics. If ever mankind is destined to learn by
its own experience, to look at beginnings, middles, and endings, to see
what comes of what, and to test the virtue, wisdom, and utility of
plausible maxims and high-sounding phrases, this has been the time for
mankind's going to school and studying the lessons put before it. We
have seen such a stirring up of all the elements of society as nobody
ever dreamt of; we have seen a general Saturnalia--ignorance, vanity,
insolence, poverty, ambition, escaping from every kind of restraint,
ranging over the world and turning it topsy-turvy as it pleased. Every
theory and crotchet has had full swing, and powers and dominations have
bowed their necks to the yoke and cowered under the misbegotten tyranny
which has suddenly changed places with them. Democracy and philanthropy
have never before (or hardly ever) had their own way without let or
hindrance, _carte blanche_ to work out their own great and fancy
designs. This time they leave behind them--and all Europe exhibits the
result--a mass of ruin, terror, and despair. Nothing strikes one more
than the poverty of invention as well as the egregious folly of the new
patriots all over the world. They can think of nothing but overturning
everything that exists, and of reconstructing the social and political
machine by universal suffrage. To execute the most difficult task which
the human mind can have set before it, the task which demands the
highest qualities of knowledge, experience, and capacity, it is thought
enough to invite masses of men with strong passions and prejudices,
without even any of that practical knowledge which might serve, though
inadequately, to enable them to play their part in this prodigious
operation. Universal suffrage is to pick out the men fit to frame new
Constitutions, and when the delegates thus chosen have been brought
together--no matter how ignorant, how stupid, how in every way unfit
they may be--they expect to be allowed to have their own absurd and
ruinous way, and to break up at their caprice and pleasure all the
ancient foundations, and tear down the landmarks of society; and this
havoc, and ruin, and madness, are dignified with the fine names of
constitutional reform. Nor can the excuse be urged that this inundation
of wickedness and folly has been brought about by a resistance which
stood out too long, and was at last swept away by the effects of its own
obstinacy.
Leaving out France altogether, whose Revolution was an accident--and
France is retracing her steps as fast as she can, scrambling,
crestfallen, perplexed, and half-ruined, out of the abyss into which she
suffered herself to be plunged--let us look at Prussia and Rome. In both
places the sovereigns spontaneously advanced to meet the wishes and
promote the interests of the people: they went to work in the right way.
In countries where the people had never exercised political rights and
privileges, where self-government was unknown, it was clear that the
masses were not capable of legislating or taking an immediate part in
framing Constitutions for themselves; but in every country, even in the
Roman States, there were some men of education, knowledge, genius, who
were more or less qualified to undertake the great work, and the Pope
called such men to his councils, and gave the Romans the framework of a
Government as liberal as was compatible with the working of any
government at all. This was what sense and reason suggested; but, though
it pleased his foolish and despicable people for a moment, they soon got
tired of such safe and gradual progress as this, ran riot, flung off all
control, and proceeded from one excess to another, constantly rising in
the scale of democracy, till they reached their climax by assassinating
the Pope's Minister, and forcing the Pope himself to escape in disguise
from Rome. Nobody knows what they want, nor do they know themselves how
they are to recover from the anarchy and ruin in which they are so
deeply plunged.
In Prussia better things might have been expected, for there at least
the people are better educated, and they have enjoyed municipal
institutions, and do know something of the practice of civil
administration; nevertheless, Prussia has not shown until lately much
more moderation and wisdom than Rome. This, however, now appears to have
been entirely the King's fault. If he had displayed more firmness and
decision he would have rallied round him the Conservative feelings and
interests of the country; but when these interests found themselves
abandoned by a Sovereign who commanded 200,000 faithful troops, and they
saw him bowing his head to the dictation of the rabble of Berlin, they
lost all heart, and democracy became rampant and unrestrained.
At length a reaction began. Vienna first, and Berlin afterwards, were
reduced to obedience, and the tide is now flowing back. It is impossible
to speculate on the final result, but for the present at least the
disgust and abhorrence of the brutal excesses committed under the
pretence of a spurious liberalism are intense and apparently
increasing.
[Sidenote: THE ADMIRALTY OFFERED TO GRAHAM.]
_London, January 19th._--Lord Auckland's death naturally excited great
interest and curiosity about the Admiralty. The first and most general
feeling was a desire that Lord Minto might not be his successor. This
was proclaimed in the press and in all places; but such a disagreeable
manifestation was hard upon him, as it turned out that he not only never
aspired to the place, but he at once told John Russell to take the Privy
Seal from him without scruple and do anything he pleased with it if his
resignation would be of use in any fresh combination he might wish to
make; in fact, he behaved very well. Lord John resolved to make the
offer to Graham (after having consulted Lord Lansdowne) provided the
Cabinet did not object. He called them together and proposed him. Though
certainly some of them did not like it, they consented unanimously, and
he accordingly wrote to Graham and asked him to come up to town. Graham
arrived, and they had a long and frank conversation. Graham said he was
quite independent, and his being invited _alone_ was no objection. He
asked Lord John what the views and intentions of Government were, and
Lord John explained everything to him in the most open and candid
manner. Graham seems to have made no objections to anybody or anything,
but rather to have hinted his apprehensions that they might not go far
enough in the way of economy; and he showed some leaning towards
Cobden's schemes, that is, he said he thought there was a great deal in
his speech and letter. At the end of the conversation he asked Lord John
if he had any objection to his consulting Peel, who, he had reason to
believe, was to pass through London that afternoon; if he had, he would
give him his answer at once. Lord John said he had no objection, and
Graham went away. In the evening he came back, said he had missed Peel
and could not consult him, and finally he declined, somewhat I think to
Lord John's surprise, for he gave no good reason for declining, and,
after asking for information as to the Government plans, and appearing
satisfied with them, Lord John naturally expected he would accept. They
parted on very friendly terms, but Lord John is not pleased; it has not
raised his opinion of Graham, and he will not make him another proposal
if he can help it. They cannot understand his conduct and motives, but
they think he was afraid--which probably is the truth. They then
proposed it to Sir Francis Baring, who took it directly. On the whole he
will probably be of more use to them than Graham. The accession of the
latter would have been distasteful to the Whigs generally and to many of
the Government; he would not have been at his ease with his colleagues
nor they with him, and I only wonder he ever hesitated. It is perhaps as
well that the offer was made to him, but on the whole better as it is.
The Protectionists, who, contemptible as they are as a party, can always
do some mischief, would have been more disposed to thwart and embarrass
the Government when Graham had become a part of it, for he is their
favourite aversion.
Cobden's new economical agitation is making a great stir, and the
Government are so uneasy at it that they are moving heaven and earth in
the way of reduction.
[Sidenote: ATTACKS ON LORD PALMERSTON.]
Palmerston has been dreadfully nettled at some recent attacks on him in
the 'Times.' Charles Wood sent for Delane and entreated him to desist
from these bitter attacks, and he promised he would for the present; he
said they had recorded their opinions and did not want to do any more.
The state of our foreign affairs and Palmerston's management of them are
the astonishment of Europe. There will certainly be more discussion than
usual about them in the ensuing Session, but probably with no more
result than heretofore. Stanley and Aberdeen will do their best or their
worst in the House of Lords, but all their blows will fall on the soft,
non-resisting cushion of Lansdowne's evasive urbanity, while in the
House of Commons there will be nobody to attack Palmerston, and between
those who won't grapple with him, and those who can't, he will come off
unscathed, as he has always done. It is said, however, that he is more
uneasy (as well he may be) than he ever was before, and from several
little symptoms I expect this to be the case. Whether _he_ is or not his
colleagues are, and his Royal Mistress still more. Within the last few
days fresh difficulties have arisen with reference to Lord Palmerston's
conduct of foreign affairs, for he keeps the Queen, his colleagues, his
friends, and the party in continual hot water; and on this occasion he
seems to have given serious offence to a foreign Power, insomuch that a
formal apology is said to be required of him. Yet Lord John has made up
his mind to fight through the Session in defence of a colleague whose
proceedings give him perpetual annoyance. Aberdeen has been with Peel,
and says that he is still more animated against Palmerston than he is
himself, and he expects that Peel will not abstain from manifesting his
opinion when Parliament meets. Aberdeen said he had no hostility to the
Government, and no objection to anything but the conduct of foreign
affairs, so much so that if Clarendon came to the Foreign Office he
would give him his proxy if he would hold it. The Government are
evidently in a stew. There was an article in the 'Times' on Thursday, in
which, though there was no attack on Palmerston, who was not named,
there was an allusion to former articles and to our conduct to Austria,
which evidently rubbed on a sore place, for Charles Wood sent for Delane
and expressed his regret that we were on such bad terms with Austria.
Delane said, he had all along been saying the same thing, when Charles
Wood replied that he did not think we had _done_ anything we could not
justify and defend, but unfortunately Palmerston's manner of doing
things and the language he employed had given great offence, and that it
was much to be regretted that he had given advice and expressed opinions
in so offensive a tone as he had done, especially to Austria.[83] All
this showed clearly enough that Austria was the Power whom he last
insulted. He has not, however, been quite idle about Russia, having
instructed Stratford Canning to move the Porte to take some steps to
thwart Russian policy in that quarter. Canning was very prudent, and
nothing serious came of it; but the Emperor is informed of his
proceedings, and has taken care to let him know that he is, without
making any quarrel. He has also given Palmerston to understand that it
is not his intention to allow great European questions, in which he may
naturally be expected to take an interest, to be dealt with without his
being consulted and considered.
[Footnote 83: [It was not Austria, but Naples, which had reason to
complain of Lord Palmerston. He had allowed stores to be sent from
Woolwich to the Sicilian insurgents, and for this breach of neutrality
Lord John Russell insisted that an apology should be made to the King of
Naples, and it was made. The transaction was first discovered and
disclosed by the 'Times' newspaper. Till then Lord John Russell knew
nothing of it.]]
_London, January 28th._--It appears that Graham did not give the same
account to Peel and to Lord Aberdeen of what had passed with John
Russell about his taking office. Lord John says that he appeared well
inclined to accept, made no serious objections to anybody or to
anything, and that he could not make out why he finally refused. It is
clear, however, that Graham must have given some reasons for declining,
and, in fact, they are pretty well agreed as to the latter part of their
several statements. John Russell, when the Queen asked him why Graham
declined, told her that the reasons he gave were some doubts whether
their contemplated reductions would go far enough, and some objections
as to the foreign policy; but Lord John clearly thought that these
doubts and objections were so faintly expressed that they did not amount
to anything like insuperable obstacles. He said with reference to
foreign policy, that it always must be remembered that Palmerston had
kept us at peace, and as Graham went away expressly to consult Peel,
that implied that if Peel advised him to accept he would do so. This is
not the conduct of a man who had serious objections to our past policy.
Of course he could not join without subscribing to the past and
undertaking its defence; but to Peel he declared that he had refused
because he could not approve of or defend Palmerston's foreign policy,
and because their reductions were not sufficient, putting his objections
and refusal in a much stronger way than he appears to have put them to
Lord John. All this comes from his timidity, and I have no doubt the
want of a really clear conscience. He pines for office, he dreads to
take it; he knows he is an object of suspicion and dislike to people of
all parties; he is embarrassed with his own position; he is
clear-sighted enough to perceive all its entanglements and difficulties.
All sorts of absurd stories are current about his demands and what the
negotiation went off upon.
[Sidenote: OPENING OF THE SESSION.]
_February 7th._--Parliament opened last Thursday, and the Government
began the campaign very victoriously. A great flourish of trumpets had
been sounded to announce the attack which Lord Stanley was to make,
especially on the vulnerable point of the foreign policy, and the
Government and their friends were not at all easy as to the result.
Stanley's was one of the worst speeches he ever made, ill put together
and arranged, full of ignorance, and consequently of misrepresentations
and misstatements. Lord Lansdowne made a very able and judicious reply.
The Government got a majority of two in a division which Stanley most
unwisely forced on, and the affair ended in a general opinion that the
Ministers had much the best of it, and that Stanley had been signally
defeated. His blunders, however, were not confined to his speech. He had
at first determined not to move any amendment to the Address, and the
Duke of Wellington had entreated him not to do so. He had accordingly
told Eglinton, his whipper-in, he should not, and Eglinton told
Strafford none would be moved. Then Stanley changed his mind, contrary
to the opinions of Eglinton and others, and much to the annoyance of the
former, who had misled Strafford by his information. After Lansdowne's
speech, to persist in the amendment was very injudicious. The Duke of
Wellington opposed it in a very sensible speech, when Stanley rose and
said there was nothing in his amendment about foreign affairs; on which
Lord St. Germains pointed out to him that that was an express allusion
to them. He said he had forgotten it, and still persisted; but it is
much believed that some of his own people were sent away to avoid the
embarrassment of their being in a majority. So much for the Lords.
In the Commons Government was equally triumphant. There had been a great
deal of squabbling among the Protectionists about their leadership,
some wanting Herries, some Granby, and some Disraeli, and when
Parliament met there was nothing settled. Stanley had written a flummery
letter to Disraeli, full of compliments, but suggesting to him to let
Herries have the lead. Disraeli, brimful of indignation against Stanley
and contempt for Herries, returned a cold but civil answer, saying he
did not want to be leader, and that he should gladly devote himself more
to literature and less to politics than he had been able to do for some
time past. Meanwhile Herries declined the post, and Granby with Lord
Henry Bentinck insisted on Disraeli's appointment, both as the fittest
man, and as a homage to George Bentinck's memory. I saw a note from
Disraeli a day or two ago, saying he had received the adhesions of
two-thirds of this party. In the House of Commons he appeared as leader,
for he moved Stanley's Amendment, which was sent to him so late that he
placed Stanley's draft in his own handwriting in the Speaker's hands. He
made a clever speech with some appearance of attacking Palmerston in
earnest. The debate was adjourned, and the next night Palmerston made
one of the cleverest, most impudent, and most effective speeches that
ever was heard. It took vastly with the House, threw his opponents into
confusion, and he came out of the _mÍlÈe_ with flying colours. The
Opposition have committed nothing but blunders, and the Government have
naturally reaped the benefit of them, and they are in a high state of
elation.
As soon as Graham came to town, he called on me, and gave me his reasons
for not having accepted office. He said nothing could be handsomer or
more gratifying than John Russell's conduct to him. He had been more
than frank, he had been confidential, and had told him things that he
desired him not to repeat even to Peel or Aberdeen, and which he said he
never would repeat to anybody. Graham made an excellent case for
himself, and after hearing him I am satisfied that he both acted fairly
and judged wisely. He said, 'I have played some pranks before high
heaven in my time. I quitted the Whigs once, and it would not do to
quit them again; and unless I could subscribe to all their past conduct
and policy, as well as feel quite satisfied for the future, it was
better not to join.' The great obstacle he owned was Palmerston, and he
anticipated being very likely placed in a state of collision with him,
which might have been most embarrassing to himself and to the
Government.
[Sidenote: SIR J. GRAHAM DECLINES OFFICE.]
On Sunday he came to me again. He told me he had called on Stanley and
had a good deal of conversation with him. Stanley found fault with
Clarendon's letter, which he thought insufficient for the re-suspension
of the Habeas Corpus,[84] and Graham said it appeared to him very
meagre. He then went on to say that he felt great difficulty in
supporting such a coercive measure, when unaccompanied by any remedial
measures whatever; that he did not wish to do or say anything to
embarrass the Government, but he could not conceal his opinion that
remedial measures ought to be brought forward, especially the payment of
the Irish Clergy, and he felt the more difficulty about this, because
Disraeli in his speech had made an evident appeal to Protestant bigotry
by treating this question as altogether gone by and defunct, and one
which never could be raised again, and against this he thought a protest
ought to be made. He said he was much struck by the absence of all
allusion to the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in both Stanley's and
Disraeli's speeches, and he could not help thinking they were preparing
to embarrass the Government by some opposition to it, and consequently
that the task of carrying it through the House of Commons would not be
so easy as Government imagined. He gave me to understand that he wished
me to communicate to John Russell what he had said to me.
The next day I went and told Lord John what had passed, and afterwards I
told Lord Lansdowne. Yesterday morning I saw Graham again, when I found
him no longer inclined to think that Stanley would take any part
against the Habeas Corpus Bill. When I got to the office, I saw Lord
Lansdowne, who told me (albeit not used to talk politics with me) that
what I had said to John Russell had had such an effect upon him, that he
had determined, as he (Lord Lansdowne) thought very unwisely, and much
to his regret, to propose the renewal for six months only instead of for
a year as had been intended. I was exceedingly annoyed at this, and told
Lord Lansdowne that Lord John must have misunderstood me, or exaggerated
the importance of what I had said, and I hoped it was not too late to
revert to the original intention, as I was quite certain there was no
necessity for limiting the period, and that if there was opposition from
any quarter, it would be as great for six months as for twelve. He
begged me to go to John Russell at the House of Commons and say so to
him, which I did; but he said merely that they had resolved to adopt a
former precedent, and should take it for six months. In the evening I
saw Lord Lansdowne, who was evidently extremely mortified and
disappointed, and said to me, 'I think we have made a great mess of it,'
which was a great deal for him. All this proves that there has been
considerable difference of opinion in the Cabinet, and it shows a
vacillation and infirmity of purpose, which has been all along the
besetting sin of this Government.
[Footnote 84: [A Bill for the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in
Ireland for a period of six months had been passed in the previous
summer. It now became necessary to renew it, and it was originally
intended to renew it for twelve months, as Lord Clarendon, the
Lord-Lieutenant, thought it expedient to do.]]
_February 9th._--It appears that the change from twelve to six months
was a sudden turn of Lord John's under the influence of fear. He had got
it into his head that there would be a strong opposition to the longer
period, but not to the shorter. Accordingly at two o'clock on Tuesday he
summoned his Cabinet, and to the great astonishment of all or most of
them, announced his intention to make this alteration. There was
evidently a considerable struggle. Clanricarde told me he did not
believe the Bill was necessary at all, and he would rather have let it
drop. Labouchere owned yesterday morning it was all wrong. George Grey
and Wood evidently went with Lord John.
[Sidenote: DISTRESS IN IRELAND.]
On Wednesday night the Government found themselves in a great dilemma.
When Charles Wood proposed his grant of 50,000_l._ he had no idea of
meeting with any opposition, for he told me he was not sure whether he
should _give_ the Irish 50,000_l._ or 100,000_l._; but the English
members and constituencies have become savage and hard-hearted towards
the Irish, and one after another of all parties jumped up and opposed
the grant. Graham said he was for giving it, with the understanding that
it should be the last, whereas Charles Wood proposed it as the first of
a series of grants. Nobody knows whether it will be carried or not, but
it is quite certain that nothing more will be given, let the
consequences be what they may. Meanwhile the state of things is
monstrous and appalling.
Ireland is like a strong man with an enormous cancer in one limb of his
body. The distress is confined to particular districts, but there it is
frightful and apparently irremediable. It is like a region desolated by
pestilence and war. The people really are dying of hunger, and the means
of aiding them do not exist. Here is a country, part and parcel of
England, a few hours removed from the richest and most civilised
community in the world, in a state so savage, barbarous, and destitute,
that we must go back to the Middle Ages or to the most inhospitable
regions of the globe to look for a parallel. Nobody knows what to do;
everybody hints at some scheme or plan to which his next neighbour
objects. Most people are inclined to consider the case as hopeless, to
rest on that conviction, and let the evil work itself out, like a
consuming fire, which dies away when there is nothing left for it to
destroy. All call on the Government for a plan and a remedy, but the
Government have no plan and no remedy; there is nothing but disagreement
among them; and while they are discussing and disputing, the masses are
dying. God only knows what is to be the end of all this, and how and
when Ireland is to recover from such a deplorable calamity. Lord
Lansdowne, a great Irish proprietor, is filled with horror and dread at
the scheme that some propound, of making the sound part of Ireland
rateable for the necessities of the unsound, which he thinks is neither
more nor less than a scheme of confiscation, by which the weak will not
be saved, but the strong be involved in the general ruin. Charles Wood
has all along set his face against giving or lending money, or any
Government interference in the capacity of capitalist, and he
contemplates (with what seems like very cruelty, though he is not really
cruel) that misery and distress should run their course; that such havoc
should be made amongst the landed proprietors, that the price of land
will at last fall so low as to tempt capitalists to invest their funds
therein, and then that the country will begin to revive, and a new
condition of prosperity spring from the ruin of the present possessors.
This may, supposing it to answer, prove the ultimate regeneration of
Ireland; but it will be at a cost of suffering to the actual possessors
and to the whole of the present generation such as never was
contemplated by any system of policy. Lord Lansdowne thinks
Trevelyan[85] is the real author of this scheme, who, he tells me, has
acquired a great influence over Charles Wood's mind.
[Footnote 85: [Mr. Trevelyan, afterwards Sir Charles Trevelyan, Bart.
and K.C.B., was at this time Secretary of the Treasury.]]
_February 11th._--I heard from Clarendon last night. He takes the matter
of the Habeas Corpus more quietly than I expected, but he says, 'I thank
you for telling me the cause of what I consider great vacillation and
cowardice on the part of the Government. In the speeches there is no
evidence of opposition that could justify a Government in turning away
from its purpose.'
Madame de Flahault told me an anecdote about the new French Ambassador,
Admiral CÈcille, creditable to all the parties concerned. When the
Embassy here was offered him, he told the President that he had always
been attached to Louis Philippe, and if he was to be made the instrument
of saying or doing anything disagreeable to him or his family, he could
not accept it. The President said he might be perfectly easy on that
score, and that he might go and pay his respects at Claremont as soon as
he arrived if he pleased. Accordingly the Admiral sent to the King to
offer to wait on him, but Louis Philippe very sensibly said it would
only place him in a position of embarrassment, and that he had better
not come. I met Duch‚tel at dinner on Thursday at Lansdowne House. He
spoke highly of the French Ministry and of the President, and he
evidently thinks the Monarchy or Empire is more likely to be revived in
his person than in that of any other candidate.
[Sidenote: THE CEYLON COMMITTEE.]
_February 15th._--The Government got good divisions the other night on
their Irish questions. Graham told me (the morning of the discussion)
that he would strongly advise them to make a declaration of their
intention to revise local taxation, and connect that question with the
Poor Laws. I wrote Charles Wood word what he said, and John Russell
acted on the advice. Lord Lansdowne did not conceal from me his disgust
at the resolution to which the Cabinet had come of proposing a sort of
rate which is to embrace under certain restrictions all Ireland.
_February 24th._--Last Tuesday was as disastrous a night as any
Government ever suffered, for it was injurious and humiliating.
Baillie[86] had given notice of a motion for a Committee of Enquiry into
the administration of Ceylon, British Guiana, and Mauritius, with a view
to their better government. He afterwards withdrew Mauritius, and the
Government resolved to give the Committee about the other two; and they
did this, though they knew that what was really meant was an attack on
Lord Torrington[87] about Ceylon, and on Lord Grey on both scores.
Ellice and I told Grey, whom we met at dinner the day before, that they
ought not to give the Committee; but he seemed to be all for it, whether
_nolens_ or _volens_ I know not. On Tuesday night this motion came on,
when Baillie made the most bitter and abusive speech that could be
uttered. He said that he meant it as a vote of censure, and he accused
Lord Grey (who was sitting under the gallery all the time) of the most
disgraceful and dishonourable conduct, especially in reference to the
celebrated Jamaica Memorial in the House of Commons last year. The House
went with Baillie, and against Grey and Torrington. The Government met
the case in a very poor, blundering, low way; a sort of dodge was
attempted and totally failed in the shape of an amendment proposed by
Ricardo. Peel said a few damaging words, and John Russell made a very
poor speech, which had all the air of throwing Grey over. The motion for
a Committee was carried without any division or resistance, and with
scarcely any alteration. The effect was as bad as it could possibly be.
The Government and their people were mortified and dejected, Grey
immensely disgusted, and the Opposition, especially Protectionists,
insolent and elated. It is generally believed that if they had divided,
they would have been beaten, for all the scattered sections of the
Opposition and some of their own friends would have voted against them,
and this has revealed the disagreeable truth that they have in fact no
hold in the House of Commons, no certain majority, and that whenever all
the other parties can find a common ground to meet upon, the Government
are sure to be beaten.
[Footnote 86: [Henry Baillie, Esq., of Redcastle, was then Member for
Inverness-shire, and a considerable West Indian proprietor. He was
assisted in organising this attack on the Colonial Department by Mr.
Matthew Higgins, better known as 'Jacob Omnium,' a man of great wit and
intelligence.]]
[Footnote 87: [Viscount Torrington was Governor of Ceylon during a
formidable insurrection which had occurred in that island in the
preceding year. He was violently attacked for the measures he had taken
to suppress it, but he eventually defended himself, on his return to
England, with complete success. Lord Torrington died in 1884.]]
Graham called on me on Thursday to talk over this debate. He thought it
very damaging and very bad; John Russell wretched; he thought after
Baillie's speech he ought to have refused the Committee and abided by
the consequences, standing up and manfully defending both his colleague
and his employÈ. He said he had observed that Peel had latterly been
more ill-natured to the Government, and that he still bitterly resented
Lord John's speech reviving the old dispute on the Appropriation Clause.
Lord Aberdeen says the same thing, adding that Peel had never liked Lord
John, and that he thought his conduct in attacking him, after the
support he had given him, was very bad, and he resented it accordingly,
and this was not the last proof he would give of his resentment.
[Sidenote: A BREACH OF NEUTRALITY.]
_March 2nd._--A day or two ago Bankes asked a question in the House of
Commons about the stores furnished to the revolutionary Sicilian
Government, to which Palmerston made a reply, and the matter dropped. It
is very singular that none of the Opposition leaders got hold of it, for
there never was a stronger case coupled with all the rest of
Palmerston's Sicilian doings. They have so entirely mismanaged their
case, and contrived to give him so great a triumph, and to establish
such a prestige of his success and dexterity, that it is now difficult,
if not impossible, to take the field against him afresh with any
prospect of success. But the Sicilian case is so strong and so bad, that
even now, when the papers are published, they may make a good deal of
it, and do Palmerston some damage if they manage the case well. His case
for the maritime interference after the capture of Messina has been
thrown over completely by the speech of General Filangieri in the
Neapolitan Parliament, which bears every mark of truth; and I have since
heard how he got up the story of atrocities supposed to be committed,
which he put into the mouth of the Queen in her speech in Parliament,
and which he repeated himself with so much effrontery in the House of
Commons, and made Lord Lansdowne so innocently repeat in the House of
Lords. Long after, I believe two months after the intervention, he wrote
to Lord Napier, and desired him to instruct the British Consul at
Messina to collect details of the Neapolitan atrocities, and to send
them to him, and this was the evidence on which he made the statements
which so materially assisted in carrying him through the debate the
first night of the session. The mention in the Queen's Speech of the
'King of _Naples_,' instead of the King of the Two Sicilies, is now said
to have been a mere inadvertence, but I have no doubt it was overlooked
by his colleagues, but put in by him intentionally and with a
significant purpose. It is his whole antecedent conduct from first to
last which confers such importance on the case of the stores. Sicilian
agents came over here and applied to the Government contractor to
supply them, with stores. He said he had none ready, having just
supplied all he had to Government, but that if Government would let him
have them back, he would supply them to the agents, and replace the
Government stores in a short time. The Sicilians had no time to lose,
and by their desire the contractor applied to the Ordnance, stating the
object of his application. If the matter had been merely treated
commercially, and the contractor, without stating his object, had asked
the Government to oblige him as a convenience to himself, it would have
been quite harmless; but the object having been stated, it became a
political matter. So the Ordnance considered it, and they referred the
request to Palmerston as Foreign Secretary, who gave his sanction to the
transaction. This made the whole thing a political affair, and a direct
assistance rendered by Government to the Sicilian insurgents. The
Neapolitan Minister heard of it, and an apology to his Government became
necessary. All the Ministers saw the gravity of this matter, but by the
extraordinary good fortune which never deserts Palmerston, nobody found
it out, and not a word was said about it the first night, to the great
joy and surprise of the Ministers, who were trembling lest this delicate
point should be touched upon.[88]
[Sidenote: BATTLE OF CHILLIANWALLAH.]
The rate in aid for Ireland is making a great stir and very bad blood in
Ireland. The evidence before both Committees is very much against it.
Labouchere told me yesterday that the Commons Committee had been much
shaken by the evidence of one of the Poor Law Commissioners examined
before them yesterday, and the same effect has been produced in the
House of Lords. Lord Lansdowne cannot endure it, and, though it is a
Government measure, the Cabinet are anything but unanimous about it.
Clarendon does not like it either, but he must have money, _quocunque
modo rem_.
[Footnote 88: [It is curious that Mr. Greville should not have
remembered and stated exactly how this affair of the Sicilian arms
transpired. Mr. Delane knew Hood, the arms contractor--a man who used to
hunt with the Old Surrey Hounds--and by mere accident learnt from Hood
all this story. The 'Times' perceived the importance of it, and soon
afterwards charged the Government with having connived at a supply of
arms from the Queen's stores to the Sicilian insurgents. No notice was
taken of this first charge. It was therefore repeated in stronger
language. Upon this, Lord John Russell (who knew nothing of the matter)
took it up, said he must enquire into it, and that the charge must be
contradicted or the practice stopped. On enquiry, he found it was all
perfectly true, and then it was that he compelled Lord Palmerston,
sorely against his will, to make a formal official apology to the King
of Naples, the man whom he most hated and despised in the whole world.]]
In the midst of more important affairs the exposure that has just been
made of Hudson's railway delinquency[89] has excited a great sensation,
and no small satisfaction. In the City all seem glad of his fall, and
most people rejoice at the degradation of a purse-proud, vulgar upstart,
who had nothing to recommend him but his ill-gotten wealth. But the
people who ought to feel most degraded are those who were foolish or
mean enough to subscribe to the 'Hudson Testimonial,' and all the
greedy, needy, fine people, who paid abject court to him in order to
obtain slices of his good things.
[Footnote 89: [Hudson had made a large fortune in railway contracts and
speculations, which he afterwards lost. He was known as the 'Railway
King,' and had been the object of a most servile and contemptible homage
in the days of his prosperity.]]
_March 7th._--The news from India of Gough's disastrous and stupid
battle[90] filled everybody with indignation and dismay, and a universal
cry arose for Sir Charles Napier. On Saturday evening I met Lord John
Russell at Lord Granville's, and told him so, entreating him to send him
out. He answered, in his cold, easy way, that 'it was too late now,'
that the campaign could not last beyond the end of this month or middle
of the next, and that he therefore could not get out in time; that they
had appointed Sir William Gomm, and that the Duke of Wellington gave
him a high character, and he thought all would do well; in short, he
seemed not inclined to do anything.
[Footnote 90: [The battle of Chillianwallah, one of the most sanguinary
and least successful actions ever fought by the British in India, took
place on January 13. Lord Gough, the Commander-in-Chief, was severely
blamed for his rash and headstrong tactics on this occasion. Sir William
Gomm had just been appointed to succeed Gough, but he was believed to be
equally incompetent. The state of India demanded a far stronger hand,
and it was found in Sir Charles Napier. Lord Gough, however, defeated
the Sikhs shortly afterwards in a second battle at Gujerat.]]
On Sunday I called on Arbuthnot at Apsley House, where I found the Duke.
I talked to him of the battle; he shook his head, and lifted up his
hands. I said they ought to send out Napier; he said he had long ago
wanted to do so, that now he could not get out till the campaign was
over; that he hoped it would all end well, though it had been a bad
affair, and ill-managed. I asked him would Napier go if they would
appoint him. He said, 'Oh yes; he would go, he would go,' he repeated.
He then went away. When he was gone, Arbuthnot said to me, 'Though the
Duke puts a good face upon it, and endeavours to make the best of it, I
can tell you (though he will not say so to you or to anybody) that he is
extremely alarmed, and thinks the state of things most serious.' He then
said that the Duke would like exceedingly to send out Napier, but that
he would express no opinion, and give no advice; that he always said he
was not a Cabinet Minister, and it was not for him to tender advice, but
he would give it if it was asked. I said I had spoken to John Russell
the evening before, when Arbuthnot said, if I could do anything with the
Government to induce them to send Napier out, it would be doing a great
service, and he knew that the Duke would afford every assistance in his
power for that purpose. I said I would try. I determined to go and speak
to Hobhouse.[91] In my way to Brooks', where I went to look for him, I
met Lord Lansdowne, when I urged him to send out Napier. He said he
would not go. I told him I knew he would, and then repeated what had
passed at Apsley House. He said John Russell had seen the Duke the day
before, who had said nothing about it. I told him the Duke would not say
anything unless he was asked, but then he would, and would give his
opinion. I then went to Hobhouse, found him, and urged him, as strongly
as I could, to send Napier out, telling him how clamorous everybody was
for it, and what the Duke and Arbuthnot had said to me. He acknowledged
that it was the only thing to do, but that he did not know how the
Directors were to be brought to consent to it, and that his having the
seat in Council or not made the difference between 8,000_l._ or
18,000_l._ a year to him, to say nothing of the insult which Napier
considered would be put upon him by excluding him from the Council.
Hobhouse then said, 'You do not know the difficulties I have had with
these men. I have brought the Government, the Duke of Wellington, and
the Queen all to bear upon them, and all in vain. It was only the other
day, after the affair in which Cureton was killed, that I made another
attempt. I sent to Sir James Lushington, and asked him if it was not
then possible to send Napier out to India. The next day he sent me word
that it was impossible, for if it was proposed _not one man_ would vote
for it.'
[Footnote 91: [Sir John Cam Hobhouse was then President of the Board of
Control.]]
[Sidenote: SIR CHARLES NAPIER SENT TO INDIA.]
I replied, since all the powers had failed, that I would bring one more
to bear upon them, viz. the House of Commons, and advised him to go down
and announce the appointment of Napier as Commander-in-Chief; and if the
Directors refused the seat in Council, to cast all the responsibility on
them, and ask Parliament for the additional salary. He approved of the
plan, if it should become necessary. I ended by urging him to probe the
Duke of Wellington, who would tell him his real opinion (he was to see
him the next morning), and then to take a decisive step, and send Napier
out. I told him his Government wanted credit, and that while in
the event of any fresh disasters they would incur an enormous
responsibility, and be called to a severe account for not having sent
the best man they could find, by doing so now, they would acquire
reputation, vigour, and resolution. The next morning early he went to
Lord John Russell, and they agreed to appoint Napier. Hobhouse went to
the Duke, and it was settled at once, greatly to the Duke's
satisfaction. Napier, however, took twelve hours to consider of it, and
the Duke told me he did not at all like it. The Directors behaved well,
and, whether agreeable to them or not, they acquiesced with a good
grace. Ellenborough advised Napier to demand powers greater than had
ever been given to any commander-in-chief, but Napier consulted
Hardinge, who advised him to do no such thing. He said there was no
necessity for them, and that he had much better go out as all his
predecessors had done. This was sound advice, and Napier took it. It
would have been most unwise in a man appointed under such circumstances
to make extraordinary demands upon the authority which only with the
greatest reluctance could be induced to give him any powers at all.
Hardinge told me this in the House of Lords last night.
The satisfaction at Napier's appointment is great and universal, but I
really believe it is in a considerable degree attributable to the
accident of my seeing the Duke on Sunday, and bringing him and the
Government to an understanding on the subject. If I had not seen
Hobhouse on Sunday afternoon, I doubt if any change would have been
made, and am inclined to think Gomm's appointment would have been
carried out.
Last night in the House of Lords Palmerston got the hardest hit he has
ever yet had, though his skin is so impenetrably thick that he will
hardly feel it. Some nights ago Bankes had asked a question about the
Sicilian arms, which Palmerston answered in his usual offhand way, and
as usual the matter fell flat, nobody appearing to think or care
anything about it. Palmerston made a sort of explanation, such as it
was, without a word in it of regret or excuse, as if it had been all
quite natural and right. But the matter did not go off so easily in the
Lords. Stanley stated the case he had heard, and asked if it was true.
Lord Lansdowne at once owned it was true; he called it 'an
inadvertence'! But he said that as soon as it was known to the Cabinet,
they were deliberately of opinion that the permission ought to have been
withheld, and that instructions had been sent to Temple in case any
complaint was made, to apologise, explain, and promise nothing of the
sort should ever recur. A more mortifying declaration for Palmerston (if
anything can mortify him) could not well be, and it was besides an
exposure not to be mistaken. If this affair had stood alone, it might
have passed for an inadvertence, but conjoined with all the other
circumstances of the case, and the general tenor of Palmerston's Italian
policy, nothing can well be worse. Palmerston is _safe_ enough as far as
his office is concerned, and the Government will not be shaken, but it
is damaging beyond all doubt, and when the question comes to be
regularly discussed, Stanley, though now too late, will give him a
tremendous dressing.
[Sidenote: AFFAIR OF THE SICILIAN ARMS.]
_March 16th._--I have been entirely occupied with the labour and trouble
of migration from Grosvenor Place to Bruton Street, where I took up my
abode yesterday evening, and the consequence is that I have not found
time to write a line about passing events.[92]
A day or two after Lord Lansdowne's explanation in the House of Lords
about the Sicilian arms Bankes made another interpellation in the House
of Commons, the object of which was to ask the same question that
Stanley had done. But unlike his chief he made a long, rambling, stupid
speech, which gave Palmerston one of those opportunities of which he
never fails to avail himself with so much dexterity, and accordingly he
delivered a slashing, impudent speech, full of sarcasm, jokes, and
clap-traps, the whole eminently successful. He quizzed Bankes
unmercifully, he expressed ultra-Liberal sentiments to please the
Radicals, and he gathered shouts of laughter and applause as he dashed
and rattled along. He scarcely deigned to notice _the_ question, merely
saying a few words at the end of his speech in replying to it. All this
did perfectly well for the House of Commons, and he got the honours of
the day. Stanley was furious, and all the Anti-Palmerstonians provoked
to death, while he and his friends chuckled and laughed in their
sleeves. John Russell also came to his rescue, and made an apology for
him, which in his mouth was very discreditable, for it was in fact
inconsistent with what Lord Lansdowne had said in the House of Lords.
[Footnote 92: [Mr. Greville removed at this time from the house he had
occupied, No. 40, Grosvenor Place, to a suite of rooms in Lord
Granville's house in Bruton Street, in which he passed the remainder of
his life.]]