The Queen and Lord Melbourne--The Battersea Schools--A Council at
Windsor--A Humble Hero--Lord Durham's Resignation--Duke of
Wellington's Campaigns--The Grange--Lord Durham's Return--Death
of Lord Sefton--Lord Durham's Arrival--His Reception in the
Country--Position of the Radicals--A Visit to Windsor Castle--
Lord Brougham's 'Letter to the Queen'--Lord Durham repudiates
the Radicals--A Lecture at Battersea--Dinner at Holland House--
Curran and George Ponsonby--Prospect of the New Year--The
Petition of the Serjeants-at-Law--Reconciliation with Lord
Durham--Murder of Lord Norbury--The Corn Laws attacked--Lord
Palmerston and the 'Portfolio'--The Serjeants' Case--Brougham
and Lyndhurst 'done up'--Opening of the Session--Resignation of
Lord Glenelg--State of Parties--Lord Durham's Report--Lord
Glenelg's Retirement--Lord Normanby, Colonial Minister--Corn
Law Repeal--Sir Francis Bond Head--Gore House--Lady
Blessington.
September 7th, 1838 {p.130}
Nothing to record of any sort or kind: London a desert; I went
to-day to Windsor for a Council, was invited by the Queen
(through Melbourne) to stay and dine, but made an excuse on the
score of business, and luckily had a plausible one to make.
September 12th, 1838 {p.130}
[Page Head: THE QUEEN AND LORD MELBOURNE.]
George Villiers, who came from Windsor on Monday, told me he had
been exceedingly struck with Lord Melbourne's manner to the
Queen, and hers to him: his, so parental and anxious, but always
so respectful and deferential; hers, indicative of such entire
confidence, such pleasure in his society. She is continually
talking to him; let who will be there, he always sits next her at
dinner, and evidently by arrangement, because he always takes in
the lady-in-waiting, which necessarily places him next her, the
etiquette being that the lady-in-waiting sits next but one to the
Queen. It is not unnatural, and to him it is peculiarly
interesting. I have no doubt he is passionately fond of her as he
might be of his daughter if he had one, and the more because he
is a man with a capacity for loving without having anything in
the world to love. It is become his province to educate,
instruct, and form the most interesting mind and character in the
world. No occupation was ever more engrossing or involved greater
responsibility. I have no doubt that Melbourne is both equal to
and worthy of the task, and that it is fortunate she has fallen
into his hands, and that he discharges this great duty wisely,
honourably, and conscientiously. There are, however, or rather
may be hereafter, inconveniences in the establishment of such an
intimacy, and in a connexion of so close and affectionate a
nature between the young Queen and her Minister; for whenever the
Government, which hangs by a thread, shall be broken up, the
parting will be painful, and their subsequent relations will not
be without embarrassment to themselves, nor fail to be the cause
of jealousy in others. It is a great proof of the discretion and
purity of his conduct and behaviour, that he is admired,
respected, and liked by all the Court.
Yesterday I went to Battersea and dined with Robert Eden, the
Rector,[1] and he took me before dinner to see his lions, and
introduced me to scenes very different from those which I am used
to see. We went to different manufactories, a saw-mill, a
pottery, to the lunatic asylum, to the workhouse, and we visited
several poor people at their cottages, when he enquired into the
circumstances of the sick or the indigent; but what struck me
most forcibly was the school (upon Bell's system) and the
extraordinary acquirements of the boys. Eden examined them, and
invited me to do so, in arithmetic, geography, English history,
and the Bible, and their readiness and correctness were really
surprising. I doubt whether many of the children of the rich, who
are educated at a vast expense at private or public schools,
could pass such an examination as these young paupers who are
instructed at the cost of about one guinea a year. The greatest
punishment that can be inflicted on one of these boys is to
banish him from school, such delight do they take in acquiring
knowledge. He gave me a curious account of the state of his
parish: there is no middle class of tradesmen in good
circumstances; they are divided between the extremes of wealth
and of poverty, masters and operatives; but amongst the latter
there is a considerable amount of knowledge, though their minds
are ill-regulated and their principles perverted. When first he
came there the place abounded in disciples of Carlile, pure
atheists, and when Carlile was in prison he was supported by
their contributions; but though totally without religion they
were not immoral, and among these men were some of the best
husbands and fathers in the place, so much so that when Carlile
told them that men might indulge in polygamy and take two wives,
they were scandalised and disgusted, and began immediately to
abandon him. Some were reclaimed and came to church, but the
greater part, who required some powerful excitement, sought it in
politics, and became deeply imbued with the most pernicious
principles of hatred against all institutions, against the higher
orders, and against property. The fountain from which they draw
their opinions is a Sunday paper called the 'Watchman,' which is
universally and greedily read: it is cleverly written,
accommodated to their taste, and flatters all their worst
propensities. Few people know these things and are aware of the
poison that is thus circulating through the veins, and corrupting
the blood, of the social mass. The desire for instruction and
knowledge seems very general among the lower orders. Eden, with
some others, has established evening lectures upon various
subjects, which are crowded by anxious and attentive listeners of
all ages and callings, who frequently hurry from their daily
occupations, impatient to partake of the instruction which Eden
and his curates, and often some of the better informed
inhabitants of the place, are in the habit of dispensing.
[1] Afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells.
September 15th, 1838 {p.132}
[Page Head: AN INVITATION TO WINDSOR.]
Yesterday again at Windsor for a Council. I had made up my mind
not to stay if invited, and meant to hasten away; but before I
could do so Melbourne came after me and said, 'You will stay
here? the Queen desired me to ask you.' I said I had no evening
dress, had come by the railroad, and walked from Slough; could
not assume that I should be asked, and did not know what to do.
He said, 'She meant it as a civility, and thought you would like
it.' There was a sort of reproach conveyed in the tone, and that
induced me to say, 'So I should if I had only known of it, but as
it is I can send for my things if you like.' He ended by desiring
I would do what I liked best myself, promised that he would take
care the Queen was not offended, and that nobody else would know
anything of the matter. I accordingly resolved to go, and went
away with Lord Albemarle. My mind misgave me, and I had a great
mind to stay, especially as Lord Albemarle told me they did not
mean to turn me out after dinner, but that sleeping there was a
matter of course. Then I was sorry I had not stayed, which I
might just as well have done, for I had nothing else to do. At
these Councils we meet in common morning dress, which we used not
to do.
London, October 26th, 1838 {p.133}
A blank month: to Newmarket, to Buckenham, back to Newmarket, to
Cromer (fine, wild, bleak coast), Buckenham again, Newmarket,
London, Norman Court, and here again; heard nothing, learnt
nothing, altogether unprofitable, Durham's resignation[2] the
only event, the _dénouement_ of which nobody can guess. The
Ministers ought never to have sent him, knowing what he was, and
this has not been their only fault. Norman Court[3] is a very
enjoyable place; close to it was (for it has lately been pulled
down) the house from which Lady Mary eloped with Mr. Wortley.
There I met the doctor who attended young Sam Day (who won the
St. Leger for me on Mango) after the fall of which he died, and
he gave me a striking account of the deathbed scene, the actors
in which, albeit of an humble and unpolished class, displayed
feelings not the less intense from the simplicity of their
expression, and the total absence of that morbid or conventional
sensibility which gives a sort of dramatic dignity to the grief
of the great ones. The boy himself died like a hero, with a
firmness, courage, and cheerfulness which would have been
extolled to the skies in some conspicuous character on whom the
world has been accustomed to gaze, but which in the poor jockey
boy passed unheeded and unknown, and it is only the few as
obscure as himself who witnessed his last moments who are aware
that, wherever his bones rest--
in that neglected spot is laid
A heart once pregnant with celestial fire.
[2] [Upon the receipt of the intelligence of the
Declaratory Act, Lord Durham at once announced in
Canada his determination to resign. The disallowance of
the Ordinance and his official recall crossed this
intimation on the road.]
[3] [Norman Court was at that time the seat of Mr. Baring
Wall. After his death it passed to Mr. Thomas Baring.]
November 8th, 1838 {p.134}
At Newmarket, and at Euston for a day (probably for the last
time), and to London on Monday. The stillness of the political
atmosphere has been rudely broken in upon by Lord Durham's
astounding Proclamation: for once the whole of the press has
joined in a full chorus of disapprobation, and this may be
considered conclusive as to public opinion. Indeed there can
scarcely be two opinions on the subject, for such an appeal to
the people of the Colony over whom he is placed from the acts of
the Government and the legislature of the mother country is as
monstrous as it is unexampled.[4] It seems incredible that he
should not have been deterred by the men who are about him, who
are not deficient in capacity, from taking this desperate step;
but as there is little doubt that Turton advised him not to issue
the Ordinances, and got into disgrace with him for so doing, it
is possible that they none of them were consulted, or if
consulted did not dare, or did not choose, to give him any advice
whatever. The dignity of the Government now demands that his
insolence and misconduct should be visited with the severest
expression of disapprobation and reproof, and the harshest
measures, even an impeachment, would be fully warrantable, if
harsh measures did not generally defeat their own object. But if
the Government mince matters with him, and evince any fear to
strike, if they do not vindicate their own authority, and punish
his contumacy with dignity and spirit, their characters are gone,
and they will merit all the contempt with which their opponents
affect to treat them.
[4] [Lord Durham's conduct was arrogant and highly
injudicious. On the 9th October he issued a
Proclamation in Canada, in which he censured the
conduct of the Home Government. It is printed in the
'Ann. Reg.' for 1838, Chron. p. 311. In fact his vanity
was wounded, and his mission, of which so much was
expected, had failed. But it will be seen further on
that the first impression produced by his violence was
considerably mitigated. Mr. John Stuart Mill defended
his policy in the _Westminster Review_, and a certain
amount of reaction took place in his favour.]
November 18th, 1838, Wolbeding {p.135}
[Page Head: WELLINGTON IN BATTLE.]
Came here to-day and brought Lord Fitzroy Somerset[5] with me,
who told me a great deal about the Duke and their old campaigns.
He never saw a man so cool and indifferent to danger, at the same
time without any personal rashness or bravado, never putting
himself in unnecessary danger, never avoiding any that was
necessary. He was close to the Duke, his left arm touching the
Duke's right, when he was shot in the arm at Waterloo, and so was
Lord Anglesey when he received his wound in the leg. When Lord
Anglesey was shot he turned to the Duke and said, 'By G-- I have
lost my leg.' The Duke replied, 'Have you? by G--.' The only time
the Duke ever was hit was at Orthez, by a spent ball, which
struck him on the side and knocked him down. He and Alava were
standing together having both dismounted, and they were laughing
at a Portuguese soldier who had just passed by saying he was
'offendido' ... when the Duke was struck down, but he immediately
rose and laughed all the more at being 'offendido' himself.
During the battles of the Pyrenees Cole proposed to the Duke and
his staff to go and eat a very good dinner he had ordered for
himself at his house in the village he occupied, as he could not
leave his division. They went and dined, and then the Duke went
into the next room and threw himself upon a bed without a
mattress, on the boards of which he presently went to sleep with
his despatch-box for a pillow. Fitzroy and the aides-de-camp
slept in chairs or on the floor scattered about. Presently
arrived, in great haste and alarm, two officers of artillery,
Captain Cairne and another, who begged to see the Duke, the
former saying that he had just brought up some guns from the
rear, and that he had suddenly found himself close to the enemy
and did not know what to do. They went and woke the Duke, who
desired him to be brought in. The officer entered and told his
story, when the Duke said, very composedly, 'Well, Sir, you are
certainly in a very bad position, and you must get out of it in
the best way you can,' turned round, and was asleep again in a
moment.
[5] [Afterwards Lord Raglan. He lost his arm at Waterloo,
and commanded the British army in the Crimea, where he
died in 1855.]
Lord Fitzroy gave me an account of the battle of Salamanca,
exactly corresponding with that which the Duke himself gave me
last year at Burghley, but with some additional details. They
were going to dine in a farmyard, but the shot fell so thick
there that the mules carrying the dinner were ordered to go to
another place. There the Duke dined, walking about the whole time
munching, with his field-glass in his hand, and constantly
looking through it. On a sudden, he exclaimed, 'By G--, they are
extending their line; order my horses.' The horses were brought
and he was off in an instant, followed only by his old German
dragoon, who went with him everywhere. The aides-de-camp followed
as quickly as they could. He galloped straight to Pakenham's
division and desired him immediately to begin the attack.
Pakenham said, 'Give me your hand, and it shall be done.' The
Duke very gravely gave him his hand, Pakenham shook it warmly and
then hastened off. The French were attacked directly after.
[Page Head: AN ARMY LOST.]
He also told me another anecdote I had never heard before. During
the retreat from Burgos, on this very day twenty-six years ago,
when the weather was dreadful and the roads were nearly
impassable, the Duke _lost his army_ for several hours. They had
to cross a river near a place called Rodrigo, and the Duke had
ordered the army to march in three columns, of which one,
composed of the Spaniards, was to cross by the only bridge there
was, and the other two by fords and by another route. He had
assigned the easiest line to the Spaniards because they were
likely to have more stragglers than the British. Arthur Upton,
the Quartermaster-General of one of the divisions, had dined at
head-quarters the night before, and the Duke had sent by him
written orders for the march. The next morning at two o'clock the
Duke was on the high road on purpose to see the troops pass by.
Cavalry came, but no infantry, and to the enquiries the Duke
made, they all replied that they had not seen anything of the
infantry. Presently the Duke galloped off, and Fitzroy having
missed him soon after, set off to see if he could discover what
was become of the infantry. It was not till several hours after
that he joined the Duke, who had at last found out the cause of
the non-appearance of his infantry. The three Generals commanding
the divisions, Clinton, Stewart, and Lord Dalhousie, had thought
fit to disobey his orders, and as a great deal of rain had fallen
in the night, they had settled that it would be better to direct
the whole of the infantry on the bridge instead of moving them by
the roads prescribed by the Duke, and though they knew he was
only seven or eight miles off, they never advised him of their
having made this change in the movements he had ordered. The
enemy did not discover what had occurred; if they had, the
consequences might have been very serious, and a great loss have
ensued. Fitzroy asked the Duke what he had said to them, and he
replied, 'Oh, by G--, it was too serious to say anything.' It was
too late then to restore the original order of march, and the
whole army crossed by the bridge. No further allusion was made to
what had occurred.
December 2nd, 1838 {p.137}
Went from Wolbeding to the Grange, last Friday week--Henry Taylor
and George Cornewall Lewis there--and came to town on Sunday. The
Grange is a beautiful specimen of Grecian architecture, bought by
Lord Ashburton of that extraordinary man Henry Drummond, a man so
able and eccentric as to be treading on the very edge of the
partition which divides wit from madness.
Lord Durham arrived at Plymouth some days ago, but was not able
to land (on Thursday last) owing to the violence of the storms.
Great curiosity prevails to see what sort of a reception he gets
from Ministers and the Queen, and what his relations are to be
with Government. Nothing they say can exceed the astonishment
which he and his court feel, or will feel, at the sensation
excited in the country by his conduct. Gibbon Wakefield, the
first who arrived, said he had never been so amazed in the course
of his life, and owned that they had all expected to make a very
different impression, and to be hailed with great applause.
Brougham, who is sitting at the Judicial Committee, is in high
spirits and looking forward with exceeding zest and eagerness to
the fun he is to have in the House of Lords.
[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD SEFTON.]
While I was in the country, Lord Sefton's long illness came to a
close, but not before he was reduced to a state of deplorable
imbecility, so that his death was a release from misery to
himself as well as to all about him. He was a man who filled a
considerable space in society, and had been more or less
conspicuous from the earliest period of his life. He was
possessed of an ample fortune, which he endeavoured to convert
into a continual source of enjoyment in every mode which fancy,
humour, or caprice suggested. His natural parts were excessively
lively, but his education had been wholly neglected, and he never
attempted to repair in after-life the deficiencies occasioned by
that early neglect. He had therefore not the slightest tincture
of letters, his mind was barren of information, and he not only
took no interest in intellectual pursuits, but he regarded with
aversion, and something like contempt, those who were peculiarly
devoted to them. On the other hand, he was an acute man of the
world, eagerly entering into all the interests, great and small,
of his own time, sufficiently acquainted with the mushroom
literature of the day for all social purposes, and, partly from
the authority which his wealth and position gave him, partly from
his own dexterity, he contrived to turn conversation aside from
those topics in the discussion of which he was incapable of
mixing, and to promote that sort of half-serious, half-ludicrous
talk, in which he was not only fitted to play a prominent part,
but in which he exhibited a talent quite peculiar to himself.
Never was there so great a master of what is called
_persiflage_--of that boisterous, droll and pungent banter which,
if not the most elevated species of wit, is certainly that which
is most exhilarating and provocative of laughter. In this he was
unrivalled, and it was heightened by the adjuncts of a voice,
face, and manner irresistibly comical. As the most opposite
characters owned the fascination of this exciting talent, he was
enabled to gratify his inclination for every variety of social
excellence, and to number among his friends and companions many
of the most eminent and accomplished men of his time. From his
earliest youth he had always lived in what was considered the
very best society, and as he eschewed the idea of growing old and
retiring from the stage, he was continually making new
acquaintances, falling into fresh pursuits, and adapting himself
to the prevailing tastes and habits of the day. His father had
stamped upon him his hideous form, but with it his sharp and
caustic wit; he found himself at the outset a member of that
brilliant society of which Hatfield and Cashiobury were the
temples, and Lady Salisbury, Lady Essex, and Mrs. St. John the
presiding divinities. After these had flourished and decayed,
Sefton struck into fresh paths of social enjoyment, and having
successively sought for amusement in hunting, shooting, racing,
gaming, 'besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking,' he
plunged with ardour into politics, and though he had no opinions
or principles but such as resulted from personal predilections,
and had none of that judgement which can only be generated by the
combination of knowledge with severe mental discipline, he was
enabled by the force of circumstances and an energetic will to
acquire political intimacies, and to a certain degree to play a
political part: of this his friendship with Brougham was the
primary cause. Brougham had been his counsel in some important
cause at Liverpool, and that professional connexion subsequently
ripened into a close alliance, Sefton being naturally delighted
with his brilliant conversation, while Brougham was always highly
diverted with the peculiar humour and drollery of Sefton. So
intimate therefore did they become, and such influence was Sefton
supposed to possess over his mind, that he was employed by Lord
Grey, on the formation of the Whig Government in 1830, to settle
the conditions of Brougham's accession to office, and to appease
the wrath which had been stirred up in his mind by the offer of
being made Attorney-General. His addiction to politics had,
however, very little influence on his habits, except to extend
and diversify the sphere of his occupations and amusements. His
Parliamentary attendance never abridged the hours or nights which
were devoted to Crockford's, and his friendships with Brougham,
Lord Grey and Lord Holland, Talleyrand, and all the most
distinguished people in the country, did not alienate him from
the company of the idle, gay, and dissolute frequenters of clubs
and race-courses, congenial spirits from whom he extracted their
several contributions of entertainment. The one thing needful to
him was excitement, and so fixed and rooted was his habit of
seeking it, that there was a sort of regularity in the very
irregularities of his existence. In regard to his moral
attributes he was governed by an intense selfishness, but of that
liberal and enlightened character which throws a partial veil
over the vice itself and leaves the superficial observer
unconscious of its existence. He was a devoted husband, a kind
and affectionate father, a despot (though it was a beneficent
despotism) in his own family, a courteous, cordial, and obliging
host; he cared for money only as a means of enjoyment, but it
formed no part of his scheme of happiness to employ it in
promoting the pleasures, or relieving the necessities of others,
except in so far as such pleasures were connected with his own
gratification. He was absolutely devoid of religious belief or
opinions, but he left to all others the unquestioned liberty of
rendering that homage to religion from which he gave himself a
plenary dispensation. His general conduct was stained with no
gross immorality, and as he was placed far above the necessity of
committing dishonourable actions, his mind was habitually imbued
with principles of integrity. They sat, however, lightly and
easily upon him as regarded the conduct of others, not so much
from indifference as from indulgence in those particular cases
where a rigid and severe application of high principle would have
interfered with his own convenience or enjoyment. Such was
Sefton, a man who acted too conspicuous a part on the stage of
the world to be passed over without notice, whom I knew too well
to delineate in more flattering terms, but to whom I must
acknowledge a debt of gratitude for a long and undeviating course
of kind and cordial hospitality experienced for many years.
December 6th, 1838 {p.141}
[Page Head: LORD DURHAM'S RETURN.]
If notoriety upon any terms could satisfy anybody, Lord Durham
would have ample reason for contentment, as his name is in
everybody's mouth, and the chief topic of every newspaper and
political periodical. He was detained by the storms on board his
ship for a day or two, and met on his landing by a Devonport
address, to which he returned a rather mysterious answer (talking
of the great disclosures he had to make), with a reference to his
Glasgow speech in which in '34 he announced his Radical tendency.
The most interesting question is how he and the Ministers will go
on together, what they ought to do, and how he will take their
usage of him whatever it may be. He has been in no hurry to come
to town, and has reposed himself at Plymouth as long as it suited
him; but he is expected to-day. Brougham, who is sitting every
day at the Privy Council, is always growling at him
sarcastically, and was much pleased when news came of the fresh
outbreak in Canada, and his disappointment was equally evident
when he heard it was so rapidly quelled. He was reading the
newspaper in my room before the Court opened, when Denman came
and announced that he had just met Charles Wood, who had told him
that young Ellice was released, and the insurrection suppressed.
Brougham did not take his eyes off the paper, and merely
muttered, 'It will soon break out again.' He is all day long
working sums in algebra, or extracting cube-roots; and while he
pretends to be poring over the great book (the cases of the
parties) before him, he is in reality absorbed in his own
calculations. Nevertheless, he from time to time starts up, and
throws in a question, a dictum, or a lecture, just as if he had
been profoundly attentive.
December 10th, 1838 {p.142}
Nothing can exhibit more strikingly the farcical nature of public
meetings, and the hollowness, worthlessness, and accidental
character of popularity, than the circumstances of Durham's
arrival here. He has done nothing in Canada, he took himself off
just as the fighting was going to begin, his whole conduct has
been visited with universal disapprobation, and nevertheless his
progress to London has been a sort of triumph; and he has been
saluted with addresses and noisy receptions at all the great
towns through which he passed. His position here is extraordinary
enough, and his relations with the Government stand upon a
strange footing. They have made no communication to him since his
arrival. Upon the receipt of his Proclamation they wrote to him
and expressed their disapprobation, but those letters never
reached him, as he quitted Canada before they could have arrived.
They now, it seems, consider that silence is token sufficient of
their displeasure at his abrupt return; but, though no doubt he
fully understands them, they ought to have conveyed their
sentiments openly and distinctly. There is an appearance of
pusillanimity in this reserve which does them great harm, and
brings them into discredit. They ought to have told him
temperately, but firmly, that they were entirely dissatisfied
with his proceedings, and having so done they should have called
upon him to afford them all the explanations and all the
information he has to give; but they have done none of this, for
they have taken no notice of him, nor he of them. He has not seen
one of the Ministers, not even his own brother-in-law Howick, nor
any of the underlings, except Ben Stanley, who found Durham in
high dudgeon, and saying, that 'as Government attacked him he
must defend himself.' What he means by 'attacking him' is, that
certain articles reflecting on his conduct have appeared in the
'Globe,' for in no way have Government said or done anything
about him; on the contrary, they have been only too reserved and
forbearing.
[Page Head: LORD DURHAM BLUNDERS.]
The conduct of Durham throughout the whole business, from his
first legislative act in Canada (the Ordinance) down to his
arrival in London, is perfectly inexplicable, and presents a
series of blunders tricked out in plausible language, invested
with the dignity of pompous phraseology, mysterious allusions,
threats and promises, and the affecting complaints of injured
innocence and ill-requited virtue. But still, such is the effect
of notoriety, so dearly do ordinary mortals love to play a part
and 'make the capable,' that in spite of his blunders and his
faults he has contrived to excite a certain amount of interest,
to make an impression, though not a very deep or wide one, and to
raise a vague expectation as to his promised disclosures. His
speeches in reply to the addresses are most extraordinary
performances, unbecoming in tone, contradictory, inconsistent,
and inflated; for as to disclosures he has none to make of any
sort or kind. He had the finest game to play in Canada that could
be placed in his hands, for the proceedings here gave him a
legitimate grievance, and would have enabled him to claim double
credit for success, and exemption from any blame or discredit
from failure; but temper, uncontrollable and unreflecting,
hurried him into the irretrievable follies he committed, and he
is now without any alternative but that of renewing the Radical
connexion from which a short time ago he evinced a disposition to
keep aloof, and he has nothing left for it but to accept the post
that is offered him of leading a party which, in its composition,
principles, and objects, is as uncongenial as possible to his
real character and disposition. For it is not a little curious
that this levelling democratic faction, to whom the aristocracy
are an abomination, are not only wild to have a lord for their
leader, but must have that lord who is the especial incarnation
of all those odious qualities which they ascribe most unjustly to
the order of which he is a member: and he who is brimful of pride
and arrogance, and of an overweening sense of his greatness and
his rank, is content to associate with men whose chief
recommendation is the profuseness with which they pander to his
vanity, and to seek personal distinction and power by lending
himself to the promotion of schemes the success of which no man
would more earnestly deprecate than himself. The greatest enigma
is how Durham has ever come to be considered of such importance,
and what is the cause of the sort of reputation he has acquired;
for whatever may be his intrinsic value, he certainly fills a
considerable space, attracts a great share of public attention,
and is a personage of some consequence in the political world. He
is a clever man, can both write and speak well, but he has not
been in the habit of _saying_ much, and he has never _done_
anything whatever. He is known to the world by no specific act,
and he has taken part very rarely and occasionally in the debates
in Parliament. All that is known of his embassy to Russia is,
that he was completely bit by the Emperor Nicholas, and gave up
the question of the 'Vixen;' still, by dint of being perpetually
cried up by a particular party, and by doing well the little he
has occasionally done in public, he has succeeded in making
himself pass for a man of high pretensions and uncommon
endowments, and in the present state of parties his arrival may
be productive of important effects.
[Page Head: IRRITATION OF THE RADICALS.]
The Radicals, that is, the English ones, are extremely
exasperated against the Government, and many of them are anxious
to terminate the Whig reign, from which they think it vain to
expect anything after John Russell's declaration, and to try
their chance with the Tories: not that they expect to find the
Tories squeezable, but they fancy that a Tory Government will
fail, and, after its failure, that recourse must be had to them.
The wiser heads of the party know that these notions are quite
chimerical, and are for trusting to the chapter of accidents and
letting the present Cabinet remain in. The consequence is, that
there is great dissension and vast difference of opinion among
them; they have no leader, and there is no individual who
influences the determinations of the whole body. On the other
side of the water, O'Connell has likewise threatened to insist
upon ballot as the condition of his support to Government; but
nobody pays any attention to his harangues or the menaces they
contain, and his support may be pretty well depended on. But it
would not be enough for Government that the English Radicals
should abstain from going against them in a body, because so
slender is the majority on which they can count, that if any
considerable number were to oppose Government on some vital
question, it would be sufficient to overthrow them. Of this they
are aware, as well as of the probability of such defection, and
the consequent precariousness of their situation, and many among
them are beginning to be very tired and disgusted with such a
tenure of office. It is difficult to believe that Melbourne would
not be more so than anybody, if it were not that he is bound by
every sentiment of duty, gratitude, and attachment to the Queen
to retain the Government as long as he can with honour and
safety, and to stretch a point even, to spare her the pain and
mortification of changes that would be so painful to her. The
Tories, who see the accumulating difficulties of the Government,
and who are aware of the immense importance of letting it
dissolve of itself, or be broken up by the defection and
opposition of its own supporters, are disposed to be patient and
moderate; that is, the more sagacious of them are; but they are
always in danger of being prematurely urged on by the violence
and impetuosity of their tail. Such is the state of parties at
the present moment, and it would puzzle the most sagacious
observer and most experienced actor in political life to predict
the result of the ensuing session. There is quite enough,
however, in the general aspect of affairs both at home and abroad
to moderate the rancour of mere party violence.
December 15th, 1838 {p.145}
Went on Wednesday to a Council at Windsor, and after the Council
was invited to stay that night; rode with the Queen, and after
riding Melbourne came to me and said Her Majesty wished me to
stay the next day also. This was very gracious and very
considerate, because it was done for the express purpose of
showing that she was not displeased at my not staying when asked
on a former occasion, and as she can have no object whatever in
being civil to me, it was a proof of her good-nature and
thoughtfulness about other people's little vanities, even those
of the most insignificant. Accordingly I remained till Friday
morning, when I went with the rest of her suite to see the hounds
throw off, which she herself saw for the first time. The Court is
certainly not gay, but it is perhaps impossible that any Court
should be gay where there is no social equality; where some
ceremony, and a continual air of deference and respect must be
observed, there can be no ease, and without ease there can be no
real pleasure. The Queen is natural, good-humoured, and cheerful,
but still she is Queen, and by her must the social habits and the
tone of conversation be regulated, and for this she is too young
and inexperienced. She sits at a large round table, her guests
around it, and Melbourne always in a chair beside her, where two
mortal hours are consumed in such conversation as can be found,
which appears to be, and really is, very up-hill work. This,
however, is the only bad part of the whole; the rest of the day
is passed without the slightest constraint, trouble, or annoyance
to anybody; each person is at liberty to employ himself or
herself as best pleases them, though very little is done in
common, and in this respect Windsor is totally unlike any other
place. There is none of the sociability which makes the
agreeableness of an English country house; there is no room in
which the guests assemble, sit, lounge, and talk as they please
and when they please; there is a billiard table, but in such a
remote corner of the Castle that it might as well be in the town
of Windsor; and there is a library well stocked with books, but
hardly accessible, imperfectly warmed, and only tenanted by the
librarian: it is a mere library, too, unfurnished, and offering
none of the comforts and luxuries of a habitable room. There are
two breakfast rooms, one for the ladies and the guests, and the
other for the equerries, but when the meal is over everybody
disperses, and nothing but another meal reunites the company, so
that, in fact, there is no society whatever, little trouble,
little etiquette, but very little resource or amusement.
[Page Head: LIFE OF THE QUEEN AT WINDSOR.]
The life which the Queen leads is this: she gets up soon after
eight o'clock, breakfasts in her own room, and is employed the
whole morning in transacting business; she reads all the
despatches, and has every matter of interest and importance in
every department laid before her. At eleven or twelve Melbourne
comes to her and stays an hour, more or less, according to the
business he may have to transact. At two she rides with a large
suite (and she likes to have it numerous); Melbourne always rides
on her left hand, and the equerry in waiting generally on her
right; she rides for two hours along the road, and the greater
part of the time at a full gallop; after riding she amuses
herself for the rest of the afternoon with music and singing,
playing, romping with children, if there are any in the Castle
(and she is so fond of them that she generally contrives to have
some there), or in any other way she fancies. The hour of dinner
is nominally half-past seven o'clock, soon after which time the
guests assemble, but she seldom appears till near eight. The lord
in waiting comes into the drawing-room and instructs each
gentleman which lady he is to take in to dinner. When the guests
are all assembled the Queen comes in, preceded by the gentlemen
of her household, and followed by the Duchess of Kent and all her
ladies; she speaks to each lady, bows to the men, and goes
immediately into the dining-room. She generally takes the arm of
the man of the highest rank, but on this occasion she went with
Mr. Stephenson, the American Minister (though he has no rank),
which was very wisely done. Melbourne invariably sits on her
left, no matter who may be there; she remains at table the usual
time, but does not suffer the men to sit long after her, and we
were summoned to coffee in less than a quarter of an hour. In the
drawing-room she never sits down till the men make their
appearance. Coffee is served to them in the adjoining room, and
then they go into the drawing-room, when she goes round and says
a few words to each, of the most trivial nature, all however very
civil and cordial in manner and expression. When this little
ceremony is over the Duchess of Kent's whist table is arranged,
and then the round table is marshalled, Melbourne invariably
sitting on the left hand of the Queen and remaining there without
moving till the evening is at an end. At about half-past eleven
she goes to bed, or whenever the Duchess has played her usual
number of rubbers, and the band have performed all the pieces on
their list for the night. This is the whole history of her day:
she orders and regulates every detail herself, she knows where
everybody is lodged in the Castle, settles about the riding or
driving, and enters into every particular with minute attention.
But while she personally gives her orders to her various
attendants, and does everything that is civil to all the inmates
of the Castle, she really has nothing to do with anybody but
Melbourne, and with him she passes (if not in _tête-à-tête_ yet
in intimate communication) more hours than any two people, in any
relation of life, perhaps ever do pass together besides.[6] He is
at her side for at least six hours every day--an hour in the
morning, two on horseback, one at dinner, and two in the evening.
This monopoly is certainly not judicious; it is not altogether
consistent with social usage, and it leads to an infraction of
those rules of etiquette which it is better to observe with
regularity at Court. But it is more peculiarly inexpedient with
reference to her own future enjoyment, for if Melbourne should be
compelled to resign, her privation will be the more bitter on
account of the exclusiveness of her intimacy with him.
Accordingly, her terror when any danger menaces the Government,
her nervous apprehension at any appearance of change, affect her
health, and upon one occasion during the last session she
actually fretted herself into an illness at the notion of their
going out. It must be owned that her feelings are not unnatural,
any more than those which Melbourne entertains towards her. His
manner to her is perfect, always respectful, and never presuming
upon the extraordinary distinction he enjoys; hers to him is
simple and natural, indicative of the confidence she reposes in
him, and of her lively taste for his society, but not marked by
any unbecoming familiarity. Interesting as his position is, and
flattered, gratified, and touched as he must be by the confiding
devotion with which she places herself in his hands, it is still
marvellous that he should be able to overcome the force of habit
so completely as to endure the life he leads. Month after month
he remains at the Castle, submitting to this daily routine: of
all men he appeared to be the last to be broken in to the
trammels of a Court, and never was such a revolution seen in
anybody's occupations and habits. Instead of indolently sprawling
in all the attitudes of luxurious ease, he is always sitting bolt
upright; his free and easy language interlarded with 'damns' is
carefully guarded and regulated with the strictest propriety, and
he has exchanged the good talk of Holland House for the trivial,
laboured, and wearisome inanities of the Royal circle.
[6] The Duke of Wellington says that Melbourne is quite
right to go and stay at the Castle as much he does, and
that it is very fit he should instruct the young Queen
in the business of government, but he disapproves of
his being always at her side, even contrary to the
rules of etiquette; for as a Prime Minister has no
precedence, he ought not to be placed in the post of
honour to the exclusion of those of higher rank than
himself.
December 19th, 1838 {p.149}
[Page Head: BROUGHAM'S LETTER TO THE QUEEN.]
Dined with Brougham the day before yesterday, with whom I am on
mighty intimate terms just now. Sat next to Bellenden Ker (who
drew up his Privy Council Bill), who told me that Brougham said
he was writing sixteen hours a day, and about to bring out two
more volumes of his Paley,[7] and I found the explanation of his
calculations at the Council Board in the fact that he was working
out some problems for the purpose of proving the form of the
structure of honeycombs. In the meantime he has put forth a
pamphlet in the shape of a letter to the Queen, which he half
acknowledges, and of which nobody doubts that he is the author,
as in fact nobody can who is acquainted with the man or his
writings. It makes a prodigious noise in the world and is read
with avidity, but, though marked with all his cleverness, it is a
discreditable production. The tone of it is detestable, the
object mischievous, though by no means definite or clear. After
stripping it of all its invectives and ribaldry, there is no
proposition which can be extracted from it except that of giving
universal suffrage, for, although he does not say so, his
argument cannot be arrested short of such a consummation. It is a
bitter, brilliant, wayward satire and philippic, and, as Johnson
said of Junius, 'if you extract from its wit the vivacity of
impudence, and withdraw from its efficacy the sympathetic favour
of plebeian malignity, if you leave it only its merit, I know not
what will be its praise.' It is, however, marvellously
characteristic of the man, and illustrative of the state of his
mind. His present political conduct, if political it can be
called, is curious enough, for he is doing all he can to keep up
his connexion with the Radicals, and at the same time courting
the Tories, his only fixed idea being to worry the Government. It
is clear to me that he was jealous and displeased at the notion
of Durham's being put at the head of the Radical party, and it
was with evident glee that he told me on Monday how grievously
Durham had offended them by his reply to the Westminster
Association, which they very correctly took to themselves.
Brougham called on Leader on Sunday, where he found Trelawny, and
one or two more Radicals whose names I have forgotten, when
Leader expressed these sentiments to him: he said there was no
sort of necessity for Durham's writing them such a letter, and
that he had evidently seized the opportunity of addressing _them_
in that shape, and of course there was an end of any possibility
of a connexion between him and them. This is very true, for the
fact is that Durham--who since his arrival has had time and
opportunity to find out in what a miserable position he has
placed himself, how feeble and inefficient the Radical party is
as a party, and how entirely he would destroy himself by becoming
their leader, and who moreover has been exceedingly disgusted at
the way in which he was taken up by Molesworth, and provoked to
death at being taken under his protection at Devonport--desires
earnestly to retrace his steps and to disavow the alliance they
have offered him, and which they have so prematurely and
ostentatiously proclaimed. He now wants to put himself in a
neutral and, if he can, a dignified position. Yesterday he had an
interview with Lord Wellesley, whom he asked leave to call upon,
and it is not at all unlikely that it will end in his meeting
Brougham at Lord Wellesley's as their common friend. Brougham
told me that their quarrel was at an end, and that it was now
only a question which should first speak to the other, and that
Durham had said he was not at all angry at the part he had taken
in the House of Lords, and owned he could not, consistently with
the conduct he had pursued with respect to Canada, have acted
differently. All this proves that he is ready enough to make it
up with Durham; in fact he will ally himself with anybody who is
likely to join him in attacking the Government. What Brougham
told me about the Radicals was confirmed last night by
Fonblanque, who said that Durham's return had been positively
serviceable to Government, for if he had remained in Canada there
were fourteen or fifteen of that party who would most certainly
have gone into Opposition; but his return having led to the
expectation of his joining them, and that having been frustrated,
there was every probability of their doing what they had done
before and supporting the Government, however sulkily and
reluctantly, rather than throw open the door for the return of
the Tories. He said the slightest concession to them from the
Government would secure them, but I told him none would be made,
and he was aware of it.
[7] Paley's _Natural Theology_, illustrated by Lord
Brougham, was published soon afterwards.
I met Sheil at dinner yesterday at Poulett Thomson's, who, to my
surprise, is a candidate for the office of Judge Advocate, and he
expects, if Macaulay refuses it, to be appointed. He begged of me
to let him know as soon as Macaulay's answer came, and he said,
Normanby had strongly urged it, and Melbourne was well disposed
towards him.
December 24th, 1838 {p.151}
[Page Head: A LECTURE AT BATTERSEA.]
Went on Friday to Battersea to hear Robert Eden deliver a lecture
in the school-room--one of a course he is delivering upon
anatomy, or rather upon different parts of the human body--and
demonstrating the utility of cleanliness, the danger of
drunkenness, and mixing precept with information for the benefit
of as mixed an audience as ever was assembled, but who seemed
much interested and very attentive. There were many of the gentry
of Battersea, male and female, the tradespeople, workmen, the
boys of the school, and a rough, ragged set of urchins, labourers
on the railroad--in all about 300 people. The lecture, which was
upon the arm, was very fluently given; the lecturer is not
sufficiently master of his subject to make his explanations very
lucid and perfectly intelligible, but he conveys good general
notions, and introduces such a mixture of anecdote and
illustration as makes it sufficiently entertaining. The
undertaking is highly laudable; it is carried on with great zeal
and spirit, very considerable ability, and, as far as it has
gone, with complete success.
Dined yesterday at the Hollands': Normanby, Melbourne, and
Luttrell; pretty good talk. Melbourne, rather paradoxical,
asserted that 'men with quick feelings were always the worst men;
that he could not work out the proposition metaphysically then,
but that he should do.' It was the assertion of Brougham's having
quick feelings which elicited the saying, though certainly
Brougham is not the _worst_ of men: far from it, nor did he mean
to say so. Brougham denies this pamphlet, and says he cannot be
the author for this reason: the pamphlet reasserts something
about Melbourne which he had asserted in one of his articles in
the 'Edinburgh Review.' Melbourne, when he read that article,
wrote to Brougham, and told him that as he was sure he did not
wish to misrepresent him, he informed him that he had never
entertained the opinions nor given the vote there ascribed to
him. Brougham replied, admitting his error, and promising to
correct it, offering to do so at Melbourne's option in another
number of the 'Edinburgh Review,' or _in some other work_ (I
forget what). Melbourne wrote back, in rather a jocular strain,
that he thought it would be preferable to have the correction in
the same publication as the statement, to which Brougham sent a
good-humoured answer, and there it ended. After this, he says
that he could not by possibility repeat the very same thing in
another work that he had already engaged to recall, and this is
certainly strong. At the same time there are things in it which
no other man could have written. Just before it came out he was
preparing something for the printer, for he came into my room
with a parcel of proof-sheets in his hand, which I fancied were
for me to frank to Macvey Napier, and I said so; when he replied,
'Oh no, they are going to the printer here.' It is after all not
improbable that it was a joint production--his and Roebuck's--
Roebuck making the pudding, and Brougham putting in the plums.
Melbourne was talking of Brougham's indignation and mortification
at being deprived of his pre-eminence in the House of Lords, and
of a letter he wrote in great bitterness of spirit, in which he
said, 'Do you mean to deprive me of my lead in the House of
Lords? Why don't you say as you did when you took the Great Seal
from me, 'God damn you, I tell you I can't give you the Great
Seal, and there's an end of it'?'
[Page Head: ANECDOTES OF CURRAN.]
They spoke of Curran, his wit, and of his quarrel with Ponsonby.
When the Whigs came in in 1806, Ponsonby was made Irish
Chancellor.[8] There had been some previous communication with
Curran, who had assented to Ponsonby's being promoted to the
highest place; but he expressed his expectation that he should
have the next, and he wanted to be Attorney-General. Fox was very
desirous of making him Attorney, but Lord Grenville would not
hear of it; he had been so concerned with the rebels that it was
thought impossible, besides that it led directly to the Bench,
for which he was disqualified by temper and character. When
Ponsonby became Chancellor, Curran wrote to him to know if he was
to be Attorney; and Ponsonby sent him a pompous answer, that 'his
lips were sealed with the seals of office;' which affronted
Curran. Eventually, they determined to buy out the Master of the
Rolls and put Curran in his place, and they arranged with the
Master that he should have £600 a year out of the place (a
monstrous job). Accordingly Curran was informed that he was to be
the Master of the Rolls, but _after_ this notification (as he
asserted), it was intimated to him that he was to have this rider
upon his place. He said, he had been no party to such an
agreement and he would not pay it, nor did he. Ponsonby was
highly indignant, said Curran was a great rogue, and never would
speak to him again; and he paid the £600 a year out of his own
pocket as long as Curran lived. As a specimen of Curran's wit,
one day when Lord Moira had been making a speech in his usual
style full of sounding phrases and long words, Curran said, 'Upon
my word his lordship has been airing his vocabulary in a very
pretty style to-day.'
[8] [Right Hon. George Ponsonby, who resigned the office in
the following year. Curran held the office of Master of
the Rolls in Ireland from 1806 to 1814, when he retired
on a pension of £3,000 a year. He died in 1817.]
Lord Holland gave me an account of Fox's death, with all the
details of the operations (he was thrice tapped), and his
behaviour; and till then I was not entirely aware that Fox was no
believer in religion. Mrs. Fox was very anxious to have prayers
read, to which he consented, but paid little attention to the
ceremony, remaining quiescent merely, not liking, as Lord Holland
said, to refuse any wish of hers, nor to pretend any sentiments
he did not entertain.
January 1st, 1839 {p.154}
[Page Head: DISTURBED STATE OF THE COUNTRY.]
Another year gone, taking along with it some particles of health,
strength, and spirits, but it is to be hoped making us something
wiser and better, and giving an increased power of passive
resistance to bear up against the accumulating ills or sorrows of
life. But I will not--here at least--plunge into a moralising
strain. As to public matters the year opens in no small gloom and
uncertainty. On the surface all is bright and smooth enough: the
country is powerful, peaceful, and prosperous, and all the
elements of wealth and power are increasing; but the mind of the
mass is disturbed and discontented, and there is a continual
fermentation going on, and separate and unconnected causes of
agitation and disquiet are in incessant operation, which create
great alarm, but which there seems to exist no power of checking
or subduing. The Government is in a wretched state of weakness,
utterly ignorant whether it can scramble through the session,
unable to assume a dignified attitude, to investigate with calm
deliberation the moral and political condition of the country,
and to act upon its convictions with firmness and resolution,
tottering and staggering between one great party and one fierce
faction, and just able to keep on its legs because both are, for
different reasons, willing to wound but afraid to strike. It does
not fulfil the purpose of a Government, and brings the function
itself into contempt by accustoming men to look at it without any
feeling of attachment or respect. Wild notions of political
grievances and political rights have been widely disseminated
among the masses, and these are not engendered or fostered by the
prevalence of distress or that want of employment which not
unnaturally turns the thoughts of the idle and unoccupied to the
most desperate expedients for bettering their condition, but they
are the mere aspirings of a fierce democracy who have been
gradually but deeply impregnated with sentiments of hatred and
jealousy of the upper classes, and with a determination to
'level' all political distinctions and privileges, and when this
is accomplished to proceed to a more equal distribution of
property, to an agrarian experiment; for it is idle to suppose
that men of this stamp care anything for abstract political
theories, or have any definite object but that of procuring the
means of working less, and eating and drinking more. The accounts
of the Chartists (as they are called), at and about Manchester,
represent them to be collected in vast bodies, associations of
prodigious numbers, meeting in all the public-houses, collecting
arms universally, and constantly practising by firing at a mark,
openly threatening, if their demands are not complied with, to
enforce them by violence. In the mean time there is no military
force in the country at all adequate to meet these menacing
demonstrations; the yeomanry have been reduced, and the
magistracy are worse than useless, without consideration,
resolution, or judgement. There is every reason to suppose that
they have got into a scrape with their arrest of Stephens, the
great Chartist orator, and that there is no case against him
sufficient for a conviction.[9] The magistrates completely lost
their heads, and between their fears and their folly have
blundered and bothered their proceedings miserably, and so as to
afford an ultimate triumph to this mischievous fellow and his
followers.
[9] [One Stephens, formerly a Wesleyan preacher, and one of
the most violent agitators against the New Poor Law,
was apprehended near Manchester on December 27. He had
used most incendiary language, but was liberated on
bail, and soon afterwards addressed a meeting of 5,000
people at Ashton-under-Lyne. There seems to have been
no case against him.]
January 11, 1839 {p.156}
A great field-day at the Council Office yesterday to hear the
Petition of the Serjeants against the order of the late King
opening the Court of Common Pleas to all barristers. It was
Brougham's order.[10] The Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Master of
the Rolls, three Chiefs, all the Puisne Judges who are Privy
Councillors, Lushington, Wynford, and Brougham sat. Follett and
Charles Austin were counsel for the Serjeants, and the Attorney
and Solicitor-Generals ordered to attend, and seated at a table
in court. Follett spoke for four hours, and Austin for two, and
did not finish. A vast deal of historical research was displayed,
but it was not amusing nor particularly well done. The Serjeants
were present (the five petitioners), and Wilde prompting Follett
all the time. There seemed no difference of opinion among the
Judges, at least with those I talked to, and the King's mandate
(for such it was to the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and
under the sign manual, though countersigned by nobody) will be
declared waste paper, and matters be replaced on their ancient
footing till Parliament may otherwise determine. Brougham
appeared considerably disconcerted, and though he tilted
occasionally with the counsel, he was on the whole quieter than
usual and than I expected he would have been. This order was one
of those things he blurted out in that 'sic volo sic jubeo' style
which he had assumed, and without consideration, probably without
consultation with anybody, or he might easily have avoided the
commission of such a blunder.
[10] [The Serjeants-at-Law had enjoyed from time immemorial
the exclusive right of practising in the Court of
Common Pleas. Upon the advice of Lord Brougham, then
Chancellor, King William IV. had issued a written
mandate to the court to open their bar to the whole
profession. No doubt the act was quite illegal and a
nullity. The Serjeants now petitioned the Queen in
Council to set it aside. But the court was subsequently
opened by Act of Parliament.]
January 18th, 1839 {p.156}
Durham has come down from his high horse, and has at last
condescended to see Howick and Duncannon, the latter through the
mediation of John Ponsonby, who hopes by bringing them together
to pave the way, if not to a reconciliation, to a state of things
less hostile and bitter in feeling and intention between him and
the Government. They are both anxious to avoid blows if possible,
but it is so difficult to avoid mutual inculpation and
accusation, although only professing exculpation, that it will be
very strange if the matter does (as many think it will) blow over
lightly. The personal question between Melbourne and Durham about
Turton appears the most difficult to settle; but if there is a
will there will be a way, and it is easy enough to imagine the
sort of civil, complimentary assurances from one to the other,
that though there had been a great misunderstanding, it was no
doubt unintentional, and all that sort of palaver which is so
familiar to old stagers and parliamentary squabblers.
[Page Head: THE MURDER OF LORD NORBURY.]
The murder of Lord Norbury[11] has made a great sensation because
the man is so conspicuous; for there seems no reason for
believing that he was murdered from any religious or political
motive, but that it was only another of the many praedial
enormities that are from time to time committed in Ireland. At
present this event only serves to exasperate angry passions, to
call forth loud blasts of the never silent trumpet against
Romanism and the Irish population, and it does not lead men's
minds _immediately_ to a conviction of the necessity of calmly
investigating, and if possible applying a remedy to, a social
condition so full of crime and misery, and so revolting to every
feeling of humanity, as that of Ireland. But the death of this
poor man will conduce to this end, for it is only through long
processes of evil and after much suffering that good is
accomplished.
[11] [The Earl of Norbury was shot near his own house at
Kilbeggan, in the county of Meath. The assassin was
never discovered.]
The case of the Canadian prisoners has been argued before the
Court of Queen's Bench,[12] but it has not excited much interest.
They give judgement on Monday. Roebuck is said to have spoken
very moderately.
[12] [Twelve Canadian prisoners having landed at Liverpool
were brought up on _habeas corpus_ before Lord Denman
and the Court of Queen's Bench. The court upheld the
committal of the prisoners.]
January 24th, 1839 {p.157}
Duncannon found Durham in a very complacent mood, and he entered
with him fully into the subject of Canada and their quarrels.
With respect to Turton's affairs, Durham denies he ever said, or
authorised anybody else to say, that the appointment had
Melbourne's consent, and he admits that Melbourne did put his
veto upon Turton's appointment to office, but says he considered
this veto applicable only to offices _under Government_, and that
the place to which he appointed him was not _under Government_,
but one at his own disposal, and for which he was wholly and
solely responsible. This is his excuse, and a very bad one it is.
It won't go down in the House of Lords, I imagine.
As the time draws near for the meeting of Parliament the
probability of ousting the Government grows fainter; we hear no
more of disunion and Radical hostility, and things promise to
continue pretty much as they have heretofore been. The question
of absorbing interest is now the repeal or alteration of the Corn
Laws, and the declaration of war against them on the part of the
'Times' has produced a great effect, and is taken as conclusive
evidence that they cannot be maintained, from the rare sagacity
with which this journal watches the turn of public affairs;
besides that, its advocacy will be of the greatest use in
advancing the cause which it already had perceived was likely to
prevail. The rest of the Conservative press, the 'Morning
Herald,' 'Post,' and 'Standard,' support the Corn Laws, and the
latter has engaged in a single combat with the 'Times,' conducted
with a kind of chivalrous courtesy, owing to the concurrence of
their general politics, very unusual in newspaper warfare, and
with great ability on both sides.
January 30th, 1839 {p.158}
[Page Head: THE 'PORTFOLIO'.]
After four months or more from the time when he threatened
further disclosures, and when, it appeared as if the whole matter
had blown over, how or why nobody could tell, Urquhart has
published a fresh set of letters which passed between himself and
Backhouse,[13] for the purpose of proving that the latter was a
party to the publication of the 'Portfolio.' Backhouse, who was
at Liverpool when these came out, wrote to desire judgement might
be suspended till certain notes omitted by Urquhart had been also
published, and to-day they appeared; but instead of making the
case better, they have made it rather worse. It is altogether a
dirty transaction, and mortifying to those who care about the
character of public men, and who have some feeling of national
pride and vanity in the super-eminence of English statesmen for
integrity and high-mindedness. It is not very difficult to
extract the truth from the mass of verbiage and contradictory
assertions in which it is involved, and it appears that Urquhart,
having got hold of the papers, communicated them to Palmerston,
offered to publish them, and was encouraged by him to do so.
Urquhart, who was appointed secretary of embassy at
Constantinople while this publication was going on, took every
opportunity of consulting the Foreign Office, and of trying to
make Palmerston and his under-secretaries _participes criminis_,
in order that they might share the responsibility and stand
committed with him. Against this they fought, and while they took
good care that Urquhart should understand that they wished the
publication of the 'Portfolio' to be continued, they kept
shifting and shirking in hopes of not committing themselves
materially. It is pretty clear that Backhouse really disliked the
whole thing, had no mind to meddle with the 'Portfolio,' or mix
himself up with Urquhart, and it was only the official obligation
that was imposed upon him by Palmerston's wishes which induced
him very reluctantly to engage in the business even so far as he
did, and it is very painful to see his early struggles to keep
clear of it, and his present abortive attempts to wriggle out of
his concern with the publication. It is Palmerston on whom the
blame ought to rest, and on whom it will rest, only nobody seems
to take the least interest in the dispute, and he brazens it out
in a very unblushing manner. I am more particularly struck with
the meanness here exhibited, from having just been reading Lord
Chatham's correspondence, in which his noble and lofty character,
so abhorrent of everything like trickery, shabbiness, and
underhand dealing, shines forth with peculiar lustre. It is
animating and refreshing to turn to the contemplation of this
really great and noble mind, even more remarkable I think for
dignity of sentiment and purity of motive, than for eloquence and
capacity.
[13] [Mr. Backhouse was at this time permanent Under
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He filled this
office from 1827 till 1842.]
February 6th, 1839 {p.160}
Last Friday the Serjeants' case came on again before the Privy
Council. The Attorney and Solicitor made a sort of reply to
Austin, but acknowledged that the mandate was not binding on the
Court of Common Pleas; in fact, that it was illegal. Brougham was
very angry, and kept battling with counsel or with Wynford,
Abinger, or others of the Lords, though not violently. They were
anxious to get rid of the question if possible, and to avoid
making a report to the Queen. The conclusion (pretty nearly
unanimous) to which they came was, that the order was illegal,
but that it was neither expedient that matters should return to
their former, nor remain in their present state; and they agreed
to adjourn the consideration of the question. They then separated
with an understanding that a Bill should be brought in directly
to settle the dispute, and they don't intend to meet again upon
it till this Bill has been passed. Thus they will avoid making
any report at all.
Brougham and Lyndhurst came to a Patent case the day before, both
in high spirits. After it was over Lyndhurst came into my room,
when I said, 'You look in high force.' 'Oh no,' said he, 'I am
quite _passé_, entirely done up.' Just then Brougham came in,
when I said to him, pointing to Lyndhurst, 'He says he is quite
_passé_ and done up.' 'Just like me,' he said; 'I am quite
_passé_ too.' 'Then,' I said, 'there can be no use in two such
poor worn-out creatures as you two going to the House of Lords.'
'Do you hear him?' cried out Brougham: 'A capital suggestion of
the Clerk of the Council: we won't go to the House of Lords at
all; let us go together to _Hamble_.'[14] And then he seized
Lyndhurst's arm, and off they went together chuckling and
laughing and brimful of mischief.
[14] Hamble is the country seat of Sir Arthur Paget, who was
present with Brougham.
He came out the night of the Address with a very brilliant
speech, and with a fierce and bitter philippic against O'Connell
for having insinuated that Lord Norbury had been shot by his own
son. Last night, O'Connell retaliated in the House of Commons,
and denying that he had even thought of, or insinuated any such
thing, he hurled back an invective still fiercer, bitterer, more
insulting, and very powerful too. Very little discussion grew out
of the Queen's Speech, all parties being agreed to defer the
consideration of great questions till brought regularly on. There
was a pretty strong demonstration in the House of Commons in
favour of the Corn Laws, so as to render it improbable that
anything will be done. The only thing which seems to threaten the
Government at present is, the hatred that has sprung up between
the English Radicals and the Irish, and the animosity which
prevails among the former against O'Connell. If this is carried
to the length of inducing the English Radicals to keep aloof on
some important question, Ministers may find themselves in a
minority, and resign thereon; and this is what the Tories are
looking to as their best chance.
February 10th, Sunday, 1839 {p.161}
[Page Head: RESIGNATION OF LORD GLENELG.]
On Friday, Lord Glenelg announced in the House of Lords that he
had resigned,[15] though it would have been more correct to have
stated that he had been turned out. He said very little, but that
little conveyed a sense of ill-usage and a mortified spirit; none
of the Ministers uttered a word. Many wonder that they ventured
to make any changes in such a rickety concern, and that, if they
were resolved to do so, they did not have everything settled
before Parliament met. However, the Cabinet appears to have been
unanimous in determining that Glenelg could not remain Colonial
Minister, and they gave him a sort of hint some time ago, by
offering him Sir John Newport's place (for whom an arrangement
was to be made), which he refused; so on Tuesday last the blow
was struck, and they proposed to him to be Privy Seal, which he
declined in some dudgeon. It certainly was difficult so to gild
the pill he was asked to swallow as to disguise its bitterness
and make it tolerably palatable, for in whatever polite
periphrasis it might be involved, the plain English of the
communication was, that he was incompetent to administer Colonial
affairs.
[15] [Lord Glenelg had held the office of Secretary of State
for the Colonies since the formation of Lord
Melbourne's second Administration in 1835. He was
succeeded in the Colonial Office by the Marquis of
Normanby, who had filled up to this time the office of
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.]
By venturing upon these changes the Government evidently think
they can scramble on, and on the whole it is probable that they
may, though never did a Government hold office by so frail and
uncertain a tenure, and upon such strange terms. A pretty correct
analysis of the House of Commons presents the following result:
267 Government people, including the Irish tail; 66 Radicals, 5
doubtful, and 315 Conservatives; 4 vacant seats, and the Speaker.
If, therefore, at any time, one half the Radicals should stay
away (they need not vote against), when danger threatens the
Government, it would be at an end; and if they do not do so, it
is because most of them are still unconvinced that it would be
better and more conducive to the ultimate success of their
objects to let the Tories in, and not from any love to the
present Ministers, whom, on the contrary, they hate a good deal
and despise a little. The Irish band appear to be dependable, but
there is no knowing what might be the consequence of a change,
and the withdrawal of all the personal influence which Normanby
had obtained over them. It has often happened that a coalition of
very opposite parties has turned a Government out; but never
before, that I remember, kept one in, and for such a length of
time. The Conservatives are completely united, ably led, and
count in their ranks the most powerful men in the House of
Commons; they are by far the most numerous of any of the parties,
one-third more than the Whigs (without the Irish), nearly five
times more than the Radicals, and within twenty of all combined;
and yet they are as effectually excluded as they were just after
the passing of the Reform Bill, for all that appears to the
contrary.
[Page Head: LORD DURHAM'S REPORT.]
Lord Durham's enormously long Report[16] appeared in the 'Times'
on Friday last, before being laid on the tables of the two
Houses, whereat he rose in his place and expressed much surprise
and displeasure, all of which was very ridiculous and
superfluous, for he had two thousand copies of it printed, and
distributed them to the right and left, to anybody who came to
see him, to Foreign Ministers and others, so no wonder that the
document found its way into the 'Times.'[17] He sent a copy to
Easthope, proprietor of the 'Morning Chronicle,' but with an
injunction not to publish it, and Easthope told him he wished he
had kept his copy to himself, for he could have obtained one
elsewhere which he should have been at liberty to publish if he
had not accepted his with the prohibition.
[16] [This was the celebrated Report on the Administration
of Canada, which bore the name of Lord Durham, but was
in fact written by Mr. Charles Buller, and embodied the
opinions of Mr. Gibbon Wakefield and Sir William
Molesworth on Colonial policy. It is not too much to
say that in the course of the next twenty years this
Report changed the Colonial policy of the Empire, and
the principles laid down in it certainly converted
Canada from a revolted colony into one of the most
loyal dependencies of the British Crown. What would
have been the result if the Ministers of George III.
had treated the complaints of the American colonies in
1774 with equal wisdom?]
[17] [The copy which appeared in the _Times_ was sent to
that journal by Mr. Hanson, who was one of the persons
attached to Lord Durham's mission. He afterwards became
Sir Richard Davies Hanson, Chief Justice of South
Australia. This gentleman gave the following account of
the transaction. The whole report was written by
Charles Buller, with the exception of two paragraphs on
Church or Crown lands, which were composed by Gibbon
Wakefield and Mr. Hanson. After the Report was
presented to the Colonial Office, the Government wished
these last two paragraphs to be modified. This Lord
Durham was inclined to do. Wakefield resented this and,
in order to prevent any change, he got Hanson to send a
copy of the Report to the _Times_, where it appeared
the next day. These particulars have been communicated
to me by a gentleman to whom Sir Richard Hanson related
them.]
February 14th, 1839 {p.163}
Lord Normanby was not acquainted with the intention of dismissing
Glenelg, nor was the thing settled when he was here; on the
contrary, he had made every preparation for the Dublin season,
and is put to serious inconvenience by being thus suddenly sent
for. Glenelg continues to discharge the official duties, but he
is deeply hurt at the treatment he has experienced. It is the
more remarkable because at this moment his official
correspondence with Durham is published, in which he displays
firmness, dignity, and sense, so that the world can discern no
good cause why he should be so unceremoniously turned off.
Melbourne urged him to retire when his brother (Sir Robert Grant)
died; but Glenelg thought this was from kindness and
consideration, and was so touched, that he deemed it the more
incumbent on him to remain at his post. Normanby will probably do
much better, for though he has nothing like the natural abilities
of his predecessor, he has the knack of succeeding in whatever he
undertakes; he has application, courage, and sense, and all this
in spite of a frivolous exterior. In Ireland, however obnoxious
to the Orangemen, his government has been successful, and I know
of no error that he has committed, except that of too often
releasing prisoners and commuting punishments without the
sanction and concurrence of the Judges. Nothing is so dangerous
and imprudent as to tamper with justice, and John Russell himself
has upon several occasions been rash and flippant in this
respect. It is not long ago that a man was tried and found
guilty, at the Sessions, of destroying a will with a fraudulent
intent. I forget what the punishment was, but a petition for
mercy was handed up to the Secretary of State's office--got up by
the clergyman of the parish, and signed by many names. Without
consulting the magistrates who had convicted the man, he reduced
the punishment to two months' imprisonment, and it turned out
that the clergyman was himself a man of indifferent character,
who had been promoted at the instance of Lord Fitzwilliam, and
the rest of the subscribers to the petition were ignorant people
who had signed it at his instigation: the object was unworthy of
the indulgence which was carelessly and improperly extended.
These things exasperate the magistracy, whom Lord John is apt to
regard with aversion and suspicion; but the Judges are deeply
offended when their sentences are arbitrarily set aside, as they
have sometimes been.
[Page Head: THE CORN LAW QUESTION.]
The Corn Law question, which appeared so formidable before
Parliament met, has lost much of its terrors; and an error
committed by one of its champions, Mr. Wood of Preston, greatly
assisted to damage it. Peel turned against him certain admissions
which he made of the prosperity of trade, with extraordinary
dexterity and effect. The Anti-Corn-Lawites were so enraged and
mortified that they punished their blundering advocate by
dismissing him from his post of President of the Manchester
Chamber of Commerce; and his constituents invited him to resign.
This, and the strong demonstration in favour of the existing
system the first night, the divided opinions and indifference of
the Government, and the diversion made by the Chartists, have
placed the Corn Laws in perfect security for this session at
least. It is curious to see the conduct of the 'Times': just
before Parliament met it thought the time was come when something
must be done, and it accordingly took up the cudgels against the
Corn Laws; but now that it finds the time is not come, it has
dropped the subject altogether, and relapsed into silence.
There seems very little probability of any discussion about
Canadian affairs till Government introduces some legislative
measure, and the expected personalities and recriminations will
silently pass away. Brougham and Durham are reconciled after a
fashion; Ministers and Durham mutually desire to sheathe their
swords. The correspondence which has just appeared at the tail of
the Report exhibits a grand specimen of arrogance and vanity on
Durham's part, not unmixed with talent, albeit his letters are
intolerably prolix. Glenelg has, however, much the best of the
controversy as soon as they begin to cross their weapons, and his
despatch conveying the Queen's disapprobation of his Proclamation
is very dignified and becomingly severe. It is impossible to
conceive anything more galling to a man so puffed up with pride
and vanity, and who fancied himself to be placed upon a pinnacle
far above the sphere of official obligation and responsibility.
It is curious to see the different measure that was dealt out to
Durham and to Head,[18] the latter an able, though not always a
prudent man, who really did good service in his government, and
extricated himself boldly and successfully from a very difficult
situation. He had dismissed a Judge for certain reasons, part of
which he explained to the Colonial Office, and for the rest he
told them that he must, in the difficult position he was in, draw
upon their confidence to support and confirm his act. They said
this was not enough, and insisted on his restoring the Judge.
Upon this he tendered his resignation, which they instantly
accepted; and when he came home they took no notice of him
whatever, and at the same time they were flattering and lauding
and trying to cajole Durham, and begging and praying him to stay,
in the midst of his blundering acts and insolent language, and
while he was addressing the Government in the most contumelious
terms. Head has behaved very well about the publication of his
despatches; for when he asked Melbourne's leave to publish, and
the latter refused, he promised that nothing should appear, and
that he would discourage any Parliamentary attempt to elicit
them. Now that Durham's Report has come forth, containing
strictures on Head's conduct, he assumes a right to publish, for
his own vindication, and he has asserted this in a pettish letter
to Melbourne; whereas, if he had again asked for permission on
this express ground, it would not have been refused. The motto of
this Government, however, seems to be,--
parcere superbis et debellare subjectos,
and their besetting sins are pusillanimity, indifference, and
_insouciance_. On a discussion the other night about speaking on
petitions, when the Speaker laid down the practice, which Lord
John Russell supported with great earnestness, and which was
opposed on Radical grounds by the Radicals, Stewart of the
Treasury, and Vernon Smith, marched off and would not vote; and,
instead of being reprimanded, Vernon Smith will probably be made
Under Secretary of State.
[18] [Right Hon. Sir Francis Bond Head, who was Governor of
Upper Canada at the time of the outbreak of the
insurrection.]
February 17th, 1839 {p.166}
[Page Head: GORE HOUSE.]
I dined at Lady Blessington's yesterday, to meet Durham and
Brougham; but, after all, the latter did not come, and the excuse
he made was, that it was better not; and as he was taking, or
going to take (we shall see), a moderate course about Canada, it
would impair his efficacy if the press were to trumpet forth, and
comment on, his meeting with Durham. There was that sort of
strange _omnium gatherum_ party which is to be met with nowhere
else, and which for that reason alone is curious. We had Prince
Louis Napoleon and his A.D.C.[19] He is a short, thickish,
vulgar-looking man, without the slightest resemblance to his
Imperial uncle, or any intelligence in his countenance. Then we
had the ex-Governor of Canada, Captain Marriott, the Count Alfred
de Vigny (author of 'Cinq Mars' &c.), Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer,
and a proper sprinkling of ordinary persons to mix up with these
celebrities. In the evening, Forster, sub-editor of the
'Examiner;' Chorley, editor of the 'Athenaeum;' Macready, and
Charles Buller. Lady Blessington's existence is a curiosity, and
her house and society have at least the merit of being singular,
though the latter is not so agreeable as from its composition it
ought to be. There is no end to the men of consequence and
distinction in the world who go there occasionally--Brougham,
Lyndhurst, Abinger, Canterbury, Durham, and many others; all the
_minor_ poets, _literati_, and journalists, without exception,
together with some of the highest pretensions. Moore is a sort of
friend of hers; she _has been_ very intimate with Byron, and _is_
with Walter Savage Landor. Her house is furnished with a luxury
and splendour not to be surpassed; her dinners are frequent and
good; and D'Orsay does the honours with a frankness and
cordiality which are very successful; but all this does not make
society, in the real meaning of the term. There is a vast deal of
coming and going, and eating and drinking, and a corresponding
amount of noise, but little or no conversation, discussion, easy
quiet interchange of ideas and opinions, no regular social
foundation of men of intellectual or literary calibre ensuring a
perennial flow of conversation, and which, if it existed, would
derive strength and assistance from the light superstructure of
occasional visitors, with the much or the little they might
individually contribute. The reason of this is that the woman
herself, who must give the tone to her own society, and influence
its character, is ignorant, vulgar, and commonplace.[20] Nothing
can be more dull and uninteresting than her conversation, which
is never enriched by a particle of knowledge, or enlivened by a
ray of genius or imagination. The fact of her existence as an
authoress is an enigma, poor as her pretensions are; for while it
is very difficult to write good books, it is not easy to compose
even bad ones, and volumes have come forth under her name for
which hundreds of pounds have been paid, because (Heaven only can
tell how) thousands are found who will read them. Her 'Works'
have been published in America, in one huge folio, where it seems
they meet with peculiar success; and this trash goes down,
because it is written by a Countess, in a country where rank is
eschewed, and equality is the universal passion. They have (or
some of them) been likewise translated into German; and if all
this is not proof of literary merit, or at least of success, what
is? It would be not uninteresting to trace this current of
success to its source, and to lay bare all the springs of the
machinery which sustains her artificial character as an
authoress. The details of course form the mystery of her craft,
but the general causes are apparent enough. First and foremost,
her magnificent house and luxurious dinners; then the alliance
offensive and defensive which she has contrived (principally
through the means of said house and dinners) to establish with a
host of authors, booksellers, and publishers, and above all with
journalists. The first lend her their assistance in composition,
correction, or addition; with the second she manages to establish
an interest and an interchange of services; and the last
everlastingly puff her performances. Her name is eternally before
the public; she produces those gorgeous inanities, called 'Books
of Beauty,' and other trashy things of the same description, to
get up which all the fashion and beauty, the taste and talent, of
London are laid under contribution. The most distinguished
artists and the best engravers supply the portraits of the
prettiest women in London; and these are illustrated with
poetical effusions of the smallest possible merit, but exciting
interest and curiosity from the notoriety of their authors; and
so, by all this puffing and stuffing, and untiring industry, and
practising on the vanity of some, and the good-nature of others,
the end is attained; and though I never met with any individual
who had read any of her books, except the 'Conversations with
Byron,' which are too good to be hers, they are unquestionably a
source of considerable profit, and she takes her place
confidently and complacently as one of the literary celebrities
of her day.
[19] [The first mention of His Imperial Majesty Napoleon
III., who was an _habitué_ of Gore House, and well
known to all who frequented it. The A.D.C. was M. de
Persigny, who accompanied the Prince everywhere.]
[20] [Lady Blessington had a good deal more talent and
reading than Mr. Greville gives her credit for. Several
years of her agitated life were spent in the country in
complete retirement, where she had no resources to fall
back upon but a good library. She was well read in the
best English authors, and even in translations of the
classics; but the talent to which she owed her success
in society was her incomparable tact and skill in
drawing out the best qualities of her guests. What Mr.
Greville terms her vulgarity might be more charitably
described as her Irish cordiality and _bonhomie_. I
have no doubt that her 'Conversations with Lord Byron'
were entirely written by herself. It is true that,
writing, as she did, to make money, many of her other
books were exceedingly worthless.]