The Recorder's report--Manners of George IV.--Intrigues of the
Duke of Cumberland--Insults Lady Lyndhurst--Deacon Hume at the
Board of Trade--Quarrel between the Duke of Cumberland and the
Lord Chancellor--A Bad Season--Prostration of Turkey--France
under Polignac--State of Ireland--Mr. Windham's Diary--
George IV.'s Eyesight--Junius--A Man without Money--Court-martial
on Captain Dickinson--The Duke and the 'Morning Journal'--
Physical Courage of the King--A Charade at Chatsworth--Huskisson
and the Duke--Irish Trials--Tom Moore--Scott--Byron--Fanny
Kemble--Sir James Mackintosh--His Conversation--Black Irishmen--
Moore's Irish Story--Moore's Singing--George IV. and Mr. Denman--
Strawberry Hill--Moore at Trinity College--Indian Vengeance at
Niagara--Count Woronzow--Lord Glengall's Play--The Recorder's
Report.
July 21st, 1829 {p.221}
There was a Council last Thursday, and the heaviest Recorder's
report that was ever known, I believe; seven people left for
execution. The King cannot bear this, and is always leaning to
the side of mercy. Lord Tenterden, however, is for severity, and
the Recorder still more so. It not unfrequently happens that a
culprit escapes owing to the scruples of the King; sometimes he
put the question of life or death to the vote, and it is decided
by the voices of the majority. The King came to town at one, and
gave audiences until half-past four. He received Madame du Cayla,
whom he was very curious to see. She told me afterwards that she
was astonished at his good looks, and seemed particularly to have
been struck with his 'belles jambes et sa perruque bien
arrangée;' and I asked her if she had ever seen him before, and
she said no, 'mais que le feu Roi lui en avait souvent parlé, et
de ses belles manières, qu'en vérité elle les avait trouvées
parfaites.' There was a reigning Margrave of Baden waiting for an
audience in the room we assembled in. Nobody took much notice of
him, and when the Duke spoke to him he bowed to the ground, bow
after bow; when he went away nobody attended him or opened the
door for him.
July 24th, 1829 {p.222}
The accounts from Ireland are very bad; nothing but massacres and
tumults, and all got up by the Protestants, who desire nothing so
much as to provoke the Catholics into acts of violence and
outrage. They want a man of energy and determination who will
cause the law to be respected and impartially administered. If
Lord Anglesey was there, it is very probable these outrages would
not have taken place, but no one cares for such a man of straw as
the present Lord Lieutenant.
[Page Head: INTRIGUES OF THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND.]
The Duke of Cumberland is doing all he can to set the King
against the Duke; he always calls him 'King Arthur,' which made
the King very angry at first, and he desired he would not, but he
calls him so still, and the King submits. He never lets any of
the Royal Family see the King alone; the Duchess of Gloucester
complains bitterly of his conduct, and the way in which he
thrusts himself in when she is with his Majesty. The other day
Count Münster came to the King, and the Duke of Cumberland was
determined he should not have a private audience, and stayed in
the room the whole time. He hates Lady Conyngham, and she him.
They put about that he has been pressed to stay here by the King,
which is not true; the King would much rather he went away. The
Duke of Wellington told me that he one day asked the King when
the Duke was going, and he said, 'I am sick to death of the
subject. I have been told he was going fifty times, but when he
goes, or whether he ever goes at all, I have not the least idea.'
He is now very much provoked because the King will not talk
politics with him. His Majesty wants to be quiet, and is tired of
all the Duke's violence and his constant attacks.
August 8th, 1829 {p.222}
There is a story current about the Duke of Cumberland and Lady
Lyndhurst which is more true than most stories of this kind. The
Duke called upon her, and grossly insulted her; on which, after a
scramble, she rang the bell. He was obliged to desist and to go
away, but before he did he said, 'By God, madam, I will be the
ruin of you and your husband, and will not rest till I have
destroyed you both.'
Vesey Fitzgerald has turned out the Chief Clerk in the Board of
Trade, and put in Hume[1] as Assistant Secretary. He told me it
was absolutely necessary, as nobody in the Office knew anything
of its business, which is, I believe, very true, but as true of
himself as of the rest. Hume is a very clever man, and probably
knows more of the principles of trade and commerce than anybody,
but so it is in every department of Government--great ignorance
on the part of the chiefs, and a few obscure men of industry and
ability who do the business and supply the knowledge requisite,
_sic vos non vobis_ throughout.
[1] [Mr. Deacon Hume, a very able public servant. He
remained at the Board of Trade many years.]
O'Connell was elected without opposition; he was more violent and
more popular than ever. They treat him with every indignity, and
then they complain of his violence; besides, he must speak to the
Irish in the strain to which they have been used and which
pleases them. Had he never been violent, he would not be the man
he is, and Ireland would not have been emancipated.
[Page Head: QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST.]
August 18th, 1829 {p.223}
Last Saturday I came back from Goodwood, and called on Lady
Jersey, whom I found very curious about a correspondence which
she told me had taken place between the Duke of Cumberland and
the Chancellor relative to a paragraph which had appeared in the
'Age,' stating that his Royal Highness had been turned out of
Lady Lyndhurst's house in consequence of having insulted her in
it. She said she was very anxious to see the letter, for she
heard that the Duke had much the best of it, and that the
Chancellor's letter was evasive and Jesuitical. The next day I
was informed of the details of this affair. I found that the Duke
had called upon her and had been denied; that he had complained
half in jest, and half in earnest, to the Chancellor of her not
letting him in; that on a subsequent day he had called so early
that no orders had been given to the porter, and he was let in;
that his manner and his language had been equally brutal and
offensive; that he afterwards went off upon politics, and abused
the whole Administration, and particularly the Chancellor, and
after staying two or three hours, insulting and offending her in
every way, he took himself off. Soon after he met her somewhere
in the evening, when he attacked her again. She treated him with
all possible indignation, and would have nothing to say to him.
Yesterday I met the Chancellor at the Castle at a Council. He
took me aside, and said that he wished to tell me what had
passed, and to show me the correspondence. He then began, and
said that after the Duke's visit Lady L. had told the Chancellor
of his abuse of him and the Government, but had suppressed the
rest, thinking it was better not to tell him, as it would put him
in a very embarrassing position, and contenting herself with
saying she would never receive the Duke again upon the other
grounds, which were quite sufficient; but that some time after
reports reached her from various quarters (Lord Grey, Lord
Durham, Lord Dudley, and several others) that the Duke went about
talking of her in the most gross and impertinent manner. Upon
hearing this, she thought it right to tell the Chancellor the
other part of his conduct which she had hitherto concealed, and
this she did in general terms, viz. that he had been very
insolent and made an attack upon her. The Chancellor was
exceedingly incensed, but he said after much consideration he
thought it better to let the matter drop; a long time had elapsed
since the offence was committed; all communication had ceased
between all the parties; and he felt the ridicule and inconvenience
of putting himself (holding the high office he did) in personal
collision with a Royal Duke, besides the annoyance which it would
be to Lady Lyndhurst to become publicly the subject of such a
quarrel. There, then, he let the matter rest, but about a
fortnight ago he received a letter from the Duke enclosing a
newspaper to this effect, as well as I can recollect it, for I
was obliged to read the letter in such a hurried way that I
could not bring the exact contents away with me, though I am sure
I do not err in stating their sense:--
'My Lord,--I think it necessary to enclose to your
Lordship a newspaper containing a paragraph which I have
marked, and which relates to a pretended transaction in
your Lordship's house. I think it necessary and proper to
contradict this statement, which I need not say is a
gross falsehood, and I wish, therefore, to have the
authority of Lady Lyndhurst for contradicting it.
'I am, my Lord, yours sincerely,
'Ernest.'
This was the sense of the letter, though it was not so worded; it
was civil enough. The Chancellor answered:--'The Lord Chancellor
with his duty begs to acknowledge the favour of your Royal
Highness's letter. The Lord Chancellor had never seen the
paragraph to which your Royal Highness alludes, and which he
regards with the most perfect indifference, considering it as one
of that series of calumnies to which Lady Lyndhurst has been for
some time exposed from a portion of the press, and which she has
at length learnt to regard with the contempt they deserve.' He
said that he thought it better to let the matter drop, and he
wrote this answer by way of waiving any discussion on the
subject, and that the Duke might contradict the paragraph himself
if he chose to do so. To this the Duke wrote again:--'My Lord,--I
have received your Lordship's answer, which is not so explicit as
I have a right to expect. I repeat again that the statement is
false and scandalous, and I have a right to require Lady
Lyndhurst's sanction to the contradiction which I think it
necessary to give to it.' This letter was written in a more
impertinent style than the other. On the receipt of it the
Chancellor consulted the Duke of Wellington, and the Duke
suggested the following answer, which the Chancellor sent:--'The
Lord Chancellor has had the honour of receiving your Royal
Highness's letter of ----. The Lord Chancellor does not conceive
it necessary to annoy Lady Lyndhurst by troubling her upon the
subject, and with what relates to your Royal Highness the Lord
Chancellor has no concern whatever; but with regard to that part
which states that your Royal Highness had been excluded from the
Lord Chancellor's house, there could be no question that the
respect and grateful attachment which both the Chancellor and
Lady Lyndhurst felt to their Sovereign made it impossible that
any brother of that Sovereign should ever be turned out of his
house.' To this the Duke wrote another letter, in a very sneering
and impertinent tone in the third person, and alluding to the
_loose reports_ which had been current on the subject, and saying
that 'the Chancellor might have his own reasons for not choosing
to speak to Lady Lyndhurst on the subject;' to which the
Chancellor replied that 'he knew nothing of any loose reports,
but that if there were any, in whatever quarter they might have
originated, which went to affect the conduct of Lady Lyndhurst in
the matter in question, they were most false, foul, and
calumnious.' So ended the correspondence; all these latter
expressions were intended to apply to the Duke himself, who is
the person who spread the _loose reports_ and told the lies about
her. When she first denied him, she told Lord Bathurst of it, who
assured her she had done quite right, and that she had better
never let him in, for if she did he would surely invent some lies
about her. Last Sunday week the Chancellor went down to Windsor,
and laid the whole correspondence before the King, who received
him very well, and approved of what he had done; but of course
when he saw the Duke of Cumberland and heard his story, he
concurred in all his abuse of the Chancellor. I think the
Chancellor treated the matter in the best way the case admitted
of. Had he taken it up, he must have resigned his office and
called the Duke out, and what a mixture of folly and scandal this
would have been, and how the woman would have suffered in it all!
[Page Head: QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST.]
August 22nd, 1829 {p.226}
The day before yesterday Sir Henry Cooke called on me, and told
me that he came on the part of the Duke of Cumberland, who had
heard that I had seen the correspondence, and that I had given an
account of it which was unfavourable to him, that his Royal
Highness wished me, therefore, to call on him and hear his
statement of the facts. Cooke then entered into the history, and
told me that it was he who had originally acquainted the Duke
with the reports which were current about him, and had advised
him to contradict them, but that he had not found any opportunity
of taking it up till this paragraph appeared in the 'Age'
newspaper; that the Duke had given him an account of what had
passed, which was that Lady Lyndhurst had begged him to call upon
her, then to dine with her, and upon every occasion had
encouraged him. I heard all he had to say, but declined calling
on the Duke. As I wished, however, that there should be no
misrepresentation in what I said on the subject, I wrote a letter
to Cooke, to be laid before the Duke, in which I gave an account
of the circumstances under which I had been concerned in the
business, stating that I had not expressed any opinion of the
conduct of the parties, and that I did not wish to be in any way
mixed up in it. After I had seen Cooke I went to the Chancellor
and read my letter to him. I found he had not shown the King the
two last letters that had passed; and as Cooke had told me that
the Duke meant to go to Windsor the next day and lay the whole
correspondence before the King, the Chancellor immediately sent
off a messenger with the two letters which the King had not seen.
The Chancellor has since circulated the correspondence among his
friends, but with rather too undignified a desire to submit his
conduct to the judgment of a parcel of people who only laugh at
them both, and are amused with the gossip and malice of the
thing.
August 25th, 1829 {p.227}
I came to town from Stoke yesterday morning, and found a
palavering letter from Cooke, returning mine, saying that the
Duke was quite satisfied, and saw that it would be useless to
have an interview with me; that he had persuaded his Royal
Highness to drop the whole affair; and ended with many protestations
of respect for the Chancellor and the purity of his own motives
in meddling with the matter. I sent his letter to the Chancellor,
together with my own, that he might show them both to the Duke
of Wellington.
Melbourne, who is a pretty good judge of Irish affairs, thinks
that Government will probably be under the necessity of adopting
strong coercive measures there; but whether they are adopted, or
a temporary policy of expedients persisted in, nobody is there
fit to advise what is requisite. The Duke of Northumberland is an
absolute nullity, a bore beyond all bores, and, in spite of his
desire to spend money and be affable, very unpopular. The Duchess
complains of it and can't imagine why, for they do all they can
to be liked, but all in vain.
August 28th, 1829 {p.228}
At Stoke since Tuesday for the Egham races; Esterhazy, Alvanley,
Montrond, Mornay, B. Craven, &c. The King came to the races one
day (the day I was not there) in excellent health. The weather
exceeds everything that ever was known--a constant succession of
gales of wind and tempests of rain, and the sun never shining.
The oats are not cut, and a second crop is growing up, that has
been shaken out of the first. Everybody contemplates with dismay
the approach of winter, which will probably bring with it the
overthrow of the Corn Laws, for corn must be at such a price as
to admit of an immense importation. So much for our domestic
prospect here, to say nothing of Ireland.
[Page Head: RUSSIA AND TURKEY.]
In the meantime the Sultan with his firmness has brought the
Russians to the gates of Constantinople, and not a soul doubts
that they are already there, or that they will be directly; there
is nothing to resist either Diebitsch or Paskiewitch. Esterhazy
talks of it as certain, and so unaccountable does it seem that
Austria should have been a passive spectator of the Russian
victories, that a strong notion prevails that Metternich has made
his bargain with them, and that in the impending partition
Austria is to have her share. Still more extraordinary does it
appear that the Duke, from whom vigour and firmness might have
been expected, should not have interfered. That cursed treaty of
the 6th of July, and the subsequent battle of Navarino, which
were intended to give us a right to arrest the ambition of
Russia, have been rendered nugatory by the obstinacy of the Turks
on the one hand, and the perpetual changes of Administration here
and in France, which have prevented any steady and consistent
course of policy from being followed; while the Russians,
availing themselves of both these circumstances, have pushed on
with singleness of purpose and great vigour of execution. It is
quite impossible now to foresee the end of all this, but the
elements are abroad of as fine disturbances as the most restless
can desire.
France is probably too much occupied with her own affairs to pay
much attention to those of Turkey, nor is it clear that the
French would much regret any event which tended to impair our
commercial greatness. So busy are the French with their own
politics, that even the milliners have left off making caps. Lady
Cowper told me to-day that Madame Maradan complained that she
could get no bonnets, &c., from Paris; for they would occupy
themselves with nothing but the change of Administration.[2]
Nothing can exceed the violence that prevails; the King does
nothing but cry. Polignac is said to have the fatal obstinacy of
a martyr, the worst sort of courage of the _ruat coelum_ sort.
Aberdeen said at dinner at Madame de Lieven's the other day that
he thought him a very clever man; and that the Duke of Wellington
went still further, for he said that he was the ablest man France
had had since the Restoration. I remember him well when he was
courting his first wife, Archy Macdonald's sister; and if being
first a prisoner, then an emigrant, then a miser, and now a saint
can make him a good Minister, he may be one.
[2] [The Polignac Ministry took office on the 8th of
August.]
August 31st, 1829 {p.229}
The Duke, the Chancellor, and Privy Seal came from Walmer to-day
for a Cabinet; and Esterhazy, who was to have dined with me, sent
word that as he had received a courier this morning, and was
obliged to send off Dietrichstein this evening, he could not
come. It is said that Sir Frederick Gordon has sent word that the
Turks are frightened and wish to treat, but probably it is now
too late.
Last night news came that Villa Flor had routed Miguel's
expedition against Terceira, and at the same time the little
Queen is embarking with the Empress for the Brazils. This
probably comes too late; some time ago it might have been of some
use. Miguel will probably be recognised by this country, and then
the game is up. I have long been convinced that the Duke meant
eventually to acknowledge Miguel, or he would not have tolerated
Beresford's conduct. If Lamb is to be believed, Beresford was
secretly in it all.
I met the Chancellor this morning, who gave me back my letter and
Cooke's answer. He said, 'There are other reports afloat now, I
hear.' I said, 'What? I have heard none.' 'Oh,' he said, 'on
public matters, and they are put about by that blackguard,'
meaning the Duke of Cumberland. I suppose he alludes to changes
in the Government, but I have heard of none; they are, in fact,
kept in hot water by this fellow's activity, though I think he
cannot do the mischief he would, like.
From what I hear, it is probable that Lord William Bentinck will
be speedily recalled from India. His measures are of too Liberal
a cast to suit the taste of the present Government. The Duke has
never liked him, not since the war in Spain, when he did not
behave quite well to Lord William, and he seldom forgets old
animosities; besides, he cannot bear anybody who takes a line of
their own.
Lord Ellenborough, strong in the concurrence of the Duke, is
inclined to be insolent in his tone to Lord William, which, I
take it, he will not stand. The Duke looks upon Lord William as a
hasty, imprudent man, with bad judgment, and I am not sure that
he is very wrong. He has made himself popular by the affability
and _bonhomie_ of his manner, his magnificence and hospitality,
and the liberal and generous character of his political opinions,
but he is far from a clever man, and I suspect his judgment is
very indifferent.
I hear from Ireland that Doherty conducts the trial of the
policeman with consummate skill; the object was that the trial
should appear fair, and that the men should be acquitted. They
were acquitted, and the people were furious. There is excitement
enough in that wretched country, and every effort is made to keep
it up at its highest pitch; the press on each side teems with
accusations and invectives, and the Protestants strain every
nerve to inflame the spirit of rancorous fury which distinguished
the Brunswickers before the Catholic question was carried, and to
provoke the Catholics to overt acts of violence. Both sides are
to blame, but the Protestants the most. George Villiers wrote me
word of a crime that has been perpetrated, the most atrocious I
ever heard of.... The country in which such an abomination was
perpetrated should be visited with the fate of Sodom and
Gomorrah. The arm of justice is too slow; public indignation
should deal out a rapid and a terrible vengeance.
September 5th, 1829 {p.231}
There is a strong report that the Turks want to treat, and the
proclamation of Diebitsch looks as if the Russians were ready to
make peace. There is also a hope that the Russian army may have
been too bold, and finds itself in a scrape by having advanced
too far from its resources, but the former notion is the most
likely of the two. Three or four sail of the line are ordered out
to the Mediterranean.
[Page Head: MR. WINDHAM'S DIARY.]
Yesterday I went with Amyot to his house, where he showed me a
part of Windham's diary; there are twenty-eight little volumes of
it, begun in 1784, when he was thirty-four years old, and
continued irregularly till his death; it seems to be written very
freely and familiarly, and is probably a correct picture of the
writer's mind. I only read a few pages, which were chiefly
notices of his moving about, where he dined, the company he met,
and other trifles, often very trifling and sometimes not very
decent; it abounds with expressions of self-reproach for
idleness, breach of resolutions, and not taking care of his
health; talks of the books he reads and means to read, and
constantly describes the state of spirits he is in. There is a
paper containing an account of his last interview with Johnson,
shortly before Johnson died; he says that he told Johnson how
much he reproached himself for not having lived more in his
society, and that he had often resolved to be with him as much as
he could, but that his not having done so was a proof of the
fallacy of our resolutions, that he regretted. In Windham's diary
are several Johnsoniana, after the manner of Boswell, only much
shorter, his opinions on one or two subjects briefly given, some
quotations and criticisms. I was much struck with his criticisms
on Virgil, whom he seems to have held in great contempt, and to
have regarded as inferior to Ovid. He says, 'Take away his
imitation of Homer, and what do you leave him?' Of Homer his
admiration was unbounded, although he says that he never read the
whole of the 'Odyssey' in the original, but that everything which
is most admirable in poetry is to be found in Homer. I care the
less about remembering these things because they will probably
appear in print before long.[3]
[3] [A selection from Mr. Windham's journals was published
by Mrs. Henry Baring in 1866. The Johnsoniana had
previously been published by Mr. Croker in his edition
of Boswell's 'Life of Johnson.']
Windham told Johnson that he regretted having omitted to talk to
him of the most important of all subjects on which he had often
doubted. Johnson said, 'You mean natural and revealed religion,'
and added that the historical evidences of Christianity were so
strong that it was not possible to doubt its truth, that we had
not so much evidence that Caesar died in the Capitol as that
Christ died in the manner related in the Bible; that three out of
four of the Evangelists died in attestation of their evidence,
that the same evidence would be considered irresistible in any
ordinary historical case. Amyot told me, as we were coming along,
that Windham had questioned Johnson about religion, having
doubts, and that Johnson had removed them by this declaration:
if, then, the commonest and hundred times repeated arguments were
sufficient to remove such doubts as were likely to occur to a
mind like Windham's, it may be counted a miracle, for I am sure,
in the ordinary affairs of life, Windham would not have been so
easily satisfied. It has always appeared to me questionable
whether Johnson was a believer (I mean whether his clear and
unbiassed judgment was satisfied) in Christianity; he evidently
dreaded and disliked the subject, and though he would have been
indignant had anybody hinted that he had doubts, his nervous
irritation at any religious discussion betokened a mind ill at
ease on the subject. I learnt one thing from Windham's diary
which I put into immediate practice, and that is, to write mine
on one side only, and leave the other for other matters connected
with the text; it is more convenient certainly.
September 16th, 1829 {p.233}
Went to Brighton on Saturday last to pay Lady Jersey a visit and
shoot at Firle. Jersey and I shot 376 rabbits, the greatest
number that had ever been killed on the hills. The scenery is
very fine--a range of downs looking on one side over the sea, and
on the other over a wide extent of rich flat country. It is said
that Firle is the oldest park in England. It belongs to Lord
Gage.
[Page Head: WELLINGTON AND THE 'MORNING JOURNAL.']
I heard at Brighton for the first time of the Duke of
Wellington's prosecution of the 'Morning Journal,' which was
announced by the paper itself in a paragraph quite as scurrilous
as those for which it is attacked. It seems that he has long made
up his mind to this measure, and that he thinks it is a duty
incumbent on him, which I do not see, and it appears to me to be
an act of great folly. He stands much too high, has performed too
great actions, and the attacks on him were too vulgar and vague
to be under the necessity of any such retaliatory measure as
this, and he lowers his dignity by entering into a conflict with
such an infamous paper, and appearing to care about its abuse. I
think the Chancellor was right, and that he is wrong. There is a
report that the King insists upon the Duke of Cumberland being
Commander-in-Chief, and it is extraordinary how many people think
that he will succeed in turning out the Duke. Lord Harrington
died while I was at Brighton, and it is supposed that the Duke of
Cumberland will try and get the Round Tower,[4] but probably the
King will not like to establish him so near himself. The King has
nearly lost his eyesight, and is to be couched as soon as his
eyes are in a proper state for the operation. He is in a great
fright with his father's fate before him, and indeed nothing is
more probable than that he will become blind and mad too; he is
already a little of both. It is now a question of appointing a
Private Secretary, and Knighton, it is supposed, would be the
man; but if he is to abstain from all business, there would seem
to be no necessity for the appointment, as he will be as little
able to do business with his Private Secretary as with his
Minister.
[4] Lord Conyngham got the Round Tower, and Lord Combermere
the regiment--[C.C.G.]
I have been living at Fulham at Lord Wharncliffe's villa for six
or seven weeks; I have lived here in idleness and luxury, giving
dinners, and wasting my time and my money rather more than usual.
I have read next to nothing since I have been here; I am ashamed
to think how little--in short, a most unprofitable life.
September 23rd, 1829
At Fulham till Friday, when I came to town. Went to Stoke on
Saturday, and returned yesterday; old Lady Salisbury, Giles, E.
Capel, and Conroy. There is always something to be learnt from
everybody, if you touch them on the points they know. Giles told
me about the letter to his sister written by Francis,[5] and
which was supposed to have afforded another proof that he was
Junius. Many years ago Francis was in love with his sister, Mrs.
King (at Bath), and one day she received an anonymous letter,
enclosing a copy of verses. The letter said that the writer had
found the verses, and being sure they were meant for her, had
sent them to her. The verses were in Francis' handwriting, the
envelope in a feigned hand. When the discussion arose about
Francis being Junius, Giles said to his sister one day, 'If you
have kept those verses which Francis wrote to you many years ago
at Bath, it would be curious to examine the handwriting and see
if it corresponds with that of Junius.' She found the envelope
and verses, and, on comparing them, the writing of the envelope
was identical with that of Junius as published in Woodfall's
book.
[5] [Sir Philip Francis, the reputed author of the 'Letters
of Junius.' This anecdote has since been verified with
great minuteness by Mr. Twisleton in his researches on
the authorship of 'Junius.' The copy of verses and the
envelope in a feigned hand are still in existence. I
have seen them. The feigned hand appears to be
identical with that of Junius.]
[Page Head: A MAN WITHOUT MONEY.]
Old Creevey is rather an extraordinary character. I know nothing
of the early part of his history, but I believe he was an
attorney or barrister; he married a widow, who died a few years
ago; she had something, he nothing; he got into Parliament,
belonged to the Whigs, displayed a good deal of shrewdness and
humour, and was for some time very troublesome to the Tory
Government by continually attacking abuses. After some time he
lost his seat, and went to live at Brussels, where he became
intimate with the Duke of Wellington. Then his wife died, upon
which event he was thrown upon the world with about £200 a year
or less, no home, few connections, a great many acquaintance, a
good constitution, and extraordinary spirits. He possesses
nothing but his clothes, no property of any sort; he leads a
vagrant life, visiting a number of people who are delighted to
have him, and sometimes roving about to various places, as fancy
happens to direct, and staying till he has spent what money he
has in his pocket. He has no servant, no home, no creditors; he
buys everything as he wants it at the place he is at; he has no
ties upon him, and has his time entirely at his own disposal and
that of his friends. He is certainly a living proof that a man
may be perfectly happy and exceedingly poor, or rather without
riches, for he suffers none of the privations of poverty and
enjoys many of the advantages of wealth. I think he is the only
man I know in society who possesses nothing.
Captain Dickinson's trial[6] ended last week, with a sentence
which was levelled against Codrington, and which called the
charges groundless, frivolous, and vexatious. It is generally
thought that this sentence might have been spared, though the
acquittal was proper; that Codrington behaved very foolishly, and
in ever mentioning the round robin after he had forgiven it, very
inexcusably; but that, on the other hand, the Admiralty had
displayed a spirit of hostility and rancour against him which
is very disgusting, and that Blackwood was sent down to the
court-martial for the express purpose of bullying and thwarting
him. I saw him after the sentence; he seemed annoyed, but said
that such a sentence made it necessary the matter should not stop
there, and that it must be taken up in Parliament. I cannot see
what he is to gain by that; he may prove that the Ministry of
that day (which was not the Duke's) behaved very ill, but that
has nothing to do with the court-martial.
[6] [Captain Dickinson fought the 'Genoa' at the battle of
Navarino after Captain Bathurst, the commander of the
ship, was killed. A quarrel afterwards took place
between him and Sir Edward Codrington, and Dickinson
was tried by court-martial for not making proper use of
the springs ordered by the Admiral to be placed on the
anchors, the consequence of which was that her
broadside was not directed against the enemy, but fired
into the 'Albion.' Captain Dickinson was honourably
acquitted of all the charges, and it was proved that
Sir Edward Codrington's recollection of what had passed
was inaccurate in some particulars.]
The whole press has risen up in arms against the Duke's
prosecution of the 'Morning Journal,' which appears to me, though
many people think he is right, a great act of weakness and
passion. How can such a man suffer by the attacks of such a
paper, and by such attacks, the sublime of the ridiculous?--'that
he is aiming at the Crown, but _we_ shall take care that he does
not succeed in this.' The idea of the Duke of Wellington seeking
to make himself King, and his ambition successfully resisted by
the editor of a newspaper, 'flogs' any scene in the 'Rehearsal.'
I saw the Duke yesterday morning; he was just come from
Doncaster, where he told me he had been very well received. He
was with Chesterfield, who was to have had a large party.
Afterwards I rode with him, and he took me to see his house,
which is now excellent. He told me that both the King's eyes were
affected, the left the most, and that he would have the operation
performed when they were fit for it; he said that the King never
evinced any fear upon these occasions, that he was always
perfectly cool, and neither feared operations or their possible
consequences; that he remembered when he had a very painful and
dangerous operation performed some time ago upon his head, that
he was not the least nervous about it, nor at all afraid of
dying, for they told him that he would very likely not recover. I
said, 'Then, after all, perhaps he who has the reputation of
being a coward would prove a very brave man if circumstances
occasioned his showing what he is.' He said, 'Very likely;' that
he seemed to have but one fear, that of ridicule: he cannot bear
the society of clever men, for fear of ridicule; he cannot bear
to show himself in public, because he is afraid of the jokes that
may be cut on his person.
In the evening I met Matuscewitz, who is all glorious at the
Russian successes. He, Montrond, and I talked the matter over,
and he said that they should make peace, but of course (I had
said, 'Vous serez modestes, n'est-ce pas?') they should profit by
circumstances; that the Allied Ministers would not be permitted
to interfere, and they should grant such terms as they pleased
without consulting them. This was a lie,[7] for Bandinell had
told me in the morning that the negotiations were going on in
concert with the Ambassadors of the Allies.
[7] It was not a lie though after all, for I don't believe
the Allied Ministers had any concern in the matter.
(December 5th.)--[C.C.G.]
[Page Head: CHATSWORTH.]
November 4th, 1829
Left London the last week in September, and, after visiting at
several country houses, slept at Harborough, and went to Bretby
to breakfast; got there at twelve and found nobody up. In process
of time they came down to breakfast, the party consisting of the
Chancellor and Lady Lyndhurst, the Worcesters, Mrs. Fox, and
Williams, the chaplain, and his wife. I saw very little of the
place, which seems pretty, but not large; a very large unfinished
house. I stayed two or three hours, and went on to Chatsworth,[8]
where I arrived just as they were going to dinner, but was not
expected, and so there was no room at the table. The party was
immense; 40 people sat down to dinner every day, and about 150
servants in the steward's room and servants' hall; there were the
Lievens, Cowpers, Granvilles, Wharncliffes, Granthams, Wiltons,
Stanleys, Belfasts, Newboroughs, Dawsons, Matuscewitz, Clanwilliams,
G. Anson, H. de Ros, &c. Nothing could be more agreeable from the
gaiety of numbers and the entire liberty which prevails; all the
resources of the house--horses, carriages, keepers, &c.--are
placed at the disposal of the guests, and everybody does what
they like best. In the evening they acted charades or danced, and
there was plenty of whist and _écarté_ high and low. It was in
the middle of that party that news came of the negotiations being
begun between the Russians and Turks,[9] and I received a letter
from Robert Grosvenor, which Madame de Lieven was ready to
devour, and she was very angry that I would not let her see the
whole of it. Our Russians were of course triumphant, and the
Princess's good humour was elevated to rapture by a very pretty
compliment which was paid her in the shape of a charade,
admirably got up as a _pièce de circonstance_, and which has
since made some noise in the world. The word was Constantinople,
which was acted: _Constant_, Penelope and the suitors; _Inn_, a
tavern scene; and _Opal_, the story in 'Anne of Geierstein.' The
whole represented the Divan, the arrival of Diebitsch's
Ambassadors, a battle between the Turks and Russians, the victory
of the latter, and ended by Morpeth as Diebitsch laying a crown
of laurel at Madame de Lieven's feet. She was enchanted, and of
course wrote off an account of it to the Empress. The whole thing
is abused as a _bassesse_ by her enemies, but it was very
amusing, and in the Duke's house, who is a friend of the Emperor,
a not unbecoming compliment.
[8] [The hospitality of Chatsworth in the lifetime of
William Spencer Cavendish, sixth Duke of Devonshire,
was princely. The Duke of Portland, Mr. Greville's
grandfather, married Dorothy, only daughter of William,
fourth Duke of Devonshire, from whom Mr. Greville
derived his second name of Cavendish. He was therefore
second cousin of the sixth Duke and of Lady Granville
and Lady Carlisle.]
[9] [The negotiations for the peace of Adrianople, which
terminated the Russo-Turkish war.]
I returned to Newmarket on the 11th of October. At the end of the
week I had a fall from my horse, which confined me to my room for
ten days. The Arbuthnots were at Newmarket, having come from
Sudbourne, where Lord Hertford had brought the Duke and Huskisson
together. Nothing seems to have passed between them beyond the
common civilities of society, but Huskisson has suffered greatly
from a universal opinion that the meeting was sought by him for
the purpose of re-ingratiating himself with the Duke, and, if
possible, getting into office on any terms. It is a proof of the
low estimation in which his character is held even by those who
rate his talents the highest that all his former political
adherents think this of him. With such a reputation his political
efficacy never can be great again. There was a strong report that
he was to join the Government, which is now dying away. The Duke
is very fortunate, for his most formidable opponents always do
something to lower their own characters and render themselves as
little formidable to him as possible.
[Page Head: IRISH TRIALS.]
The trials in Ireland are just over, and the Government have been
defeated, which I find they think may be productive of very
important consequences to the peace of the country. The obstinacy
of one man, who held out against the other eleven, in the second
batch of conspirators who were tried, obliged them at length to
dismiss the jury, and the prisoners will be tried at the next
assizes; the others were acquitted, though the evidence against
them was the same as that on which Leary, &c., were convicted.
The exertions of O'Connell, who appears to have acted with great
ability, produced this result. The Government say, of course,
that he has acted very ill, but as the Judge, at the conclusion
of the trial, said publicly that the defence had been conducted
with perfect regard to the due administration of the laws, we may
conclude that while he availed himself of every advantage, he did
not overstep the legitimate duty of an advocate to his client. It
is, however, agreed on all hands, notwithstanding these excesses,
that the state of the country is improving, and the Emancipation
Bill producing fresh benefits every day.
November 9th, 1829 {P.239}
Dined to-day with Byng and met Tom Moore, who was very agreeable;
he told us a great deal about his forthcoming 'Life of Byron.' He
is nervous about it; he is employed in conjunction with Scott and
Mackintosh to write a history of England for one of the new
publications like the Family Library.[10] Scott is to write
Scotland, Mackintosh England, and Moore Ireland; and they get
£1,000 apiece; but Scott could not compress his share into one
volume, so he is to have £1,500. The republication of Scott's
works will produce him an enormous fortune; he has already paid
off £30,000 of the Constable bankruptcy debt, and he is to pay
the remaining £30,000 very soon. A new class of readers is
produced by the Bell and Lancaster schools, and this is the cause
of the prodigious and extensive sale of cheap publications. Moore
had received a letter from Madame de Guiccioli to-day; he says
she is not handsome. Byron's exploits, especially at Venice, seem
to have been marvellous. Moore said he wrote with extraordinary
rapidity, but his corrections were frequent and laborious. When
he wrote the address for the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, he
corrected it repeatedly.
[10] Dr. Lardner's 'Cyclopaedia.' Moore told me that the
editor of one of the annuals offered him £600 to write
two articles for his work, but 'that he loathed the
task' and refused, though the money would have been
very acceptable. The man said he did not care about the
merit of the performance, and only wanted his name;
when Moore refused, the editor raked out some old and
forgotten lines of his to Perry, and inserted them with
his name.--[C.C.G.]
I saw Miss Fanny Kemble for the first time on Friday, and was
disappointed. She is short, ill made, with large hands and feet,
an expressive countenance, though not handsome, fine eyes, teeth,
and hair, not devoid of grace, and with great energy and spirit,
her voice good, though she has a little of the drawl of her
family. She wants the pathos and tenderness of Miss O'Neill, and
she excites no emotion; but she is very young, clever, and may
become a very good, perhaps a fine actress. Mrs. Siddons was not
so good at her age. She fills the house every night.
The King, who was to have gone to Brighton, has given it up,
nobody knows why, but it is supposed that the Marchioness is not
well. This morning the Duke and my brother were occupied for half
an hour in endeavouring to fold a letter to his Majesty in a
particular way, which he has prescribed, for he will have his
envelopes made up in some French fashion. I hear he thinks that
he rode Fleur de Lis for the cup at Goodwood, which he may as
well do as think (which he does) that he led the heavy dragoons
at Salamanca.
O'Connell has been making a most infamous speech at Youghal, and
is moving heaven and earth to begin a fresh agitation about the
Union, and to do all the mischief he can. Francis Leveson is to
meet Sheil at dinner to-morrow for the first time; he did not
dare do this without asking leave of Peel. Peel answered his
letter that he 'rather inclined himself to do anything to win
him, but stating that the Duke would urge the difficulties of
their position, and also the King's horror of the man,' &c. The
King's horror is in consequence of his speech about the Duke of
York. I am told Greece is to be erected into a kingdom, with a
boundary line drawn from Volo to Arta, and that the sovereignty
is to be offered to Prince Frederick of Orange, and, if he
refuses it, to Leopold.
[Page Head: SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH]
November 12th, 1829
At Roehampton at Lord Clifden's from Tuesday, the 10th, till
to-day; Sir James Mackintosh, Moore, Poodle Byng,[11] and the
Master of the Rolls. It was uncommonly agreeable. I never was in
Mackintosh's society for so long before, and never was more
filled with admiration. His prodigious memory and the variety and
extent of his information remind me of all I have heard and read
of Burke and Johnson; but his amiable, modest, and unassuming
character makes him far more agreeable than they could either of
them (particularly Johnson) have been, while he is probably
equally instructive and amusing. Not a subject could be mentioned
of which he did not treat with equal facility and abundance, from
the Council of Trent to Voltaire's epistles; every subject, every
character, every work, all were familiar to him, and I do not
know a greater treat than to hear him talk.
[11] [Hon. Frederick Byng, formerly of the Foreign Office,
universally known at this time as 'The Poodle,'
probably because he once kept a fine animal of that
breed.]
Mackintosh said he was a great reader of novels; had read 'Old
Mortality' four times in English and once in French. Ellis said
he preferred Miss Austen's novels to Scott's. Talked of the old
novelists--Fielding, little read now, Smollett less; Mackintosh
is a great admirer of Swift, and does not think his infamous
conduct to Vanessa quite made out. Talked of the articles of our
religion, and said that they were in almost exact conformity with
certain doctrines laid down in the Council of Trent. The
Jansenists differ very little from our Church, except as to the
doctrine of the Real Presence. Speaking of India, Mackintosh said
that it was very remarkable that we had lost one great empire and
gained another in the same generation, and that it was still a
moot point whether the one really was a gain or the other a loss.
Called America the second Maritime Power. Franklin wept when he
quitted England. When he signed the treaty at Paris, he retired
for a moment and changed his coat. It was remarked, and he said
he had been to put on the coat in which he had been insulted by
Lord Loughborough at the English Council Board. Madame de Staël,
he said, was more agreeable in _tête-à-tête_ than in society; she
despised her children, and said, 'Ils ne me ressemblent pas.' He
told her she did not do them justice, particularly her daughter.
She said, 'C'est une lune bien pâle.' She took an aversion to
Rogers, but when she met him at Bowood, and he told her
anecdotes, she liked him. She had vanquished Brougham, and was
very proud of those conquests.
Moore told several stories which I don't recollect, but this
amused us:--Some Irish had emigrated to some West Indian colony;
the negroes soon learnt their brogue, and when another shipload
of Irish came soon after, the negroes as they sailed in said,
'Ah, Paddy, how are you?' 'Oh, Christ!' said one of them, 'what,
y're become black already!'
Moore, without displaying the astonishing knowledge of
Mackintosh, was very full of information, gaiety, and humour. Two
more delightful days I never passed. I could not help reflecting
what an extraordinary thing success is in this world, when a man
so gifted as Mackintosh has failed completely in public life,
never having attained honours, reputation, or wealth, while so
many ordinary men have reaped an abundant harvest of all. What a
consolation this affords to mediocrity! None can approach
Mackintosh without admiring his extraordinary powers, and at the
same time wondering why they have not produced greater effects in
the world either of literature or politics. His virtues are
obstacles to his success; he has not the art of pushing or of
making himself feared; he is too _doucereux_ and complimentary,
and from some accident or defect in the composition of his
character, and in the course of events which have influenced his
circumstances, he has always been civilly neglected. Both
Mackintosh and Moore told a great many anecdotes, but one morning
at breakfast the latter related a story which struck us all.
Mackintosh said it was enough to furnish materials for a novel,
but that the simple narrative was so striking it ought to be
written down without exaggeration or addition. I afterwards wrote
it down as nearly as I could recollect it. It was Crampton, the
Surgeon-General, who told it to Moore, and Crampton _loquitur_.
[Page Head: SIR PHILIP CRAMPTON'S STORY]
'Some years ago I was present at a duel that was fought between a
young man of the name of MacLoughlin and another Irishman. MacL.
was desperately wounded; his second ran up to him, and thought to
console him with the intelligence that his antagonist had also
fallen. He only replied, "I am sorry for it if he is suffering as
much as I do now." I was struck by the good feeling evinced in
this reply, and took an interest in the fate of the young man. He
recovered, and a few years after my interest was again powerfully
excited by hearing that he had been arrested on suspicion of
having murdered his father-in-law, his mother's second husband.
He was tried and found guilty on the evidence of a soldier who
happened to be passing in the middle of the night near the house
in which the murder was committed. Attracted by a light which
gleamed through the lower part of the window, he approached it,
and through an opening between the shutter and the frame was able
to look into the room. There he saw a man in the act of lifting a
dead body from the floor, while his hands and clothes were
stained all over with blood. He hastened to give information of
what he had seen; MacLoughlin and his mother were apprehended,
and the former, having been identified by the soldier, was found
guilty. There was no evidence against the woman, and she was
consequently acquitted. MacLoughlin conducted himself throughout
the trial with determined calmness, and never could be induced to
acknowledge his guilt. The morning of his execution he had an
interview with his mother; none knew what passed between them,
but when they parted he was heard to say, "Mother, may God
forgive you!" The fate of this young man made a deep impression
on me, till time and passing events effaced the occurrence from
my mind. It was several years afterwards that I one day received
a letter from a lady (a very old and intimate acquaintance)
entreating that I would immediately hasten down to the assistance
of a Roman Catholic priest who was lying dangerously ill at her
house, and the symptoms of whose malady she described. Her
description left me doubtful whether the mind or the body of the
patient was affected. Being unable to leave Dublin, I wrote to
say that if the disease was bodily the case was hopeless, but if
mental I should recommend certain lenitives, for which I added a
prescription. The priest died, and shortly after his death the
lady confided to me an extraordinary and dreadful story. He had
been her confessor and intimate friend, and in moments of agony
and doubt produced by horrible recollections he had revealed to
her a secret which had been imparted to him in confession. He had
received the dying confession of MacLoughlin, who, as it turned
out, was not the murderer of his father-in-law, but had died to
save the life and honour of his mother, by whom the crime had
been really committed. She was a woman of violent passions; she
had quarrelled with her husband in the middle of the night, and
after throwing him from the bed had despatched him by repeated
blows. When she found he was dead she was seized with terror, and
hastening to the apartment of her son, called him to witness the
shocking spectacle and to save her from the consequences of her
crime. It was at this moment, when he was lifting the body and
preparing to remove the bloody evidence of his mother's guilt,
that the soldier passed by and saw him in the performance of his
dreadful task. To the priest alone he acknowledged the truth, but
his last words to his mother were now explained.'
[Page Head: TOM MOORE]
November 20th, 1829
Roehampton. Only Moore and myself; Washington Irving and Maclane,
the American Minister, come to-morrow. Moore spoke in the highest
terms of Luttrell, of his wit and information, and of his
writings, to which he does not think the world does justice,
particularly the 'Advice to Julia,' but he says Luttrell is too
fearful of giving offence. Moore was very agreeable, told a story
of Sir ---- St. George in Ireland. He was to attend a meeting at
which a great many Catholics were to be present (I forget where),
got drunk and lost his hat, when he went into the room where they
were assembled and said, 'Damnation to you all; I came to
emancipate you, and you've stole my hat.' In the evening Moore
sang, but the pianoforte was horrid, and he was not in good
voice; still his singing 'va dritto al cuore,' for it produces an
exceeding sadness, and brings to mind a thousand melancholy
recollections, and generates many melancholy anticipations. He
told me as we came along that with him it required no thought to
write, but that there was no end to it; so many fancies on every
subject crowded on his brain; that he often read what he had
written as if it had been the composition of another, and was
amused; that it was the greatest pleasure to him to compose those
light and trifling pieces, humorous and satirical, which had been
so often successful. He holds Voltaire to have been the most
extraordinary genius that ever lived, on account of his
universality and fertility; talked of Scott and his wonderful
labour and power of composition, as well as the extent to which
he has carried the art of book-making; besides writing this
history of Scotland for Dr. Lardner's 'Encyclopaedia,' he is
working at the prefaces for the republication of the Waverley
Novels, the 'Tales of a Grandfather,' and has still found time to
review Tytler, which he has done out of the scraps and chips of
his other works. A little while ago he had to correct some of the
proofs of the history of Scotland, and, being dissatisfied with
what was done, he nearly wrote it over again, and sent it up to
the editor. Some time after finding another copy of the proofs,
he forgot that he had corrected them before, and he rewrote these
also and sent them up, and the editor is at this moment engaged
in selecting from the two corrected copies the best parts of
each.
Yesterday I met the Chancellor at dinner at the Master of the
Rolls', when he told me about the King and Denman.[12] The King
would not have the Recorder's report last week, because the
Recorder was too ill to attend, and he was resolved not to see
Denman. The Duke went to him, when he threw himself into a
terrible tantrum, and was so violent and irritable that they were
obliged to let him have his own way for fear he should be ill,
which they thought he would otherwise certainly be. He is rather
the more furious with Denman from having been forced to consent
to his having the silk gown, and he said at that time that he
should never set his foot in any house of his; so that business
is at a standstill, and the unfortunate wretches under sentence
of death are suffered to linger on, because he does not choose to
do his duty and admit to his presence an officer to whom he has
taken an aversion. As the Chancellor said to me, 'the fact is, he
is mad.' The fact is that he is a spoiled, selfish, odious beast,
and has no idea of doing anything but what is agreeable to
himself, or of there being any duties attached to the office he
holds. The expenses of the Civil List exceed the allowance in
every branch, every quarter; but nobody can guess how the money
is spent, for the King makes no show and never has anybody there.
My belief is that ---- and ---- ---- plunder him, or rather the
country, between them, in certain stipulated proportions. Among
other expenses his tailor's bill is said to be £4,000 or £5,000 a
year. He is now employed in devising a new dress for the Guards.
[12] [Thomas Denman, afterwards Lord Denman and Lord Chief
Justice of England, was at this time Common Serjeant of
the City of London. George IV. hated him for the part
he had taken on the Queen's trial, and did all he could
to prevent his having a silk gown. _Vide supra_,
p. 156, January 16th, 1829.]
[Page Head: STRAWBERRY HILL]
November 21st, 1829 {p.247}
Maclane, the American Minister, could not come, but Irving did.
He is lively and unassuming, rather vulgar, very good-humoured.
We went to Strawberry Hill to-day--Moore, Ellis, Lady Georgiana,
and I. Ellis is an excellent cicerone; everything is in the state
in which old Horace Walpole left it, and just as his catalogue
and description describe it. He says in that work that he makes
that catalogue to provide against the dispersion of his
collections, and he tied up everything as strictly as possible.
Moore sang in the evening and was very agreeable the whole day.
He said that Byron thought that Crabbe and Coleridge had the most
genius and feeling of any living poet. Nobody reads Crabbe now.
How dangerous it is to be a story-teller, however agreeable the
manner or amusing the budget, for Moore to-day told a story which
he told here last week! However, they all laughed just the same,
except me, and I moralised upon it thus. Clifden is a very odd
man, shrewd and well informed, and somewhat sarcastic, but very
gay and good-humoured, fond of society and the 'Times' newspaper,
a great enemy to the Church, and chuckles over its alarms and its
dangers, but I was amused with a comical contradiction. Somebody
told a story about an erratum in an Irish paper, which said that
such a one had abjured the errors of the Romish Church and
embraced those of the Protestant, at which he was greatly
diverted, and said, 'That is just what I should have said
myself;' and to-day after dinner, all of a sudden, he said grace
(he says grace on Sunday only).
Moore gave an account this morning of his being examined in
Trinity College, Dublin, when a boy, during the rebellion. Many
of the youths (himself, and he says he is pretty sure Croker,
among the number) had taken the oath of the United Irishmen[13]
(Emmett[14] and some others who were in the College had
absconded). The Chancellor (Lord Clare) came to the College,
erected his tribunal, and examined all the students upon oath. He
asked first if they had belonged to any society of United Irish,
and, if the answer was in the affirmative, he asked whom they had
ever seen there and what had passed. Contumacy was punishable by
expulsion and exclusion from every profession. At the end of the
first day's examination Moore went home to his parents, and told
them he could not take an oath which might oblige him to
criminate others (as he should be forced to answer any question
they might choose to put), and though they were poor, and had
conceived great hopes of him, they encouraged him in this
resolution. The next day he was called forth, when he refused to
be sworn, stating his reasons why. The Chancellor said he did not
come there to dispute with him, but added that they should only
ask him general questions, on which he took the oath, but
reserved to himself the power of declining to answer particular
questions. They only asked him such questions as he could
conscientiously answer (they had got all the information they
wanted, and were beginning to relax), but when they had done with
him Lord Clare asked him why he had demurred to answer. He said
he was afraid he might be called on to criminate others, and that
he had never taken an oath before, and naturally felt some
reluctance and dread on such an occasion.
[13] He did not take the oath till after this examination.
[14] He had lived in intimacy with Emmett.
Moore told a story of an Irishman who saw from the pit a friend
of his acting Othello, and he called out, 'Larry, Larry, Larry,
there's the least taste in life of your linen hanging out!' One
day in America near the falls of Niagara Moore saw this scene:--
An Indian whose boat was moored to the shore was making love to
the wife of another Indian; the husband came upon them unawares;
he jumped into the boat, when the other cut the cord, and in an
instant it was carried into the middle of the stream, and before
he could seize his paddle was already within the rapids. He
exerted all his force to extricate himself from the peril, but
finding that his efforts were vain, and his canoe was drawn with
increasing rapidity towards the Falls, he threw away his paddle,
drank off at a draught the contents of a bottle of brandy, tossed
the empty bottle into the air, then quietly folded his arms,
extended himself in the boat, and awaited with perfect calmness
his inevitable fate. In a few moments he was whirled down the
Falls and disappeared for ever.
Washington Irving wants sprightliness and more refined manners.
He was in Spain four years, at Madrid, Seville, and Grenada.
While at the latter place he was lodged in the Alhambra, which is
excellently preserved and very beautiful; he gives a deplorable
description of the ignorance and backward state of the Spaniards.
When he returned to France he was utterly uninformed of what had
been passing in Europe while he was in Spain, and he says that he
now constantly hears events alluded to of which he knows nothing.
[Page Head: LORD GLENGALL'S COMEDY]
December 1st, 1829 {p.249}
After I left Roehampton last week came to town and dined with
Byng, Moore, Irving, Sir T. Lawrence, and Vesey Fitzgerald; very
agreeable. No news but the failure of the Spanish expedition
against Mexico, which capitulated, and the soldiers promised
never to bear arms against Mexico again. On Friday went to see
Lord Glengall's comedy, with a prologue by F. Mills and an
epilogue by Alvanley.[15] It succeeded, though the first two acts
went off heavily; not much novelty in it, but the characters well
drawn and some of the situations very good: it amused me very
well, and was exceedingly well acted. Glengall came to me
afterwards to get criticisms on his play. I told him some of the
faults, and he was not in the Sir Fretful line, but took it all
very thankfully. At Roehampton on Sunday; Byng, Sir Robert
Wilson, Sharpe,[16] and Luttrell. There is a joke of Luttrell's
about Sharpe. He was a wholesale hatter formerly; having a dingy
complexion, somebody said he had transferred the colour of his
hats to his face, when Luttrell said that 'it was _darkness which
might be felt_.' Wilson has written to the Sultan a letter full
of advice, and he says the Turks will be more powerful than ever.
Wilson is always full of opinions and facts; the former are wild
and extravagant, the latter generally false.
[15] [A comedy by the Earl of Glengall, entitled 'The
Follies of Fashion.']
[16] [Richard Sharpe, Esq., well known by the _sobriquet_ of
'Conversation Sharpe.']
No Council yet; the King is employed in altering the uniforms of
the Guards, and has pattern coats with various collars submitted
to him every day. The Duke of Cumberland assists him, and this is
his principal occupation; he sees much more of his tailor than he
does of his Minister. The Duke of Cumberland's boy, who is at
Kew, diverts himself with making the guard turn out several times
in the course of the day to salute him.
December 3rd, 1829 {p.250}
Came from Roehampton. Lady Pembroke and her daughter, Luttrell
and I, and the Lievens, dined there one day. Lady Pembroke was
Countess Woronzow; Lord Pembroke pleaded poverty all his life,
and died leaving each of his five daughters £20,000, and his wife
£200,000 to do what she liked with. Old Woronzow was Ambassador
here many years, has lived here ever since, and never learnt a
word of English. His son Michel is one of the most distinguished
officers in the Russian army, and now Governor of Odessa and the
province of which that city is the capital.
I went to see Glengall's play again, which was much better acted
than the first time, and, having been curtailed, went off very
well. Henry de Ros, Glengall, and I went together. I was very
much amused (but did not venture to show it) at a point in one of
the scenes between Lureall and Sir S. Foster: the latter said,
'Let me tell you, sir, that a country gentleman residing on his
estate is as valuable a member of society as a man of fashion in
London who lives by plundering those who have more money and less
wit than himself;' when De Ros turned to Glengall and said,
'Richard, there appears to me to be a great deal of twaddle in
this play; besides, you throw over the good cause.'
[Page Head: THE RECORDER'S REPORT]
December 5th, 1829 {p.250}
This morning the Duke of Wellington sent for me about the Council
on Monday, and after settling that matter he began talking about
the King's conduct with reference to the Recorder's report. I
told him it was thought very extraordinary. He said, 'You have no
idea what a scene I had with him; there never was anything like
it. I never saw him so violent.' He then rang the bell, when
Drummond (his secretary) appeared, and the Duke desired him to
bring the correspondence with the King about the Recorder, which
was done. He then said, 'I came to town on the Monday for the
Council and report, which was to have been on Tuesday, and which
he had himself settled, without consulting me; in the afternoon
Phillips came to me and said that the Recorder could not attend,
and that they did not know if his Majesty would receive Denman. I
wrote to the King directly this letter.' He then read the letter,
which was to this effect: that he informed the King that the
Recorder was ill, and therefore the Common Serjeant, Mr. Denman,
would have the honour of making the report to his Majesty; that
he thought it right to apprise him of this, and if he had any
objection to receive Mr. Denman, it would be better to put off
the Council, as no other person could now lay the report before
him. 'To this the King wrote an answer, beginning "My dear Duke,"
not as usual,' the Duke said, '"My dear Friend," that the state
of his eyes would not allow him to write by candle-light, and he
was therefore obliged to make use of an amanuensis. The letter
was written by Watson, and signed by the King, "Your sincere
Friend, G. R." It was to the effect that he was quite surprised
the Duke should have made him such a proposal; that he had been
grossly insulted by Denman, and would never admit him to his
presence; that it had been settled the Deputy-Recorder, Arabin,
in the absence of the Recorder, should make the report, and that
he had already done so; that he was surprised, knowing as the
Duke must do the firmness of his character, that he should think
him capable of yielding on this subject; that he never would do
so, and desired the Council might take place, and the report be
made by Arabin.' His letter was much longer, but this was the
pith of it. On the receipt of this the Duke held a consultation
with Peel and the Chancellor, when they determined to put off the
Council, which was done, and the Duke wrote to the King, as
nearly as I can recollect, as follows. This was an admirable
letter--business-like, firm, and respectful:--'That upon the
receipt of his Majesty's letter he had thought it his duty to
consult the Chancellor, and that they had come to the resolution
of postponing the Council and report; that the making of this
report was the privilege of the City of London, and that the
Recorder in the execution of this duty, being unable to attend,
had placed it in the hands of the Common Serjeant, whose duty it
then became to present it; that it was now in his hands, and
could not be withdrawn without his consent; that the only
occasion on which it had been presented by Mr. Serjeant Arabin
had been when the Common Serjeant was on the circuit; that as his
Majesty objected to admit Mr. Denman to his presence, they had
thought it best to put off the Council, as if Mr. Arabin was
summoned he could have no report to present, and there would
probably arise some discussion between the Common Serjeant and
him, which would be a proceeding such as ought not to take place
in his Majesty's palace, and that he would wait upon his Majesty
the next morning and take his commands upon the subject.' The
next day, he continued, he went to Windsor, where he had a grand
scene with his Majesty. 'I am sure,' said the Duke, 'that nobody
can manage him but me.' He repeated all he had said in his
letter, and a great deal more; represented to him that having
given his sanction to the official appointment of Denman since
the Queen's trial, he could not refuse to receive him in the
execution of his duty without alleging legal objections for so
doing; to which the King replied that Lord Liverpool had behaved
very ill to him, and had made him do this; and then he became
very violent, and cursed and swore, and said he never would see
him. The Duke said that he might put off the report; that there
were three men who must be hanged, and it did not signify one
farthing whether they were kept in prison a little longer or
shorter time (he forgets that there are others lying under
sentence of death, probably several), and that he had better put
it off than have the Common Serjeant come down to a scene in his
palace. After letting him run on in his usual way, and exhaust
his violence, he left him, and the report stands over once more;
but the Duke told me that it could not stand over after this, and
if the Recorder is not well enough when the time arrives for the
next report, his Majesty must receive Denman whether he will or
no, and that he shall insist upon it. He told me the whole
history in great detail mixed with pretty severe strictures on
the King. I have put down all I could carry away. I have not such
a memory (or such an invention) as Bourrienne.
[Page Head: THE CIVIL LIST]
The Duke then told me that he had made strong remonstrances about
the excess of expenditure on the Civil List; that in the Lord
Steward's department there had been an excess of £7,000, in that
of the Master of the Horse of £5,000, and that of the Master of
the Robes (the tailor's bill) of £10,000 in the last half-year;[17]
that he had stated that unless they could save the difference in
the next half-year, or pay it out of the Privy Purse, he must go
to Parliament, which would bring the whole of the expenses of the
Civil List under discussion. He said it was very extraordinary,
that the King's expenses appeared to be nothing; his Majesty had
not more tables than he (the Duke) had.
[17] I am not sure that I am correct in the sums, but very
nearly so.--[C.C.G.]
I asked him about Brummell and his Consulship. He said Aberdeen
hesitated; that he had offered to take all the responsibility on
himself; that he had in Dudley's time proposed it to him
(Dudley), who had objected, and at last owned he was afraid the
King might not like it, on which he had spoken to the King, who
had made objections, abusing Brummell--said he was a damned
fellow and had behaved very ill to him (the old story, always
himself--_moi, moi, moi_)--but after having let him run out
his tether of abuse, he had at last extracted his consent;
nevertheless Dudley did not give him the appointment. The Duke
said he had no acquaintance with Brummell.