CHAPTER XVIII.

The Policy of England to Ireland--Ministers object to

the Publication--Could the Book be delayed and published

anonymously?--Visit to the Grange--Buckland--Visit to

Broadlands--Visit to Woburn--Prince Albert complains of want

of Secrecy--Visit to Ampthill--Baron Rolfe--The Master of the

Rolls to sit at the Judicial Committee--The Queen knew nothing

of the Irish Book--Reconciliation of Thiers and Palmerston--Mr.

Gladstone resigns on the Maynooth Endowments--Changes in

the Cabinet--Sidney Herbert--Lord Lincoln--Precarious

Position of French Ministry--Mr. Gladstone's Resignation

transpires--Sensitiveness of the French Government--Debate in the

House of Commons--Gladstone's Resignation unintelligible--Mr.

Duncombe's Letters--Death of Rev. Sydney Smith--Publication of

the 'Policy to Ireland'--Death of Robert Smith (Bobus)--Death

of Miss Fox--Visit to Althorp--Effects of the Irish Book--Whig

and Tory Opinions--The Maynooth Grant--Meeting of Thiers and

Guizot--Debate on the Maynooth Grant--Macaulay's Speech--Divisions

in the Tory Party--Possibility of a Whig Government--Break-up

of Parties--Birkenhead--Depression--Visits to the Grove and to

Broadlands--Lord Melbourne--Opinions on the Irish Book--Sir Robert

Peel's Improved Position--Embarrassment caused by the Queen's

Absence from England--A Queer Family.

[Sidenote: MR. GREVILLE'S BOOK ON IRELAND.]

_London, January 12th, 1845._--More than four months have elapsed

since I wrote anything in this book, and I have not much hope

either of finding materials or having sufficient application to

make it interesting or amusing. When people kept diaries in former

times, there were no such newspapers as the 'Times' with its volume

of letterpress, and dozens of Sunday papers all collecting and

retailing the public events and the private anecdotes of the day,

and the memoranda of very inconsiderable persons consequently became

interesting and amusing; but now it requires that a writer should

either have access to stores of hidden information, or live in

intimacy with remarkable people and become the chronicler of their

words, thoughts, and actions, or that he should have a strong original

genius of his own, and to none of these can I lay any considerable

claim. I say _considerable_ (I have none at all to the last), because,

though I know very few State secrets, I do every now and then acquire

the knowledge of curious and interesting facts; and I live more or

less with conspicuous people, both literary and political, though much

more, I am sorry to say, with the common herd. Certainly, however,

the principal reason which has prevented my writing in this Journal

has been the absorbing occupation of writing my book upon Ireland;

and though the one need not have prevented the other, somehow it did,

and whenever I was disposed to write, I always went to my manuscript

and not to my red book. Having done that, I now turn to my Journal

again, and am especially tempted to do so because I have something to

say about my book. I will travel backwards up to the time when I last

left off, as far as my memory serves me. But first of my book.[84] The

first idea of writing it laid hold of me after Lord John Russell's

motion in February last, and I then began very slowly, and reading

much more than I wrote, because I was obliged to plunge into books on

Ireland, and grope my way through Irish history. When I had finished

the first part, which brought down the history of Ireland to the

Rebellion or near it, I showed what I had written to Clarendon, and

he gave me so much encouragement that I resolved to go on with it,

which I had by no means determined on before. I went on but slowly,

and often interrupted by racing and other occupations, and by October

I had finished the historical part and most of the statistical, or,

indeed, I believe, all of it. It was then that I showed what I had

written to George Lewis, who read and approved of it, and gave

me a great many suggestions, of which I made use afterwards. His

criticisms were very serviceable to me, and he wrote not less than a

hundred pages of Irish matter which I made use of in the argumentative

part of my composition. It is not above three weeks or a month ago

that I finished the whole, and the last person who read it all in

manuscript was Sheil, who also gave me encouragement and many useful

hints. Besides these, the Duke of Bedford saw a part, Lady Georgiana

Fullerton the whole, Normanby some, Dundas a very little at Ampthill,

and Charles Buller some more proofs at the Grange. All these people

expressed approbation and gave me encouragement. Reeve read the

manuscript and helped me in correcting the press. He also approved,

but in some respects criticised and disagreed. Henry Taylor saw part

of it, but I don't think he did approve of anything but the style,

which he liked. So much for friendly critics and previous inspection.

[Footnote 84: [Mr. Greville's attention had long been directed

to the subject of the relations of the Roman Catholic Church to

the States in other Protestant countries, and he was strongly of

opinion that no permanent union could he established between Great

Britain and Ireland which did not deal in a liberal and tolerant

spirit with the religion of the majority of Irishmen. This was the

starting-point of the work referred to in the text on 'the Policy

of England to Ireland.' It seemed not impossible that the Ministry

of Sir Robert Peel might adopt those views and propose the payment

of the Roman Catholic clergy. Peel himself made a step in that

direction when he proposed the permanent endowment of Maynooth. But

the result of the experiment was not encouraging. Peel was intent

on other great designs. He always said that a Minister should have

but one great work in hand at a time, and added, 'the payment of

the Roman Catholics may one day be carried, but it will be fatal to

the Minister who carries it.']]

[Sidenote: THE PUBLICATION OBJECTED TO.]

_January 15th._--About six weeks ago I told Lord Wharncliffe what

I was about, who made no observation and suggested no objection of

any sort or kind, and I told him partly for the purpose of giving

him an opportunity of suggesting objections, if any occurred to him.

Frequently the subject was alluded to at his house, but nothing

particular was ever said. Some three weeks ago I told Graham. He

laughed, and begged to have a copy when it came out. I went on with

the work, and sent it to the press; and meanwhile, making no secret

of it, everybody became aware that such a book was forthcoming,

and it began to excite a good deal of interest and curiosity. On

Saturday last Lord Wharncliffe wrote a note to Reeve from the Cabinet

'immediate,' desiring he would not leave the office till he saw him.

On his return he began to talk about my book and of the objections

there might be to its publication. Reeve said he had much better speak

to me himself, and accordingly he came into my room and began, 'I want

to talk to you about your book. Do you think it is prudent in you to

publish such a book?' I said I did not know why not. He did not, he

said, know the exact nature of it, but supposed it was a pamphlet,

and, as he gathered from my conversation, that the object of it was to

recommend measures far beyond anything they could do. The Government

were desirous of doing all the good they could, but that a book

published by a person in my situation, connected as I was with the

Government and in a position so conspicuous, might expose them to much

misapprehension as to their intentions and greatly embarrass them.

A great deal more conversation followed, in which he endeavoured to

convince me of the reasonableness of giving up publishing my book, and

I endeavoured to convince him that it could not do the Government any

harm, and that I had a right to publish it. It ended by his begging

me to reconsider the matter, which I engaged to do. I must add that

there was no intimation of any threat, or of a positive prohibition.

On Sunday I went and consulted Clarendon and George Lewis, and after

our conference I wrote a long letter to Wharncliffe, which was

intended for his colleagues as well as himself, explaining the nature

of the work and the circumstances in which I was placed, and urging

the reasons which I thought ought to reconcile the Government to the

publication the consequences of which they appeared to apprehend. We

went to Windsor on Monday for a Council, but on Monday evening I sent

him this letter. He had, however, in the meantime come into my room

and asked me if I had considered what he said. I replied that I would

not then discuss it, as I had written him a letter; but after he had

read it, and made what use he pleased of it, I would discuss it with

him.

Yesterday, however, George Lewis went to Graham, and had a

conversation with him about the publication, which he communicated to

me last night, and which immediately determined me to abandon all idea

of publishing it _at all_. From a conversation which Lord Wharncliffe

had with Reeve in the morning, I gathered that the Government would

be satisfied if I would delay the publication for a short time,

till Easter perhaps; and I had entirely made up my mind to do this,

and really flattered myself that such a compromise would settle the

question. But the tenor of Graham's language has convinced me that

neither now, nor at Easter, nor at any other time, can I with anything

like safety or future peace of mind venture on this publication,

and that no course is left me but to suppress it. Whether Graham

had seen my letter to Wharncliffe I do not know, but Lewis found

him very serious on the subject. He repeated all the objections and

apprehensions that had been already urged, dwelt much on my position,

and ended with this very ominous and intelligible hint, that _there

were persons who would be deeply offended by_ (_or would resent_, I

forget which expression) any comments on their conduct either present

or past. He had heard, too, that a leading Member of the Opposition in

the House of Commons who had read this book said it was very violent.

All this and more, Lewis told me (Graham having authorised him to do

so), and the moment I heard it my mind was made up. It is certainly

mortifying after so much time and labour have been expended upon a

work, which my friends tell me would be creditable to me and amusing

or interesting to the world, to consign my book to oblivion; but the

wisest thing to do is not to dwell on the disagreeable side of the

question, but to look out for some topic of consolation, and there

is a shape in which this presents itself to my mind. The _persons_

(in the plural) of whom Graham spoke may be one or more, but of one

I feel as sure as if I had heard what passed in the Cabinet, and

that one is Peel. Of this I have no doubt, for who else can care for

his _past_ conduct being canvassed? If I am now vexed by this little

mortification and disappointment, I must consider that it is entirely

my own fault, and that if I had reflected on the exigencies of my

position I should have employed my time more profitably, and not have

exposed myself to this annoyance. However, it has been an interest to

me for many months past; it has not unpleasantly occupied my mind; and

the habit of writing may perhaps lead me to do something more in the

same way.[85]

[Footnote 85: [It will he seen shortly that these penitential

reflexions were thrown away. The obstacles to the publication were

soon removed. The book was published, nobody was offended, and it

had a deserved success. Ministers, in fact, had attached far too

much importance to a thing of no importance at all.]]

[Sidenote: PUBLICATION DEFERRED.]

_January 16th._--Yesterday Wharncliffe came into my room and began

again about the book. He said it was the particular _time_ which made

the great objection; would I delay it? When the struggle had begun

and they were able to speak out, it would not so much signify, and if

I would postpone the publication for a certain time. I said at once

that I could not hesitate to keep it back, and that _sine die_; that

I had told him it was far from my wish to embarrass the Government,

and when he told me it might have that effect, I would stop the

publication, and would not bring it out without further communication

with him. He said, very well, that would be perfectly satisfactory

and adjust everything; and rather to my surprise, because it showed

the importance he attached to it, he really seemed quite relieved

and overjoyed. He then asked, would I publish it without my name,

which, having very nearly made up my mind not to publish it at all, I

promised without any difficulty. As he went away, he told Reeve that

all was amicably settled. He anticipates the publication later; indeed

wishes it, because he sees that the Government would be in a scrape if

they were supposed to have suppressed it, and I did not tell him what

Graham had said. I met Sheil in the afternoon, and told him what had

occurred. He greatly comforted me for the disappointment by telling me

that when he read it he did think that it would prove so annoying to

Peel that he wondered how I could venture to publish it.

_January 18th._--The more I reflect on the affair of this book, the

more satisfied I am with having suppressed it, and only dissatisfied

with having spent so much time and trouble on the abortive production.

I have written a note to Miss Berry, whom I had told that it was

coming out, to account for its not appearing, and I have done this

that no doubt may exist as to the reason I have given for its

non-appearance.

I must now look back and pick up such scraps worth remembering as I

have neglected to notice in the last few months, though they amount

to very little. I returned a few days ago from the Grange, where I

met Dr. Buckland and Archdeacon Wilberforce; the latter a very quick,

lively, and agreeable man, who is in favour at Court,[86] and has the

credit of seeking to be Preceptor to the Prince of Wales, an office

to which I should prefer digging at a canal, or breaking stones in

the road, so intolerable would be the slavery of it. Buckland gave

us a great dose of geology, not uninteresting, but too much of it.

Lord Ashburton was in great force, and it is droll to see the supreme

contempt which he and Palmerston entertain for each other.

I went there from Broadlands, where I left the Viscount full of vigour

and hilarity, and overflowing with diplomatic swagger. He said we

might hold any language we pleased to France and America, and insist

on what we thought necessary, without any apprehension that either

of them would go to war, as both knew how vulnerable they were,

France with her colonies and America with her slaves, a doctrine to

which Lord Ashburton by no means subscribes. Before these places I

was at Woburn and at Ampthill. At Woburn the Duke of Bedford told me

a good deal about his communications with Prince Albert, who seems

to talk to him very openly. One day he took him in his carriage to

shoot at Bagshot, when he spoke about Ireland, of the long course of

misgovernment, and the necessity of doing something, in such a strain

that the Duke was convinced Peel has some serious intentions, or

the Prince would not have said what he did; and we agreed that when

my book came out he should advise the Prince to read it. He told me

that Prince Albert complained of the manner in which the proceedings

and motions of the Court were publicly known and discussed, and

how hard it was; that on the Continent the Government knew by its

secret agents what the people were about, but here they knew nothing

about other people's affairs, and everybody knew about theirs; that

whatever they did, or were about to do, was known. The Duke told him

he wondered he had not discovered that everything was and must be

known here about them, and that it was the tax they paid for their

situation; that the world was curious to know and hear about them, and

therefore the press would always procure and give the information, and

the only reason why more was known about them than about anybody else,

was because there was not the same interest about others, and that,

as it was, all conspicuous people were brought into public notice in

the same manner. He owned this was true, and seemed struck by it. It

is the misfortune of princes never to hear the language of truth and

sense. They have men about them whose business it is to bow and smile

and agree, and they hardly have any one with independence and force of

mind enough to tell them what it would be good that they should hear,

and what they would attend to.

[Sidenote: PRINCE ALBERT AND THE DUKE OF BEDFORD.]

At Ampthill I met Dundas, Baron Rolfe,[87] and Empson. Nobody is

so agreeable as Rolfe: a clear head, vivacity, information, an

extraordinary pleasantness of manner without being either soft or

affected, extreme good-humour, cheerfulness, and tact make his

society on the whole as attractive as that of anybody I ever met.

The conversation and the anecdotes of these lawyers would be well

worth recording, but it is too late now. One hears in this way things

which go to prove how many false notions take root in public opinion,

and acquire all the solidity of undisputed facts. One, for example,

which struck me was the concurrent opinion of Parke and Rolfe (both,

it may be presumed, competent judges) of Eldon's value as a great

lawyer and Chancellor. They rate it astonishingly low, and think that

he did nothing for the law and for the establishment of great legal

principles, which surprised me.

When I came to town I found that the Chancellor had got Lord Langdale

to sit at the Privy Council, and all the other members of the Court

were very anxious that it should be a permanent arrangement; and so

it would be made but for Brougham. Langdale will not sit there if

Brougham does, because Brougham would take precedence of him; and

though everybody is satisfied that the permanent establishment of

the Master of the Rolls at the head of the Judicial Committee would

expedite the business, the Chancellor does not dare so settle it

for fear of offending Brougham. I spoke to him about it and so did

the others--'But what are we to do with Brougham?' he said. He did,

however, half promise that he would make the arrangement if it was

pressed upon him by the Committee; but nothing has been done.

[Footnote 86: [Dr. Samuel Wilberforce, afterwards Bishop of

Oxford, and finally of Winchester, a man not more distinguished

for his zeal, activity, and eloquence as a prelate than for his

brilliant social qualities. He became one of the most distinguished

members of society in London. The Bishop was unhappily killed by

a fall from his horse on July 19th, 1873, whilst riding with Lord

Granville over the Surrey Hills.]]

[Footnote 87: [Afterwards Lord Chancellor Cranworth, an excellent

judge, and a most agreeable member of society.]]

_January 28th._--Went out of town on Wednesday last to Lord

Barrington's at Beckett; I saw the Duke of Bedford just before he went

to Strathfieldsaye, where he undertook to speak to the Prince about my

book. He did so, and found that they knew nothing about it, so that

Peel had not said anything; but the Queen expressed the great interest

she felt about the Irish measures to be proposed to Parliament, and

her satisfaction that the book had been suppressed, which the Duke

of Bedford was desired to convey to me. This he wrote to me, and

to-day I have another letter from him in which he says again that 'Her

Majesty could not wish to see anything published that would embarrass

her Government, and was glad the work had been suppressed if it had

not the sanction of Sir Robert Peel,' _or words to that effect._

Meanwhile Lewis has seen Graham again, who said that I had been very

reasonable, and talked of a month or two hence as the time when it

might be published. I sent it to Lord Lansdowne, who wrote me a very

encouraging letter on it.

The debates on the address in the French Chamber have ended after

great alarm well for Guizot, who is safe for the present. The most

curious incident in French politics is the flirtation struck up

between Thiers and Palmerston, which is matter of notoriety and

amusement in Paris. It was brought about by the intermediation of

Easthope, and some civil letters passed between the quondam rival

statesmen; at least Palmerston wrote something to Thiers at which his

friend Victor Cousin said he was extremely gratified.[88]

[Footnote 88: [This was the result of their common hatred of M.

Guizot. I find in my letters from Paris of the time, mention is

made of Lord Palmerston's graceful and flattering overtures to

M. Thiers. From that time forth Lord Palmerston's influence and

that of his Ambassador, Lord Normanby, were actively employed in

opposition to the King's Government; and the quarrel which broke

out in the following year may be traced back to this point.]]

[Sidenote: MR. GLADSTONE'S RESIGNATION.]

_January 30th._--Yesterday Lord Wharncliffe told me he had a secret to

tell me. This was Gladstone's resignation, which has been in agitation

nearly a year, ever since Peel gave notice that he would do a great

deal more for Irish education and improve Maynooth. Nor does Gladstone

really object to these measures; but he thinks that he has so deeply

and publicly committed himself by his books to the opposite principle

that he cannot without a great appearance of inconsistency be a party

to them.[89] His resignation, just after Stanley's removal to the

House of Lords, is a serious loss to the Government, and they have

endeavoured to repair it by means which appear very inadequate. Sidney

Herbert and Lord Lincoln come into the Cabinet, and Dalhousie becomes

President of the Board of Trade, not in the Cabinet. They proposed to

Sandon to be President of the Board; but he declined, I suppose not

thinking it worth while to vacate his seat at Lord Harrowby's age.

Sidney Herbert is a smart young fellow, but I remember no instance of

two men who had distinguished themselves so little in Parliament being

made Cabinet Ministers.[90] Herbert has done very neatly the little he

has done; Lincoln is a sensible man enough, but rather priggish and

solemn, with very little elasticity in him, and it appears a great

absurdity that the Commissioner of Woods should be in the Cabinet and

the President of the Board of Trade not, especially when there are no

reasons of personal distinction to account for such an incongruity.

But they mean to get Knatchbull out as soon as they can, and then to

bring in Dalhousie; meanwhile no Government ever was weaker in point

of speakers in the House of Commons, nor was there ever a Cabinet in

my recollection so staffed with mediocrity. They have lost Stanley,

Gladstone, and Follett, and the whole weight will fall on Peel and

Graham. It remains to be seen what Sidney Herbert and Cardwell can

do. In the Cabinet there are fifteen men (much too numerous), of whom

four able, Peel, Graham, Stanley, and the Chancellor. The Duke must be

considered as a man by himself, always great, _clarum et venerabile

nomen_; and then comes a mass of mediocrity and rubbish--some men

fair, sensible, and competent for the routine of business, not

brilliant, but respectable; and some very ordinary, and admitted

Heaven knows why into the Cabinet.[91] Buccleuch, Knatchbull, and

Lincoln[92] are more than useless; Wharncliffe, Aberdeen, Haddington,

and Goulburn respectable, the latter a very good man of business;

Granville Somerset, hard-headed, narrow-minded, and better adapted to

the second rank than the first; Ripon always inefficient when wanted.

The reason assigned for putting Lincoln in the Cabinet was that they

could not put in Sidney Herbert without putting him in also, which

seems a very bad one.

[Sidenote: CHANGES IN THE CABINET.]

It was this impending resignation of Gladstone, and the reason for it,

which made them wish to suppress my book. They foresaw it would make a

stir, as no doubt it will, and they dreaded any fresh ingredient being

cast into the cauldron. Wharncliffe asked me to let him see it now;

but I told him he had better not, as it would be better (in case Peel

did not like it) that he should be able to say he had not seen it, and

he acquiesced in this. I saw John Russell yesterday, who likes the

book, all but the compliment to Peel at the end. But he dislikes Peel,

and is hardly fair to him.

Guizot is again tossed up in the air to come down heads or tails. I

doubted his being safe, from the conversation Dedel told me he had

with the King before he left Paris, when His Majesty told him that

he hoped Guizot would be able to maintain himself, and if a _crise

ministérielle_ came he would prolong it as much as he could, but that

at all events he might tell his friends in England that no change that

could occur would make the least difference in the relations of the

two countries.

[Footnote 89: [The Maynooth endowment had been proposed to the

Cabinet by Peel a year before, and postponed out of deference to

Mr. Gladstone's scruples. It was this circumstance, which was

unknown to Mr. Greville, that rendered the publication of his views

on Irish endowments so critical at that time.]]

[Footnote 90: [Sidney Herbert, second son of the eleventh Earl of

Pembroke, by his marriage with Catherine Countess Woronzow; born

September 16th, 1810; who, after a brilliant political career in

the House of Commons, was created, in January 1861, Lord Herbert of

Lea, but died in August of the same year.

Henry Pelham-Clinton, afterwards fifth Duke of Newcastle; born May

22nd, 1811; died October 18th, 1864.

These two eminent and accomplished statesmen were the most

illustrious followers of Sir Robert Peel. They belonged to that

remarkable circle of Oxford men which gave the country Lord Elgin,

Lord Canning, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Cardwell--all originally members

of the Tory party, but who all became Liberal Ministers. Most of

them unhappily died young, but not before they had done enough to

be remembered with honour in the annals of England.]]

[Footnote 91: [Mr. Greville acknowledges that these disparaging

remarks were precipitate and unjust. Sir Robert Peel's Cabinet was

by no means a weak one, and though he exercised in it a paramount

influence, he was always desirous to bring forward as much as

possible the statesmen of the future. Dalhousie, Lincoln, Sidney

Herbert, Cardwell, and Elgin were his political progeny.]]

[Footnote 92: Lincoln has turned out worth a dozen Sidney Herberts,

and is the most rising man we have. So much for hasty judgements on

untried or half-tried men.--C.C.G., January 1848.]

_February 4th._--I attended yesterday the Council for the Queen's

Speech; the new Cabinet Ministers were there, Sidney Herbert and

Lincoln. There is general disapprobation of the arrangements, the

Ministers wondering how the information of Gladstone's resignation

reached the 'Times' and became known,[93] and all suspecting and

accusing each other. It appears, however, that Gladstone wrote word of

it to his brother-in-law, who read his letter out to sixteen people,

and that is enough to explain it.

At the Council Graham and I had some talk about my book. He said he

had heard it was very strong, and after some hesitation gave Charles

Buller as the person _he had heard_ had said so; he said Peel and the

Duke would dislike any allusion to the whole history; let it be done

as it might, it must be unpalateable to them.

My brother came from Paris yesterday charged by Madame de Lieven

to entreat that nothing might be said in the Queen's Speech or in

Parliament to injure Guizot, whose fate depends materially on this.

All they fear is that Peel may say something; and all they want is

that we should not claim anything like a triumph over them, but that

we should acknowledge a perfect equality. I went to Aberdeen and

told him. He said Peel would say all he could, but could not do the

impossible; he had seen St. Aulaire; that nobody in England was so

anxious as himself to keep Guizot in, more so than Peel; but that if

they were so anxious about what we said they should be more cautious

what they said themselves, and when Guizot said that we had recalled

Pritchard at their desire we _must_ deny this to be true. However,

he thought that Peel would be able (even if attacked by Palmerston)

to explain the matter with safety to Guizot. Both Governments are

aware of the intrigues of Thiers and Palmerston, and that they have

coalesced to do all the injury they can to both. Thiers, indeed,

cannot do much towards helping Palmerston into office again, but

Palmerston may do a great deal towards helping Thiers. Madame de

Lieven wanted Guizot to resign, and for two days he was himself

inclined to do so. She thought if he did that he would come back very

soon, and stronger than ever.

[Footnote 93: [The _Times_ newspaper announced Mr. Gladstone's

resignation on the following morning, the fact having been

mentioned by one of the Ministers, and indeed by Mr. Gladstone

himself.]]

_February 6th._--On Tuesday night, for the first time for some years,

I went to the House of Commons, principally to hear Gladstone's

explanation. John Russell called on me in the morning and told me that

he and Palmerston had talked over French politics, and were both of

one mind, and both disposed to say nothing offensive or hostile to

France or to Guizot. Lord John spoke, but not at all well, in a bad

spirit, taunting and raking up all subjects of bitterness, accusing

the Government of inconsistency, without much reason, and not very

wisely or fairly, and casting in their teeth expressions which he

had culled out of old files of the 'Times.' His speech disappointed

me, but it afforded Peel an opportunity of which he availed himself

remarkably well, and his retort gave him all the advantage of the

night. What he said of France was perfect, excellent in tone and

manner, all that Guizot could require, without being at all servile or

even accommodating. Gladstone's explanation was ludicrous. Everybody

said that he had only succeeded in showing that his resignation was

quite uncalled for.

[Sidenote: MR. GLADSTONE'S EXPLANATION.]

Peel put an end to any mystery about his measures, and stated in

general terms all he intended to do. The Government, however, expect a

good deal of opposition and excitement from the religious part of the

community, Dissenters and Scotch. Ashley has put himself at the head

of the Low Church party, and will make a great clatter. Sandon did not

dare accept the Board of Trade and seat in the Cabinet, for fear of

disgusting the Liverpool Protestants. Such is the fear that men have

of avowing their real sentiments on these delicate questions. Neither

Gladstone nor Sandon have really any objection to the Government

measures; were they unfettered and uncompromised they would support

and defend them. As it is, they do not dare do so, and thus they

mislead others. They overlook the undoubted fact that inferences will

be drawn by others as to their opinions the reverse of the truth,

and that those inferences have a material influence upon the conduct

of those who draw them. Peel told Gladstone beforehand that his

explanation would be considered quite insufficient to account for his

conduct. However, in his speech he lavished praise and regrets upon

him in a tone quite affectionate. He was in a very laudatory vein,

for he complimented the mover and seconder (Frank Charteris and Tom

Baring) with unusual warmth.

_Hatchford, February 25th._--Here I am come to recruit my strength

after being confined for a fortnight with gout and fever, more than

usually severe. While I was laid up, the Parliamentary campaign

proceeded very briskly: first, with Peel's financial statement in a

very able speech, more than three hours long, which was much admired

for its clearness and force. His financial reforms are considered

very bold and skilful, but the Tories hail them with anything but

satisfaction, though they are too crestfallen to resist, or even to

murmur, except an odd agriculturist here and there. Everybody regards

this measure as a great wedge thrust in, and as the forerunner of

still more extensive changes, and above all that the income tax is to

be permanent. After this came Tom Duncombe[94] and his attack on the

Post Office, three nights' debate, some clever speeches, a very good

one from Sidney Herbert, which was a capital thing for the Government,

and very promising for his future success. The whole Opposition

rallied round an amendment of Howick's, and fought a pitched battle

on the question of a fresh Committee to enquire into the supposed

opening of Tommy's letters in 1842. My Whig friends behaved as ill as

they could, and all out of spite to Graham, and because they could not

resist seizing the opportunity of flinging dirt upon the Government.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF SYDNEY SMITH.]

All this they did, well knowing, and not pretending to deny, that

Graham had done nothing but what every other Secretary of State

without exception had done, and though the Committee had fully

absolved him of any blame in the execution of his office; still

they endeavoured to pick holes, and by dint of insinuations and

imputations, and torturing any circumstance they could find into

something like a charge, to excite prejudice and raise or prolong

clamour. The Whig members of the Post Office Committee bore their

testimony fairly, and Ward, the Radical member for Sheffield, had the

honesty and candour to denounce the scandalous set that was made at

Graham, and to speak out in the language of truth and justice. Both

John Russell and Howick behaved very shabbily, but Palmerston took no

part in the debate. I don't think the question was fully argued on the

Government side, and the most simple and obvious answer given and

pressed with all the force it might have been.

Yesterday we heard of the death of Sydney Smith, which took place on

Sunday. His case had for some time been hopeless, and it was merely a

question how long he could be kept alive by the remedies applied to

stop the water on his chest. It is the extinction of a great luminary,

such as we shall hardly see the like of again, and who has reigned

without a rival in wit and humour for a great length of time. It is

almost impossible to overrate his wit, humour, and drollery, or their

effect in society. Innumerable comical sayings and jokes of his are or

have been current, but their repetition gives but an imperfect idea

of the flavour and zest of the original. His appearance, voice, and

manner added immensely to the effect, and the bursting and uproarious

merriment with which he poured forth his good things, never failed

to communicate itself to his audience, who were always in fits of

laughter. If there was a fault in it, it was that it was too amusing.

People so entirely expected to be made to die of laughing, and he

was so aware of this, that there never seemed to be any question of

conversation when he was of the party, or at least no more than just

to afford Sydney pegs to hang his jokes on. This is the misfortune of

all great professed wits, and I have very little doubt that Sydney

often felt oppressed with the weight of his comical obligations, and

came on the stage like a great actor, forced to exert himself, but

not always in the vein to play his part. It is well known that he was

subject at home to frequent fits of depression, but I believe in his

own house in the country he could often be a very agreeable companion,

on a lower and less ambitious level, for his talk never could be

otherwise than seasoned with his rich vein of humour and wit, as the

current, though it did not always flow with the same force, was never

dry. He was full of varied information, and a liberal, kind-hearted,

charitable man. The favourite objects of his jokes were the men of

his own cloth, especially the bishops, among whom he once probably

aspired to sit. I do not suppose he had any dogmatic and doctrinal

opinions in respect to religion, and that in his heart of hearts he

despised and derided all that the world wrangles and squabbles about;

but he had the true religion of benevolence and charity, of peace and

goodwill to mankind, which, let us hope (as I firmly believe) to be

all-sufficient, be the truth of the great mystery what it may.

[Footnote 94: [On February 19th Mr. Thomas Duncombe moved for the

appointment of another Select Committee to enquire into the alleged

opening of his own letters at the Post Office; but the House was

tired of the subject, and the motion was defeated.]]

_March 15th._--At last I have settled my difficulties, and my book is

coming out. Finding the Government measures could not be introduced

before Easter, I wrote to Graham to ask if they wanted it kept back

any longer. His answer determined me to seek an interview with him.

I saw him, talked the matter over, and found that they would not

much object, if I did not put my name to the work. I agreed to this

at once, and without the least hesitation. He then said, 'Oh, then I

see no reason why you should not publish as soon as you please, and

the sooner the better. Don't quote me, or say you have authority from

me; but as your friend I tell you, I advise you now to publish it.'

He gave me to understand that the Duke of Wellington was one of the

persons who would have most resented the publication _with my name_;

but he considered its appearance without my name as a very different

matter, which removed all objections. So now it will come out, and I

must abide the result, criticisms and resentments. It has bothered and

perplexed me much, and I am glad to be delivered of the burthen.

A few days only after Sydney Smith's death, Bobus Smith died also,

two remarkable brothers. Bobus was perhaps more agreeable and more

cultivated than Sydney, though without his exuberant wit and drollery;

still he had great _finesse d'esprit_, and was very amusing, but in

a quieter and less ambitious style. He was a fine scholar and great

reader, latterly reading seldom modern books, but living with his old

favourites. He was a year older than Sydney.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF MISS FOX.]

The day before yesterday Miss Fox died, a most amiable woman, with

excellent abilities; but she really died six months ago, when she was

attacked by paralysis at Bowood. Thus are dropping off the yellow

leaves of that great tree which adorned Holland House, and so long

afforded shelter to the crowd of all that was eminent and attractive

in political, literary, and social life which gathered under its

branches. What an interesting biography would the life of Holland

House be for half a century; but hardly anybody is now left alive

who could write it; and Macaulay, whose genius is alone capable of

illustrating the subject, came too late into the circle to have

sufficient personal knowledge of those who shone at the earliest part

of the period.

_March 29th._--I went on Monday to Althorp, and was very well amused

among the pictures and books, though as there are 50,000 volumes of

the latter, it was only possible to look at the outside of them, and

here and there examine some remarkable book or fine edition. They are

kept in admirable condition, and the present Lord, without being a

bibliomaniac like his father, keeps the collection up, and buys from

time to time anything in the market that may be necessary to complete

it. The portraits are numerous, curious, and interesting. While there

I received a letter from Graham, in which he told me that he had read

the greater part of my book, and could find nothing to which anybody

could take any just exception. This was a great relief to my mind, and

now I don't care who likes or dislikes it. I continue to receive from

my Whig friends many expressions of approbation, very obliging and

gratifying; yesterday from Macaulay. I told him I was afraid of his

reading it, for fear of his detecting blunders in it; but he said not

at all, and that he was in fact more ignorant of Irish history than he

ought to be, and had got information from it.

_March 30th._--The effect which my book has produced is now beginning

to appear, and, as far as it has gone, it amounts to this. With

the Whigs of all descriptions its success is complete; I receive

compliments and felicitations on all sides; I could not have

desired, and certainly I did not expect, such complete success; so

far from it, that all the time I was writing it I was doubting if

it ever would be worth publishing. With the Tories, as far as I can

ascertain, it is far different; they are to the last degree angry

and indignant; and as these little details and records of personal

opinions become curious and interesting by the lapse of time and the

change of circumstances and opinions, I will note down what I hear.

Then moderate men, not belonging to any party, and men of sense and

capacity have approved, which is, of course, very satisfactory to

me; in this category Stephen, his brother-in-law Mr. Dicey, Senior

(though he is a Whig), George Lewis, Amyot. Lord Clare, a Conservative

and Irishman, has written me a letter, in which he thanks me for the

good he thinks the book will do. Alvanley, on the other hand, has

written me a criticism full of disapprobation, but not a good or

clever letter, nor, critically, worth anything. I should have expected

a better written letter, and objections more acutely raised and more

ably put from him, but he only affords a proof that men who may be

brimful of drollery, and able to keep the table in a roar from morning

to night, may be utterly unfit to handle serious subjects when their

reasoning faculties bear no proportion to their imaginative. I had

expected greater concurrence of opinion in Alvanley, who a little

while ago wrote a pamphlet on the same subject and with the same

object. When _he_ takes the objection that he does, it is no wonder

that the foolish Tory mob fall on me tooth and nail. Accordingly I

heard yesterday that Lady Jersey refused to read 'such a blackguard

book.' She said so to Bessborough, who told me, and Cecil Forester

would not read it, because Lady Jersey told him it was 'abominable.'

[Sidenote: THE MAYNOOTH GRANT.]

_April 5th._--Peel brought on his Maynooth Bill on Thursday

night.[95] Strong symptoms had already appeared of opposition brewing

in different parts of the country, and there was a good deal of

ill-humour here. He made an excellent and judicious speech, and had

a majority of 102, but a queer one, for above 100 of his own people

voted against him, and above 100 of the Whigs with him. Without them

the division would have been nearly even. The Carlton Club was in a

state of insurrection afterwards and full of sound and fury. Sandon

made a strong bold speech; with him in the minority were Inglis, and

the zealots, of course--Hastie and some of the Scotch, Tom Duncombe,

Disraeli--a motley combination. It is a very odd state of things, and

may be productive of great events before long. The disgust of the

Conservatives and their hatred of Peel keep swelling every day, and

what the Ministers expect is, that on some occasion or other they

will play Peel a trick, stay away, and leave him to be beaten on some

trumpery question. Indeed it is not impossible that they may become

reckless, and grow to think that it does not signify to them whether

_he_ is in power or the Whigs, and that they have as much to fear from

the one as from the other. Some people in office did not vote on this

occasion--for instance, Granby and Meynell.[96]

[Footnote 95: [On April 3rd Sir Robert Peel brought in a

Bill for granting 30,000_l._ a year to the Roman Catholic

College of Maynooth. The measure was fiercely combated by the

ultra-Protestants, and long remained to be a bone of contention.]]

[Footnote 96: [It was in the course of this Session that Mr.

Disraeli began his violent and sarcastic attacks on Sir Robert

Peel, which assumed a tone of intense personal hostility.]]

_April 6th._--Everybody is talking of the great stir that is making

in the country against the Maynooth grant and the large increase to

Peel's unpopularity which it has produced. Some even fancy that he

will have difficulty in carrying the measure through, but I incline

to think the difficulty indoors and the excitement without are both

overrated, and certainly will not be enough to arrest the progress

of the measure; but that it disgusts the Tory party and creates

fresh sources of dislike and disunion between the great body of the

Conservatives and the Government is indubitable, and Peel and his

colleagues are so well aware of this, that they think something

must, before long, occur to break up the Government. Wharncliffe

told me Peel was quite sensible of this danger, and that he himself

had for above a year been likewise sensible of it, and he showed me

a paper which he drew up last year on the situation and prospects

of the Government, which is very sensible and very true. It was to

the effect that they could not possibly go on much longer, as they

clearly had not the confidence of the mass of those who were called

their supporters; that they were placed in a false position, and

that their measures appeared to be more suitable to the principles

of their opponents than to those of their own party; that in all the

great questions--agricultural, fiscal, educational, and Irish--this

was evidently the case, and that on all of them the Tories or

Conservatives were years behind their leaders. The truth is that the

Government is Peel, that Peel is a reformer and more of a Whig than

a Tory, and that the mass of his followers are prejudiced, ignorant,

obstinate, and selfish. In his speech the other night he certainly

said nothing calculated to coax or soothe his angry people, and still

less did he utter a word about finality, or give out that this was

to be the limit of concession; and everybody is now beginning to see

that this beginning of endowment must lead to still larger measures,

and eventually to the complete establishment of the Roman Catholic

Church; in short (as I hope and believe) to the measures which my book

contemplates and recommends.

A meeting has just taken place at Paris between Guizot and Thiers,

of a very amicable nature. It was Thiers who sought it. He called

on Madame de Lieven (whom he had latterly left off visiting) before

the time he knew Guizot always came, and then said, 'I suppose I had

better go away now.' She said, 'Oh no, why should you?' So he stayed.

Guizot arrived, and the conversation very appropriately began about

Thiers's History, which Guizot praised very highly; and then they

got upon politics, and had a conversation of two hours. Thiers said

his book would occupy him for a year or more, and he did not want to

come into office, besides he was ten years younger than Guizot, and

could afford to wait. He ridiculed the idea of Molé, who, it seems,

is gone into the country, having retired from the field. This is a

very curious scene between these two rival chiefs, and, at all events,

will probably serve to keep Guizot on his legs for some time longer.

Lady Clanricarde told me yesterday that there was no premeditation

in this interview, and that Thiers came at an hour when he thought

Guizot would not be there. There was surprise and embarrassment at

first, then Madame de Lieven laughed, so did the rival statesmen, and

they got soon into talk on politics. Guizot told Thiers, in clever

phraseology, that he (Thiers) had thrown Molé between his (Guizot's)

legs, but that he, Guizot, had done Thiers better service, for he had

disembarrassed him of Molé, and now nobody but Thiers himself could

succeed him (Guizot).

[Sidenote: MACAULAY'S SPEECH ON MAYNOOTH.]

_April 22nd._--I was at Newmarket all last week, while the Maynooth

debate was going on. The steam had been getting up in the country, and

the table of the House of Commons was loaded with petitions against

the Bill from all parts. The 'Times' newspaper kept pegging away

at Peel in a series of articles as mischievous as malignity could

make them, and by far the most disgraceful that ever appeared on a

political subject in any public journal; the ultra-Tories grew more

and more rabid, and Disraeli made one of his bitterest attacks on

Peel, which was loudly cheered in the House, and well bepraised out of

it by Whig and Tory papers and all the haters of Peel, who now compose

a large majority of the world. Then came the speech of Macaulay, which

was very fine, and ended also with a severe, but grave and dignified

philippic against Peel. This too was hailed with much satisfaction by

the same persons, but it was reprobated and deplored by moderate men,

who thought this was not the time nor the occasion for throwing stones

at Peel, nor for reproaching him, even though the reproaches might

be justifiable and true. Such was the opinion of Lord Spencer and of

the Duke of Bedford, with the former of whom I had much conversation

last week at Newmarket. He highly disapproved of Macaulay's speech. On

the last night John Russell and Peel spoke. The former made a speech

which has excited universal admiration and applause. It was perfect,

not for its eloquence or any remarkable display of ability, but for

its tone, temper, discretion, and propriety. It was exactly what it

ought to have been, neither more nor less; it was calculated to do

good, and it has raised him immensely in public estimation. Peel's

speech, which was looked for with great curiosity and expectation,

disappointed most people, and by the generality was considered low in

tone, and imprudent in its admissions. But there was much in it that

was judicious. He declined noticing any of the attacks on himself, and

with much gravity and seriousness urged the necessity of passing the

measure; but he alluded to America as if a quarrel was really to be

apprehended, and he spoke of the disposition of Ireland, in reference

to such a contingency in a tone which everybody said was a recognition

of the truth of what O'Connell had so recently said in his very clever

and ingenious speech at Dublin. Peel's speech too was considered as

clearly indicative of a consciousness that his party was broken up,

and the termination of his tenure of office approaching. The division

gave him a better majority than was expected (147). I came to town

on Friday, and on Saturday morning I saw Wharncliffe, and asked him

what he thought of it. He said it was a large majority, and so far

well, but that it made no difference in their position, and he did

not think they should be in office a month hence. There is in fact

all the excitement and expectation which usually precede events and

changes, and certainly the state of affairs never was more curious

and extraordinary than at present, nor more calculated to baffle and

perplex all speculation and conjecture. Everybody knows that the Tory

party has ceased to exist as a party; that Peel's unpopularity is at

this moment so great and so general that there is no knowing where to

find any interest friendly to him, scarcely any individual. On the

other hand, his disgust at the position in which he finds himself,

and at being thus made the object of so much obloquy and reproach,

is equally strong, and no one doubts that he really contemplates,

and anxiously desires resignation. But then what is to come next?

The Tories wish Peel out, the Whigs wish themselves in; but when

people, whatever their persuasion or desires, look at the condition

of affairs, no practicable arrangement, no safe alternative present

themselves. If Peel resigns, everybody asks who is to come in, and

how is the government to be carried on by the Whigs, if they return

to power? To this question nobody can give an answer, and the extreme

difficulty makes many think that there will be no change, and that

Peel, partly out of regard to the difficulty into which the country

would be plunged, and partly from consideration to those persons (of

both sides) who have placed themselves in great danger by supporting

him, will consent to remain. Then it is not impossible that when this

question is settled as it will be, and as no other question of equal

importance will probably arise, the malcontent Tories may again be

induced to support him, and their ill-humour and resentment may in

some degree subside. But the prospect of a change is sufficiently near

and probable to induce the persons principally concerned to begin to

arrange their thoughts, and mature their plans of action.

[Sidenote: DIFFICULTIES OF THE GOVERNMENT.]

I asked Wharncliffe what they contemplated. He said, if Peel resigned,

the Queen would probably in the first instance consult Melbourne,

but he thought she would send for Lord Spencer. I told him I was

sure nothing would induce Lord Spencer to take office; but from a

conversation I have since had with the Duke of Bedford, I think

this is by no means so certain. He told me that Lord John wrote him

word last week, that if any change occurred, and he was applied

to, he should want him and Lord Spencer to come up to town to talk

matters over with him. And the Duke had accordingly a great deal of

conversation with Lord Spencer, who said that nothing but a sense of

duty so strong and imperative as to amount to a religious obligation,

as well as a political necessity,[97] could induce him to take office.

This, however, was enough to prove that he might be induced to do so,

if the pressure was sufficiently strong. Lord Spencer, however, looks

to the possibility of a coalition, which the Duke of Bedford does not,

because he knows how difficult, if not impossible, this would be, with

Lord John's sentiments towards Peel. The Duke's notion is, that the

Whigs could not coalesce with Peel, but could not go on without his

support; and that before they attempted to form a Government, they

should make up their minds what they would do on the great questions

in agitation, lay their intentions before Peel, and ask him if he

would support them. This certainly presents the most eligible course,

but there is this difficulty in it: first, whether Peel would act with

sufficient candour and cordiality with them, and if he should be so

disposed, whether he could carry with him sufficient strength to make

them safe. I doubt whether the Whig leaders would ever feel complete

confidence in him.

[Footnote 97: He made use of a curiously strong expression, for he

said amounting to a question of _salvation_.]

_April 25th._--Macaulay made another magnificent speech the night

before last--a slashing attack on and exposure of the Irish

Church--very fine. Graham and Peel spoke, but both poorly. Ward's

motion was defeated by a large majority last night, and the Bill will

go more smoothly on; but the feeling grows stronger that great changes

are at hand, a breaking up of parties with changes of measures. Nobody

ventures to predict what will happen, or how it will happen, but all

are agreed that whether for good or evil, a good deal will happen out

of the ordinary course. The condemnation of Peel's speech last week is

general. His colleagues admit the imprudence and unbecomingness of his

allusion to Ireland and America. Lyndhurst told Clarendon the paper

dropped from his hands when he read it, and he could hardly believe

what he read.

[Sidenote: BIRKENHEAD.]

_May 10th._--These are my holidays--exclusively devoted to the turf,

passed in complete idleness, without ever looking into a book, or

doing one useful or profitable thing. I was at Newmarket all last

week, and I have been at Horton for Chester all this. One day I did

give up the races, and Stradbroke and I went over to Birkenhead,

meaning to see that place and then cross over to Liverpool, and make a

day of sight-seeing, but we found enough at Birkenhead to occupy the

whole day. A very obliging person, a Mr. Jackson, one of two brothers,

who are great men there, and the principal agents in promoting the

greatness and prosperity of this rising town, did us the honours

and took us all about. It certainly is a very astonishing creation,

and most interesting to see the growing and youthful state of a

town, which in a few years will probably be a vast city. The present

managers of this thriving concern are projecting establishments and

expending vast sums of money on various works, with an undoubting

confidence that the town will go on in an increase corresponding

to the magnitude of their plans. Not many years ago the ground was

an unprofitable marsh. They showed us a small white house, which

was the first that was built, and which stood alone for some time.

The property belonged to a Mr. Price, and when first the notion of

speculating in building there occurred to the late Mr. Laird (I think

it was), and a negotiation took place for the purchase of land,

50,000_l._ was the sum offered Mr. Price for his property. Not long

after he was offered 100,000_l._, and this time a bargain was nearly

completed, and the only difference between the parties was whether

it should be pounds or guineas. Luckily for Mr. Price it went off

upon this, and such was the rapid increase in the value of the land,

that he has since sold it for considerably above a million. We went

to see the pier and the place where the docks are to be; then to Mr.

Laird's ship-building establishment, and saw the iron steam frigate

they are building; then to the park, and then to the new market-place.

Everything is well done, and no expense spared. The present population

is 16,000, but they are building in every direction. I know little

or nothing about politics for some time past. The last divisions on

Maynooth in the Commons, and on the Welsh Bishoprics in the Lords,

have been serviceable to the Government. There is a sort of lull for

the present after so much excitement, and no immediate danger of any

change.

_Ghent, June 16th._--More than a month and not a line. The truth is,

that I was so absorbed with the Derby and the speculations I was

concerned in so deeply, that I could not think of or look at politics

at all, and now I must leave everything a blank, for I can't go

backwards and write about the current events of the last month. All

London was engaged for some weeks with the Queen's ball, and could

think of nothing else, all the elderly folks of both sexes dressing

themselves up and learning to dance minuets.[98] There was nothing but

practising going on at one house after another. At last the eventful

night arrived, and everybody said it was a very brilliant and amusing

sight. Brougham was not asked, and was furious. He flared up in the

House of Lords and twitted Prince Albert _à propos_ of Barry and the

Houses of Parliament, so they shortly after asked him to dinner to

appease him. The Government seems gradually to have got itself firmly

seated in the saddle again; all notion of change has vanished. With

all Peel's unpopularity and the abuse that is showered on him from

various quarters, there is an admission, tacit or express, that he is

the fittest and the only man to be Minister. I met him at Ascot, and

he was very civil and cordial; it was the first time since my book

came out. His newspaper (the 'Morning Herald') attacked me in very

bitter terms; the 'Morning Post' more civilly; the 'Times' was very

complimentary, but made a feint attack on me for the sake of making a

real one on Peel.

I have had terrible misfortunes on the turf and sad disappointment.

'Alarm'[99] was jumped upon at the post by 'Libel;' Nat dragged off

the saddle and tumbled off the horse; the horse ran away, fell head

over heels over the chains, cut and bruised himself dreadfully.

After running away half a mile, the horse was caught, and in this

state--cut, battered, frightened, and blown, and jockey with only one

hand--he ran, and ran very well. I believe he would have won if this

had not happened, and I should have won 20,000_l._ Misfortunes never

come singly, and the Oaks, in a smaller way, was nearly as bad as the

Derby. 'Lady Wildair' ought to have won.

[Sidenote: WIESBADEN.]

At last I escaped from racing and politics, and, on Saturday evening,

left London by the mail train, arrived at Dover at half-past twelve,

crossed at four, and reached Ostend at a quarter-past nine, came on to

Bruges at twelve, passed the day there, and this day up to a quarter

to four, when I came by rail to this place; spent yesterday and to-day

in seeing Bruges and Ghent, and whatever is best worth visiting in

both, and a good deal there is of one sort or another; but I am too

sleepy now to go on with the subject.

[Footnote 98: [The Queen gave a fancy ball on June 6th, at which

all the persons invited appeared in costumes of the time of George

II.]]

[Footnote 99: [Mr. Greville's horse 'Alarm' was first favourite

for the Derby, and but for this accident would probably have won

the race. It was a painful scene, when the horse was seen rushing

wildly, without his rider, across the Downs. Mr. Greville never won

the Derby.]]

_Wiesbaden, June 22nd._--Bruges and Ghent are both fine old towns,

particularly the latter, containing many ancient and curious

buildings, and Ghent some very fine modern ones, particularly the

new Palais de Justice and the theatre, which, with its saloons, is

the most magnificent _salle de spectacle_ I ever saw. But the most

remarkable objects are the pictures of Van Eyck and Memling, the merit

of which nobody knows who does not go there to look at them. The

finest are those by the former master in the hospital of St. John,

but there are a great many of both masters at both places. From Ghent

I came to Cologne, thence to Coblentz, and then here on Thursday

last, this being Sunday. The Rhine, which disappointed me the first

time, appeared to the last degree tiresome, and a more languid and

uninteresting journey I never made. There is nobody here I know, and

I am bored to death. If I were not ashamed, I would throw myself into

the steamboat and go home directly. In my whole life I never felt such

a painful sensation of solitariness as here, from morning to night

having nobody to speak to, and nothing on earth to do. It weighs on my

spirits intolerably; the books I read--and I can do nothing else--only

half amuse and instruct me; I breathe an atmosphere of languor and

sadness. It is only a case of great necessity which can compel one to

go through this. I did not know what it was, or I never would have

come here, and I am in a hundred minds whether I shall not cut it at

once.

_London, August 7th._--From the last date at Wiesbaden I never could

bring myself to take up my pen to the present moment. The task of

writing in this book has become intolerably irksome. At Wiesbaden I

had nothing whatever to record; one day told another; no society, no

events, and I have an invincible repugnance to converse with myself on

paper. Still, though reluctant to go on with this MS. (for journal it

is not, and memoirs still less), I am likewise reluctant entirely to

abandon a habit of so many years' standing, and thus from time to time

I force myself to resume my entries, though languidly, dully, and with

a conviction that the pages I write never can be worth reading. This

acknowledgement, fully and sincerely made, must be taken once for all

as an excuse by any one who may hereafter look into this book; and to

the observation they will not fail to make, 'What vapid, useless stuff

all this is,' they may consider my voice as replying from the grave,

'I know it is.'

After this exordium I resume where I left off. I was in great disgust

at Wiesbaden the first days of my abode there, but I soon fell into

the way of life, and made up my mind to it more easily and more

completely than I ever expected to do. This was, in fact, rendered

more easy by the growing disinclination which is creeping over me for

society, and the almost dread and dislike I feel more and more every

day for conversation--in fact, I feel utterly incompetent to sustain a

part in conversation, and a sense of this inability, and a conviction

that it must be as apparent to others as it is to myself, weighs me

down, destroys my animal spirits, and turns into reality that which

might possibly at first be in great measure the result of a morbid

fancy. Be it, however, caused by the one or the other, it is now with

me a disease, and one which must and will in the end incapacitate

me for social intercourse.[100] One great cause is undoubtedly my

deafness, which prevents my hearing what passes around me, makes

me slow of apprehension, and is productive of both melancholy and

embarrassment. However, to return to my history.

[Sidenote: EMS AND ANTWERP.]

I remained at Wiesbaden till the latter end of July, making no

acquaintance, and doing nothing but read such books as I got

from Frankfort, going nowhere. The only excursion that I made

was to the Château de Herrenheim, near Worms, where I found the

Duchesse Dalberg, Lady Leveson, the Mariscalchis, and the D'Arcos.

A comfortable house in a wretched country. I went to see Worms, a

decayed old town, full of historical recollections, and I gazed at the

great tree under which, according to tradition, Luther took shelter

on his way to the Diet. From Wiesbaden I went to Ems for two nights,

which was as full as Wiesbaden was empty. There I saw the old Elector

of Hesse gambling on a great scale, and was presented to the Princess

of Orange,[101] an intelligent woman. At Ems I met Francis and my

sister,[102] who entered the place like pilgrims rather than like

millionary aristocrats. They came over the mountains from Coblentz,

she mounted on a sorry jade of a horse, the two girls on donkeys,

Francis stoutly walking by their side, and all dressed in rough and

inelegant habiliments, suited to work and not to show. From Ems I came

on to Malines, when I diverged to Antwerp, and spent half a day there

looking at the pictures, and was well repaid. The fine works of Rubens

in the Cathedral are in such a bad light that it is difficult to see

them satisfactorily, but the pictures in the Museum are very grand;

crossed the water in one of the old boats, eight hours, and arrived in

town on Tuesday morning, July 22.

The Monday after I went to Goodwood, where we had the usual party,

with the addition of the King of the Netherlands, who was in high

glee, and full of enjoyment with his old friends, his cordial

reception here, and the gaieties with which he has been saluted on all

sides. On coming back to town I found Madame de Lieven arrived, and

had a talk with her about politics and what not. She gave me the real

account of the interview between Thiers and Guizot at her house, which

was not exactly as I had heard it. She sent for Thiers, to speak to

him about some mention he had made of the Empress Dowager of Russia

in his history, which was unfair and inexact. He came, and then she

ordered her doors to be closed to everybody while he was there. He

asked why she did so, and why Guizot, who was always let in, should be

excluded. She said it was on his account. He repeated, 'Why, as he did

not object.' After some talk, she said, 'If you really wish it, I will

withdraw my order.' He said he saw no reason why she should retain

it. She then desired him to ring the bell, and said, 'I am at home

to nobody but M. Guizot.' Presently Guizot came, not knowing Thiers

was there. He started with amazement; she burst out laughing; Thiers

laughed; Guizot laughed too. This hilarity ended, she told Guizot for

what object she had sent for Thiers, and then they talked over the

book, and the subject of the meeting. This ended, there was a pause,

when she said to Thiers, 'I have had a message to carry to you from

M. Guizot. He says he has behaved better to you than you have done to

him, for you threw M. Molé between his legs, and he has disembarrassed

you of M. Molé, and now there are only two political possibilities

left, You and Himself.' Guizot said, 'Yes, it is true; I begged the

Princess to say so.' They then began to talk politics, and discussed

persons and things, external and internal policy, peace and war,

all contingencies and probabilities. Thiers asked Guizot, 'Are you

determined to remain Minister?' He said, 'Decidedly yes.' Then they

discussed everything, and on every point were agreed, except on that

of peace and war; Guizot maintaining that peace might be preserved,

and Thiers insisting that in the long run it could not, and that

difference of opinion was what alone made them the representatives of

opposite principles, and influenced their conduct accordingly. She

says they talked over everything, very frankly, very civilly, and that

it was impossible for anything to be more interesting and more curious

than such a conversation between two such men, or more worth writing

down, if there had been a possibility of reporting it. She told me

Thiers' book was not thought much of in France, that the style was

criticised, and it was such a continual panegyric of Napoleon, as to

be rather an apology than a history.

[Footnote 100: This feeling is now ten times greater than it was

then. I had forgotten that I had it so long ago, and within the

last two years it is enormously and painfully increased (1854).]

[Footnote 101: [Afterwards Sophia, Queen of Holland, one of the

most accomplished and agreeable women of her age.]]

[Footnote 102: [Lord and Lady Francis Egerton, afterwards Earl and

Countess of Ellesmere.]]

[Sidenote: LORD MELBOURNE'S CONVERSATION.]

_Broadlands, August 21st._--I went last Saturday week to the Grove;

very pleasant party. Palmerstons, Lady Morley, Lady Holland, Macaulay,

Bessborough, Luttrell, Henry Bulwer. Macaulay subdued in talk, but

still talking more and better than anybody else. Came here on Monday,

Lady Holland, Clanricardes, Luttrell, Melbourne, Beauvales. Melbourne

by way of being very well, but there are only gleams left of his

former self. He seems to bear on his face a perpetual consciousness

of his glory obscured, and looks grave and stern, while he sits for

hours in silence. At times he talks in the way he used, but though

in the same strain, more feebly; always candid as usual. In talking

over the Post Office affairs of this and last year, and the attacks on

Graham, he said that he remembered having signed warrants for opening

O'Connell's letters, and Freeling bringing him the warrants back, and

saying he thought the best thing to do with them was to thrust them

into the fire, which was done. He said they never found anything in

them; he then said that he had urged Normanby to open the King of

Hanover's letters, but that he never could get him to do it; he was

afraid. A curious avowal to make. I believe if anybody could pass some

time with him, so as to put him quite at his ease, and then tap him on

one subject after another, they might get almost anything out of him,

and he would supply a fund of matter, historical and anecdotic, which

would be of the greatest value and interest.

I received yesterday a very gracious and obliging letter from Guizot

about my book. I sent it him when it came out, and he apologised for

not acknowledging and reading it before, on account of his illness

and his affairs. It is remarkable that every one of the Ministers has

preserved the same silence and reserve to me upon the subject. The few

of them I have occasionally seen have not said a word. Peel I fell in

with one day in the Park, and walked by his horse some time, but he

did not allude to it. Graham has avoided seeing me, but I have never

heard that any fault has been found, or any complaint made in any

quarter.

The Session of Parliament has ended, leaving Peel quite as powerful,

or more so, than he was at the beginning of it. Everybody says affairs

are in a strange state, but nobody foresees, and few seem to desire

any change. The world seems weary of what are called politics, there

is not a spark of party spirit visible. The Whigs see no prospect

of coming into office, or making a Government that would be able to

stand, and people will not make exertions and spend money without a

reasonable expectation of some tangible result. On the other hand,

everything like enthusiasm for Peel is extinguished; the Tories

hate, fear, but do not dare oppose him. If the Whigs cannot see any

alternative, the Tories can see still less: and odious as Peel's

conduct is to them, and alarming as his principles are, they still

think they are better off, and on the whole in less danger with him

than with any other Ministry that could be formed. He has completely

succeeded in getting the Court on his side, so that between the

support he gets from one side on account of his liberality, and

that which he continues to receive from the other on account of a

combination of motives, habit, fear, hope and patronage, he is in

fact, though very unpopular, still very powerful. Everybody expects

that he means to go on, and in the end to knock the Corn Laws on the

head,[103] and endow the Roman Catholic Church; but nobody knows

how or when he will do these things. He in the meantime proceeds

with extreme caution and reserve, and to some his conduct appears

the height of prudence, and the exercise of a sound discretion;

while others regard it as pusillanimous and impolitic, and that in

holding back so long as he does, he is committing the old error of

delaying till the moment passes away when concession can be beneficial

and effectual. It is clear that his object is to do everything

gradually, if possible to reconcile his own reluctant friends to his

changes, and draw them along with him, partly by reason and partly

by influence, so that he may still find himself at the end of each

successive stage with his party unbroken, and his power unshaken.

He probably believes sincerely that great good will ensue from his

measures, and that if he can avoid a quarrel and a break-up, the

manifestation, clear and indubitable, of the good effects he has

produced will reconcile those whom no reasoning can reconcile or

propitiate beforehand. He therefore endeavours to combine his two

objects, and it is certainly by a profound calculation, be it wise

or not, that he is acting and temporising as he does. Nobody perhaps

represents so correctly the state of public opinion, which is itself

unsettled, and in a state of transition.

[Sidenote: INDIFFERENCE TO POLITICS.]

I have said that what are called politics are out of fashion; there

is no public man a jot more popular than another; nobody cares about

parties, for there is no party distinguished by any peculiar badge

of principle, with a distinct colour, and standing in open and

defined antagonism to any other; none which has any great object to

advance--constitutional, political, or commercial--in opposition to

another party ranged against it. All is confusion, intermingling of

principles and opinions, political rivalry and personal antipathy,

the working of which produces, from time to time, something brisk and

exciting, and a good deal of clever speaking and writing, interesting

enough to the immediate actors, but which the mass of the country

does not care a straw about. The world is absorbed by its material

interests, railroads, and speculation in its multiform aspect, and

it is in vain that John Russell reviews the session and delivers

philippics against Peel; still more in vain that Palmerston harangues

upon the Right of Search, Texas, Greece, or Spain, and endeavours

to rouse the public indignation or contempt against Aberdeen and

his foreign policy. It all falls dead and flat, and nobody takes

the slightest interest in orations, though they are prepared with

indefatigable industry and delivered with extraordinary skill.

[Footnote 103: Thus coming events cast their shadows before.

Peel says: 'I had adopted at an early period of my public life,

_without, I fear, much serious reflexion_, the opinions generally

prevalent at this time among men of all parties as to the justice

and necessity of protection to British agriculture....'--_Memoirs_,

p. 98. 'Between the passing of the Corn Bill in 1842 and the close

of the Session in 1845 the opinions I had previously entertained

had undergone a great change.'...(101).]

_London, August 28th._--I came from Broadlands last Saturday; went

to see Lord Granville at Roehampton; to Hinchinbrook on Monday, and

returned yesterday. I had no conversation with Melbourne himself at

Broadlands, who was generally taciturn, but Frederic Lamb told me

Melbourne was dissatisfied because they had not appointed a Regency

when the Queen went abroad, and fancied if they had explained to

her the necessity or propriety of it, she would not have objected.

Melbourne never can speak of the Queen without tears coming into his

eyes; he is, however, in a very nervous, lachrymose state. I met him

at dinner yesterday, and he said that the Queen had a regard for Lady

Conyngham, and felt grateful to her for her conduct to her mother and

herself in George IV.'s time. It was through her influence that they

were invited to his Court, and that any civilities were shown them.

_August 30th._--I was just setting off to Tottenham Park yesterday,

when Graham sent for me. It was about the affair of the Guernsey

duties, concerning which the Government have got into a scrape.

The whole revenue of the island is derived from a duty on wine and

spirits, which is imposed by an Act of the States, confirmed by an

Order in Council, and it is imposed for a year more or less, and from

time to time continued by subsequent Acts and Orders. The last Act

expires the day after to-morrow. The Queen is in Germany, and there is

no power to renew it by Order in Council till she returns. The people

in Guernsey are aware of the blot, and intend to avail themselves of

it to introduce spirits duty free. In this dilemma Graham sent for me,

to desire I would search the Council books and see if there was any

analogous case and any precedent for continuing the duty without an

Order, and he had already sent to the Law Officers for their opinion

whether an Order could be passed with a retroactive effect--meaning,

if it could, to order an account to be taken meanwhile, and to levy

the duty afterwards. I found him and the Chancellor of the Exchequer

together. I told him that this matter would be infallibly taken up as

proving the necessity there had been for a Regency, and that those

who had argued for one would, of course, triumph in the proof thus

afforded that they were right. He said he was well aware of this. I

then told him Melbourne's opinion, and that he thought if the matter

had been properly explained to the Queen, there would have been no

difficulty in satisfying her. Goulburn said Peel was much annoyed,

as he had particularly desired that everything there was to be done

should be brought to the last Council, and notice be served on all the

offices to that effect, and he thought the fault lay with the Council

Office. This I denied, and Graham at once said it was _his_ fault if

anybody's. The fault really lies with the people of Guernsey, whom it

immediately concerns. I looked into the books, and found there was an

analogous case, in which the same duties had expired, and orders were

sent to levy them, with a notification that an Order in Council would

be passed as soon as a Council could be held. It was a case exactly

in point as to the principle, but differed in some of the official

details. I went to Graham and found the Attorney-General there. He had

brought the opinion of himself and the Queen's Advocate, which, much

to my surprise, was, that an Order in Council might be made with a

retroactive effect, and accordingly Graham determined to act upon this

opinion, and to signify, by a letter to the Government, that an Order

would be passed to renew the duties as soon as the Queen came home. I

proposed to him to let the communication go from the Council Office,

following the former precedent, and suggesting that they would be more

disposed to defer to the authority of the Privy Council, to which they

are used to look up, than to that of the Secretary of State, against

which they are disposed to kick, but he said it was impossible to

summon a committee. I said three were enough, and there were himself,

Goulburn, and Haddington. He said Haddington would be frightened out

of his senses at the notion of the responsibility, and he would rather

take it all upon himself, and so he had the letter written. This is,

however, enough to prove that no foresight can provide against all the

contingencies which may require the exercise of the Royal authority;

that it would have been safer and wiser _stetisse super antiquas

vias_, to have followed former precedents, and not to have departed

from them.

_September 3rd._--I read in the newspapers the day before yesterday an

account of a lad brought up for not supporting his child. The father

was fifteen or sixteen years old, the mother a year or two less, and

the grandmother of the child--the girl's mother--appeared, who was

twenty-nine years old, and had had fourteen children. This seems to me

curious enough to be worth recording. There appear from time to time

many odd and remarkable things, which would be well worth noticing,

and which are hurried down and lost in the stream of events. If I

were not too idle I would record them, for really I have no political

transactions to speak of, as I am not in the way of knowing anything

secret or interesting.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD SPENCER.]