The Greville Memoirs, Part 1 (of 3), Volume 1 (of 3) / A Journal of the Reigns of King George IV and King William IV

by Charles Greville

1829.

January 2nd, 1829

Lord Anglesey was recalled last Sunday. The Duke of Wellington came to see my mother either Saturday or Sunday last, and told her he had been with the King three hours the day before, talking to him about Lord A., that his Majesty was furious with him, thought he took upon himself as if he were King of Ireland, and was indignant at all he said and all he did. The Duke talked a great deal about him, but did not say he was recalled, though his manner was such that he left an impression that he had something in his mind which he would not let out. He gave it to be understood, however, that he had been endeavouring to appease the King, and that Lord A.’s recall was insisted on by his Majesty against his (the Duke’s) desire. I enquired warmly whether he had asserted or only implied this, because I don’t believe one word of it. I was told that he had only implied it, but had left that impression. But the Duke complained of Lord A.’s conduct to himself; that he had at first written him insolent letters, and latterly had hardly ever written to him at all. My belief is that the Duke has for some time wished to get rid of Lord Anglesey, that these Cabinets have been upon this subject, and that his recall was settled there. As to the King’s dictation and the Duke’s submission, I don’t believe a word of it. It has been clear to me for some time that the Irish Government could not remain in Lord Anglesey’s hands. I am very sorry for it, for I think it will have a bad effect, and have little hope of its being followed by any measures likely to counteract the evil it immediately occasions.

January 4th, 1829

I have seen letters from Dublin stating that the immediate cause of the recall was a letter which Lord Anglesey had written to the Duke (but what that was I have not ascertained), and that his imprudence was so great it was impossible he could have gone on. Certainly the writing and then publishing this letter of Curtis’ is an enormous act of indiscretion. The consternation in Dublin seems to have been great, and Henry says that if Lord A. does not decline all demonstrations of popular feeling towards him, he will leave Ireland as Lord Fitzwilliam did, attended by the whole population. Yesterday I asked Fitzgerald[21] if it was true that Lord A. was recalled. He put on a long face, and said ‘he did not know; recalled he certainly was not.’ I saw he was not disposed to be communicative, so I said no more; he, however, began again of his own accord, and asked me whether I thought, in the event of Lord A.’s coming away, that Francis Leveson would remain. I told him under what conditions he had taken the place, viz. that he was only to stay while Lord A. did; that circumstances might make a difference, but that I knew nothing. He said he had done remarkably well, given great satisfaction, and shown great discretion in a difficult situation; that the rock Lord A. had split upon was his vanity.

[21] [Right Hon. Vesey Fitzgerald, then President of the Board of Trade. He was raised to the peerage of the United Kingdom in 1835, as Baron Fitzgerald and Vesci.]

January 5th, 1829

The exact history of what took place in Dublin is as follows:—Lord Anglesey first of all desired RECALL OF LORD ANGLESEY. George Villiers would get his letter to Dr. Curtis inserted in the newspaper. He took it to Shiel, who agreed to write as good an article as he could to go with it, and then he went to Dr. Murray to inform him (as Dr. Curtis’s friend) of the intended publication, as Curtis himself was absent, and his consent ought to have been previously obtained. He went afterwards to the Phoenix Park, and Lord Anglesey laid the whole case and correspondence before him. Some time ago the Duke wrote to Lord Anglesey proposing that O’Gorman Mahon and Steele should be removed from the Commission of the Peace on account of their conduct to the Sheriff of Clare. Lord Anglesey wrote word that the subject had engaged his attention, and he had laid the case before the law officers, who had reported to him that there were no grounds for any legal proceedings against them. ‘How, therefore,’ said the Lord-Lieutenant, ‘could I degrade men against whom my law officers advised me that no charge could be brought?’ This was one offence; and another, that he had countenanced Lord Cloncurry, who, being a member of the Association, was unworthy to receive the King’s representative and the Chancellor. Lord Anglesey warmly defended Lord Cloncurry as a magistrate and a man, and appealed to his known loyalty and respect for the King as a proof that he would never have done anything derogatory to his own situation. The Duke’s letter he described to have been overbearing and insolent, Lord Anglesey’s[22] temperate, but firm. Lord Anglesey declares that these were all the grounds of offence he had given. Five weeks elapsed, during which he heard nothing from the Duke, and at the end of that time he received his letter of recall, conceived nearly in these words:—‘My dear Lord Anglesey,—I am aware of the impropriety of having allowed your letter to remain so long unanswered, but I wished to consult my colleagues, who were out of town. I have now done so, and they concur with me that with such a difference of opinion between the King’s Minister and the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland the government of that country could not be conducted by you with advantage to the public service. I have therefore taken the King’s pleasure on the subject, and he commands me to inform you that you will be immediately relieved from your government. I will give you the earliest information of the arrangement which will be made in consequence. Believe me, &c.’ This is nearly the letter.[23] From Lord Anglesey George Villiers went to Shiel, and with him to O’Connell, to whom Lord A. desired he would communicate the event. O’Connell was dreadfully dejected, so much so that Shiel and G. Villiers were glad to go home and dine with him in order to calm him. They at length succeeded in doing so, and made him engage to abstain from any discussion of the recall in the Association the next day (a promise which he did not keep). Shiel made a very fine speech in the Association. Nothing, they say, can exceed the general feeling on the subject, and Lord Anglesey appears to be acting with great dignity and reserve; he wishes to decline all popular honours, and he put off going to the play, which he was to have done.

[22] [The correspondence of Lord Anglesey with the Duke of Wellington on these charges is now published in the ‘Wellington Correspondence,’ New Series, vol. v. p. 244.]

[23] [The letter itself is now published in the ‘Wellington Correspondence,’ New Series, vol. v. p. 366. Mr. Greville’s version of it differs in no material point from the original, though the language is slightly altered.]

January 7th, 1829

The Duke wrote to Francis Leveson to say he must not be surprised to hear that a letter would reach Lord Anglesey by that day’s post, conveying to him his recall; that the King was so furious with him that he said he would make any sacrifice rather than allow him to remain there five minutes longer. His Secretary had repeatedly remonstrated with the Lord-Lieutenant on his imprudent language in Ireland, and on the tone of his letters to the Duke, but that he always defended both on principle. The Duke said that his letters were most offensive towards him, yet he continued to declare that he should have been glad to keep Lord Anglesey on but for the King. The Lord-Lieutenant did not go to the play, but THE KING AND THE CATHOLIC QUESTION. his family did, and were received with great applause, although the pit was full of Orangemen. Lord Melville has refused the Lord-Lieutenancy.

January 11th, 1829

When George Villiers sent me the accounts of what had passed in Ireland about Lord Anglesey’s letter to Curtis I wrote him a long letter, in which I told him why I thought the letter and its publication were unjustifiable and indiscreet, and particularly cautioned him against connecting himself much with the agitator, on account of the harm it would do him here. He wrote me a long answer, defending Lord Anglesey and his measures, but I do not think he makes out a case for him, and if the Lord-Lieutenant makes in the House of Lords the defence which he proposes to make I think he will fail; but if he can keep Lord Plunket on his side, who is now said to be very eager about him, he will do. Plunket is under the influence of Blake, who keeps, as George Villiers says, ‘Lord Plunket’s mind in his breeches’ pocket.’ Lord Anglesey has behaved very well since the quarrel, declining all honours and expressions of public feeling.

January 12th, 1829

Lord Mount Charles came to me this morning and consulted me about resigning his seat at the Treasury. He hates it and is perplexed with all that has occurred between the Duke and Lord Anglesey. I advised him to resign, feeling as he does about it. He told me that he verily believed the King would go mad on the Catholic question, his violence was so great about it. He is very angry with him and his father for voting as they do, but they have agreed never to discuss the matter at all, and his mother never talks to the King about it. Whenever he does get on it there is no stopping him. Mount Charles attributes the King’s obstinacy to his recollections of his father and the Duke of York and to the influence of the Duke of Cumberland. He says that ‘his father would have laid his head on the block rather than yield, and that he is equally ready to lay his head there in the same cause.’ He is furious with Lord Anglesey, but he will be very much afraid of him when he sees him. Mount Charles was in the room when Lord Anglesey took leave of the King on going to Ireland, and the King said, ‘God bless you, Anglesey! I know you are a true Protestant.’ Anglesey answered, ‘Sir, I will not be considered either Protestant or Catholic; I go to Ireland determined to act impartially between them and without the least bias either one way or the other.’ Lord Anglesey dined with Mount Charles the day before he went. The same morning he had been with the Duke and Peel to receive their last instructions, and he came to dinner in great delight with them, as they had told him they knew he would govern Ireland with justice and impartiality, and they would give him no instructions whatever. He showed me a letter from Mr. Harcourt Lees full of invectives against the Duke and lamentations at the recall, to show how the Protestants regretted him as well as the Catholics.

He then talked to me about Knighton, whom the King abhors with a detestation that could hardly be described. He is afraid of him, and that is the reason he hates him so bitterly. When alone with him he is more civil, but when others are present (the family, for instance) he delights in saying the most mortifying and disagreeable things to him. He would give the world to get rid of him, and to have either Taylor or Mount Charles instead, to whom he has offered the place over and over again, but Mount Charles not only would not hear of it, but often took Knighton’s part with the King. He says that his language about Knighton is sometimes of the most unmeasured violence—wishes he was dead, and one day when the door was open, so that the pages could hear, he said, ‘I wish to God somebody would assassinate Knighton.’ In this way he always speaks of him and uses him. Knighton is greatly annoyed at it, and is very seldom there. Still it appears there is some secret chain which binds them together, and which compels the King to submit to the presence of a man whom he detests, and induces Knighton to remain in spite of so much hatred and ill-usage. The King’s indolence is so great that it is next to impossible to get him to do even the most ordinary business, and Knighton is still the only man who can prevail on CHARACTER OF GEORGE IV. him to sign papers, &c. His greatest delight is to make those who have business to transact with him, or to lay papers before him, wait in his anteroom while he is lounging with Mount Charles or anybody, talking of horses or any trivial matter; and when he is told, ‘Sir, there is Watson waiting,’ &c., he replies, ‘Damn Watson; let him wait.’ He does it on purpose, and likes it.

This account corresponds with all I have before heard, and confirms the opinion I have long had that a more contemptible, cowardly, selfish, unfeeling dog does not exist than this King, on whom such flattery is constantly lavished. He has a sort of capricious good-nature, arising however out of no good principle or good feeling, but which is of use to him, as it cancels in a moment and at small cost a long score of misconduct. Princes have only to behave with common decency and prudence, and they are sure to be popular, for there is a great and general disposition to pay court to them. I do not know anybody who is proof against their seductions when they think fit to use them in the shape of civility and condescension. The great consolation in all this is the proof that, so far from deriving happiness from their grandeur, they are the most miserable of all mankind. The contrast between their apparent authority and the contradictions which they practically meet with must be peculiarly galling, more especially to men whose minds are seldom regulated, as other men’s are, by the beneficial discipline of education and early collision with their equals. There have been good and wise kings, but not many of them. Take them one with another they are of an inferior character, and this I believe to be one of the worst of the kind. The littleness of his character prevents his displaying the dangerous faults that belong to great minds, but with vices and weaknesses of the lowest and most contemptible order it would be difficult to find a disposition more abundantly furnished.

January 16th, 1829

I went to Windsor to a Council yesterday. There were the Duke, the Lord Chancellor, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Master of the Mint, Lord President, Lord Aberdeen, Peel, Melville, Ellenborough. The King kept us waiting rather longer than usual. He looked very well, and was dressed in a blue great coat, all over gold frogs and embroidery. Lord Liverpool was there to give up the late Lord’s Garter, and had an audience. He said to me afterwards that the King had asked him all sorts of questions about his family concerns, with which he seemed extraordinarily well acquainted, and to some of which he was puzzled to give an answer. The King is the greatest master of gossip in the world, and his curiosity about everybody’s affairs is insatiable. I spoke to Peel about the Council books,[24] which are in the State Paper Office, and he promised they should be restored to the Council Office.

[24] [At the fire which took place at Whitehall in 1619 several volumes of the ‘Council Register’ were lost or dispersed. Some of these missing volumes were in the State Paper Office, and two are still in the British Museum.]

Just before I set off to Windsor I heard from Ireland, and this is an extract of the letter:—‘Lord Anglesey received a letter from Peel this morning to the effect “that as he had written and published a letter such as no Lord-Lieutenant was justified in writing, it was his Majesty’s pleasure that Lords Justices should be immediately appointed.” Francis found him very smiling and glorious, but angry, and declaring that he would do just the same again if he had to choose his line of conduct.’

À propos of Denman’s silk gown, Mount Charles told me the other day that Denman wrote a most humble apology to the King, notwithstanding which the Duke of Wellington had great trouble in mollifying him. At last he consented, but wrote himself on the document that in consideration of his humble apology his Majesty forgave him, as he thought it became the King to forgive a subject, but desired this note might be preserved in the Treasury, where Mount Charles says it now is.[25]

[25] [This curious correspondence has now been published in the fifth volume of the Duke of Wellington’s ‘Despatches,’ New Series, pp. 117 and 153. The cause of the quarrel was a Greek quotation from Dion which Denman had introduced into one of his speeches at the Queen’s trial. In the King’s answer to the memorial (which answer was drawn up by the Duke of Wellington) the following passage occurs:—

‘The King could not believe that the Greek quotation referred to had occurred to the mind of the advocate in the eagerness and heat of his argument, nor that it was not intended, nor that it had not been sought for and suggested for the purpose of applying to the person of the Sovereign a gross insinuation.’ Denman, however, prayed his Majesty to believe that ‘no such insinuation was ever made by him, that the idea of it never entered his mind,’ &c.

The truth about this quotation is this:—During the Queen’s trial Dr. Parr, who was a warm supporter of the Queen and an intimate friend of Denman, employed himself in ransacking books for quotations which might be used in the defence. Thus he lit in Bayle’s Dictionary, article ‘Octavia,’ upon the answer made by Pythias, one of the slaves of Octavia, to Tigellinus, when he was torturing the slaves of the Empress in order to convict her of adultery. The same answer occurs in substance in Tacitus’ ‘Annals,’ book xiv. cap. 60. This Parr sent to Denman, and Denman used it in his speech. The fact is, therefore, that the quotation had been ‘sought for and suggested’ for the express purpose of saying something personally offensive to the King. The King’s resentment against Denman did not end here as will be seen lower down, where he refused to receive the Recorder’s report through the Common Serjeant.]

January 21st, 1829

The sealed orders with which the ships STATE OF RUSSIA. have sailed from Plymouth, were orders to prevent the Portuguese (who have been sent away) from landing at Terceira.

Lady Westmeath was the woman meant in the article in the ‘Times’ from Ireland about the pension to which Lord Anglesey would not agree. The story is very true. There was 700ℓ. disposable on the Pension Fund, and the Duke of Wellington desired 400ℓ. might be given to Lady Westmeath, which Lord Anglesey and the Secretary both protested against, and were resolved to resign rather than agree to it. They wrote to the Duke such strong remonstrances that he appears to have desisted from the design, for they heard no more of it. It is therefore false that this had anything to do with the recall, though it is by no means improbable that it served to alienate the Duke from the Marquis and to make him desire the more to get rid of him. This happened as long ago as last August, I think.

Yesterday the Duke dined with us, in very good spirits, and agreeable as he always is, though not so communicative and free as he used to be. He had never told Francis Leveson about the Duke of Northumberland[26] till Sunday, when he wrote to announce the appointment. His Grace seems mightily pleased with it, and fancies that his figure and his fortune are more than enough to make him a very good Lord-Lieutenant. He says he was obliged to coax him a little to get him to accept it.

[26] [Hugh, third Duke of Northumberland, was declared Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland on the recall of Lord Anglesey.]

He said that he was on the best terms with France, talked of Russia and her losses in the war, adding that the notion of her power was at an end. He believed that the Russians were numerically as strong as the Turks in the last campaign, and they were much more numerous than they said: first, because they said they were not so; and secondly, that he had other reasons for believing it; he thought they had begun the campaign with 160,000 men and had lost 120,000.[27] They were talking of St. Petersburg and its palaces. The Duke said that the fortunes of the great Russian nobles—the Tolstoys, &c.—were so diminished that they lived in corners of their great palaces; but this was owing to the division of property and the great military colonies, by which the Crown lands were absorbed, and the Emperors had no longer the means of enriching the nobles by enormous donations as formerly. When to these circumstances are added the amelioration of the condition of the serfs, and the spirit of general improvement, and the growth of Liberal ideas, generated by intercommunication with the rest of Europe, it is impossible to doubt that a revolution must overtake Russia within a short period, and probably the Emperor has undertaken this war in order to give vent to the restless humours which are beginning to work. I said so to Lord Bathurst, and he replied that ‘he thought so too, but that the present Emperor was a man of great firmness,’ as if any individual authority or character could stem the torrent of determined action impelled by universal revolution of feeling and opinion. THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER I. He said the late Emperor was so well aware of this that he died of the vexation it had caused him, which was aggravated by the reflection that he was in great measure himself the cause of it. He was so bit by Liberal opinions, and so delighted with the effects he saw in other countries flowing from the diffusion of intelligence and freedom, that he wished to engraft these dangerous exotics upon the rude and unprepared soil of his own slavish community. When he went to Oxford he was so captivated with the venerable grandeur of that University that he declared he would build one when he got home, and it is equally true that he said he ‘would have an Opposition.’ These follies were engendered in the brain of a very intelligent man by the mixture of such crudities with an unbounded volition, and the whole fermented by a lively imagination and a sincere desire to confer great benefits on his country.

[27] [This seems an extraordinary statement, but it shows how well informed the Duke was. In Major von Moltke’s narrative of the campaign of 1828 he estimates the average force of the Russian army at 100,000. But from May 1828 to February 1829 no less than 210,108 men passed through the hospitals, or died in them. So that, as Moltke remarks, in the course of those ten months every man in his army was twice in hospital. Never did an army suffer more severely from sickness.]

January 25th, 1829

Lord Anglesey’s departure from Dublin was very fine, and his answer to the addresses good. I fancy George Villiers had some hand in penning them. The Duke when he dined with us the other day said that a Russian Extraordinary Ambassador was coming here to overhaul Lieven, a M. Matuscewitz. He is the principal writer in their Foreign Office, a clever man. Their despatches are more able than they used to be, but the Duke said that the Turkish offices are better conducted than any, and the Turkish Ministers extremely able. Lord Bathurst told me he had lately read the minutes of a conversation between the Reis-Effendi and the Allied Ministers after the battle of Navarino, when they were ignorant whether the Turk had received intelligence of the event, and that his superiority over them was exceedingly striking. This was the conference in which when they asked him ‘supposing such an event had happened, what he should say to it,’ he replied ‘that in his country they never named a child till its sex was ascertained.’

Everybody thinks the appointment of the Duke of Northumberland a very good one, and that the Duke is in great luck to get him. It is surprising that he should have consented to go, but he probably likes to do something and display his magnificence. He is a very good sort of man, with a very narrow understanding, an eternal talker, and prodigious bore. The Duchess is a more sensible woman, and amiable and good-humoured. He is supposed to be ruled in all things by her advice; he has no political opinions, and though he has hitherto voted against the Catholics, he is one of the people who pin their faith on the Duke, and who are made to vote in any way and upon anything as he may please to desire them.

This pension of Lady Westmeath’s makes a great noise, and it is generally believed that when Lord Anglesey refused to grant it the Duke got the King’s sign manual for it, and the job was done. The truth is that Lord Anglesey had at first refused, or rather expressed his disapprobation, and asked the Duke if the King had commanded it, to which the Duke sent an angry answer that he might have been sure he should not have recommended it but by the King’s commands. M—— told me the pension (400ℓ.) was granted four months ago, for he signed the warrant himself.

Polignac is gone to Paris, but the Duke thinks not to be Minister. Polignac told him that he wished to return here, as he thought he could do more good here than there.

Yesterday I went with Amyot to the State Paper Office to look after my Council books. I found one book belonging to my office and nearly thirty volumes of the ‘Register of the Council of State,’[28] which I mean to ask for, but which I suppose they will refuse. Amyot suggests that as all the acts of the Council of State were illegal and of no authority they cannot be considered as belonging to the Council Office, and are merely historical records without an official character. I shall try, however, to get them. Mr. Lemon showed us a great many curious papers. When he first had the care of the State papers they were in the greatest confusion, and he has been diligently employed in reducing them to order. THE STATE PAPER OFFICE. Every day has brought to light documents of importance and interest which as they are successively found are classed and arranged and rendered disposable for literary and historical purposes.

[28] [Of the time of the Commonwealth. The ‘Privy Council Register’ extends from the last years of Henry VIII. to the present time, not including the Commonwealth.]

Lemon has found papers relating to the Powder Plot alone sufficient to make two quarto volumes, exceedingly curious; all Garnett’s original papers, and I hope hereafter they will be published.[29] We saw the famous letter to Lord Mounteagle, of which Lemon said he had, he thought, discovered the author. It has been attributed to Mrs. Abington, Lord Mounteagle’s sister, but he thinks it was written by Mrs. Vaux, who was a friend of hers, and mistress, probably, of Garnett; it is to her that many of Garnett’s letters are addressed. It seems that Mrs. Vaux and Mrs. Abington were both present at the great meeting of the conspirators at Hendlip, and he thinks that the latter, desirous of saving her brother’s life, prevailed on Mrs. Vaux to write the letter, for the handwriting exactly corresponds with some other writing of hers which he has seen. There is a remarkable paper written by King James with directions what questions should be put to Guy Faux, and ending with a recommendation that he should be tortured first gently, and then more severely as might be necessary. Then the depositions of Faux in the Tower, which had been taken down (contrary to his desire) in writing, and which he was compelled to sign upon the rack; his signature was written in faint and trembling characters, and his strength had evidently failed in the middle, for he had only written ‘Guido.’ There is a distinct admission in the Plot papers in Garnett’s own hand that he came to a knowledge of the Plot otherwise than by the Sacrament of Confession, which oversets Lingard; a paragraph by which it is clear that the Pope knew of it; and a curious paper in which, having sworn that he had never written certain letters, which letters were produced when he was taxed with the false oath, Garnett boldly justifies himself, and says that they ought not to have questioned him on the subject, having the letters in their hands, and that he had a right to deny what he believed they could not prove—a very remarkable exposition of the tenets of his order and the doctrines of equivocation.

[29] [The substance of these papers has since been published by the late David Jardine, Esq., in his excellent ‘Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot.’ (Murray, London, 1857.) Some of the particulars here referred to by Mr. Greville are not strictly accurate, or at least have not been confirmed by subsequent investigation. It is not probable that the letter to Lord Mounteagle was written by Mrs. Abington or by Mrs. Vaux, nor is it at all certain that either of these ladies had any knowledge of the Plot. Mr. Jardine ascribes the letter to Tresham (‘Narrative,’ &c., p. 83). Garnett’s admissions are printed in Jardine’s Appendix. His knowledge of the Plot was derived from Greenway, a priest to whom Catesby had revealed it in confession. The Pope was probably not privy to the Plot. The celebrated ‘Treatise on Equivocation’ was found in Tresham’s desk. The identical copy with Garnett’s notes is still in the Bodleian; it was reprinted in 1851.]

When I came away from the State Paper Office I met George Dawson, and we had a long conversation about Irish affairs, from which I gathered what is to be done. The Catholic question is to be conceded, the elective franchise altered, and the Association suppressed. This latter is, I take it, to be a preliminary measure, and I suspect the Duke went to the King on Monday with the resolution of the Cabinet on the subject, and I think so the more because the Archbishop was sent for post-haste just before he went. Dawson talked to me a great deal about his speech at Derry, and said that so many of his friends were aware of the change in his opinions that he thought it more fair and manly to declare them at once in public than to use any dissimulation with his constituents and leave them to be guessed at, as if he dared not own them; that he had made a great sacrifice, for he had risked his seat, which was very secure before, and had quarrelled with Peel, with his family, and with all his old political friends and associates. We talked a great deal about Peel, and I see clearly that he has given way; probably they have compromised the business, and he agrees to the Emancipation part, in order to have the Association suppressed and the 40s. freeholders disfranchised. Lord Anglesey always said that his removal would facilitate the business, for the Duke wished to have all the credit of it to himself, and had no NAVARINO. mind to divide it with him, whereas if Lord Anglesey had remained the chief credit would have fallen to his share.

I met Sir Edward Codrington in the morning, and walked with him to Downing Street, where he was going to talk to the Duke about his Navarino business. He is mightily incensed, thinks he has been scandalously used both by Dudley and Aberdeen, is ready to tell his story and show his documents to anybody, and says he is resolved the whole matter shall come out, and in the House of Commons if he can produce it. God knows how his case will turn out, but I never saw a man so well satisfied with himself. He says that the action at Navarino was, as an achievement, nothing to the affair at Patras, when with one line-of-battle ship, one frigate, and a corvette he drove before him Ibrahim and four Turkish admirals and a numerous fleet.

February 4th, 1829

Went to Middleton last Friday; very few people. I returned by Oxford, and called on Dr. Bandinell, who took me to the Bodleian. I could not find any Council books, but I had not much time to devote to the search. Dr. Bandinell promised to inform me if he could find any books or manuscripts relating to my office. I was surprised to find in the Bodleian a vast number of books (manuscripts) which had belonged to Pepys. I came to town on Monday night, and found that the concession of Catholic Emancipation was generally known; the ‘Times’ had an article on Friday which clearly announced it. The rage and despair of the Orange papers is very amusing. I have not yet heard how the King took it all. Glad as I am that the measure is going to be carried, the conduct of all those who are to assist in it (the old anti-Catholics) seems to me despicable to the greatest degree; having opposed it against all reason and common sense for years past, now that the Duke of Wellington lifts up his finger they all obey, and without any excuse for their past or present conduct. The most agreeable event, if it turns out to be true, is the defection of Dr. Philpots, whose conduct and that of others of his profession will probably not be without its due effect in sapping the foundations of the Church. All the details that I have yet learnt confirm my opinion that the spirit in which the Duke and his colleagues approach this great measure is not that of calm and deliberate political reasoning, but a fearful sense of necessity and danger, to which they submit with extreme repugnance and with the most miserable feelings of pique and mortification at being compelled to adopt it. The Duke and Peel wrote to Francis Leveson, complaining of my brother’s having met Shiel at dinner, and they were so enraged with George Villiers[30] that they seriously meditated turning him out of his office. Wretched and contemptible to the greatest degree! They are now exceedingly annoyed because it is discovered that Woulffe was once a member of the Association, and would willingly have him turned out of the place of Assistant-Barrister, which has just been given to him; but Francis is resolved to maintain him in it. They say the Duke sent a copy of the King’s Speech to Lord Eldon.

[30] [Mr. George Villiers, then an Irish Commissioner of Customs (afterwards Earl of Clarendon), had cultivated the society of Shiel and invited him to dinner. Such an attention from an English official to an Irish Catholic was at that time an unheard-of innovation. Shiel told his host that he had never dined in a Protestant house before. The Duke of Wellington took great umbrage at what he considered an unwarrantable breach of official decorum.]

February 5th, 1829

Went to Brookes’ yesterday, and found all the Whigs very merry at the Catholic news. Most of them were just come to town and had heard nothing till they arrived. The old Tories dreadfully dejected, but obliged to own it was all true; intense curiosity to hear what Peel will say for himself. The general opinion seems to be that the Duke has managed the matter extremely well, which I am disposed to think too, but there is always a disposition to heap praise upon him whenever it is possible. Nobody yet knows who are converted and who are not; they talk of nine bishops; I think he will have them all, and I expect a very great majority in the House of Lords. Many people expect that Wilmot’s plan will be adopted, restraining the Catholics from voting in matters concerning the Church, which I do not believe, for Wilmot is at a discount and his CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. plan is absurd and impracticable. Lord Harrowby, however, is all for it. I hear many of the Liberals are exceedingly provoked, and not unnaturally, at the Duke’s effecting this measure, at which they have been so long labouring in vain, and give as many spiteful flings at him as they can about the insincerity of his letter to Curtis. It matters very little now whether he was sincere or not. It evidently was part of his plan to keep it all secret till it was matured, and as Curtis chose to ask him questions he was quite right to throw dust in his eyes.

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CHAPTER V.

The Catholic Relief Bill — Inconsistency of the Tories — The Catholic Association — Dinner at Charles Grant’s — The Terceira Expedition — Tory Discontent — Peel resigns his Seat for Oxford University — A Blunder in Chancery — The Oxford Election — Influence of the Duke of Wellington — Debate of Royal Dukes — Peel beaten — Sir Edward Codrington — Violence of the King — Intrigues to defeat the Catholic Bill — The Duke of Cumberland — Furious State of Parties — Matuscewitz — Peel’s Speech on Catholic Emancipation — Exclusion of O’Connell from his Seat for Clare — Pitt’s View of Catholic Emancipation — ‘Musæ Cateatonenses’ — ‘Thorough’ — Mr. Lowther not turned out — Duke of Newcastle’s Audience of George IV. — The King’s Personal Habits — The Debate — Mr. Sadler — Hardness of the Duke of Wellington — His Duel with Lord Winchelsea — The Bishops and the Bill — Sir Charles Wetherell — The King on the Duel — Lord Winchelsea’s Pocket-handkerchief — Debate on the Catholic Bill — The Duke of Richmond — Effects of Dawson’s Speech on the King — The Bill in Jeopardy — Lady Jersey and Lord Anglesey — Lord Falmouth and Lord Grey — O’Connell at Dinner — The Duke breaks with Lord Eldon — Hibner the Murderess — Theatrical Fund — The Levee — The Duke’s Carriage stopped — The King’s Health — Lady Conyngham — O’Connell’s Seat — Child’s Ball at Court — Princess Victoria — Legal Appointments — Lord Palmerston on Foreign Affairs — The King and Lord Sefton — The King’s Speech on the Prorogation — Madame du Cayla — George IV.’s Inaccuracy — Conversation of the Duke of Wellington on the King and the Duke of Cumberland.

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February 6th, 1829

Parliament met yesterday; a very full attendance and intense interest and curiosity. The King’s Speech, which was long and better written than usual, was not quite satisfactory to the Catholics. I met Lord Harrowby coming from the House of Lords, and he said they did not like it at all; the previous suppression of the Association was what they disliked. However, all discontent was removed by Peel’s speech, which was deemed (as to the intentions of Ministers) perfectly satisfactory even by those PEEL’S SPEECH ON THE CATHOLIC BILL. who were most prejudiced before against Government. I was in the House of Commons. Peel was very feeble, and his case for himself poor and ineffective; all he said was true enough, but it was only what had been said to him over and over again for years past, and he did not urge a single argument for acquiescing now which was not equally applicable to his situation two years ago. However, everybody was so glad to have the measure carried that they did not care to attack Peel or his speech, though if there had been a Brunswicker of any talent in the House he might have cut it up finely; two or three of them spoke, but wretchedly ill, and Lord Chandos was not at all violent, which I expected he would have been. Lord Eldon was violent but impotent, in the House of Lords, and Lord Bathurst made a sort of explanation which was very poor.

On leaving the House of Commons I fell in with Burdett, Lord Sefton, and G. Bentinck, and they all owned that the business is very handsomely done; and Morpeth and many others whom I saw afterwards at the Club are quite satisfied. They would have preferred that the Catholic Relief Bill and the suppression of the Association should have gone together, but do not make any difficulties on this head, and acknowledge (which is the truth) that the Duke was probably obliged to do something to cajole the Tories, and give some colour to their conduct. I sat next to Fitzgerald in the House, who is not yet re-elected, and he told me that this was absolutely necessary. He was of course delighted and said, ‘How right Lord Francis was to trust to the Duke,’ which, however, is all nonsense. He had no reason to trust to him at all, and I really believe would not have continued in office as Irish Secretary unless he had adopted this measure. He owned as Peel was speaking that he was not doing it well; he was feeble and diffuse in the beginning, and too full of civilities and appeals to Bankes and his old associates. However, thank God, the event is accomplished, no matter how; probably it could not have been done without the concurrence of these Tories, who have, I think, certainly lost their character by their conduct; and there is this evil in the history of the measure, that a blow will have been given to the reputation of public men in general which will, I strongly suspect, have an important though not immediate effect upon the aristocratic influence in this country, and tend remotely to increase the democratic spirit which exists. In all these proceedings there has been so little of reason, principle, or consistency; so much of prejudice, subserviency, passion, and interest, that it is impossible not to feel a disgust to parties in general. The conduct of those idiots the Brunswickers is respectable in comparison with such men as the High Churchmen; and the Whigs and Catholic supporters, however they may have suffered before, in this matter stand clear and have only grounds for exultation. They accept the measure with great moderation, and are not disposed to mar the success of it by the introduction of any topics likely to create ill blood, nor to damp the ardour of new converts by throwing their former follies in their faces.

Now, then, the Duke is all-powerful, and of course he will get all the honour of the day. Not that he does not deserve a great deal for having made up his mind to the thing; he has managed it with firmness, prudence, and dexterity; but to O’Connell and the Association, and those who have fought the battle on both sides of the water, the success of the measure is due. Indeed, Peel said as much, for it was the Clare election which convinced both him and the Duke that it must be done, and from that time the only question was whether he should be a party to it or not. If the Irish Catholics had not brought matters to this pass by agitation and association, things might have remained as they were for ever, and all these Tories would have voted on till the day of their death against them.

Mahony, who is here, has written over to O’Connell, as have all the other Catholics, to implore him to use his whole influence to procure the dissolution of the Association, and it is said that O’Connell had an idea of resigning his seat for Clare to Vesey, on the ground that, having turned him out because he had joined a Government hostile DINNER AT CHARLES GRANT’S to their claims, he owed him this reparation on finding it not to be the case. But I doubt whether this scheme is practicable; still, I think if O’Connell could do it it would be a good thing, and serve to reconcile the people here to him, and give a great lift to his character. I expect to hear that the Association has dissolved itself on receiving intelligence of the proceedings in the House of Commons. Lord Anglesey spoke very well, but nobody will care for his case now; besides, I doubt his making out a good one. The fact is that they laid a trap for him, and that he fell into it; that the Duke’s letters became more insulting, and that a prudent man would have avoided the snare into which his high spirit and passion precipitated him.

February 8th, 1829

Peel spoke on Friday night better than he did on Thursday. Huskisson made a spiteful speech, and George Dawson one which I heard Huskisson say he thought one of the neatest speeches he had ever heard. I dined yesterday with all the Huskissonians at Grant’s. There were there Lords Granville, Palmerston, and Melbourne, Huskisson, Warrender, and one or two more. Huskisson is in good humour and spirits, but rather bitter; he said that if Peel had asked the advice of a friend what he should do, the advice would have been for his own honour to resign. I said I did not think Peel would have got credit by resigning. He said, ‘But don’t you think he has quite lost it by staying in?’ He owned, however, that the Duke could not have carried it without Peel, that his influence with the Church party is so great that his continuance was indispensable to the Duke.

This affair of the Portuguese at Terceira[1] (which certainly, unless it can be explained, seems a gross outrage) they all fell upon very severely, and Lord Harrowby told me afterwards he could not understand it, and thought for the honour of the country it should be explained forthwith.

[1] [In December 1828 an expedition, consisting of 652 Portuguese refugees of the party of the Queen, sailed from England for Terceira in four vessels, under the command of Count Saldanha. Terceira held for the Queen, and arms and ammunition had previously been sent them from England. The British Government ordered Captain Walpole, of the ‘Ranger’ to stop this expedition off Terceira, which he did by firing a gun into Saldanha’s ship. The ground taken by the Duke of Wellington in defence of this measure was his resolution to maintain the neutrality of England between the two parties then contending for the Crown of Portugal. But the proceeding was vehemently attacked in Parliament and elsewhere.]

We are now beginning to discover different people’s feelings about this Catholic business, and it is clear that many of the great Tories are deeply offended that the Duke was not more communicative to them, principally, it seems, because they have continued to talk in an opposite sense and in their old strain up to the last moment, thereby committing themselves, and thus becoming ridiculous by the sudden turn they are obliged to make. This they cannot forgive, and many of them are extremely out of humour, although not disposed to oppose the Duke. The Duke of Rutland means to go to Belvoir, and not vote at all. The Duke of Beaufort does not like it, but will support the measure. Lowther has been to the King, and it is supposed he has resigned. They complain that the Duke has thrown them over, still nobody doubts that he will have great majorities in both Houses. It was asserted most positively at Brookes’ yesterday that Peel’s offer of resigning his seat at Oxford had been accepted. In Dublin the moderate people are furious with O’Connell for his abuse of everybody. There is no getting over the fact that he it is who has brought matters to this conclusion, and that but for him the Catholic question would never have been carried; but his violence, bad taste, and scurrility have made him ‘lose the lustre of his former praise.’

February 9th, 1829

I called at Devonshire House in the morning, and there found Princess Lieven very eloquent and very angry about the Terceira business, which certainly requires explanation. She is very hostile to the Duke, which is natural, as he is anti-Russian, and they have never got over their old quarrel. Saldanha got up a coup de théâtre on board his ship. When Walpole fired on him a man was killed, and when the English officer came on board he had the corpse stretched out and covered by a cloak, which was DISCONTENT OF THE TORIES. suddenly withdrawn, and Saldanha said, ‘Voilà un fidèle sujet de la Reine, qui a toujours été loyal, assassiné,’ &c.

Went from thence to Mrs. Arbuthnot, who declaimed against O’Connell and wants to have a provision in the Bill to prevent his sitting for Clare, which I trust is only her folly, and that there is no chance of such a thing. The Duke came in while I was there. He said he had no doubt he should do very well in the House of Lords, but up to that time he could only (that he knew of for certain) reduce the majority of last year to twenty. He did not count bishops, of whom he said he knew nothing, but the three Irish bishops would vote with him. There were many others he did not doubt would, but he could only count upon that number. He held some proxies, which he said he would not make use of, such as Lord Strangford’s, as he could not hear from him in time, and would not use anybody’s proxy for this question who had voted against it before. I told him how peevish the Duke of Rutland, and Beaufort, and others of the High Tories were, but he only laughed. In the evening Fitzgerald told me that the Convocation at Oxford had accepted Peel’s resignation of his seat for the University, but left the time to him. It seems to me that this affair was mismanaged. In the first instance Peel wrote to the Dean of Christ Church, but he and Lloyd[2] agreed that he ought to write to the Vice-Chancellor, which he did. The Vice-Chancellor did not read his letter till after they had voted the address to Parliament by three to one, after which it was difficult for them to express anything but disapprobation of Peel’s conduct; whereas if the Vice-Chancellor had read it first, probably the petition would not have been carried, or at any rate not by so large a majority. He had better have carried his Bill through and then resigned, when I have no doubt he would have been re-elected; very likely he may be as it is.

[2] [The Bishop of Oxford, one of Sir Robert Peel’s most intimate friends.]

Tom Duncombe is going to make another appearance on the boards of St. Stephen’s, on the Terceira business, and he is to give notice to-night. He has been with Palmella and Frederick Lamb, who are both to assist in getting up his case, and he expects to be supported by some of the Whigs and by the Huskissonians, which latter are evidently anxious to do anything they can to embarrass the Government. I know nothing of the case, which, primâ facie, appears much against Government; but the moment is so ill-chosen, in the midst of this great pending affair, that I think they will make nothing of it. Palmella is a great fool for his pains, for in clamouring against the Duke he is only kicking against the pricks. As to Duncombe, he is egged on by Lambton and instructed by Henry de Ros, who cares nothing about the matter, and only does it for the fun of the thing. I have no idea but that Duncombe must cut a sorry figure when he steps out of the line of personal abuse and impertinence.

February 11th, 1829

Nothing is thought of or talked of but the Catholic question; what Peers and bishops will vote for it? who voted before against it? There is hardly any other feeling than that of satisfaction, except on the part of the ultra-Tories, who do not attempt to conceal their rage and vexation; the moderate Tories, who are mortified at not having been told of what was going on; and Huskisson’s party, who would have been glad to have a share in the business, and who now see themselves in all probability excluded for ever. O’Connell arrived yesterday; it is supposed he will not take his seat, but he does not seem inclined to co-operate with Government in keeping things quiet. However, his real disposition is not yet known, and probably he has not made up his mind what to do, but waits for events. Notwithstanding the declaration of the bishops, I do not believe they will vote against Government. Peel spoke very well last night, and severely trimmed old Bankes, which gives me great pleasure, so much do I hate that old worn-out set. How this change of measures changes one’s whole way of thinking; though I have nothing to do with politics, I cannot help being influenced to an extraordinary degree by CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. what has passed, and can understand from my own feelings how those who are deeply engaged may be biassed by the prejudices and attachments of party without any imputation against their sincerity or judgment. When we see men pursuing a course of which we greatly disapprove, all their actions and motives are suspected by us, and vice versâ. We lend a willing ear to imputations of vanity, interest, and other unworthy motives, and when we cannot explain or comprehend the particulars of men’s conduct, we judge them unfavourably while we are opposed to their measures; but when they do what we wish, we see the same things very differently, and begin to hesitate about the justice of our censures and the suspicions which we previously entertained. It is pretty clear that the Duke will have a good majority in the House of Lords, and that many Peers and bishops will find excuses between this and then for voting with him or remaining neutral.

A ridiculous thing happened the other day in the Vice-Chancellor’s Court. Sugden had taken a brief on each side of a case without knowing it. Home, who opened on one side and was followed by another lawyer, was to be answered by Sugden; but he, having got hold of the wrong brief, spoke the same way as Home. The Vice-Chancellor said coolly, ‘Mr. Sugden is with you?’ ‘Sir,’ said Home, ‘his argument is with us, but he is engaged on the other side.’ Finding himself in a scrape, he said ‘it was true he held a brief for the other party, but for no client would he ever argue against what he knew to be a clear rule of law.’ However, the Court decided against them all.

February 13th, 1829

Still the Catholic question and the probable numbers in the House of Lords; nobody talks of anything else. Lord Winchelsea makes an ass of himself, and would like to be sent to the Tower, but nobody will mind anything such a blockhead says. Lord Holland talks of a majority of sixty in the Lords. I walked with Ebrington to O’Connell’s door the other day; he went in. The next day I asked him what had passed. He said that he had pressed him strongly to dissolve the Association; O’Connell said he could not press it himself, but would write to Ireland that it was the unanimous opinion of all the friends of the cause here that it should be done. The fact is, he does not dare to acquiesce in all the measures of Government, though there is little doubt but that he desires to see an end to associations and agitations. Lady Jersey affects to be entirely in the Duke’s confidence. She said to Lord Granville at Madame de Lieven’s the other night that ‘she made it a rule never to talk to the Duke about affairs in public,’ and she said to me last night that she had known what was to be done about the Catholics all along. Certainly she contrives to make the Duke see a great deal of her, for he calls on her, and writes to her perpetually, but I doubt whether he tells her much of anything. Some of the household have made a struggle to be exempted from the general obligation on all members of Government to vote for the Bill, but the Duke will not stand it, and they must all vote or go out. The Privy Seal was offered to Lord Westmoreland, but he refused, and his answer was good—that if he had been in the Cabinet, he might possibly have seen the same grounds for changing his mind on the Catholic question that the other Ministers did; but not having had those opportunities, he retained his former opinions, and therefore could not accept office.

February 22nd, 1829

Went to Newmarket last Sunday and came back on Thursday. Still the Catholic question and nothing else. Everybody believed that the Duke of Cumberland would support Government till he made this last speech. He went to the King, who desired him to call on the Duke, and when he got to town he went uninvited to dine with him. There has been nothing of consequence in either House, except the dressing which Lord Plunket gave Lord Eldon, though that hard-bitten old dog shows capital fight. Peel has got a most active and intelligent committee at Oxford, and they consider his election safe. Inglis’s committee, on the contrary, is composed of men not much better than old women, except Fynes Clinton, the chairman. Every day the majority promises to be greater in the House of Lords, but it is very ridiculous to see the faces many of these Tory CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. Lords make at swallowing the bitter pill. Too great a noise is made about Peel and his sacrifices, but he must be supported and praised at this juncture. It is not for those who have been labouring in this cause, and want his assistance, to reject him or treat him uncivilly now that he tenders it. But as to the body of the High Tories, it is impossible not to regard their conduct with disgust and contempt, for now they feel only for themselves, and it is not apprehension of those dangers they have been constantly crying out about that affects them, but the necessity they are under of making such a sudden turn, and bitter mortification at having been kept in total ignorance, and, consequently, having been led to hold the same violent language up to the last moment. If Canning had lived, God knows what would have happened, for they never would have turned round for him as they are now about to do for the Duke. The circumstances of the case are just the same; since 1825 the same game has been going on in Ireland, and in the same manner, and the Clare election was only what had happened at Waterford before. All this has given a blow to the aristocracy, which men only laugh at now, but of which the effects will be felt some day or other. Who will have any dependence hereafter on the steadiness and consistency of public men, and what credit will be given to professions and declarations? I am glad to see them dragged through the mire, as far as the individuals are concerned, but I am sorry for the effect that such conduct is likely to produce. There was a capital paper of Cobbett’s yesterday, in his best style. Many Liberals are uneasy about what are called the securities, and when the Duke tells Lord Colchester that if he will wait he will be satisfied with the Bill, it is enough to make them so; but my hopes predominate over my fears. Yesterday Vesey Fitzgerald said that ‘we had not yet seen what some people might consider the objectionable parts of the measure, but that, though certain things might be necessary, the Government are impressed with the paramount necessity of not leaving the Catholic question behind them, and that the Duke was a man of too firm a mind not to go through with it;’ and I think he said distinctly that Catholics and Protestants must be placed on an equal footing, or something to that effect. He went off into a panegyric on the Duke, and said that seeing him as he did for several hours every day, he had opportunities of finding out what an extraordinary man he was, and that it was remarkable what complete ascendency he had acquired over all who were about him. The English of this is (what everybody knew) that he dictates to his Cabinet. The fact is, he is a man of great energy, decision, and authority, and his character has been formed by the events of his life, and by the extraordinary circumstances which have raised him to a situation higher than any subject has attained in modern times. That his great influence is indispensable to carry this question, and therefore most useful at this time, cannot be doubted, for he can address the King in a style which no other Minister could adopt. He treats with him as with an equal, and the King stands completely in awe of him. It will be long before a correct and impartial estimate is formed of the Duke’s character and abilities; his talents, however, must be of a very superior, though not of the most shining description. Whatever he may be, he is at this moment one of the most powerful Ministers this country has ever seen. The greatest Ministers have been obliged to bend to the King, or the aristocracy, or the Commons, but he commands them all. M—— told me that he had not seen the King, but that he heard he was as sulky as a bear, and that he was sure he would be very glad if anything happened to defeat this measure, though he is too much afraid of the Duke to do anything himself tending to thwart it.

The Emperor of Russia is extremely disgusted at the language of the newspapers here, and desired his Minister to complain of it, and the Duke wrote the answer himself, in which he entered at great length into the character and utility of the press in this country, a dissertation affording a proof certainly of his quickness and industry, overwhelmed as he is with business. The Duke of Richmond offered to give up his Garter, but the Duke would not take it back.

February 26th, 1829

DEBATE OF THE ROYAL DUKES. The debate on Monday night in the House of Lords was very amusing. It was understood the Duke of Clarence was to speak, and there was a good deal of curiosity to hear him. Lord Bathurst was in a great fright lest he should be violent and foolish. He made a very tolerable speech, of course with a good deal of stuff in it, but such as it was it has exceedingly disconcerted the other party. The three royal Dukes Clarence, Cumberland, and Sussex got up one after another, and attacked each other (that is, Clarence and Sussex attacked Cumberland, and he them) very vehemently, and they used towards each other language that nobody else could have ventured to employ; so it was a very droll scene. The Duke of Clarence said the attacks on the Duke [of Wellington] had been infamous; the Duke of Cumberland took this to himself, but when he began to answer it could not recollect the expression, which the Duke of Clarence directly supplied. ‘I said “infamous.”’ The Duke of Sussex said that the Duke of Clarence had not intended to apply the word to the Duke of Cumberland, but if he chose to take it to himself he might. Then the Duke of Clarence said that the Duke of Cumberland had lived so long abroad that he had forgotten there was such a thing as freedom of debate.

February 27th, 1829

They say Plunket made one of the best speeches he ever delivered last night, and Lord Anglesey spoke very well. There was hardly anybody in the House. Peel’s election [Oxford University] is going on ill. The Convocation presents a most disgraceful scene of riot and uproar. I went to the Committee Room last night at twelve, and found nobody there but Dr. Russell, the head-master of the Charterhouse, who was waiting for Hobhouse and amusing himself by correcting his boys’ exercises. He knew me, though he had not seen me for nearly twenty years, when I was at school. I shall be sorry if Peel does not come in, not that I care much for him, but because I cannot bear that his opponents should have a triumph.

Lady Georgiana Bathurst told me she had had a great scene with the Duke of Cumberland. She told him not to be factious and to go back to Germany; he was very angry, and after much argument and many reproaches they made it up, embraced, and he shed a flood of tears.

I met with these lines in ‘The Duke of Milan’ (Massinger), which are very applicable to the Duke in his dealings with his Cabinet and his old friends the Tories:—

You never heard the motives that induced him
To this strange course? No; these are cabinet councils,
And not to be communicated but
To such as are his own and sure. Alas!
We fill up empty places, and in public
Are taught to give our suffrages to that
Which was before determined.

March 1st, 1829

As the time draws near for the development of the plans of Government a good deal of uneasiness and doubt prevails, though the general disposition is to rely on the Duke of Wellington’s firmness and decision and to hope for the best. Peel’s defeat at Oxford,[3] though not likely to have any effect on the general measure, is unlucky, because it serves to animate the anti-Catholics; and had he succeeded, his success would have gone far to silence, as it must have greatly discouraged, them. Then the King gives the Ministers uneasiness, for the Duke of Cumberland has been tampering with him, and through the agency of Lord Farnborough great attempts have been made to induce him to throw obstacles in the way of the measures. He is very well inclined, and there is nothing false or base he would not do if he dared, but he is such a coward, and stands in such awe of the Duke, that I don’t think anything serious is to be apprehended from him. There never was anything so mismanaged as the whole affair of Oxford. First the letter Peel wrote was very injudicious; it was a tender of resignation, which being received just after the vote of Convocation, SIR E. CODRINGTON AND THE DUKE. they were obliged to accept it. Then he should never have stood unless he had been sure of success, and it appears now that his canvass never promised well from the beginning. He should have taken the Chiltern Hundreds, and immediately informed them that he had done so. Probably no opposition would have been made, but after having accepted his resignation they could not avoid putting up another man. It appears that an immense number of parsons came to vote of whose intentions both parties were ignorant, and they almost all voted for Inglis.

[3] [Upon the 4th of February Mr. Peel resigned his seat for the University of Oxford, in consequence of the change of his opinions on the Catholic question. A contest ensued, Sir Robert Harry Inglis being the candidate opposed to Peel. Inglis was returned by a majority of 146. Mr. Peel sat for the borough of Westbury during the ensuing debates.]

Codrington was at Brookes’ yesterday, telling everybody who would listen to him what had passed at an interview, that I have mentioned before, with the Duke of Wellington, and how ill the Duke had treated him. He said the Duke assured him that neither he nor any of his colleagues, nor the Government collectively, had any sort of hostility to him, but, on the contrary, regarded him as a very meritorious officer, &c. He then said, ‘May I, then, ask why I was recalled?’ The Duke said, ‘Because you did not understand your instructions in the sense in which they were intended by us.’ He replied that he had understood them in their plain obvious sense, and that everybody else who had seen them understood them in the same way—Adam, Ponsonby, Guilleminot, &c.—and then he asked the Duke to point out the passages in which they differed, to which he said, ‘You must excuse me.’ All this he was telling, and it may be very true, and that he is very ill-used; but if he means to bring his case before Parliament, he is unwise to chatter about it at Brookes’, particularly to Lord Lynedoch, to whom he was addressing himself, who is not likely to take part with him against the Duke.

March 2nd, 1829

Saw M—— yesterday; he has been at Windsor for several days, and confirmed all that I had heard before about the King. The Duke of Cumberland has worked him into a state of frenzy, and he talks of nothing but the Catholic question in the most violent strain. M—— told me that his Majesty desired him to tell his household that he wished them to vote against the Bill, which M—— of course refused to do. I asked him if he had told the Duke of Wellington this; he said he had not, but that the day the Ministers came to Windsor for the Council (Thursday last, I think) he did speak to Peel, and told him the King’s violence was quite alarming. Peel said he was afraid the King was greatly excited, or something to this effect, but seemed embarrassed and not very willing to talk about it. The result, however, was that the Duke went to him on Friday, and was with him six hours, and spoke to his Majesty so seriously and so firmly that he will now be quiet. Why the Duke does not insist upon his not seeing the Duke of Cumberland I cannot imagine. There never was such a man, or behaviour so atrocious as his—a mixture of narrow-mindedness, selfishness, truckling, blustering, and duplicity, with no object but self, his own ease, and the gratification of his own fancies and prejudices, without regard to the advice and opinion of the wisest and best informed men or to the interests and tranquillity of the country.

March 3rd, 1829

Called on H. de Ros yesterday morning, who told me that the Duke of Cumberland and his party are still active and very sanguine. Madame de Lieven is in all his confidence, who, out of hatred to the Duke, would do anything to contribute to his overthrow. The Duke of Cumberland tells her everything, and makes her a medium of communication with the Huskisson party, who, being animated by similar sentiments towards the Duke, the Tories think would gladly join them in making a party when the way is clear for them. The Chancellor went to Windsor on Sunday, and on to Strathfieldsaye at night, where he arrived at three in the morning. Yesterday the Duke came to town, but called at Windsor on his way. Dawson, however, told me that he believed the Duke in his interview on Friday had settled everything with the King, and had received most positive assurances from him that no further difficulties should be made; but it is quite impossible to trust him.

March 4th, 1829

Nothing could exceed the consternation which prevailed yesterday about this Catholic business. The advocates of the Bill and friends of Government CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. were in indescribable alarm, and not without good cause. All yesterday it was thought quite uncertain whether the Duke’s resignation would not take place, and the Chancellor himself said that nothing was more likely than that they should all go out. On Sunday the King sent for the Chancellor; he went, and had an audience in which the King pretended that he had not been made aware of all the provisions of the Bill, that the securities did not satisfy him, and that he could not consent to it. The Chancellor could do nothing with him; so instead of returning to town he went on to Strathfieldsaye, where the Duke was gone to receive the Judges. There he arrived at three in the morning, had a conference of two hours with the Duke, and returned to town quite exhausted, to be in the House of Lords at ten in the morning. The Duke called at Windsor on his way to town on Monday, and had a conversation with the King, in which he told him it was now impossible for him to recede, and that if his Majesty made any more difficulties he must instantly resign. The King said he thought he would not desert him under any circumstances, and tried in vain to move him, which not being able to do, he said that he must take a day to consider his final determination, and would communicate it. This he did yesterday afternoon, and he consented to let the Bill go on. There was a Cabinet in the morning, and another in the evening, the latter about the details of the Bill, for Francis Leveson and Doherty were both present.

I met Lord Grey at dinner, and in the evening at Brookes’ had a great deal of conversation with Scarlett, Duncannon, and Spring Rice. They are all much alarmed, and think the case full of difficulties, not only from the violence and wavering of the King, but from the great objections which so many people have to the alteration of the elective franchise. Duncannon says nothing shall induce him to support it, and he would rather defeat the whole measure than consent to it; Spring Rice, on the contrary, is ready to swallow anything to get Emancipation. The object of the anti-Catholics is to take advantage of this disunion and of the various circumstances which throw difficulties in the way of Government, and they think, by availing themselves of them dexterously, they will be able to defeat the measure. They all seem to think that the Oxford election has been attended with most prejudicial effects to the cause. It has served for an argument to the Cumberland faction with the King, and has influenced his Majesty very much.

Huskisson made a speech last night which must put an end to any hopes of assistance to the Opposition from him and his party, which it is probable they looked to before, and I dare say the Duke of Cumberland has held out such hopes to the King. The correspondence between the Duke of Wellington and the Duke of Cumberland was pretty violent, I believe, but the Duke of Cumberland misrepresents what passed both in it and at their interview. He declared to the Duke that he would not interfere in any manner, but refused to leave the country; to Madame de Lieven he said that the Duke had tried everything—entreaties, threats, and bribes—but that he had told him he would not go away, and would do all he could to defeat his measures, and that if he were to offer him 100,000ℓ. to go to Calais he would not take it. The degree of agitation, alternate hopes and fears, and excitement of every kind cannot be conceived unless seen and mixed in as I see and mix in it. Spring Rice said last night he thought those next four days to come would be the most important in the history of the country of any for ages past, and so they are. I was told last night that Knighton has been co-operating with the Duke of Cumberland, and done a great deal of mischief, and that he has reason to think that K. is intriguing deeply, with the design of expelling the Conyngham family from Windsor. This I do not believe, and it seems quite inconsistent with what I am also told—that the King’s dislike of Knighton, and his desire of getting rid of him, is just the same, and that no day passes that he does not offer Mount Charles Knighton’s place, and, what is more, that Knighton presses him to take it.

March 5th, 1829

Great alarm again yesterday because the CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. Duke, the Chancellor, and Peel went down to Windsor again. Dined at Prince Lieven’s. In the evening we learned that everything was settled—that as soon as the King found the Duke would really leave him unless he gave way, he yielded directly, and that if the Duke had told him so at first he would not have made all this bother. The Duke of Cumberland was there (at Lieven’s), but did not stay long. I sat next to Matuscewitz (the Russian who is come over on a special mission to assist Lieven), and asked him if he did not think we were a most extraordinary people, and seeing all that goes on, as he must do, without any prejudices about persons or things, if it was not marvellous to behold the violence which prevailed in the Catholic discussion. He owned that it was inconceivable, and, notwithstanding all he had heard and read of our history for some years past, he had no idea that so much rage and animosity could have been manifested and that the anti-Popery spirit was still so vigorous. The day, however, is at last arrived, and to-night the measure will be introduced. But the Duke of Cumberland and his faction by no means abandon all hopes of being able to throw over the Bill in its progress, and they will leave no stone unturned to effect their purpose and to work on the King’s mind while it is going on.

March 6th, 1829

Peel brought on the Catholic question last night in a speech of four hours, and said to be far the best he ever made. It is full of his never-failing fault, egotism, but certainly very able, plain, clear, and statesmanlike, and the peroration very eloquent. The University of Oxford should have been there in a body to hear the member they have rejected and him whom they have chosen in his place. The House was crammed to suffocation, and the lobby likewise. The cheering was loud and frequent, and often burst upon the impatient listener without. I went to Brookes’ and found them all just come from the House, full of satisfaction at Peel’s speech and the liberality of the measure, and in great admiration of Murray’s. The general disposition seemed to be to support both the Bills, and they argued justly who said that those who would have supported the whole measure if it had been in one Bill ought not to take advantage of there being two to oppose the one they dislike. The part that is the most objectionable is making the measure so far prospective (‘hereafter to be elected’) as to exclude O’Connell from Clare, more particularly after the decision of the Committee in his favour. Six weeks ago Mrs. Arbuthnot told me that it was intended to exclude him, but I did not believe her. It seemed to me too improbable, and I never thought more about it. If they persist in this it is nothing short of madness, and I agree with Spring Rice, who said last night that instead of excluding him you should pay him to come into Parliament, and rather buy a seat for him than let him remain out. If they keep him out it can only be from wretched motives of personal spite, and to revenge themselves on him for having compelled them to take the course they have adopted. The imprudence of this exception is obvious, for when pacification is your object, and to heal old wounds your great desire, why begin by opening new ones and by exasperating the man who has the greatest power of doing mischief and creating disturbance and discontent in Ireland? It is desirable to reconcile the Irish to the measures of disfranchisement, and to allow as much time as possible to elapse before the new system comes into practical operation. By preventing O’Connell from taking his seat his wrongs are identified with those of the disfranchised freeholders. He will have every motive for exasperating the public mind and exciting universal dissatisfaction, and there will be another Clare election, and a theatre for the display of every angry passion which interest or revenge can possibly put in action. It is remarkable that attacks, I will not say upon the Church, but upon Churchmen, are now made in both Houses with much approbation. The Oxford parsons behaved so abominably at the election that they have laid themselves open to the severest strictures, and last night Lord Wharncliffe in one House and Murray in the other commented on the general conduct of Churchmen at this crisis with a severity which DIVISION ON THE CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. was by no means displeasing except to the bishops. I am convinced that very few years will elapse before the Church will really be in danger. People will grow tired of paying so dearly for so bad an article.

March 8th, 1829

Yesterday the list came out of those who had voted on the Catholic question, by which it appeared that several people had voted against the Government (particularly all the Lowthers) who were expected to vote with them, and of course this will be a test by which the Duke’s strength and absoluteness may be tried, so much so that it is very generally thought that if he permits them to vote with impunity he will lose the question. It was said in the evening that Lowther and Birkett had resigned, but Lord Aberdeen, whom I met at dinner, said they had not at five o’clock yesterday evening. It is, I think, impossible for the Duke to excuse anybody who votes against him or stays away. Dined at Agar Ellis’s and met Harrowbys, Stanleys, Aberdeen, &c. Lord Harrowby thought Peel’s speech extremely able and judicious. He said that Lord Eldon had asserted that Mr. Pitt’s opinions had been changed on this question, which was entirely false, for he had been much more intimate with Mr. Pitt than Lord Eldon ever was, and had repeatedly discussed the question with him, and had never found the slightest alteration in his sentiments. He had deprecated bringing it on because at that moment he was convinced that it would have driven the King mad and raised a prodigious ferment in England. He talked a great deal of Fox and Pitt, and said that the natural disposition of the former was to arbitrary power and that of the latter to be a reformer, so that circumstances drove each into the course the other was intended for by nature. Lord North’s letter to Fox when he dismissed him in 1776 was, ‘The King has ordered a new commission of the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not see your name.’ How dear this cost him and what an influence that note may have had on the affairs of the country and on Fox’s subsequent life! They afterwards talked of the ‘Cateatonenses’ written by Canning, Frere, and G. Ellis. Lady Morley has a copy, which I am to see.[4]

[4] [The ‘Musæ Cateatonenses,’ a burlesque narrative of a supposed expedition of Mr. George Legge to Cateaton Street in search of a Swiss chapel. Nothing can be more droll. The only copy I have seen is still at Saltram. This jeu d’esprit (which fills a volume) was composed by Canning and his friends one Easter recess they spent at Ashbourne.]

March 9th, 1829

It was reported last night that there had been a compromise with Lowther, who is to retain his seat and to vote for the Bill in all its other stages. But he dined at Crockford’s, and told somebody there that he had tendered his resignation and had received no answer. I do not understand this indecision; they must deprive those who will not support them thoroughly. ‘Thorough,’ as Laud and Strafford used to say, must be their word.

Evening.—I asked Lord Bathurst to-day if Lowther, &c., were out, and he said nothing had been done about it, that there was plenty of time. Afterwards met Mrs. Arbuthnot in the Park, and turned back with her. She was all against their being turned out, from which I saw that they are to stay in. We met Gosh, and I walked with them to the House of Commons. We renewed the subject, and he said that he had been just as much as I could be for the adoption of strong measures, but that the great object was to carry the Bill, and if the Duke did not act with the greatest prudence and caution it would still be lost. He hinted that the difficulties with the King are still great, and that he is in a state of excitement which alarms them lest he should go mad. It is pretty clear that the Duke cannot venture to turn them out. In the meantime the Duke of Cumberland continues at work. Lord Bathurst told me that he went to Windsor on Saturday, that he had assured the King that great alarm prevailed in London, that the people were very violent, and that the Duke had been hissed by the mob in going to the House of Lords, all of which of course he believes. The Duke is very unwell. I think matters do not look at all well, and I am alarmed.

March 11th, 1829

The Duke was much better yesterday, went CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL. to the House, and made a very good and stirring speech in answer to Lord Winchelsea, who disgusted all his own party by announcing himself an advocate for reform in Parliament. It is now clear that Lowther, &c., are not to quit their places unless something fresh occurs. The reason supposed is that the King supports them, and that the Duke does not venture to insist on their dismissal. The real reason is that he has got an idea that the Whigs want to make him quarrel with his old friends in order to render him more dependent upon them, and he is therefore anxious (as he thinks he can) to carry through the measure without quarrelling with anybody, so that he will retain the support of the Tories and show the Whigs that he can do without them, a notion which is unfounded, besides being both unwise and illiberal. He has already given some persons to understand that they must support him on this question, and now he is going to grant a dispensation to others, nor is there any necessity for quarrelling with anybody. Lowther himself evidently felt that he could not hold his office and oppose the measure, and consequently resigned. The Duke might accept his resignation with a very friendly explanation on the subject; eventually he would be certain to join Government again, for to what other party could he betake himself? These great Tory borough-mongering Lords have no taste for opposition. Arbuthnot told my father that this was his feeling, and when I told Mrs. Arbuthnot what a bad moral effect the Duke’s lenity had, she said, ‘Oh, you hear that from the Opposition.’ Last night in his speech, when he said he had the cordial support of his Majesty, he turned round with energy to the Duke of Cumberland. Several Peers upon one pretext or another have withdrawn the support they had intended to give to the Duke’s Bill. Fourteen Irish bishops are coming over in a body to petition the King against this Bill, and most foolish they. The English bishops may by possibility be sincere and disinterested in their opposition (not that I believe they are), but nobody will ever believe that the Irish think of anything but their scandalous revenues. The thing must go; the only question is when and how. The Kent petition to the King is to be presented, I believe, by Lords Winchelsea and Bexley; they would not entrust it to Peel. Lord W. wanted to march down to Windsor at the head of 25,000 men.

March 14th, 1829

Arbuthnot told the Duke what was said about not turning out the refractory members, and he replied, ‘I have undertaken this business, and I am determined to go through with it. Nobody knows the difficulties I have in dealing with my royal master, and nobody knows him so well as I do. I will succeed, but I am as in a field of battle, and I must fight it out my own way.’ This would be very well if there were not other motives mixed up with this—jealousy of the Whigs and a desire to keep clear of them, and quarrel with them again when this is over. Herries told Hyde Villiers that their policy was conservative, that of the Whigs subversive, and that they never could act together. All false, for nobody’s policy is subversive who has much to lose, and the Whigs comprise the great mass of property and a great body of the aristocracy of the country. Nobody seems to doubt that the Bill will pass. The day before yesterday the Duke of Newcastle went to Windsor and had an audience. Lord Bathurst told me that they had reason to believe his Grace had told the King his own sentiments on the Catholic question, but that the King had made no answer. But as nobody was present they could not depend on the truth of this (which they had from his Majesty himself, of course), and he begged me to find out what account the Duke gave of it.

March 15th, 1829

The Duke of Newcastle was with the King an hour and a half or two hours. After he had presented his petitions he pulled out a paper, which he read to the King. His Majesty made him no answer, and desired him if he had any other communications to make to him to send them through the Duke of Wellington. I dare say this is true, not because he says so, but because there has been no notice taken of the Duke’s visit in any of the newspapers. They now talk of thirteen bishops, and probably more, PERSONAL HABITS OF GEORGE IV. voting with Government. I suppose the majority will be very large.

March 16th to 17th, 1829

I received a message from the King, to tell me that he was sorry I had not dined with him the last time I was at Windsor, that he had intended to ask me, but finding that all the Ministers dined there except Ellenborough, he had let me go, that Ellenborough might not be the only man not invited, and ‘he would be damned if Ellenborough ever should dine in his house.’ I asked Lord Bathurst afterwards, to whom I told this, why he hated Ellenborough, and he said that something he had said during the Queen’s trial had given the King mortal offence, and he never forgave it. The King complains that he is tired to death of all the people about him. He is less violent about the Catholic question, tired of that too, and does not wish to hear any more about it. He leads a most extraordinary life—never gets up till six in the afternoon. They come to him and open the window curtains at six or seven o’clock in the morning; he breakfasts in bed, does whatever business he can be brought to transact in bed too, he reads every newspaper quite through, dozes three or four hours, gets up in time for dinner, and goes to bed between ten and eleven. He sleeps very ill, and rings his bell forty times in the night; if he wants to know the hour, though a watch hangs close to him, he will have his valet de chambre down rather than turn his head to look at it. The same thing if he wants a glass of water; he won’t stretch out his hand to get it. His valets are nearly destroyed, and at last Lady Conyngham prevailed on him to agree to an arrangement by which they wait on him on alternate days. The service is still most severe, as on the days they are in waiting their labours are incessant, and they cannot take off their clothes at night, and hardly lie down. He is in good health, but irritable, and has been horribly annoyed by other matters besides the Catholic affair.

March 18th, 1829

I was at Windsor for the Council and the Recorder’s report. We waited above two hours; of course his Majesty did not get up till we were all there. A small attendance in Council—the Duke, Bathurst, Aberdeen, Melville, and I think no other Cabinet Minister. I sent for Batchelor, the King’s valet de chambre, and had a pretty long conversation with him; he talked as if the walls had ears, but was anxious to tell me everything. He confirmed all I had before heard of the King’s life, and said he was nearly dead of it, that he was in high favour, and the King had given him apartments in the Lodge and some presents. His Majesty has been worried to death, and has not yet made up his mind to the Catholic Bill (this man knows, I’ll be bound). But what he most dwelt on was Sir William Knighton. I said to him that the King was afraid of the Duke. He replied he thought not; he thought he was afraid of nobody but of Knighton, that he hated him, but that his influence and authority were without any limit, that he could do anything, and without him nothing could be done; that after him Lady Conyngham was all-powerful, but in entire subserviency to him; that she did not dare have anybody to dine there without previously ascertaining that Knighton would not disapprove of it; that he knew everything, and nobody dared say or do a thing of any sort without his permission. There was a sort of mysterious awe with which he spoke of Knighton, mixed with dislike, which was curious. He is to call on me when he comes to London, and will, I dare say, tell me more. Returned to town at night, and heard of Sadler’s speech[5] and read it. It is certainly very clever, but better as reported than as it was delivered. He sent the report to the ‘Morning Journal’ himself, and added some things and omitted others, and thereby improved it. He is sixty-seven years old, and it is his maiden speech; certainly very remarkable and indicative of much talent. Lord Harrowby told me he heard it, and was greatly struck by it.

[5] [Mr. Sadler, who had never sat in Parliament before, was returned by the Duke of Newcastle at this time for the express purpose of opposing the Catholic Relief Bill, which he did with considerable ability.]

March 19th, 1829

Last night the debate ended, with a very excellent DEBATE ON THE CATHOLIC BILL. speech from Robert Grant,[6] and a speech from Lord Palmerston which astonished everybody. The Attorney-General was violent and brutal, and Peel’s reply very good; he was bursting with passion, but restrained himself. I met Tierney, and told him that there was great disappointment that he had not answered Sadler. He said he could not speak for coughing, that Sadler’s speech was clever, but over-rated, nothing like so good as they talked of. Robert Grant’s was very good indeed, the best for matter; Palmerston’s the most brilliant, ‘an imitation of Canning, and not a bad one.’ Though the Opposition gained eight in this division, they are disappointed and disheartened, and will make but little fight on the other stages (as it is thought). Nine bishops are to vote. The meeting at Lambeth took place the day before yesterday, but it came to nothing. They separated agreeing to meet again, and in the meantime that each should take his own line. Tierney talked of the Duke’s management of this business with great admiration, as did Lord Durham last night in the same strain; but after all what was it but the resolution of secresy (which I think was a most wise and judicious one)? for he did nothing but keep the secret. However, the thing has been well imagined and well executed. Tierney thinks Peel will resign when it is all over, and at his father’s death will be made a Peer. I should not wonder; he must be worn to death with the torrents of abuse and invective with which his old friends assail him on every occasion. I presume that if he could have anticipated their conduct he would not have been so civil to them in the beginning, and would have taken another turn altogether; it would have been better for him. Lady Worcester told me to-day what adds to many other proofs that the Duke is a very hard man; he takes no notice of any of his family; he never sees his mother, has only visited her two or three times in the last few years; and has not now been to see Lady Anne, though she has been in such affliction for the death of her only son, and he passes her door every time he goes to Strathfieldsaye. He is well with Lady Maryborough, though they quarrelled after Lord M. was driven from the Cabinet; Lord Wellesley is seriously affronted with him at the little consideration the Duke shows for him, and for having shown him no confidence in all this business, especially as the Catholic question was the only political difference that existed between them. He is a very extraordinary man certainly, and with many contradictions in his character; in him, however, they are so much more apparent than in any other man, for he is always before the world—all his actions, his motives, and even his thoughts.

[6] [Robert Grant, Esq., M.P., brother of Mr. Charles Grant. He was afterwards appointed Governor of Bombay.]

March 21st, 1829, at night

This morning the Duke fought a duel with Lord Winchelsea. Nothing could equal the astonishment caused by this event. Everybody of course sees the matter in a different light; all blame Lord W., but they are divided as to whether the Duke ought to have fought or not. Lord W.’s letter appeared last Monday, and certainly from that time to this it never entered into anybody’s head that the Duke ought to or would take it up, though the expressions in it were very impertinent. But Lord Winchelsea is such a maniac, and has so lost his head (besides the ludicrous incident of the handkerchief[7]), that everybody imagined the Duke would treat what he said with silent contempt. He thought otherwise, however, and without saying a word to any of his colleagues or to anybody but Hardinge, his second, he wrote and demanded an apology. After many letters and messages between the parties (Lord Falmouth being Lord Winchelsea’s second) Lord Winchelsea declined making any apology, and they met. The letters on the Duke’s part are very creditable, so free from arrogance or an assuming tone; those on Lord Winchelsea’s not so, for one of them is a senseless repetition of the offence, in which he says that if the Duke will deny that his allegations are true he will apologise. They met at Wimbledon at eight o’clock. There were many people about, who saw what passed. They stood at a distance of fifteen paces. Before they began DUEL OF THE DUKE AND LORD WINCHELSEA. Hardinge went up to Lords Winchelsea and Falmouth, and said he must protest against the proceeding, and declare that their conduct in refusing an apology when Lord Winchelsea was so much in the wrong filled him with disgust. The Duke fired and missed, and then Winchelsea fired in the air. He immediately pulled out of his pocket the paper which has since appeared, but in which the word ‘apology’ was omitted. The Duke read it and said it would not do. Lord Falmouth said he was not come there to quibble about words, and that he was ready to make the apology in whatever terms would be satisfactory, and the word ‘apology’ was inserted on the ground. The Duke then touched his hat, said ‘Good morning, my Lords,’ mounted his horse, and rode off. Hume was there, without knowing on whose behalf till he got to the ground. Hardinge asked him to attend, and told him where he would find a chaise, into which he got. He found there pistols, which told him the errand he was on, but he had still no notion the Duke was concerned; when he saw him he was ready to drop. The Duke went to Mrs. Arbuthnot’s as soon as he got back, and at eleven o’clock she wrote a note to Lord Bathurst, telling him of it, which he received at the Council board and put into my hands. So little idea had he of Lord Winchelsea’s letter leading to anything serious that when on Wednesday, at the Council at Windsor, I asked him if he had read it, he said, laughing, ‘Yes, and it is a very clever letter, much the wisest thing he ever did; he has got back his money. I wish I could find some such pretext to get back mine.’ At twelve o’clock the Duke went to Windsor to tell the King what had happened. Winchelsea is abused for not having made an apology when it was first required; but I think, having committed the folly of writing so outrageous a letter, he did the only thing a man of honour could do in going out and receiving a shot and then making an apology, which he was all this time prepared to do, for he had it ready written in his pocket. I think the Duke ought not to have challenged him; it was very juvenile, and he stands in far too high a position, and his life is so much publica cura that he should have treated him and his letter with the contempt they merited; it was a great error in judgment, but certainly a venial one, for it is impossible not to admire the high spirit which disdained to shelter itself behind the immunities of his great character and station, and the simplicity, and almost humility, which made him at once descend to the level of Lord Winchelsea, when he might, without subjecting himself to any imputation derogatory to his honour, have assumed a tone of lofty superiority and treated him as unworthy of his notice. Still it was beneath his dignity; it lowered him, and was more or less ridiculous. Lord Jersey met him coming from Windsor, and spoke to him. He said, ‘I could not do otherwise, could I?’

[7] [The incident of the handkerchief is related below, p. 198 (March 29th, 1829).]

I met the Bishop of Oxford in the Park this morning; he said nine bishops, and probably ten, would vote for the Bill. He said he was not at the meeting at Lambeth, but the Archbishop sent for him, and despatched him to the Duke with an account of their proceedings. The Archbishop summoned the bishops to consult upon the course they should pursue, and see if there was any chance of their acting with unanimity. Finding this was not possible, they resolved that each should take his own line; and a proposal to address the King, which was urged by one or two of the most violent (he did not name them), was overruled. The anti-Catholic papers and men lavish the most extravagant encomiums on Wetherell’s speech, and call it ‘the finest oration ever delivered in the House of Commons,’ ‘the best since the second Philippic.’ He was drunk, they say. The Speaker said ‘the only lucid interval he had was that between his waistcoat and his breeches.’ When he speaks he unbuttons his braces, and in his vehement action his breeches fall down and his waistcoat runs up, so that there is a great interregnum. He is half mad, eccentric, ingenious, with great and varied information and a coarse, vulgar mind, delighting in ribaldry and abuse, besides being an enthusiast. The first time he distinguished himself was in Watson’s trial, when he and Copley were his counsel, and both made very able speeches. He was then a trading lawyer and politician, till the Queen came over, when he made a very powerful speech in the House of THE KING ON THE DUEL. Commons, full of research, in favour of inserting her name in the Liturgy. He was then engaged by Chancellor Eldon for the Court, soon after made Solicitor-General, much abused for ratting, became Attorney-General, and resigned when Canning became Minister. He was restored when the Duke was made Prime Minister, and now he will have to retire again.

March 26th, 1829

Everything is getting on very quietly in the House of Commons, and the Opposition are beginning to squabble among themselves, some wishing to create delay, and others not choosing to join in these tricks, when they know it is useless. The Duke came here the night before last, but I was not at home. He talked over the whole matter with his usual simplicity. The King, it seems, was highly pleased with the Winchelsea affair, and he said, ‘I did not see the letter (which is probably a lie); if I had, I certainly should have thought it my duty to call your attention to it.’ Somebody added that ‘he would be wanting to fight a duel himself.’ Sefton said, ‘he will be sure to think he has fought one.’ Hume gave the two Lords a lecture on the ground after the duel, and said he did not think there was a man in England who would have lifted his hand against the Duke. Very uncalled for, but the Duke’s friends have less humility than he has, for Lord Winchelsea did not lift his hand against him. It is curious that the man who threw the bottle at Lord Wellesley in Dublin (and who is a Protestant fanatic) has been lurking constantly about the House of Lords, so much so that it was thought right to apprise Peel of it, and the police have been desired in consequence to keep a strict watch over him, and to take care that he does no mischief. The Duke after the duel sent Lord Melville to the Duke of Montrose with a message that his son-in-law had behaved very much like a gentleman. The women, particularly of course Lady Jersey, have been very ridiculous, affecting nervousness and fine feeling, though they never heard of the business till some hours after it was over. Mrs. Arbuthnot was not so foolish but made very light of it all, which was in better sense and better taste.

M—— told me two days ago that, although he is more quiet, the King is not at all reconciled to the Catholic question. His Majesty was very much annoyed at his speech the other day, having always hoped that he was at heart too indifferent about it to take a decided line or express publicly a strong opinion. It is supposed that either Sugden or Alderson will be Solicitor-General. O’Connell has done himself great credit by his moderation in the Committee. Grattan wanted to move an amendment omitting the words by which O’Connell is excluded from taking his seat for Clare, when Rice and Duncannon begged him to withdraw it, and said they were charged with the expression of O’Connell’s wish that his individual case should not be thought of, as he would not have it be any impediment to the success of the measure. This, of course, greatly annoys those who have inveighed against him, and who have always contended that he only wished for confusion, and would be very sorry to see the question settled.

The other day Jack Lawless[8] called on Arbuthnot to ask him some question about the Deccan prize money, in which a brother of his has an interest. He entered upon politics, was very obsequious in his manner, extravagant in praise of the Duke, quite shocked that he should have fought a duel, and said, ‘Sir, we are twelve of us here, and not one but what would fight for him any day in the week.’ He said that some years ago, when he heard the Duke speak, he was distressed at his hesitation, but that now he spoke better than anyone; that in the Lords he heard Eldon, and Plunket, and Grey, and then up got the Duke and answered everybody, and spoke better than they all. Arbuthnot says he was bowing and scraping, and all humility and politeness, with none of the undergrowl of the Association.

[8] [A prominent member of the Catholic Association in Dublin.]

March 26th, 1829, at night

Just met M——, who had returned that moment from Windsor, where he had left the King in such an ill humour that he would not stay and dine there. The Duke of Cumberland never goes there without unsettling his mind, and yesterday evening Lord Mansfield LORD ELDON’S INTERVIEW WITH THE KING. had been to the Castle and had an audience. Lord Eldon prevails on all these Peers to exercise their right and demand audiences. Lord Mansfield had no petition to present, and only went to remonstrate about the Catholic question and tell the King that all the Protestants looked to him to save them from the impending danger. The King declares he only listens to what they say, and replies that he must leave everything to his Ministers; but it is impossible for him to listen (and not talk himself) for an hour and a quarter together. He is very angry at the Bishop of Winchester’s speech, and at the declaration in favour of the Bill by both of the brothers.[9] He accused M—— of having influenced the Bishop, which he denied, and told him that he would not have been biassed by anybody. The King still is in hopes that the Bill will not pass, and said that the Ministers had only a majority of five, and with that they would not carry it through. M—— replied that they had above fifty, and after such a majority as there had been in the Commons it must pass. All this he received as sulkily as possible, and it is clear that if he dared, and if he could, he would still defeat the measure. His dislike to it is the opposition of a spoiled child, founded on considerations purely personal and selfish and without any reason whatever.

[9] [The two Sumners. Dr. John Bird Sumner (afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury) had been raised to the see of Chester in 1828. They owed their advancement to the especial favour of George IV. The bishop adverted to in the next sentence was the Bishop of Winchester.]

March 29th, 1829, at night

Dined at Lady Sandwich’s, and met Madame de Lieven, who is grown very gracious, craving for news, and probably very malignant. Lieven told me (which she did not) that Lord Eldon was with the King yesterday for four hours. She confirmed it after dinner, and said that Halford had told her, but added that he had done no harm.[10] Lieven also told me that Stratford Canning is coming home, and Robert Gordon going to Constantinople. He is a dull, heavy man, and not able, I should think, to cope with the Turkish Ministers, if they are (as the Duke says) the ablest diplomatists in Europe. I don’t know why Stratford Canning is coming home, whether nolens or volens.

[10] [This was the celebrated interview related in Lord Eldon’s ‘Memoirs’ vol. iii., when, however, the King gave Lord E. a very erroneous account of the transaction, subsequently corrected by Sir Robert Peel in his ‘Memoirs.’]

I have, I see, alluded to Lord Winchelsea’s handkerchief story,[11] but have not mentioned the circumstances, which I may as well do. Lord Holland came home one night from the House of Lords, and as soon as he had occasion to blow his nose pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket; upon which my Lady exclaimed (she hates perfumes), ‘Good God, Lord H., where did you get that handkerchief? Send it away directly.’ He said he did not know, when it was inspected, and the letter W found on it. Lord H. said, ‘I was sitting near Lord Winchelsea, and it must be his, which I took up by mistake and have brought home.’ Accordingly the next day he sent it to Lord Winchelsea with his compliments. Lord Winchelsea receiving the handkerchief and the message, and finding it marked W, fancied it was the Duke’s, and that it was sent to him by way of affronting him; on which he went to the Duke of Newcastle and imparted to him the circumstances, and desired him to wait on Lord Holland for an explanation. This his Grace did, when the matter was cleared up and the handkerchief was found to be the property of Lord Wellesley. The next day Lord Winchelsea came up laughing to Lord Holland in the House of Lords, and said he had many apologies to make for what had passed, but that he really was in such a state of excitement he did not know what he said and did.[12]

[11] [Supra, p. 192 (March 21st, 1829).]

[12] [Lord Winchelsea was in the habit of flourishing a white pocket handkerchief while he was speaking in the House of Lords. This peculiarity; associated with his sonorous tones, his excited action, and his extravagant opinions, gave point to the incident.]

April 4th, 1829

On the third reading of the Catholic Bill in the House of Commons Sadler failed, and Palmerston made a speech like one of Canning’s. The Bill has been two nights in the House of Lords. They go on with it this morning, and will divide this evening. The Chancellor made DEBATE ON THE CATHOLIC BILL. a very fine speech last night, and the Bishop of Oxford spoke very well the night before, but the debate has been dull on the whole; the subject is exhausted. The House of Lords was very full, particularly of women; every fool in London thinks it necessary to be there. It is only since last year that the steps of the throne have been crowded with ladies; formerly one or two got in, who skulked behind the throne, or were hid in Tyrwhitt’s box, but now they fill the whole space, and put themselves in front with their large bonnets, without either fear or shame.

April 5th, 1829

The question was put at a little before twelve last night, and carried by 105—217 to 112 (a greater majority than the most sanguine expected)—after a splendid speech from Lord Grey and a very good one from Lord Plunket. Old Eldon was completely beat, and could make no fight at all; his speech was wretched, they say, for I did not hear it. This tremendous defeat will probably put an end to anything like serious opposition; they will hardly rally again.

I dined at Chesterfield House, but nobody came to dinner. Chesterfield and his party were all at the House of Lords. I found myself almost alone with Vesey Fitzgerald, with whom I had much talk after dinner. He said that it would be a long time before all the circumstances and all the difficulties relating to their proceedings were known, but when they were it would be seen how great had been the latter, how curious the former; that the day the Chancellor, the Duke, and Peel were with the King they actually were out (all of which I knew), and that he believes if the other party could have made a Government with a chance of standing, out they would have gone; but that it was put to them (this I did not know), and they acknowledged they could not. They held consultations on the subject, and the man they principally relied on was the Duke of Richmond; they meant he should be either First Lord of the Treasury or Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Lord Winchelsea said to Ellenborough, ‘Why, he speaks better than the Duke of Wellington any day.’ He happens to have his wits, such as they are, about him, and has been quick and neat in one or two little speeches, though he spoke too often, and particularly in his attack on the Bishop of Oxford the other night. Last year, on the Wool question, he did very well, but all the details were got up for him by George Bentinck,[13] who took the trouble. Besides, his fortune consists in great measure of wool, he lives in the country, is well versed in rural affairs and the business of the quarter sessions, has a certain calibre of understanding, is prejudiced, narrow-minded, illiterate, and ignorant, good-looking, good-humoured, and unaffected, tedious, prolix, unassuming, and a duke. There would not have been so much to say about him if they had not excited an idea in the minds of some people of making him Prime Minister and successor to the Duke of Wellington.

[13] [It deserves remark that Lord George Bentinck was thus early employing his singular talents in mastering details, although he took no conspicuous part in politics until the proposal for the repeal of the Corn Law in 1845.]

Vesey told me that Dawson’s speech at Derry very nearly overturned the whole design. The King heard of it the day of a Council at Windsor (which I well remember). The Chancellor was with him for a long time, but it was almost impossible to persuade the King that Dawson knew nothing of the intention of the Government, and that his speech was not made in concert with Peel and the Duke. This it was which caused them such excessive annoyance, because it raised difficulties which well-nigh prevented the accomplishment of the design. It must be owned that the King might well believe this, and although it is very certain that Dawson knew nothing, and that his making such a speech ought to have been a proof that he was in ignorance, it will always be believed that he was aware of the intended measure, and that his speech was made with the Duke’s concurrence. It is curious enough that his opinion had been long changed, and that he had intended to pronounce his recantation when Brownlow did, but as Brownlow got the start of him he would not. For two years after this he persevered in the old course, and when Canning came in, and the Catholic question was the great field on which he was to be fought, THE BILL IN JEOPARDY. Dawson reverted vigorously to his old opinions, and spoke vehemently against emancipation. Such is party!

The circumstances that Vesey talked of are in fact pretty well known or guessed at, nor has there ever been any secret as to the main fact of the King’s opposition and dislike to the measure. He told me that after Eldon’s visit of four hours the Duke remonstrated, and told the King what great umbrage it gave his Ministers to see and hear of these long and numerous interviews with their opponents. The King declared that he said nothing and that nothing passed calculated to annoy them, which they none of them believed, but of course could make no reply to.

April 8th, 1829

I have mentioned above (March 4th[14]), p. 180, the Chancellor, the Duke, and Peel going to the King, and the alarm that prevailed here. That day the Catholic question was in great jeopardy. They went to tell the King that unless he would give them his real, efficient support, and not throw his indirect influence into the opposite scale, they would resign. He refused to give them that support; they placed their resignations in his hands and came away. The King then sent to Eldon, and asked him if he would undertake to form a Government. He deliberated (then it was that it was question of the Duke of Richmond being First Lord or Lord-Lieutenant), but eventually said he could not undertake it. On his refusal the King yielded, and the Bill went on; but if Eldon had accepted, the Duke and his colleagues would have been out, and God knows what would have happened. It was, of course, of all these matters that the King talked to Eldon in the long interview they had the other day. He is very sulky at the great majority in the House of Lords, as I knew he would be.

[14] [It was on the 3rd of March that this interview took place, as related by Sir R. Peel himself in his ‘Memoir’ (vol. i. p. 343). The King asked his Ministers to explain the details of the measure they proposed to bring in. They informed his Majesty that it would be necessary to modify in the case of the Roman Catholics that part of the oath of supremacy which relates to the ecclesiastical jurisdiction and supremacy of the Pope. To this the King said he could not possibly consent. Upon this Mr. Peel and his colleagues informed his Majesty that they must resign. His Majesty accepted the resignations, and the Ministers returned to London (after an audience of five hours) under the full persuasion that the Government was dissolved. In the interval some attempt was made to form a Protestant Cabinet; but on the evening of the following day, the 4th of March, the King wrote a letter to the Duke of Wellington, informing him that his Majesty anticipated so much difficulty in the attempt to form another Administration that he could not dispense with his Ministers’ services, and that they were at liberty to proceed with the measures of which notice had been given in Parliament.]

Lady Jersey is in a fury with Lord Anglesey, and goes about saying he insulted her in the House of Lords the other night. She was sitting on one of the steps of the throne, and the Duchess of Richmond on the step above. After Lord Anglesey had spoken he came to talk to the Duchess, who said, ‘How well you did speak;’ on which he said, ‘Hush! you must take care what you say, for here is Lady Jersey, and she reports for the newspapers;’ on which Lady Jersey said very angrily, ‘Lady Jersey is here for her own amusement; what do you mean by reporting for newspapers?’ to which he replied with a profound bow, ‘I beg your Ladyship’s pardon; I did not mean to offend you, and if I did I beg to make the most ample apology.’ This is his version; hers, of course, is different. He says that he meant the whole thing as a joke. It was a very bad joke if it was one, and as he knows how she abuses him, one may suspect that there was something more than joking in it.

The other night Lord Grey had called Lord Falmouth to order, and after the debate Falmouth came up to him with a menacing air and said, ‘My Lord Grey, I wish to inform you that if upon any future occasion you transgress in the slightest degree the orders of the House, I shall most certainly call you to order.’ Lord Grey, who expected from his air something more hostile, merely said, ‘My Lord, your Lordship will do perfectly right, and whenever I am out of order I hope you will.’ Last night old Eldon got a dressing again from the Chancellor.

April 9th, 1829

Met O’Connell at dinner yesterday at William Ponsonby’s. The only Irish (agitators) were he and O’Gorman Mahon; ——, he said, was too great a blackguard, and he would not invite him. O’Connell arrived from Ireland that day; O’CONNELL AT DINNER. there is nothing remarkable in his manner, appearance, or conversation, but he seems lively, well bred, and at his ease. I asked him after dinner ‘whether Catholics had not taken the oath of supremacy till it was coupled with the declaration;’ he said, ‘in many instances in the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles, because at that time it was considered to apply to the civil supremacy of the Pope only, and that the Government admitted of that interpretation of it, but that no Catholic could take it now, because that construction is never given to the oath.’ Duncannon told me that O’Connell has no wish to be in Parliament, that he makes so much money by his profession that it is a great loss to him to attend Parliament at all. What they want is a compromise with Vesey Fitzgerald, by which he may be admitted to take his seat in this Parliament on an understanding that he will not oppose Vesey in the next; not that I see how that is to be done, except by an Act of Parliament (which would never pass) in his favour. Besides, the Duke detests him, and Vesey likewise. They cannot forgive him for all he has done and all he has made them do. O’Gorman, the secretary of the Catholic Association, appears a heavy, civil, vulgar man. I sat next to Stanley, who told me a story which amused me. Macintosh, in the course of the recent debates, went one day to the House of Commons at eleven in the morning to take a place. They were all taken on the benches below the gangway, and on asking the doorkeeper how they happened to be all taken so early, he said, ‘Oh, sir, there is no chance of getting a place, for Colonel Sibthorpe sleeps at a tavern close by, and comes here every morning by eight o’clock and takes places for all the saints.’

April 13th, 1829

On Friday last the Catholic Bill was read a third time, after a very dull debate. Lord Eldon attempted to rally, and made a long and wretched speech which lasted two hours. Nobody spoke well. The Duke in his reply dropped all the terms of courtesy and friendship he had hitherto used in speaking of old Eldon, and broke off with him entirely. He is disgusted at his opposition out of doors, and at his having been the constant adviser of the Duke of Cumberland and all the foolish Lords who have been pestering the King at Windsor; and he is acquainted with all his tricks and underhand proceedings, probably with more of them than we know of. He thanked the Opposition for their support—thanks which they well merit from him—but of course nobody is satisfied. He was before accused of ingratitude in never taking notice of their conduct, and even it is said that he gave them to understand he had no more need of their services, and wished to make them his bow. I don’t believe he meant any such thing; he intended to thank them simply, though it is probably true that he does not wish to continue in alliance with them, and is anxious to see the Tories put themselves under his orders again. On Saturday he sent the commission down to Windsor for the King’s signature, with other papers as a matter of course; he would not go himself, that there might be no fresh discussion between them.

I went on Friday morning to the Old Bailey to hear the trials, particularly that of the women for the murder of the apprentices; the mother was found guilty, and will be hanged to-day—has been by this time.[15] The case exhibited a shocking scene of wretchedness and poverty, such as ought not to exist in any community, especially in one which pretends to be so flourishing and happy as this is. It is, I suppose, one case of many which may be found in this town, graduating through various stages of misery and vice. These wretched beings were described to be in the lowest state of moral and physical degradation, with scarcely rags to cover them, food barely sufficient to keep them alive, and working eighteen or nineteen hours a day, without being permitted any relaxation, or even the privilege of going to church on Sunday. I never heard more disgusting details than this THEATRICAL FUND DINNER. trial elicited, or a case which calls more loudly for an investigation into the law and the system under which such proceedings are possible. Poverty, and vice, and misery must always be found in a community like ours, but such frightful contrasts between the excess of luxury and splendour and these scenes of starvation and brutality ought not to be possible; but I am afraid there is more vice, more misery and penury in this country than in any other, and at the same time greater wealth. The contrasts are too striking, and such an unnatural, artificial, and unjust state of things neither can nor ought to be permanent. I am convinced that before many years elapse these things will produce some great convulsion.

[15] [Two wretched women named Hibner were tried, and one of them convicted for the murder of a parish apprentice named Francis Colepitts by savage ill-treatment. The elder prisoner was found guilty and executed on the 13th of April. No such concourse of people had assembled to witness an execution since that of Fauntleroy. The details of the crime were horrible, and had excited great sympathy for the victim amongst all classes.—Ann. Regist. for 1829, Chronicle, p. 71.]

After the Old Bailey I went and dined at the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund dinner. The Duke of Clarence could not come, so they put Lord Blessington in the chair, who made an ass of himself. Among other toasts he was to give ‘The memory of the Duke of York,’ who was the founder of the institution. He prefaced this with a speech, but gave ‘The health,’ &c., on which Fawcett, who sat opposite, called out in an agony, ‘The memory, my Lord!’ He corrected himself, but in a minute after said again ‘The health.’ ‘The memory, my Lord!’ again roared Fawcett. It was supremely ridiculous. Francis Leveson sat on his right, Codrington on his left, and Lawless the agitator just opposite; he is a pale, thin, common-looking little man, and has not at all the air of a patriot orator and agitator.

May 14th, 1829

I have been at Newmarket for three weeks, and have had no time to write, nor has anything particular occurred. The King came to town, and had a levee and drawing-room, the former of which was very numerously, the other shabbily attended. At the levee he was remarkably civil to all the Peers, particularly the Duke of Richmond, who had distinguished themselves in opposition to Government in the late debates, and he turned his back on the bishops who had voted for the Bill. O’Connell and Shiel were both at the levee; the former had been presented in Ireland, so had not to be presented again, but the King took no notice of him, and when he went by said to somebody near him, ‘Damn the fellow! what does he come here for?’—dignified.

There was an odd circumstance the day of the drawing-room. The Duke of Cumberland, as Gold Stick, gave orders at the Horse Guards that no carriages should be admitted into the Park, and Peel and the Duke of Wellington, when they presented themselves on their way to Court, were refused admission. The officer on guard came to the Duke’s carriage and said that such were his orders, but that he was sure they were not meant to extend to his Grace, and if he would authorise him he would order the gates to be opened. The Duke said ‘By no means,’ and then desired his carriage to go round the other way. Many people thought that this was a piece of impertinence of the Duke of Cumberland’s, but the Duke says that the whole thing was a mistake. Be this as it may, the Duke of Cumberland and the Duke of Wellington do not speak, and whenever they meet, which often happens in society, the former moves off.

Yesterday morning Batchelor called on me, and sat with me for an hour, telling me all sorts of details concerning the interior of Windsor and St. James’s. The King is well in health, except that since last September he has been afflicted with a complaint in his bladder, which both annoys and alarms him very much. There is no appearance of stone or gravel, but violent irritation, which is only subdued by laudanum, and always returns when the effect of the opiate is gone off. The laudanum, too, disagrees much with his general health. He is attended by Sir Henry Holland, Brodie, and O’Reilly. Sir A. Cooper, who did attend him, is not now consulted, in consequence (Batchelor thinks) of some petty intrigue in some quarter. This O’Reilly, who has gradually insinuated himself into the King’s confidence, and by constantly attending him at Windsor, and bringing him all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the neighbourhood (being on the alert to pick up and retail all he can for the King’s amusement), has made himself necessary, and is not now to be shaken off, to the great annoyance of Knighton, who cannot bear him, as well as of all the other people about the King, LADY CONYNGHAM. who hate him for his meddling, mischievous character, The King’s valets de chambre sit up alternately, and as he sleeps very ill he rings his bell every half-hour. He talks of everybody and everything before his valets with great freedom, except of politics, on which he never utters a word in their presence, and he always sends them away when he sees anybody or speaks on business of any kind. Batchelor thinks that this new disorder is a symptom of approaching decay, and that the King thinks so himself.

In the meantime the influence of Knighton and that of Lady Conyngham continue as great as ever; nothing can be done but by their permission, and they understand one another and play into each other’s hands. Knighton opposes every kind of expense, except that which is lavished on her. The wealth she has accumulated by savings and presents must be enormous. The King continues to heap all kinds of presents upon her, and she lives at his expense; they do not possess a servant; even Lord Conyngham’s valet de chambre is not properly their servant. They all have situations in the King’s household, from which they receive their pay, while they continue in the service of the Conynghams. They dine every day while in London at St. James’s, and when they give a dinner it is cooked at St. James’s and brought up to Hamilton Place in hackney coaches and in machines made expressly for the purpose; there is merely a fire lit in their kitchen for such things as must be heated on the spot. At Windsor the King sees very little of her except of an evening; he lies in bed half the day or more, sometimes goes out, and sometimes goes to her room for an hour or so in the afternoon, and that is all he sees of her. A more despicable scene cannot be exhibited than that which the interior of our Court presents—every base, low, and unmanly propensity, with selfishness, avarice, and a life of petty intrigue and mystery.

May 16th, 1829

O’Connell attempted to take his seat last night, but the business was put off till Monday. His case is exceedingly well got up, but too long. There are many opinions as to his right; many people think he has established it (though he had failed to do so), that a Bill ought to be brought in to enable him to take the new oaths. It was supposed Government would take no part, but Peel’s speech and the language of some of the Ministers are rather unfavourable to him. Lord Grey, when he read the case, thought his argument on the tenth clause of the Bill conclusive, but when he examined the Bill he thought differently, and that the context gives a different signification to the words on which O’Connell relies. Tierney thinks otherwise, and this they debated Bill in hand in Lady Jersey’s room yesterday morning. O’Connell was in a great fright when he went up to the table. He got through the necessary forms in the Steward’s office by means of the Commissioners whom Duncannon provided, and who were, I believe, Burdett and Ebrington. He ought to be allowed to take his seat, but probably he will not; it is a very hard case.[16] The Duke of Orleans is come, and his son, the Duke of Chartres; the latter was at the opera to-night in Prince Leopold’s box.

[16] [O’Connell was excluded from taking his seat as member for Clare, for which he had been elected before the passing of the Relief Act, because it was held that he was bound to take the oath which was required by law at the time of his election, and not the oath imposed on Roman Catholics by the recent statutes. He presented himself to be sworn at the table of the House of Commons on the 15th of May, and there refused to take the former oath, which was tendered to him by the Clerk. The House divided 100 to 116 against his admission without taking the oath of supremacy on the 18th; Mr. O’Connell having previously been heard at the bar in person in support of his claim.]

May 29th, 1829

O’Connell is said to have made a very good speech at the bar of the House, and produced rather a favourable impression. He has done himself this good, that whereas it was pretty generally thought that he was likely to fail in the House of Commons as a speaker, he has now altered that impression. There is but one opinion as to the wretched feeling of excluding him, but the saddle is put upon the right horse, and though the Government are now obliged to enforce the provisions of their own Bill, everybody knows that the exclusion was the work of the King. O’Connell goes back to Clare (as he says) sure of his election; there will be a great uproar, but at present nobody expects any opposition, and all deprecate a contest.

PRINCESS VICTORIA AT A CHILD’S BALL. Yesterday the King gave a dinner to the Dukes of Orleans and Chartres, and in the evening there was a child’s ball. It was pretty enough, and I saw for the first time the Queen of Portugal[17] and our little Victoria. The Queen was finely dressed, with a ribband and order over her shoulder, and she sat by the King. She is good-looking and has a sensible Austrian countenance. In dancing she fell down and hurt her face, was frightened and bruised, and went away. The King was very kind to her. Our little Princess is a short, plain-looking child, and not near so good-looking as the Portuguese. However, if nature has not done so much, fortune is likely to do a great deal more for her. The King looked very well, and stayed at the ball till two. There were very few people, and neither Arbuthnot nor Mrs. A. were asked. I suspect this is owing to what passed in the House about opening the Birdcage Walk. It puts the King in a fury to have any such thing mentioned, not having the slightest wish to accommodate the public, though very desirous of getting money out of their pockets.

[17] [Donna Maria II. da Gloria, Queen of Portugal, on the abdication of her father, Don Pedro, succeeded to the throne on the 2nd of May, 1826. She was born on the 4th of April, 1819, and was consequently but a few weeks older than the Princess Victoria.]

The day before yesterday there was a review for the Duke of Orleans, and the Marquis of Anglesey, who was there at the head of his regiment, contrived to get a tumble, but was not hurt. Last night at the ball the King said to Lord Anglesey, ‘Why, Paget, what’s this I hear? they say you rolled off your horse at the review yesterday.’ The Duke as he left the ground was immensely cheered, and the people thronged about his horse and would shake hands with him. When Lord Hill went to the King the day before to give him an account of the intended review and the dispositions that had been made, he said, ‘Hill, if I can throw my leg over your Shropshire horse, don’t be surprised if you see me amongst you.’

The new law appointments have just been announced, and have created some surprise.[18]

[18] [The Attorney-General, Sir Charles Wetherell, had resigned in consequence of his violent opposition to the Catholic Relief Bill, and was succeeded by Sir James Scarlett (afterwards Lord Abinger). The Solicitor-General, Sir Nicholas Conyngham Tindal, was raised on the 9th of June to the Chief Justiceship of the Common Pleas; and was succeeded in the Solicitorship by Sir Edward Burtenshaw Sugden (afterwards Lord St. Leonards). The vacancy in the Common Pleas was caused by the resignation of Sir William Draper Best, who was created Lord Wynford for the purpose of assisting the Chancellor with the judicial business of the House of Lords.]

June 11th, 1829

I have been at Epsom for a week; the Duke of Grafton, Lords Wilton, Jersey, and Worcester, Russell, Anson, Irby, and myself took Down Hall for the races and lived very well. Nothing particular has occurred. Lord and Lady Ellenborough are separated, and he is supposed to have behaved very handsomely to her. They say he does not now know the whole story of her intrigue with Felix Schwarzenberg; that hero is gone to the Russian army. All the new appointments were declared when I was out of town, and they excited some surprise and more disapprobation. They have made Best a Peer, who is poor and has a family, by which another poor peerage will be added to the list; and he is totally unfit for the situation he is to fill—that of Deputy-Speaker of the House of Lords, and to assist the Chancellor in deciding Scotch causes, of which he knows nothing whatever; and as the Chancellor knows nothing either, the Scotch law is likely to be strangely administered in that great court of appeal. They would have done better to have made Alexander[19] a Peer, who is very old, understands Equity Law, and has no children; but he knows very little of Common Law (which Best is well versed in), and so they keep him on the bench and put Best on the Woolsack. Lord Rosslyn is Privy Seal,[20] and Scarlett Attorney-General, which looks like a leaning towards the Whigs; but then Trench and Lord Edward Somerset are put into the Ordnance; George Bankes goes back to the India Board, and Government supports him in his contest at Cambridge against William Cavendish. This conduct is considered very unhandsome, LORD PALMERSTON ON FOREIGN AFFAIRS. and Tierney, who was well disposed towards the Government, told me yesterday that if the Duke did not take care he thought he would get swamped with such doings, that the way he went on was neither fish nor flesh, and he would offend more people than he would conciliate. At present there is no party, and if Government have no opponents they have no great body of supporters on whom they can depend; everything is in confusion—party, politics, and all.

[19] [Sir William Alexander, then Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer. The Court of Exchequer still retained its Equity jurisdiction.]

[20] [Lord Rosslyn was considered to be a Whig, and Sir James Scarlett was better known for the Liberal opinions he once professed than for the Tory opinions he afterwards assumed.]

The event of last week was Palmerston’s speech on the Portuguese question, which was delivered at a late hour and in an empty House, but which they say was exceedingly able and eloquent. This is the second he has made this year of great merit. It was very violent against Government. He has been twenty years in office and never distinguished himself before, a proof how many accidental circumstances are requisite to bring out the talents which a man may possess. The office he held was one of dull and dry detail, and he never travelled out of it. He probably stood in awe of Canning and others, and was never in the Cabinet; but having lately held higher situations and having acquired more confidence, and the great men having been removed from the House of Commons by death or promotion, he has launched forth, and with astonishing success. Lord Granville told me he had always thought Palmerston was capable of more than he did, and had told Canning so, who did not believe it.

Yesterday the King had his racing dinner, which was more numerously attended and just as magnificent as that he gave last year, but not half so gay and joyous. I believe he had some gouty feeling and was in pain, for, contrary to his usual custom, he hardly spoke, and the Duke of Richmond, who sat next to him, told me that the little he did say was more about politics than the turf, and he fancied that something had annoyed him. He looked well enough, and was very cheerful before dinner. When his health was drunk ‘as Patron of the Jockey Club, and many thanks to him for condescending to accept that title,’ he made a speech, in which he said that ‘he was much gratified by our kindness, and he could assure us that in withdrawing himself as he had done from the Jockey Club he was not influenced by any unkindness to any member of it, or any indifference to the interests of the turf.’

June 24th, 1829

Went to Stoke for the Ascot races. There was such a crowd to see the cup run for as never was seen before. The King was very anxious and disappointed. I bought the winner for Chesterfield[21] two hours before the race, he having previously asked the King’s leave, which he gave with many gracious expressions. I have set about making a reconciliation between the King and Lord Sefton. Both are anxious to make it up, but each is afraid to make the first advances. However, Sefton must make them, and he will. The cause of their quarrel is very old, and signifies little enough now.... They have been at daggers drawn ever since, and Sefton has revenged himself by a thousand jokes at the King’s expense, of which his Majesty is well aware. Their common pursuit, and a desire on the one side to partake of the good things of the Palace, and on the other side to be free from future pleasantries, has generated a mutual disposition to make it up, which is certainly sensible. The King has bought seven horses successively, for which he has given 11,300 guineas, principally to win the cup at Ascot, which he has never accomplished. He might have had Zinganee, but would not, because he fancied the Colonel would beat him; but when that appeared doubtful he was very sorry not to have bought him, and complained that the horse was not offered to him. He is now extravagantly fond of Chesterfield, who is pretty well bit by it. There is always a parcel of eldest sons and Lords in possession invited to the Cottage for the sake of Lady Maria Conyngham. The King likes to be treated with great deference but without fear, and that people should be easy with him, and gay, and listen well. THE COTTAGE. There was a grand consultation at the Cottage between the King, Lieven, Esterhazy, and the Duke of Cumberland as to the way in which the ladies should be placed at dinner, the object being that Lady Conyngham should sit next to his Majesty, though according to etiquette the two Ambassadresses should sit one on each side of him. It was contrived by the Duke of Cumberland taking out one of them and sitting opposite, by which means the lovely Thais sat beside him and he was happy.

[21] [George Augustus, sixth Earl of Chesterfield, born in 1805, died in 1866. He married in 1830 Anne, daughter of Lord Forester. In 1829 he was one of the most brilliant of the young men of fashion of that day, having succeeded to a large rental and large accumulations in his minority.]

June 26th, 1829

I met Tierney and Lord Grey at dinner yesterday; the former wanted to know what passed about the King’s Speech at the Council at Windsor the other day. I had heard nothing, not having been at the Council, but it is believed that the Ministers had put in the Speech a sentence expressive of satisfaction and sanguine hopes about Ireland, and that at the last moment the King would not agree to this; for after the Duke’s audience, which lasted a good while, there was a Cabinet, and it is supposed they knocked under, for the paragraph about Ireland is cold enough. The Duke of Cumberland is thought to have had a hand in all this, and to have persuaded the King to be obstinate. We talked a great deal about the situation of the Government and the state of the House of Commons, and Tierney thinks that unless the Duke strengthens himself he will not be able to go on; that Rosslyn and Scarlett are of little use to him, and what he wants is the support of those who will bring followers in their train, such as Althorp, who has extensive connections, enjoys consideration, and would be of real use to him. There is a strong report that Althorp is to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, Goulburn Speaker, and Sutton[22] a Peer. At present the Government is anything but strong, but then there exists no party, nor is there any man of ability and authority enough to make one. The Duke must strengthen himself, and have recourse for the purpose either to the Whigs or to Huskisson and his friends. These latter he detests, and he knows they hate him and are his bitterest enemies. The Whigs he would not dislike so much, but the King is averse to have them, and the Duke is beset by his old suspicion that they want to break up the Tory party and make him dependent on themselves. At the same time, in taking in Lord Rosslyn and Scarlett, he has made some advances towards them, though Lord Grey is displeased at his not having shown him more deference and communicated to him his intentions about Rosslyn. Lord Rosslyn asked Lord Grey’s advice as to accepting, and he advised him to take office, explaining at the same time that he should not pledge himself to support Government, though he was at present well disposed to do so, and should be still more disposed when Lord Rosslyn became a part of it. Tierney said it was very lamentable that there should be such a deficiency of talent in the rising generation, and remarkable how few clever young men there are now in the House of Commons. The King did not like Lord Rosslyn’s appointment; he hates all the Whigs; indeed, he hates the best men of all parties, and likes none but such as will be subservient to himself. So little public spirit has he, and so much selfishness, that he would rather his Government was weak than strong, that they may be the more dependent upon him; though he only wishes to be powerful in order to exercise the most puerile caprices, gratify ridiculous resentments, indulge vulgar prejudices, and amass or squander money; not one great object connected with national glory or prosperity ever enters his brain. I am convinced he would turn out the Duke to-morrow if he could see any means of replacing him. I don’t think I mentioned that when he talked of giving the child’s ball Lady Maria Conyngham said, ‘Oh, do, it will be so nice to see the two little Queens dancing together’ (the little Queen of Portugal and the Princess Victoria), at which he was beyond measure provoked.

[22] [Right Hon. Manners Sutton, Speaker of the House of Commons. He retained that office till 1835, when he was beaten on the great contest with Mr. Abercromby, and raised to the peerage as Lord Canterbury.]

July 10th, 1829

I dined with the Duke of Wellington yesterday; a very large party for Mesdames the Duchesse d’Escars and Madame du Cayla; the first is the widow of the Duc MADAME DU CAYLA. d’Escars, who was Premier Maître d’Hôtel of Louis XVIII., and who was said to have died of one of the King’s good dinners, and the joke was, ‘Hier sa Majesté a eu une indigestion, dont M. le Duc d’Escars est mort.’ Madame du Cayla[23] is come over to prosecute some claim upon this Government, which the Duke has discovered to be unfounded, and he had the bluntness to tell her so as they were going to dinner. She must have been good-looking in her youth; her countenance is lively, her eyes are piercing, clear complexion, and very handsome hands and arms; but the best part about her seemed to be the magnificent pearls she wore, though these are not so fine as Lady Conyngham’s. All king’s mistresses seem to have a rage for pearls; I remember Madame Narischkin’s were splendid. Madame du Cayla is said to be very rich and clever.

[23] [Madame du Cayla had been the soi-disant mistress of Louis XVIII., or rather the favourite of his declining years. ‘Il fallait une Esther,’ to use her own expression, ‘à cet Assuérus.’ She was the daughter of M. Talon, brought up by Madam Campan, and an early friend of Hortense Beauharnais. Her marriage to an officer in the Prince de Condé’s army was an unhappy one; and she was left, deserted by her husband, in straitened circumstances. After the assassination of the Duc de Berry, M. de la Rochefoucauld, one of the leaders of the ultra-Royalist party, contrived to throw her in the way of Louis XVIII., in the hope of counteracting the more Liberal influence which M. de Cazes had acquired over the King. Madame du Cayla became the hope and the mainstay of the altar and the throne. The scheme succeeded. The King was touched by her grace and beauty, and she became indispensable to his happiness. His happiness was said to consist in inhaling a pinch of snuff from her shoulders, which were remarkably broad and fair. M. de Lamartine has related the romance of her life in the thirty-eighth book of his ‘Histoire de la Restauration,’ and Béranger satirised her in the bitterest of his songs—that which bears the name of ‘Octavie’:—

Sur les coussins où la douleur l’enchaîne
Quel mal, dis-tu, vous fait ce roi des rois?
Vois-le d’un masque enjoliver sa haine
Pour étouffer notre gloire et nos lois.

Vois ce coeur faux, que cherchent tes caresses,
De tous les siens n’aimer que ses aïeux;
Charger de fer les muses vengeresses,
Et par ses moeurs nous révéler ses dieux.

Peins-nous ces feux, qu’en secret tu redoutes,
Quand sur ton sein il cuve son nectar,
Ces feux dont s’indignaient les voûtes
Où plane encor l’aigle du grand César.

It is curious that in 1829 the last mistress of a King of France should have visited London under the reign of the last mistress of a King of England.]

After dinner the Duke talked to me for a long time about the King and the Duke of Cumberland, and his quarrel with the latter. He began about the King’s making Lord Aberdeen stay at the Cottage the other day when he had engaged all the foreign Ambassadors to dine with him in London. Aberdeen represented this to him, but his Majesty said ‘it did not matter, he should stay, and the Ambassadors should for once see that he was King of England.’ ‘He has no idea,’ said the Duke, ‘of what a King of England ought to do, or he would have known that he ought to have made Aberdeen go and receive them, instead of keeping him there.’ He said the King was very clever and amusing, but that with a surprising memory he was very inaccurate, and constantly told stories the details of which all his auditors must know to be false. One day he was talking of the late King, and asserted that George III. had said to himself, ‘Of all the men I have ever known you are the one on whom I have the greatest dependence, and you are the most perfect gentleman.’ Another day he said ‘that he recollected the old Lord Chesterfield, who once said to him, “Sir, you are the fourth Prince of Wales I have known, and I must give your Royal Highness one piece of advice: stick to your father; as long as you adhere to your father you will be a great and a happy man, but if you separate yourself from him you will be nothing and an unhappy one;” and, by God (added the King), I never forgot that advice, and acted upon it all my life.’ ‘We all,’ said the Duke, ‘looked at one another with astonishment.’ He is extremely clever and particularly ingenious in turning the conversation from any subject he does not like to discuss.

‘I,’ added the Duke of Wellington,

‘remember calling upon him the day he received the news of the battle of Navarino. I was not a Minister, but Commander-in-Chief, and after having told me the news he asked me what I thought of it. I said that I knew nothing about it, was WELLINGTON’S ANECDOTES OF GEORGE IV. ignorant of the instructions that had been given to the admiral, and could not give any opinion; but “one thing is clear to me, that your Majesty’s ships have suffered very much, and that you ought to reinforce your fleet directly, for whenever you have a maritime force yours ought to be superior to all others.” This advice he did not like; I saw this, and he said, “Oh, the Emperor of Russia is a man of honour,” and then he began talking, and went on to Venice, Toulon, St. Petersburg, all over the Continent, and from one place and one subject to another, till he brought me to Windsor Castle. I make it a rule never to interrupt him, and when in this way he tries to get rid of a subject in the way of business which he does not like, I let him talk himself out, and then quietly put before him the matter in question, so that he cannot escape from it. I remember when the Duke of Newcastle was going to Windsor with a mob at his heels to present a petition (during the late discussions) I went down to him and showed him the petition, and told him that they ought to be prevented from coming. He went off and talked upon every subject but that which I had come about, for an hour and a half. I let him go on till he was tired, and then I said, “But the petition, sir; here it is, and an answer must be sent. I had better write to the Duke of Newcastle and tell him your Majesty will receive it through the Secretary of State; and, if you please, I will write the letter before I leave the house.” This I did, finished my business in five minutes, and went away with the letter in my pocket. I know him so well that I can deal with him easily, but anybody who does not know him, and who is afraid of him, would have the greatest difficulty in getting on with him. One extraordinary peculiarity about him is, that the only thing he fears is ridicule. He is afraid of nothing which is hazardous, perilous, or uncertain; on the contrary, he is all for braving difficulties; but he dreads ridicule, and this is the reason why the Duke of Cumberland, whose sarcasms he dreads, has such power over him, and Lord Anglesey likewise; both of them he hates in proportion as he fears them.’

I said I was very much, surprised to hear this, as neither of these men were wits, or likely to make him ridiculous; that if he had been afraid of Sefton or Alvanley it could have been understood. ‘But,’ rejoined the Duke,

‘he never sees these men, and he does not mind anybody he does not see; but the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Anglesey he cannot avoid seeing, and the fear he has of what they may say to him, as well as of him, keeps him in awe of them. No man, however, knows the Duke of Cumberland better than he does; indeed, all I know of the Duke of Cumberland I know from him, and so I told him one day. I remember asking him why the Duke of Cumberland was so unpopular, and he said, “Because there never was a father well with his son, or husband with his wife, or lover with his mistress, or a friend with his friend, that he did not try to make mischief between them.” And yet he suffers this man to have constant access to him, to say what he will to him, and often acts under his influence.’

I said, ‘You and the Duke of Cumberland speak now, don’t you?’

‘Yes, we speak. The King spoke to me about it, and wanted me to make him an apology. I told him it was quite impossible, “Why,” said he, “you did not mean to offend the Duke of Cumberland, I am sure.” “No, sir,” said I; “I did not wish to offend him, but I did not say a word that I did not mean. When we meet the Royal Family in society, they are our superiors, and we owe them all respect, and I should readily apologise for anything I might have said offensive to the Duke; but in the House of Lords we are their peers, and for what I say there I am responsible to the House alone.” “But,” said the King, “he said you turned on him as if you meant to address yourself to him personally.” “I did mean it, sir,” said I, “and I did so because I knew that he had been here, that he had heard things from your Majesty which he had gone and misrepresented and misstated in other quarters, and knowing that, I meant to show him that I was aware of it. I am sorry that the Duke is offended, but I cannot help it, and I cannot make him an apology.” ’

The Duke went on,

‘I was so afraid he would tell the DUKES OF WELLINGTON AND CUMBERLAND. Duke that I was sorry for what I had said, that I repeated to him when I went away, “Now, sir, remember that I will not apologise to the Duke, and I hope your Majesty will therefore not convey any such idea to his mind.” However, he spoke to him, I suppose, for the next time I met the Duke he bowed to me. I immediately called on him, but he did not return my visit. On a subsequent occasion [I forget what he said it was] I called on him again, and he returned my visit the same day.’

The Duke then talked of the letter which the Duke of Cumberland had just written (as Grand Master of the Orange Lodges) to Enniskillen, which he thought was published with the most mischievous intentions. However, he said,

‘I know not what he is at, but while I am conscious of going on in a straightforward manner I am not afraid of him, or of anything he can do,’

which I was surprised to hear, because it looked as if he was afraid of him. I asked him whether, with all the cleverness he thought belonged to the King, he evinced great acuteness in discussing matters of business, to which he replied, ‘Oh, no, not at all, the worst judgment that can be.’ This was not the first time I had heard the Duke’s opinion of the King. I remember him saying something to the Duke of Portland about him during the Queen’s trial indicative of his contempt for him.

In the meantime the Duke of Cumberland, instead of returning to Berlin, has sent for the Duchess and his son, and means to take up his abode in this country, in hopes of prevailing upon the King to dismiss his Ministers and make a Government under his own auspices; but however weak the Government may be, he will not succeed, for the King has an habitual reliance upon the Duke [of Wellington] which overcomes the mortification and dislike he feels at being dependent upon him; and, besides, the materials do not exist out of which a Government could be formed that would have the support of the House of Commons. The great want which this Administration experiences is that of men of sufficient information and capacity to direct the complicated machinery of our trade and finances and adjust our colonial differences. Huskisson, Grant, and Palmerston were the ablest men, and the two first the best informed in the Government. Fitzgerald knows nothing of the business of his office, still less of the principles of trade; he is idle, but quick. Of Murray I know nothing; he is popular in his office, but he has neither the capacity nor the knowledge of Huskisson.

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CHAPTER VI.

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.

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July 21st, 1829

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

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.

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

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 INTRIGUES OF THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND. 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.

August 18th, 1829

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 QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST. 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!

August 22nd, 1829

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 QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST. 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

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

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.

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 RUSSIA AND TURKEY. 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 cœlum 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

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. MR. WINDHAM’S DIARY. 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

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.

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 Cæsar 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 WELLINGTON AND THE ‘MORNING JOURNAL.’ 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

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.

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 A MAN WITHOUT MONEY. 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.]

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 200ℓ. 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 CHATSWORTH. 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.]

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 IRISH TRIALS. 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.

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

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 1,000ℓ. apiece; but Scott could not compress his share into one volume, so he is to have 1,500ℓ. The republication of Scott’s works will produce him an enormous fortune; he has already paid off 30,000ℓ. of the Constable bankruptcy debt, and he is to pay the remaining 30,000ℓ. 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 ‘Cyclopædia.’ Moore told me that the editor of one of the annuals offered him 600ℓ. 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. SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH 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.

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 SIR PHILIP CRAMPTON’S STORY 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.

‘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 TOM MOORE 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.’

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 ‘Encyclopædia,’ 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 4,000ℓ. or 5,000ℓ. 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.]

November 21st, 1829

STRAWBERRY HILL 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 LORD GLENGALL’S COMEDY 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.

December 1st, 1829

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

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 20,000ℓ., and his wife 200,000ℓ. 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.’

December 5th, 1829

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. THE RECORDER’S REPORT 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, THE CIVIL LIST 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.

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 7,000ℓ., in that of the Master of the Horse of 5,000ℓ., and that of the Master of the Robes (the tailor’s bill) of 10,000ℓ. 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.

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CHAPTER VII.

Chapter of the Bath — The Duc de Dino arrested — A Ball to the Divan — English Policy in Greece — Sir Thomas Lawrence — Gallatin — Court of King’s Bench — Accident to the Grand Duke Constantine — Osterley — Young Sidney Herbert — Duke of Wellington in Office — Stapleton’s ‘Life of Canning’ — Death of Sir Thomas Lawrence — Leopold and the Throne of Greece — Canning’s Answers to Lord Grey — Distressed State of the Country — Canning’s Greatness and his Failings — Death of Tierney — Sir Martin Shee President — The Duke of Wellington’s Views and Conduct — The Coming Session — Moore’s ‘Life of Byron’ — Character of Byron — Opening of Parliament — The Fire King — The Duke of Wellington’s Speaking — The English Opera House burnt down — Lord Thurlow on Kenyon and Buller — Old Rothschild — Lansdowne House — Earl Stanhope — John Murray — Departure for Italy.

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December 7th, 1829

At Windsor for a Council; the Duke was there, and Lord Aberdeen, Murray, Lord Rosslyn, the Chancellor, and Herries. There was a chapter of the Bath, when the Duke of Clarence was installed Grand Master, Stratford Canning and Robert Gordon Grand Crosses. The King looked very well, but was very blind. The Council was by candle-light, but he could not see to read the list, and begged me to read it for him. However, I was so good a courtier that I held the candle in such a way as to enable him to read it himself. He saw the Duke for a short time, and the Chancellor for a long time. I asked the latter if the King had been Denmanising, and he said, ‘Oh, yes—“I said when I consented to that fellow’s having the silk gown that I would never admit him,” &c.’ I was amused with old Conyngham, who told me his wife had been in danger, ‘so they tell me,’ talking of her as if she were somebody else’s wife. The Duke went from the Council to Stowe; we all returned to town.

December 9th, 1829

Dined with Prince Lieven; a great THE DUC DE DINO ARRESTED dinner—Laval,[1] Granvilles, Aberdeen, Montrond, &c. The Duc de Dino, who came here to amuse himself, has been arrested, and Montrond and Vaudreuil begged Laval to put him on his list of attachés at the Foreign Office, which would release him from the sponging-house. He was afraid and made difficulties; they were excessively provoked, but at last induced him to speak to Lord Aberdeen about it, which he said he would do after dinner. In the meantime Montrond got me to tell the story to Aberdeen, which I did, and got him to encourage Laval to do the business. He then told Laval that I had aplani the matter, at which the Ambassador was rather affronted, but I suppose the thing will be done and Dino will get out. The Duc de Dino is Talleyrand’s nephew, and his son has married Mademoiselle de Montmorency, a relation of the Duc de Laval.

[1] [The Duc de Laval had succeeded Prince Polignac as French Ambassador in London.]

December 10th, 1829

Last night Miss Kemble acted Belvidera for the first time, and with great success.

December 18th, 1829

At Roehampton last Saturday to Monday; Granvilles, Byng, Lord Ashley, and I. Dino was extricated from prison by Laval’s paying the money, which he did very handsomely; he thought it wrong to have him in prison and wrong to attach him fictitiously to his Embassy, so he paid the debt, and Dino is gone back to France.

Despatches were received from Gordon yesterday giving an account of a ball he had given to the Divan; the Turks came, and the Reis-Effendi waltzed with a Mrs. Moore. After supper they drank King George IV.’s health in bumpers of champagne. This story was told to Lord Sidmouth as a good joke; but he said with a face of dismay, ‘Good God, is it possible? To what extent will these innovations be carried?’

December 19th, 1829

There is a review in the ‘Foreign Quarterly’ (the last number) on Greece, which is a remarkably able critique of the conduct of our Government in the affairs of that State. The writer, whoever he may be, has been amply supplied with documents and information, probably from Paris. Nothing can be more just than his remarks on our miserable policy, or more severe. I showed it to Lord Granville, who told me that it was generally correct, though containing some errors; for instance, that it was not true that we had engaged to afford the Greeks pecuniary aid, which we never did promise, but that he had been himself the person to negotiate with M. de la Ferronays, then Minister for Foreign Affairs at Paris, for the more limited boundary, and to dissuade the French from sending their expedition to the Morea; that there had been a violent contest in the English Cabinet on that subject, Huskisson and Dudley being in favour of the French expedition, and the Duke and the rest against it, but that the moment Huskisson and his party resigned the Duke gave way and agreed to the measure. This affords another example of his extraordinary mode of proceeding, that of opposing the views and plans of others violently, and when he finds opposition fruitless, or likely to become so, turning short round and adopting them as his own, and taking all the credit he can get for doing so. He did so in the case of the recognition of the South American colonies, of the Test and Corporation Acts, the Catholic question, and in this instance. Then his conduct on the Corn Bill is only the converse of the same proposition—begins by being a party to it and then procures its rejection. Greece and Portugal, if well handled, would afford two great cases against the Duke’s foreign policy, and they serve as admirable commentaries on each other. The raising the siege of Previsa, and the respect paid to Miguel’s blockade, and compulsion exercised on the Terceira people are enough to prove everything.

Ashley told me a curious thing about Sir Thomas Lawrence the other day. His father kept the inn at Devizes,[2] and when Lord Shaftesbury’s father and mother were once at the inn with Lord Shaftesbury, then a boy, the innkeeper GALLATIN came into the room and said he had a son with a genius for drawing, and, if they would allow him, his little boy should draw their little boy’s picture; on which the little Lawrence was sent for, who produced his chalk and paper, and made a portrait of the young Lord.

[2] [Sir Thomas Lawrence’s father at one time kept the ‘Black Bear’ at Devizes. In 1775 Lord and Lady Kenyon had the young prodigy (as he was called) introduced to them there. Lawrence was then only six years old.]

December 21st, 1829

At Roehampton from Saturday; Maclane, the American Minister, Washington Irving, Melbourne, Byng, and on Sunday the Lievens to dinner. Maclane a sensible man, with very good American manners, which are not refined. Even Irving, who has been so many years here, has a bluntness which is very foreign to the tone of good society. Maclane gave me a curious account of Gallatin. He was born at Geneva, and went over to America early in life, possessed of nothing; there he set up a little huxtering shop—in I forget what State—and fell in love with one of the daughters of a poor woman at whose house he lodged, but he was so destitute that the mother refused him. In this abject condition accident introduced him to the celebrated Patrick Henry, who advised him to abandon trade, and go into the neighbouring State and try to advance himself by his talents. He followed the advice, and soon began to make himself known.

December 22nd, 1829

Dined with Byng yesterday and met Moore, Fitzgerald, and Luttrell. Luttrell is a great lover of conundrums, which taste he acquired from Beresford, the author of the ‘Miseries of Human Life,’ who has invented some very curious but elaborate conundrums. They are not worth repeating. Moore told a story of an Irishman at the play calling out, ‘Now, boys, a clap for Wellington!’ which being complied with, ‘And now silence for the rest of the family!’ He complained that all the humour which used to break out in an Irish audience is extinct.

Fitzgerald told me that the King had been annoying them as much as he could, that he took pleasure in making his Government weak, that the money matter (which the Duke told me of before) had been settled by ‘contrivances,’ or that they must have gone to Parliament for the amount; that he has just ordered plate to the amount of 25,000ℓ. Fitzgerald is so ill that he can scarcely carry on the business of his office, and yet he does not like to give it up, for fear of embarrassing the Government; he complained that the other offices had thrown much of their business on the Board of Trade, a custom which had grown up in Huskisson’s time, who was the most competent man, and who took it all. Probably Huskisson was not sorry, by making himself very useful, to make himself nearly indispensable, and thought that he was so; and so he was de jure, but the Duke would not let him be so de facto.

December 23rd, 1829

Went to the Court of King’s Bench this morning to prove that the Duke of Wellington is a Privy Councillor, on the trial of the action which the Duke brought against the ‘Morning Journal.’ The action brought by the Chancellor had been tried the day before. Scarlett was feeble; Alexander again defended himself in a very poor speech; the jury retired for three hours, and I thought would have said ‘Not guilty;’ but they brought in a verdict which is tantamount to a defeat of the prosecution on this charge, and amply proves the folly of having instituted it at all. I did not hear the second trial, on which they gave a verdict of guilty, after consulting for about half an hour. The jury in each case consisted of eight special jurors and four talesmen. Afterwards there was a crim. con. case, which I did not stay out, but which was amusing enough from the translations of the counsel, the Judge, the witnesses, and the interpreters, for some of the witnesses were French. Lord Tenterden has a comical way of muttering to himself half aloud as the counsel are speaking, either answering or commenting on what they say. Scarlett was saying (in this last case) that he could not prove the fact, but he could prove that the defendant passed the night in the lady’s room, and the jury might judge what he did, when Tenterden muttered, ‘If he did nothing, what was he there for?’

The prosecution finished with the trial of Bell (of the ‘Atlas’), who made a very good speech (it was about Lord and Lady Lyndhurst), and the jury found him guilty of PRESS PROSECUTIONS publishing only, which I take to be an acquittal; the point, however, will not be tried probably, for it is not likely that he will be brought up for judgment. He will be contented to get off, and they will not like to stir such a question. The result of the trials proves the egregious folly of having ever brought them on, especially the Duke’s. One of the verdicts is, as far as he is concerned, an acquittal; the author showed himself to be so contemptible that he had better have been treated with indifference. He has been converted into a sort of martyr, and whatever may have been thought of the vulgar scurrility of the language, ruin and imprisonment will appear to most people too severe a punishment for the offence. Then the whole press have united upon this occasion, and in some very powerful articles have spread to every corner of the country the strongest condemnation of the whole proceeding. The Government, or rather the Duke, is likely to become unpopular, and no good end will have been answered. I do not believe that these prosecutions originate in a desire to curb the press, but merely in that of punishing a writer who had so violently abused him; not, however, that he would be sorry to adopt any measure which should tend to fetter free discussion, and subject the press to future punishment. But this would be a fearful war to wage, and I do not think he is rash enough to undertake such a crusade.

December 27th, 1829

At Panshanger since the 24th; Lievens, J. Russell, Montrond, M. de la Rochefoucauld, F. Lamb. On Christmas Day the Princess [Lieven] got up a little fête such as is customary all over Germany. Three trees in great pots were put upon a long table covered with pink linen; each tree was illuminated with three circular tiers of coloured wax candles—blue, green, red, and white. Before each tree was displayed a quantity of toys, gloves, pocket-handkerchiefs, workboxes, books, and various articles—presents made to the owner of the tree. It was very pretty. Here it was only for the children; in Germany the custom extends to persons of all ages. The Princess told us to-day about the Emperor of Russia’s relapse and the cause of it. He had had a cold which he had neglected, but at length the physicians had given him some medicine to produce perspiration, and he was in bed in that state, the Empress sitting by him reading to him, when on a sudden a dreadful noise was heard in the next (the children’s) room, followed by loud shrieks. The Empress rushed into the room, and the Emperor jumped out of bed in his shirt and followed her. There the children, the governess, and the nurses were screaming out that Constantine (the second boy, of two years old) was destroyed; a huge vase of porphyry had been thrown down and had fallen over the child, who was not to be seen. So great was the weight and size of the vase that it was several minutes before it could be raised, though assistance was immediately fetched, and all that time the Emperor and Empress stood there in ignorance of the fate of the child, and expecting to see the removal of the vase discover his mangled body, when to their delight it was found that the vase had fallen exactly over him, without doing him the least injury, but the agitation and the cold brought on a violent fever, which for some time put the Emperor in great danger. The Princess said she was surprised that it did not kill the Empress, for she is the most nervous woman in the world, ever since the conspiracy at the time of his accession, when her nerves were ébranlés by all she went through. That scene (of the revolt of the Guards) took place under the window of the Palace. The whole Imperial Family was assembled there and saw it all, the Emperor being in the middle of men by whom they expected him to be assassinated every moment. During all that time—many hours—the young Empress never spoke, but stood ‘pâle comme une statue,’ and when at length it was all over, and the Emperor returned, she threw herself on her knees and began to pray.

December 29th, 1829

At Osterley;[3] Lady Euston, Mrs. Sheridan and her son; a very fine house, which is thrown away, as they hardly ever live there. They spent 200,000ℓ. in building Middleton, which is the worst place in England, and now they WELLINGTON AS A MINISTER regret it, but Lord Jersey hates Osterley and likes Middleton. This place belonged to Sir Thomas Gresham, but the present house is modern. It was here that Sir Thomas Gresham feasted Queen Elizabeth, and pulled down a wall in the night which she had found fault with, so that in the morning she found it was gone.

[3] [Lord Jersey’s seat near Hanwell, Middlesex.]

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