CHAPTER XXIV.
Return from Paris—Possibility of a Tory Government—Hostility to Lord Palmerston—Lord Aberdeen's Dissatisfaction—The Duke's short View of the Case—Sir Robert Peel's Repugnance to take Office—Lord John Russell—Further Disputes of Guizot and Lord Normanby—The Quarrel with the Embassy—Lord Stanley attacks the Government—The Normanby Quarrel—Lord Palmerston threatens to break off Diplomatic Relations with France—Sir Robert Peel's Opinion of Lord Palmerston—Mr. Walter—The 'Times'—The Normanby Quarrel made up—Mr. Greville's Opinion of his own Journals—Income of the Royal Family—Lord George Bentinck—Lord Normanby's Étourderies—The Government gains Strength—The Irish Poor Law—The Czar places a large Sum with the Bank of France—State of Ireland—Lord George Bentinck as a Leader—Foreign Affairs—Archbishop Whately—Birthday Reflexions—Lord Dudley's Diary—Power of the Press—Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Moxon—The Defence of the Country—Troubles in Portugal—Illness of Lord Bessborough—The Duke of Wellington on the Army—Spain and Portugal—Abolition of the Lord-Lieutenancy contemplated by Lord John—Difficulty of abolishing the Lord-Lieutenancy—Deaths of Lord Bessborough and of O'Connell—Lord Clarendon's Appointment—The End of O'Connell—The Governor-Generalship of India—Sir James Graham thought of—Failure of Debates on the Portuguese Question—The Duke's Statue—The Governor-Generalship of India offered to Sir James Graham—Sir Robert Peel's Position—Failures of the Government—The Duke of Wellington's Popularity—Opinion in Liverpool—Bitter Hostility of Mr. Croker to Peel.
London, February 3rd, 1847.—I got to town on Monday; one hour and fifty minutes crossing the sea, which was like a duck-pond. Saw Lord Clarendon the same night for a long time, and Lord Lansdowne yesterday for a shorter. Told the first all I knew and thought, and gave the latter a succinct account of affairs in France, but did not say a word of Normanby and Guizot. He has heard of it, however, as I find others have likewise; and he asked Clarendon if I had said anything to him about Normanby's goings on at Paris. But Clarendon said he had not asked me, as living as I had done in Normanby's house I should not like (if it were the case) to say anything about it. I have not yet had time to look round me and see the state of things here. It is determined not to have any discussion on foreign affairs if they can possibly prevent it.
LORD STANLEY'S VIEWS OF OFFICE.
February 6th.—I called on Graham yesterday, and sat with him for two hours and a half, discussing res omnes. He is not very well satisfied with the Government, though wishing to keep them in rather than let in the Protectionists; but he thinks they are inclined to curry favour with the Protectionists, and they are disgusted (he and Peel) at the soft sawder that is continually bandied backward and forward between John Russell and George Bentinck, which nettles Peel very much; and they both think, considering the avowed sentiments of George Bentinck towards him and his conduct, that it is very insulting to Peel. He thinks they don't take an independent line enough, and ominously hinted that if they meant to try to obtain the support or the forbearance of George Bentinck and Co. they must abide by the consequences as far as Peel and his friends were concerned. He thinks the aspect of affairs very threatening both abroad and at home, Stanley evidently looking to the Government and ready to try and form one, but saying 'he does not desire it.' After a sort of estrangement between him and Stanley ever since their Government broke up, they met in the House of Commons the night of George Bentinck's Railroad motion, when Stanley very cordially proposed they should walk home together, and then talking over the state of affairs Stanley said, 'This can't go on.' Graham: 'Well, perhaps not; and then it must fall on you.' Stanley: 'I do not desire it.' The event is by no means impossible, for this Railroad question may turn the Government out; everything, however, indicates that Stanley, as head of his party, is endeavouring to work his way into office. He is all for moderation and conciliation, and wants to allure back the mass of the Conservatives to his standard. Goulburn they count upon; Aberdeen says they have secured him; Gladstone they expect to get. But it is endless to speculate on all the possible or imaginary contingencies by which they think they can form a Government. Stanley must now be ready to tear his hair at having quitted the House of Commons, for with all his great power of speaking (never greater than now) he is lost in the House of Lords where it is all beating the air. Then in the House of Commons he must trust to George Bentinck and Disraeli: the former with an intemperance and indiscretion ever pregnant with dangerous dilemmas; and the other with a capacity so great that he cannot be cast aside, and a character so disreputable that he cannot be trusted. The Duke of Wellington would give Stanley every support, and would bring Dalhousie with him if Dalhousie was not afraid of embarking in such a concern and with such associates. What Stanley and his party would like best would be to get Palmerston to join them and be leader in the House of Commons, which Palmerston would himself delight in if he dared run the risk. At this moment, however, everything is in a fearful state of uncertainty, and the weakness of the Government and their total want of power are lamentably apparent.
Aberdeen is in a state of violent indignation at the brutal and stupid attacks on him in the 'Morning Chronicle,' which he attributes to Palmerston; and he is so provoked that he says he is disposed to bring on a foreign discussion after all, that he may vindicate himself. He says that nothing could exceed the abhorrence in which Palmerston was held all over Europe, at the small courts more than at the great ones, from Washington to Lisbon but one sentiment. I sat next to Palmerston at the Sheriffs' dinner, and told him a great deal about Paris, and especially the mischief which the 'Morning Chronicle' had done there. He said, 'I dare say they attribute the articles to me.' I told him (since he asked me) that they did, and that it was difficult to convince them that they did not emanate from him. He affected to know nothing about them, but I told him it really would be well to find means to put a stop to them. Meanwhile, the attacks on Aberdeen have drawn down on Palmerston two vigorous articles in the 'Times,' which may teach him that he has everything to lose and nothing to gain by such a contest; the very inferior articles in the 'Chronicle' not being read by a fifth part of those who read the far better ones in the 'Times.' I met Beauvale[8] last night at Palmerston's, and found he took precisely the same view of foreign affairs (especially of the Spanish question of succession and renunciations) that I do, and it is pretty evident that he has as little respect as anybody for his brother-in-law's foreign policy. He said he could do no good, and therefore held his tongue, but that he had written to John Russell in the beginning, and told him he did not think the case on the Treaty of Utrecht could be maintained. Lady Palmerston had told me that Beauvale had examined the matter, and entirely concurred in their view of it!
HOSTILITIES IN THE PRESS.
February 8th.—With Aberdeen yesterday for a long time. He complained much of the articles in the 'Chronicle' against him, and said he had acted towards Palmerston throughout in the most amicable manner. He still is reluctant to believe Guizot so false as our case against him tends to prove, and thinks that he was sincere in his distrust of Palmerston and in his conviction that the Coburg marriage was imminent; and he cannot believe he was so stupid as to say what Normanby represents about en même temps, &c. Nevertheless, he blames much that Guizot has done, thinks his letter to John Russell the height of indiscretion, and has not a word to say for the secret despatch to Bresson of December 10, which he never saw and which never was communicated to him. He said it was written just when the Government appeared about to break up and Palmerston to be coming in; but he acknowledged that as long as he remained in he was left in complete ignorance of it. He said he was the more surprised at Palmerston's delays because he had told him (and John Russell too) that the French Government were positively insane on the Marriage question; that great as their confidence was in him, they were in a state of continual suspicion and alarm, and always at him about it; that the memorandum of February 27 was no more than they had repeated verbally fifty times, and he had told Palmerston that they always said they should hold themselves free from their engagement if they saw this danger, but that he (Aberdeen) had constantly told them nothing was doing or intended, and that they need not alarm themselves. I asked him what necessity there was for this memorandum at that particular time? He said that about that time Prince Leopold did go to Lisbon, and they fancied he was going to Madrid, and the danger therefore increasing.
Aberdeen declared that Peel would never take office; it had been suggested to him that the country was in such a state that he might be called for by a great public cry. Peel replied, 'Let them call, but I will not respond.' There is great doubt and uncertainty about the Railroad measure of Thursday next. John Russell is thought to have acted very weakly not to have made up his mind till so late. He sent word to George Bentinck in the middle of his speech that he meant to let him bring in his bill. Now it is suspected he means to give way in whole or in part; if he does, I think it will be fatal to his Government. Lincoln said last night that it would be handing it over to the Protectionists, nothing else.
I dined with M. de St. Aulaire last night, who talked much of Guizot and Normanby, and of Guizot's heroism in foregoing the temptation to speak in the Chamber (as if he had meant to forego it), and to vindicate himself from the aspersions thrown on him by Normanby's despatch, which he was aware had done him the greatest injury here. However, he will not have done himself much good by his speech, which seems only to make bad worse. The result, too, of all the intimacy between Thiers and Normanby, by Palmerston's desire, is amusing when Thiers does not make half a case against Guizot, and announces to the Chamber that Palmerston is odious to all Europe and hateful to the three Northern Courts.
CONVERSATION WITH THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
February 15th.—Called on Friday morning at Apsley House and had a long talk with Arbuthnot. The Duke came into the room, stayed a very little while, but excited himself talking about Spain and the Treaty of Utrecht, the pother about which he declared was 'all damned stuff.' Arbuthnot told me he was most anxious for the prosperity of this Government. Arbuthnot did not confirm what Graham said about the Duke's leaning to Stanley; on the contrary, he talked of Stanley's being lost amongst such associates as he has; he talked with bitterness of Peel's conduct and the breaking up of the party, and said he was quite sure he would never come into office again; he gave me a more detailed account of his parting request to the Queen, when he said, after begging her never to ask him to take office again, that he could not help remembering that Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Canning had all died in office, and victims of office; that he did not dread death, and this recollection would not deter him; but when he recollected also that Lord Castlereagh and Lord Liverpool had also died in office, the one a maniac and the other an idiot, that recollection did appal him, and he trembled at the idea of encountering such a fate as theirs.
Yesterday morning John Russell sent for me, and I told him all about Paris and the state of affairs there. I did not conceal from him my opinion of Palmerston's conduct, though I had done all I could to defend him. He said in many respects Guizot's was as bad, especially as to the newspapers. I found fault with the negotiations with other Powers to join with us in a demonstration about the Treaty of Utrecht, but that he defended. I told him we totally differed on the question; but we had no time to discuss it, indeed, little to discuss anything, for he was going to a deputation, so we walked together from his house to the office. I told him I had intended to urge him to do something, but that Guizot's speech made it almost impossible to do anything. He begged me to see St. Aulaire and talk to him about it, and to tell him the Queen had a great regard for him, and did not mean to do anything neglectful by him. He gave me an account of the strange state of things at Madrid, and of the confusion and quarrels which have followed this fine marriage the French have effected.
February 16th.—I saw Jarnac yesterday and had a long conversation with him. He defends Guizot, of course, but a great deal that he says is reasonable enough. Normanby took up Guizot's speech with a very unnecessary display of resentment, and fancied that he intended to impeach his veracity in respect to his second report of conversation. Accordingly he wrote an angry letter home, to which Palmerston immediately wrote an answer. Both these letters (Normanby's altered here) were laid before Parliament, and at the same moment published in the 'Morning Chronicle.' This was quick work, and on the whole irritating and offensive, but Normanby says all Paris considered that he was affronted by Guizot, and he was obliged to take it up. Here no one individual that I have seen construed what Guizot said in that sense. Such is the difference of the respective atmospheres of the two towns. There all fire, here all ice. It seems that Normanby made no communication on the subject to Guizot, but that the latter became aware of the resentment he had caused and made some sort of indirect offer to say something in the newspapers. This Normanby would not hear of, and said the reparation must be made in the tribune where the affront was given. There the matter stands. Jarnac thinks the appearance of the two last letters will rouse great indignation at Paris and complicate matters still more. He denies that there was any intention on the part of Guizot to impeach Normanby's veracity, and that his very vague and guarded intimation that the report was not accurate by no means implies such a charge. I think it very questionable whether any report of a conversation ought to be published without the party being referred to, and having an opportunity of admitting or denying the accuracy of such a report. It is a very nice matter, especially when the conversation passes in one language and the report is made in another. But Jarnac complains (and not without reason) of the tone of Palmerston's letter. He says he was quite right to support his Ambassador, but he has done so in terms unnecessarily offensive to Guizot, and when he says that he has no doubt, notwithstanding what passed in the Chambers, of the perfect accuracy of the report, he transgresses the bounds of courtesy, and speaks positively to that of which he cannot by possibility have any knowledge. This criticism appears well founded. He said that similar circumstances had occurred here about reports of conversations, and that Palmerston himself had denied the accuracy of a report he had made of a conversation, and that his denial was admitted.
LORD GEORGE BENTINCK'S RAILWAY SCHEME.
Jarnac says if Guizot had been informed by Normanby or by any common friend that what he had said was offensive to Normanby, he is sure he would have given a sufficient explanation, but unluckily none of the Embassy are on such terms with him as admit of an amicable remonstrance. I told him what had passed between John Russell and myself, and that he wished me to see St. Aulaire. We agreed, however, that it was no use saying anything more till we saw how this matter proceeded at Paris. Matters are now as bad as possible there, and the French Embassy here think that the King alone can make them up. He is, however, exasperated, it seems, for Howden attempted to talk to him the other night, when he got excited and flew out, especially about the attempts to assail Guizot. Of course this squabble renders his position only the more secure, for his removal now on any pretext would be a dastardly concession to England which nobody in France would endure.
February 19th.—George Bentinck's railway scheme was signally defeated on Tuesday night: he had 118 with him, many less than he expected. He made a great exposure of himself in a reply full of bad taste, bad judgement, and impertinence. Peel made a very able speech, his attempts to reply to which were pitiable; the minority consisted of sad rubbish. Yesterday morning I was with Lord Lansdowne, and took the opportunity of pouring a broadside into him about the management of foreign affairs, and the necessity of his taking some decisive steps to prevent that everlasting petite guerre that Palmerston will wage. I spoke very strongly indeed, and told him what the real state of affairs was at Paris. He made great grimaces and seemed vastly struck with what I said, and I hope something may come of it. This morning I have a letter from Normanby bitterly complaining of the article in the 'Times,' in which he is accused of holding communication with the enemies of the Government, and says it came at a very critical moment and prevented Guizot making the amende he otherwise would have done.
February 20th.—Matters get blacker and blacker at Paris, and Normanby has got himself into a deplorable fix from which at present there seems to be no exit. I have letter upon letter on the subject, all full of grief and confusion. Normanby himself writes to complain of the harm the 'Times' has done him (a second letter), but seems still unconscious that it is his own precipitancy and Palmerston's violence that have got him into the scrape. The agitation at Paris is extreme, and the whole Embassy now seem frightened and to be recovering (now that it is too late) from their hallucinations about getting rid of Guizot, and their being able to carry everything with a high hand. William Hervey even now writes something like sense; and Howden tells Clarendon the truth, and just what I have been saying all along. Craven writes to me and anticipates nothing but Normanby's return and eventually war.
February 22nd.—On Friday Lord Lansdowne called me into his room, and told me I should be glad to hear that there was a probability of the quarrel at Paris being settled, as the King had undertaken to mediate between the parties. I went up to St. Aulaire directly after, but he had heard nothing of it. He expressed joy, and said it had all along been the only solution he had looked to. He then showed me a letter from Guizot to him, written two days after the debate, in which he said that he had spoken of Normanby with the greatest reserve, and avoided saying anything which could impugn his veracity or the intentional incorrectness of his report. I asked him whether Guizot would have said this to Normanby if he had applied to him, and he said certainly he would, he had no doubt of it. He then told me that a fresh ingredient had been cast into the cauldron from the foolish incident of the invitation to Guizot, and he read me a letter from M. de Cazes with an account of it. Normanby gave a great assembly on the 19th, and amongst the invitations, one was sent by mistake to Guizot. Nothing ought to have been done but to let it alone; but very foolishly they made a great noise about it, and in a manner which was considered personally insulting to Guizot; they proclaimed all over Paris that they never intended to invite him. It had been settled in the first instance that the Ministers and others belonging to the Government should go to this party, and Guizot wished them to go; but after this incident M. de Cazes said it was thought impossible to go, and he believed none would. So much for gaucherie and maladresse.
DEFEAT OF THE PROTECTIONISTS.
On Friday there was a fight and a division, in which the Government beat Stanley by eight. He probably did not make great exertions, but, on the other hand, not one of the Peelite peers, members of the late Government, voted with this. The whole affair was characteristic of Stanley, and, as such, is worth recording. He had resolved to attack the Sugar measure of the Government by proposing to refer it to a committee, and he sent for his peers to come up and support him. Clarendon asked him if he really intended to do this, and suggested he had better inform himself of the merits of the question before he decided. He agreed, and they sent Wood, the Chairman of the Excise, to him, who was with him for two hours, explained everything, and satisfied him the measure was unobjectionable. After this Clarendon asked him again if he still meant to bring on his motion. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'I mean to give you a gallop. It is a long time since you have had one, and it will do you good. Besides, I have brought my people up, and I must give them something to do now they are come.' If he had got a majority he would have been more perplexed than the Government, and this is the man the peers are ready to follow and to make Prime Minister. The Railway debate and the speech of George Bentinck have thrown the Protectionists into consternation and dismay. Any remaining illusion about him has been entirely dissipated by the display of his intemperance and incapacity, but they have got him mounted on their backs, and they don't know how to shake him off. It is pretty clear too that there is no cordiality between him and Stanley, and that the Carlton dinner scene is still rankling in the mind of George Bentinck, as was sure to be the case, for he never forgets or forgives anything or anybody. He held forth the other night to Charles Villiers against Stanley's folly for bringing forward this sugar affair; said he had no case, and that he was 'a pretty fellow to find fault with him for proposing the advance of public money he had done: he who had proposed first a loan of twelve, and then a gift of twenty millions to the West Indians.'
February 23rd.—The Normanby quarrel is not made up: very far from it. The King had an interview with Normanby, but does not seem to have attempted a reconciliation. Lord Lansdowne, it seems, fancied he was going to do so from something which Howden had written. I had a long letter yesterday from Normanby full of futilities and excitement, and still fancying that Guizot is weak. Normanby's assembly on Friday was attended by none of the Government or Court people, and Guizot's (for it was one of his nights) was crammed full. The corps diplomatique went to both. Nothing can be more deplorable than the state of the affair, and Normanby seems quite unconscious of the poor figure he is cutting. Jonathan Peel came to me yesterday fresh from Paris, and says the spirit rising there and the excitement are very great, and matters have got into such a state, that the least collision anywhere, or any difference however slight, would produce an explosion and most likely a war. He says the people most against Guizot are now still more against England. One man (he would not tell me his name) said to him, 'M. Guizot has rode his race in a manner that gives us great satisfaction, but there seems to have been a little crossing and jostling in it.' The King insinuated to Normanby the other day that he did not approve of Guizot's conduct, and that though he must support him now, he might get rid of him by and by—at least it appears Normanby put this construction on what he said, and continues in the miserable delusion that Guizot will fall. This cauldron is now boiling furiously: the bitterest resentment, immense excitement, continual mischief-making, passion, incapacity, falsehood, treachery, all mingling in the mass, and making a toil and trouble which everybody looks at with dismay and disgust, except probably Palmerston himself. The Chancellor of the Exchequer introduced his Budget last night with the loan, and was very well received. I was sure it would take.
ATTEMPT AT RECONCILIATION.
February 24th.—Went to John Russell yesterday morning to talk to him about French affairs; found him just going to Cambridge House, so walked there with him. I told him all I thought and all I heard from Paris. He said it was all very bad, but that Guizot's conduct had been atrocious. He let it be said all over Paris that he had given the lie to Normanby and never made any explanation. I said I was not inclined to defend Guizot, but that he was not just in this respect. We had not much time to talk it over, and he ended at the gate by saying, 'Well, I think they have both behaved as ill as possible.' 'There,' I answered, 'I entirely agree with you: but what is to be done?' He said he would do what he could, but he knew not what could be done. I suggested that Normanby had better come away for a time to get a break or a pause. He said Normanby wished this, but they were against it, and so we parted. I see that it will be very difficult to whip him up to any sustained exertion, and everything will probably go on au jour la journée.
February 25th.—I did not think anything could surprise me about Palmerston or his colleagues—the audacity of the one or the endurance of the other; but I was surprised yesterday. In the morning I went to the Euston Station to meet the Duke of Bedford and bring him to Belgrave Square. I then told him the state of affairs at Paris, what I had said to Lord John and Lord Lansdowne, and entreated him to try and do something and get something done. On Saturday last there was as usual a dinner at Palmerston's, where John Russell dined. At night, Clarendon had some talk with Beauvale who asked him how long this state of things was to go on, and if he was not aware of the danger of it; that it was no use to speak to Palmerston, but he thought he (Clarendon) might do something, and that he had been just talking to St. Aulaire on the subject. There they parted; but on Sunday morning he received a note from Beauvale saying that he found matters were much more serious than he had been aware of, and by a communication he had had from St. Aulaire that morning he learnt that Palmerston had formally announced to him that unless Normanby received an immediate and satisfactory reparation the intercourse between the two countries should cease. This was done by Palmerston without any concert with, and without the knowledge of, his colleagues; and though John Russell, the Prime Minister, dined with him the same day, he did not think proper to impart to him what he had done. Clarendon then resolved to act without loss of time, but he first went to call on Charles Wood, where he found John Russell. He opened on the subject of the state of the French quarrel and its possible consequences, and said, 'What should you say if Palmerston was to make a communication to St. Aulaire that unless reparation was offered to Normanby, all intercourse between France and England should cease?' 'Oh no,' said John, 'he won't do that. I don't think there is any danger of such a thing.' 'But he has done it,' said Clarendon; 'the communication has been made, and the only question is whether St. Aulaire has or has not forwarded it to the French Government.' This at once roused Lord John, and he instantly wrote to St. Aulaire requesting him, if he had not sent this communication to his Government, to suspend doing so. Fortunately it was not gone. What passed between Lord John and Palmerston I do not know, but the result has been a more moderate instruction to Normanby from both of them.
LORD PALMERSTON THREATENS A RUPTURE.
Lady Palmerston had a letter from Madame de Lieven last night, expressing her hopes that it would be arranged, which looks as if Guizot would not reject the overture. She told me in the morning that St. Aulaire had asked Palmerston to get Normanby away, and whether they could not send him out to India!!! All this supplies very serious matter for reflexion. It exhibits in the first place in the most striking manner the character and the determination of Palmerston, and I have not the least idea that the check he has received will either discourage or deter him for the future. He will soon begin again on this or some other matter. It exhibits likewise the tameness of his colleagues, who will submit to this and anything else he may choose to do. Most of his colleagues, indeed, will never be aware of what has occurred. Lord John, Charles Wood, Clarendon, and probably Lord Lansdowne know it; but most likely the others will remain in ignorance. Lansdowne may tell Auckland. It strikes me that there is something base and false in the transaction. Palmerston, in a manner which ought not to be forgiven, takes this important and violent step by his own authority, and without the knowledge of any of his colleagues. He is found out, baffled, and he ought to be mortified, and to think himself to a certain degree dishonoured. To have a communication of his[9] countermanded, without his knowledge, by the Prime Minister, is a sort of affront which any high-spirited man would naturally resent; but he is too much in the wrong to resent it; so he submits. An honourable, straightforward man would not have acted as he did; a high-spirited one would not have endured such a rebuff and mortification. But a Prime Minister who was sensible of the right and the duty of his position would not endure such conduct as Palmerston's, would not be satisfied with interfering in this particular case, but would at once assert his authority, loftily, firmly, and with a determination that it should be permanently respected. This I am pretty sure Lord John has not done.[10] How he has settled the affair with Palmerston I know not, but it is certain that he has done no more than stop this attempt, and has left everything to go on as it may. The consequence is a state of things at once dangerous and disgraceful: he dissatisfied with Palmerston and entirely distrusting him; Palmerston dissatisfied and angry with him; the rest of the Cabinet either ignorant of what is going on, or disinclined and afraid to interfere. I have not the least idea of Palmerston's changing his conduct or his policy. His fixed idea is to humble France, and to wage a diplomatic war with her on the Spanish marriages, and to this object to sacrifice every other. He is moving heaven and earth to conciliate the Northern Courts. Ponsonby is doing everything he can at Vienna, and holding the most despotic language. While there is the finest field open for us in Italy, and a noble part to be played, Palmerston is ready to truckle to Austria, and to abandon or counteract the Pope.[11]
I met Sir Robert Peel yesterday and walked with him some time. I have not had so much conversation with him for years. He praised the Budget, lamented the state of foreign affairs, and talked of Palmerston as everybody else does. I said we were always in danger from him, and he must know how difficult it was to control him. He said, 'I am only afraid that Lord John does not exert all the authority and determination which, as Prime Minister, he ought to do'. I said, he did it by flashes, but not constantly and efficiently.
Yesterday young Mr. Walter was brought to the office and introduced to me. Old Walter is dying, and his son is about to succeed (in fact has succeeded) to the throne of the 'Times,' and to all the authority, influence, and power which the man who wields that sceptre can exercise. He seems mild, sensible, and gentlemanlike. Though it was the first time we ever met, he talked to me with great openness about the affairs of the paper and the people connected with it. I was surprised to hear from him that my original friend Barnes, who left behind him a great reputation, was (though a good scholar) an idle boy, who never wrote a line in the paper, and never had anything to do with any one of the articles which all the world attributed to him.
LORD JOHN RUSSELL THREATENED.
February 28th.—At Court yesterday to make Lord Grey Lord-Lieutenant of Northumberland. They were in high spirits at the Prince's election at Cambridge.[12] Lord John Russell told me that the work of reconciliation at Paris was going on favourably. He asked St. Aulaire to give him a copy of what Guizot had written to him about his speech as to Normanby, which he did, and then asked him to write it officially to Palmerston. St. Aulaire said he could not do this without Guizot's consent, but he would ask him, and had no doubt he would give it. St. Aulaire read me a letter from Guizot, in which he said that he had no desire to get rid of Normanby, and begged me to write to Normanby and tell him so, which I did. Palmerston was at the Council yesterday with his usual gay and dégagé air. The day before for the first time the matter was mentioned in the Cabinet, but in Palmerston's most offhand and dashing style. I found, however, that Grey was acquainted with what had passed, for he spoke to me about it. I did what I could to inspire him with a security I do not myself feel. There have been reports abroad of a dissension in the Cabinet about the Irish Poor Law, but it is not true. They have been all agreed, and in fact there has been no disagreement on any subject hitherto.
I always forget to notice a thing I heard many months ago, but which has never been known or talked of. A man (whose name and history I have now forgotten), who thought he had some claims on the Government for remuneration or employment, made several applications to John Russell, who would not attend to them. The fellow turned savage, and was heard to utter threats of personal violence, which from his determined character gave great alarm to the friends and adherents who heard of them. Great uneasiness prevailed for a time, and many consultations were held, and the matter was deemed so serious, that at last they resolved to get the man out of the country, and to purchase his forbearance, though not with public money. In this emergency the Duke of Bedford came forward and agreed to pay him a pension of 300l. a year, with which he was satisfied, and went abroad. The Duke, intimate as I am with him, never mentioned the matter to me in any way, and he does not know I am aware of it. I think it was Le Marchant who settled this affair, and I do not believe Lord John himself has ever been informed of it.
March 2nd.—Accounts came yesterday that this miserable quarrel of Normanby's was made up, but the end answered to the beginning, and nothing could be more pitiful than the reconciliation. Howden wrote Clarendon an account of it, in which he said very truly that Normanby was like the month of March—coming in like a lion, and going out like a lamb. He got the worst terms he possibly could, very different from his first pretensions. Apponyi managed it, and they met at his house. Guizot gave Apponyi a verbal assurance that he never intended to impugn Normanby's veracity, and he received one that Normanby had not intended any incivility in the matter of the card, nothing more, and this after Normanby had proclaimed that he would accept nothing but an apology in the Tribune of the Chamber of Deputies, and Palmerston had informed St. Aulaire that if such an apology was not made, the diplomatic relations should cease, and that it was for Guizot to consider whether he should establish between England and France the same state of things as existed between France and Russia—the business of the two Governments being transacted by Chargés d'Affaires. A most lame and impotent conclusion indeed. Normanby feels this acutely, for he writes to me a querulous letter, in which he says that, 'if he had obtained less than he had a right to expect, and if his position there should not be quite as good as if he had insisted on more, it would be owing to the cavils and criticisms of those over-candid friends who allowed their opinions of the probability that there must have been some indiscretion on his part to be known through Jarnac or some one of that description exactly in the quarter where it was calculated to do the most mischief.' It is really a comical instance of self-delusion, to see Normanby going on even to me, protesting his innocence of the charge of indiscretion and of communication with the French Opposition, notamment Thiers. It really is incredible that he can so deceive himself, and fancy he can deceive others.
THE DUCHY OF CORNWALL.
March 8th.—At the Stud House on Thursday and Friday. There I read one evening a part of one of my journal books, and I am glad I made the experiment, because I discovered how trivial, poor, and uninteresting the greater part of it is. I had read it over myself the night before, and did not find this out; but when I came to read it aloud, I saw at once that such was the case, with a few things worth hearing scattered about it, but on the whole dull. This has satisfied me that a very careful revision of the whole is necessary, and a selection of such parts as may hereafter be deemed readable.
George Anson told me yesterday that the Queen's affairs are in such good order and so well managed, that she will be able to provide for the whole expense of Osborne out of her income without difficulty, and that by the time it is furnished it will have cost 200,000l. He said, also, that the Prince of Wales when he came of age would not have less than 70,000l. a year from the Duchy of Cornwall. They have already saved 100,000l. The Queen takes for his maintenance whatever she pleases, and the rest, after paying charges, is invested in the funds or in land, and accumulates for him.
March 13th.—On Thursday night 'Cracow'[13] came on again, when George Bentinck made a long, violent, foolish speech, running counter to everybody's sentiments, and extravagantly praising the three Great Powers who had perpetrated the deed. Peel followed in a speech full of sense and judgement, and very good for the Government, the whole of whose conduct in this matter he warmly supported. Nothing can exceed the disgust and despair of the Protectionists at the extravagance and folly of their leader, but they have got him, and cannot get rid of him; they are in a regular fix, and every day becoming more disorganised and discontented. Meanwhile he, by all accounts, improves in manner and facility, which only makes him the more dangerous because he is full of increased confidence in himself, and pours forth with the utmost volubility the nonsense with which his head is full. I met Lyndhurst at dinner the other day, whom I have not seen for a long time, and he began talking in his usual offhand style: said that George Bentinck had ruined the party, and, if it was not for him and for Peel, that the Conservatives would all come together again. If this Government would now avoid all extremes, he thought they were in for a long time. He had told Stanley that, unless they could make some great exertion before the next election, the party was at an end. Stanley said 'they should do very well.' I asked Lyndhurst what could be expected of any party of which Stanley was the head, to say nothing of George Bentinck, and he owned he was utterly unfit; still, Lyndhurst has a hankering after patching up the party. He insists that Brougham has persuaded himself that this Government cannot go on, and that in any fresh combination a Chancellor will be wanted, and that somehow the Great Seal will fall into his hands. Brougham made a display of more than usual violence and indecency in the House of Lords last night, and proved (if there was any doubt) how necessary it is to have a Speaker to keep order there. He has really made the House of Lords a bear-garden.
MORE BLUNDERS AT PARIS.
Normanby writes from Paris out of humour: he has lost his senses and his temper; he harps querulously upon the details of his miserable quarrel, and thinks the Government have used him ill by not supporting him. He is writhing under the consciousness of cutting a poor figure, and of the triumph Guizot has gained over him, but there is no end of his gaucheries. When the quarrel was made up, and he invited Guizot to dinner, he selected the day on which Guizot himself always receives his friends. Guizot accepted, and announced that he should not receive that day, but of course the invitation was attributed either to stupidity or to impertinence. St. Aulaire asked me, 'Est-ce que c'était une étourderie, ou l'a-t-il fait exprès?' I assured him it must have been an étourderie, but an unpardonable one. What was graver, however, was that the first night of Guizot's reception after the reconciliation, when he ought to have taken care to go there, he went to Molé instead, and never went to Guizot at all. However, John Russell is now alive to foreign affairs, and his brother is keeping him up to it. The Duke told me he wrote him six sheets on the subject of our foreign relations, especially with France, 'very confidential.' The Government here are going on very well. Lord John speaks excellently; the Speaker says he never saw any Government do their business so well. Charles Wood's success is an immense thing for them; a good Chancellor of the Exchequer is a tower of strength to a Government. Goulburn was only Peel's chief clerk; Wood is taking a flight of his own. Every day strengthens the Government by exhibiting the utter incapacity of the Opposition, and the impossibility of any other Government being formed; and people who have no party heat or prejudices will have the best workmen; but there is a disposition to fronder in some quarters. I observed to Lincoln, whom I met, that the Government were going on very well, but he would not admit it.
March 14th.—Saw Graham yesterday, and had a long talk with him. He said John Russell's speech on the Irish Poor Law was the best thing he had done since he was Minister, and proved his competence for his high office; that he viewed with the deepest alarm the measure itself, but that, in the temper of the House of Commons and the country, it was inevitable; the Government could have done nothing but what they have, and, having come to that resolution, nothing could exceed the skill and judgement with which John Russell has dealt with it, and his speech had carried the question. He thinks the consequence will be a complete revolution of property, the ruin of the landed proprietors, and the downfall of Protestant ascendency and of the Church. He expects that the first to abandon the Church will be the Protestant proprietors themselves; that a tremendous ordeal is to be gone through, involving vast changes and social vicissitudes, but that on the whole, and at a remote period, it will produce the regeneration of Ireland. This, much elaborated, was the substance of his opinion. I do not pretend to enunciate any opinion as to the solution of this tremendous problem which gives rise to so many thoughts—social, political, and religious—perplexing the mind upon all. How those devout persons who are accustomed to find in everything that happens manifestations of divine goodness and wisdom, and are always overflowing with thanksgiving and praise, accommodate this awful and appalling reality with their ideas and convictions, I do not divine. To me no difficulty is presented, because I never have allowed my mind to be exposed to the hazard of any such perplexity. I do not pretend to define the attributes, nor to pass judgement on the counsels of God; 'meâ ignorantiâ et debilitate me involvo,' and I submit and resign myself, with an implicit and unrepining humility, to all things that are decreed, public or private, without venturing to pronounce an opinion, and without wishing to give vent to a feeling on things which are far beyond the reach of any human comprehension.
March 23rd.—Last week the political and commercial world were struck with astonishment at the sudden and unexpected announcement of a financial arrangement between the Emperor of Russia and the Bank of France, of which nobody, either politicians or financiers, could make head or tail, nor up to this moment has any light been thrown upon it.[14] Excursive and eager political minds, however, instantly jumped to very vast conclusions, and beheld deep political designs, a monstrous union between France and Russia, French divisions crossing the Pyrenees, and Russian the Balkan.
STATE OF IRELAND.
For the last week the accounts from Ireland have been rather better, but the people are, without any doubt, perishing by hundreds. The people of this country are animated by very mixed and very varying feelings, according to the several representations which are put before them, and are tossed about between indignation, resentment, rage, and economical fear on the one hand, and pity and generosity on the other; and the circumstances of the case, which will appear fabulous to after ages, will account for this. There is no doubt whatever that, while English charity and commiseration have been so loudly invoked, and we have been harrowed with stories of Irish starvation, in many parts of Ireland the people have been suffered to die for want of food, when there was all the time plenty of food to give them, but which was hoarded on speculation. But what is still more extraordinary, people have died of starvation with money enough to buy food in their pockets. I was told the night before last that Lord de Vesci had written to his son that, since the Government had positively declared they would not furnish seed, abundance of seed had come forth, and, what was more extraordinary, plenty of potatoes; and Labouchere told me there had been three coroner's inquests, with verdicts 'starvation,' and in each case the sufferers had been found to have considerable sums of money in their possession, and in one (if not more) still more considerable sums in the savings bank: yet they died rather than spend their money in the purchase of food.
March 31st.—George Bentinck made another exhibition in the House of Commons the night before last in the shape of an attack on Labouchere more violent and disgusting than any of his previous ones. He seems to have lost all command over his temper, and his indiscretion and arrogance have excited a bitterness against him not to be described. The Protectionists are overwhelmed with shame and chagrin, and they know not what to do: he has ruined them as a party; he was hooted even by those who sat behind him, and all the signs of disapprobation with which he was assailed only excited and enraged him the more. The Government are now anxious to dissolve as soon as they possibly can, justly thinking that the time is very ripe for them. There is at this moment certainly no party spirit, no zeal and animation in any quarter, and there are neither great principles nor measures in dispute to serve as war cries or rallying points. The only party, therefore, that has any interest in exerting itself is that of the Government, who naturally wish to keep the power of which they have got possession. The Irish Poor Law Bill is going through the House of Commons with hardly any opposition, and everybody, willingly or unwillingly, has made up his mind that the great experiment must be tried.
BIRTHDAY REFLEXIONS.
The Government meanwhile are in a state of great uneasiness at the condition of foreign affairs[15] in almost every quarter of the world—in Spain, Portugal, and Greece particularly; in Switzerland, in Italy, and Germany to a less degree; and they are not only in a state of uneasiness, but in one of extreme perplexity, because they by no means clearly see their way or have any accurate knowledge of the designs and objects of the different European Powers; they think, however, that France is now willing to let the entente with England drop, and is disposed to form connexions with Russia and Austria in a sort of semi-hostility to England, and by a mutual connivance at each other's objects. They suspect, without being sure of it, that the recent financial operation has a deeper political significance, and that the object of France is to secure the neutrality of Russia and Austria in the affairs of Spain, and to repay it by suffering the Austrians to coerce the Pope and put down the rising spirit of Italian improvement. Then the condition of Spain and Portugal excites the greatest apprehension, and the more because it is evident we do not know what we can or what we ought to do. I never saw people so perplexed and with so little of fixed ideas or settled intentions on the subject.
I met the Archbishop of Dublin, Whately, at dinner yesterday at Raikes Currie's. I don't think him at all agreeable; he has a skimble-skamble way of talking as if he was half tipsy, and the stories he tells are abominably long and greatly deficient in point.
April 2nd.—My birthday: a day of no joy to me, and which I always gladly hasten over. There is no pleasure in reaching one's fifty-third year and in a retrospect full of shame and a prospect without hope; for shameful it is to have wasted one's faculties, and to have consumed in idleness and frivolous, if not mischievous pleasures that time which, if well employed, might have produced good fruit full of honour and of real, solid, permanent satisfaction. And what is there to look forward to at my time of life? Nothing but increasing infirmities, and the privations and distresses which they will occasion. I trust I shall have fortitude and resignation enough to meet them, and I pray that I may be cut off and be at rest before I am exposed to any great trials. When we have no longer the faculty and the means of enjoyment in this life, it is better to quit it. With regard to that great future, the object of all men's hopes, fears, and speculations, I reject nothing and admit nothing.
Divines can say but what themselves believe; Strong proof they have, but not demonstrative.
I believe in God, who has given us in the wonders of creation irresistible—to my mind at least irresistible—evidence of His existence. All other evidences offered by men claiming to have divine legations and authority, are, to me, imperfect and inconclusive. To the will of God I submit myself with implicit resignation. I try to find out the truth, and the best conclusions at which my mind can arrive are really truth to me. However, I will not write an essay now and here. Sometimes I think of writing on religious subjects amongst the many others which it occurs to me to handle. Ever since I wrote my book on Ireland, I have been longing to write again, and for more than one reason: first, the hope of again writing something that the world may think worth reading; secondly, because the occupation is very interesting and agreeable, inasmuch as it furnishes a constant object and something specific to do; and thirdly, because I find that nothing but having a subject in hand which renders enquiry and investigation in some particular line necessary is sufficient to conquer idleness. Mere desultory reading does not conquer it, and there is a want of satisfaction in reading without an object. Why then do I not write, when I am conscious that I have a very tolerable power of expressing myself? It is because I am also conscious that I want knowledge, familiarity with books, recollection sufficiently accurate of the little I have read, and that facility of composition which extensive information and the habit of using it alone can give. It is when this struggle is going on in my mind between the desire to write and the sense of incapacity, that I feel so bitterly the consequences of my imperfect education, and my lazy, unprofitable habits. But no more of this now. To-morrow I am going to Newmarket to begin another year of the old pursuits.
THE POWER OF THE PRESS.
I dined with David Dundas the Solicitor-General the day before yesterday at the Clarendon Hotel: splendid banquet; twenty miscellaneous friends. Labouchere there told me that Lord Hatherton had not long ago shown him Dudley's diary, which is very curious.[16] It was very regularly kept, and told of everything he did, giving minute details of his adventures both in high and low life. Certainly nothing could be more injudicious than to commit to paper and to leave behind him such memorials as these, and accordingly Labouchere advised Hatherton to commit the MS. to the flames. Dudley speaks of his friends, and even of his acquaintances generally, in a very good-natured spirit, and of himself with modesty and diffidence. He was in a dreadful state of nervousness whenever he had to make a speech in Parliament. He felt very bitterly against his father, who, he thought, had ruined his prospects and character by the way he had brought him up. I hope Hatherton will not burn this MS., and that I shall some day manage to see it.
Yesterday Le Marchant told me an anecdote illustrative of the power of the press. He called late one night many years ago on Barnes at his house, and while there another visitor arrived whom he did not see, but who was shown into another room. Barnes went to him and after a quarter of an hour returned, when Le Marchant said, 'Shall I tell you who your visitor is?' Barnes said yes, if he knew. 'Well, then, I know his step and his voice; it is Lord Durham.' Barnes owned it was, when Le Marchant said, 'What does he come for?' Barnes said he came on behalf of King Leopold, who had been much annoyed by some article in the 'Times,' to entreat they would put one in of a contrary and healing description. As Le Marchant said, here was the proudest man in England come to solicit the editor of a newspaper for a crowned head!
Moxon told me on Wednesday that some years ago Disraeli had asked him to take him into partnership, but he refused, not thinking he was sufficiently prudent to be trusted. He added he did not know how Dizzy would like to be reminded of that now.
April 10th.—Just before I left town last week I saw Arbuthnot, who entreated me, if I had any influence with the Government, to get them to take up the subject of the defence of the country. He said it haunted the Duke of Wellington, and deprived him of rest, and night and day he was occupied with the unhappy state of our foreign relations, the danger of war, and the defenceless state of our coasts. He afterwards wrote to the Duke of Bedford on that, as well as about the Enlistment Bill, the provisions of which he does not approve of. The Duke of Bedford spoke to me about these things, and we agreed that it was desirable Lord John should see the Duke of Wellington very soon, and come to some understanding with him. On the defences, Lord John agrees in the propriety of doing what the Duke wants, but he thinks the danger of war is not imminent, and that it is better to do what is necessary gradually and without noise.
April 18th.—In consequence of the communications between the Duke of Bedford, Arbuthnot and me, Lord John saw the Duke of Wellington and has come to an agreement with him. The Duke will support their Enlistment Bill, and they give way to him in what he wished about the pensioners. Arbuthnot told me that the Duke was rather surprised that Lord John did not mention the subject of the defence of the country, nor tell him if he had seen the letters he has lately written to Lord Anglesey on that subject. It is impossible to describe his anxiety or his indignation at the supineness of the Government and the country in reference to this matter. What he wants is that the militia shall be called out, and 20,000 men added to the regular army, but this latter he knows he cannot hope for. His letters to Lord Anglesey are very strong. The Duke knows that some of the Cabinet entirely take his views; the subject has been brought before them, and Clarendon and Palmerston are as strong in this sense as the Duke himself. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is against anything expensive. Lord John seems to have been rather neutral. The Duke attributes all the obstacles his plans encounter to Grey; however, it seems probable that something will be done. Lord John will act, though not so rapidly or decisively as the Duke wishes.
ILLNESS OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.
Amongst other troubles the state of affairs in Portugal has exceedingly perplexed the Government, and a great diplomatic blunder seems to have been committed in regard to them. Some time ago Clarendon wanted to propose to France a joint interference and mediation with Spain, to settle the miserable quarrel which is ruining the country. The Cabinet would not agree to it, Palmerston being always against France, and the others disinclined to make any proposals to the French Government; but now they find out that they are wrong and that they had better have done this at first, for France has offered the Portuguese Government its assistance or interference, and the knowledge of this has induced us to make the proposal now which we had better have done long ago. It was an excellent opportunity for renewing amicable relations with France, properly, prudently, and without affectation.[17]
April 30th.—Troubles and difficulties of various kinds have not diminished since I wrote last. The state of Ireland continues not only as bad, but as unpromising as ever, and, in addition, there is the great misfortune, public and private, of the approaching death of Lord Bessborough, the Lord Lieutenant. His illness was very sudden, at least the dangerous symptoms were, and he is dying amidst universal sympathy and regret. Lord John has made up his mind as to his successor, but without telling his colleagues his intentions; he may have told some, but certainly not all, for he has not told Clarendon, with whom he is on very confidential terms.[18] The Duke of Bedford told Clarendon Lord John had talked it all over with him, and had settled what to do, but that he was not at liberty to reveal his intentions. This is acting independently and en maître.
The other night the Enlistment Bill was debated in the House of Lords, and the Government got a small majority by the aid of the Peelite peers. The Opposition were full of eagerness and heat on this Bill and quite persuaded that the Duke of Wellington was with them. He had certainly given them to understand that he was so. Last week Stanley and Richmond were at Newmarket, and one day after dinner at the Duke of Rutland's we talked it over. I said they would find the Duke was not opposed to the Bill. 'Then,' said Stanley, 'he must be very much changed since I talked to him about it. There can be no secret as to what passed, because three or four people were present. I said to him, "Pray, sir, what is the necessity for this Bill?" and he said, "I'll tell you: they have got a d——d good army, and they want to make it a d——d bad one."' This, which was very characteristic, might very well convince Stanley and the rest that he was against Grey's measure, as, in fact, and in spite of this support, he really is, but he came to an agreement with the Government and promised to speak in favour of the Bill. So he did, but he spoke in such a way that though the Opposition were surprised and vexed at his supporting it at all, they saw pretty clearly that he did not like it, and they accordingly were not deterred from voting against it. Ellesmere told me yesterday that the Government must not attempt to try any fresh experiments with the army, for if they did the Duke would certainly resign.
THE QUEENS OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.
Affairs in Spain and Portugal are in a very strange state. The young Queen of Spain exhibits some character and some talent, but she is unsteady and uneducated. The turn matters have taken at Madrid is, however, enough to provoke and annoy the French, while every day exhibits more and more the infamy and disgrace of the marriage which the French Government forced upon the Queen. Her husband is a wretched imbecile sulky fanatic, who passes his life in trying to make embarrassments for the Queen, and in praying to the shade of his mother to forgive him for having married the usurper of his cousin's throne. They have been endeavouring to effect the semblance of a reconciliation between them, but he is incurably sulky, and will not make it up. Not long ago he sent for Pacheco, and told him it was his desire that a Council should be convened forthwith. Pacheco said very well, but begged His Majesty would be so good as to tell him for what purpose he wished for it. The King replied that his object was to lay before the Council proofs of the Queen's infidelity to him. Pacheco said if that was his object he must beg to decline to summon the Council. On this he announced that he had prepared a manifesto to the nation setting forth his wrongs, and that it should be immediately published. They persuaded him to desist from this scandalous intention, and as a sort of compromise they got Serrano to quit Madrid. It appears that the Queen-mother, seeing how matters were going on, intended to return; but her daughter had no mind she should, and told her Ministers they had better look to it. It was their affair, but that if Mama came back matters would go ill. On this they sent Concha to Paris to stop her. Christina wrote Isabella a lecture on her proceedings, and told her that she was too little educated to know how to conduct herself properly, to which she replied, 'Mama knows that I did not educate myself.' However, everything is in a state of the greatest doubt and uncertainty there, and the French are sure to begin their intrigues again and to create as much confusion as they can.
In Portugal, the other Queen continues as obstinate as ever, yielding inch by inch as the danger approaches her more nearly, and is supported in her obstinacy by the security she is still able to find in foreign intervention. We have anchored our ships close to the town, and are prepared to land our Marines to protect her person, and, thus knowing she is personally safe, she is emboldened to refuse or demur to the terms of accommodation which Palmerston has suggested, and to try on the chances of war totally regardless, of course, of the misery of prolonging the contest. The natural course for us to take would be to offer our mediation, and if she refused it to withdraw our ships and leave her to her fate. But we cannot do this, because if we were to desert her the Spaniards and French would instantly step in and reconquer her kingdom for her. Such is the nodo sviluppato in which these wretched affairs are involved. Lisbon is ready to rise in insurrection the moment the army of the Junta makes its appearance. Southern writes very curious accounts to Clarendon of the state of the town. The jealousy and aversion of the Queen of Portugal to him have compelled him to withdraw altogether from the affairs of the mission, though he is still Secretary of Legation. Our Court continues to take the same interest in the Lisbon Coburgs, and would willingly interfere in their favour with more vigour if the Ministers would consent to do so. Palmerston's defects prove rather useful in his intercourse with the Court. To their wishes or remonstrances he expresses the greatest deference, and then goes on in his own course without paying the least attention to what they have been saying to him.
May 2nd.—Yesterday morning the Duke of Bedford called on me, and told me Lord John's secret intentions about Ireland, which he said he had not yet imparted to any of the Cabinet, and only discussed with him. I believe, however, that Lord John has told Labouchere, and nobody else. He thinks of taking this opportunity of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant and making a Secretary of State for Ireland, who is not to reside permanently but go there occasionally, and he destines this office for Clarendon. This is his plan, which, however, he has by no means determined on, and they both think it doubtful if it would do. The moment, however, seems propitious for effecting this alteration; there is no O'Connell either to inveigh against it or to seize any power that may be, or appear to be, relinquished, and the difficulty of selecting a successor to Lord Bessborough is so great as to be almost insuperable. Meanwhile the town is full of reports about a new Lord-Lieutenant, nobody dreaming of what Lord John is resolving in his mind. Everybody has got some story (from the best authority) of the post having been offered to this person, and pressed upon that. Bessborough still lingers on, and a more striking and touching deathbed has seldom been seen. He is surrounded by the whole of his numerous family, overwhelmed with affliction, a general manifestation of sympathy and regret, and the deep sense which is entertained of the loss which the country will sustain by his death, afford the best and most feeling testimony to his capacity and his merit. He is perfectly aware of his condition, and in full possession of his faculties. Duncannon wrote to John Russell yesterday, as I am told, an admirable letter, which was sent to the Queen. Bessborough was bent upon writing himself to John Russell before he died, and was preparing to do so. Certainly a greater loss both public and private has seldom occurred.
THE LORD-LIEUTENANCY OF IRELAND.
May 3rd.—The Duke of Bedford came here this morning. They now find there are immense difficulties in the way of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant at present; they are assured that if it was proposed the Repealers would raise a furious clamour and be joined by the Orangemen. Some Irishman (he did not tell me who), a sensible man and favourable to the abolition, tells him and Lord John this, consequently Lord John has told the Duke that his going there would be the only solution of the difficulty. This difficulty, he says, is enormous and increasing; that everything tends to prove that dangers are thickening round them, and that next year they will have to propose measures that will be very unpopular. Bessborough has dictated to Lord John a most affecting letter; his daughter, Lady Emily, wrote also, saying that her father was so weak that he was scarcely intelligible, and she was not sure she had quite faithfully written what he had dictated, but that she had given the substance of it as well as she could. He tells Lord John that the dangers and difficulties are very great, and that he foresees their increase, and he expects him to appoint a man to succeed him who shall be firm and bold, and, above all, who will not seek for popularity. I found the Duke most unwilling, and almost, but not quite, decided not to go. He will go if Lord John insists on it, but he dreads and shrinks from it; neither his health, nerves, nor spirits are equal to such a task. The principal reason for his going is, that he alone can go temporarily, and Lord John does not contemplate his remaining. Lord John says he cannot ask Clarendon to go on account of the expense, unless he was to stay there for three years. He says that not one of the men who have been mentioned will do for the office, especially Morpeth; and he thinks Bessborough's warning as to the sort of man they ought to choose was intended to point at Morpeth as the one they ought not to appoint. Morpeth himself is longing to go. 'It is now come to this,' the Duke said: 'it must be either Clarendon, myself, or Lords Justices.' He went from me to Clarendon to talk it over with him. Grey and Labouchere are the only members of the Cabinet to whom he has mentioned the matter. The Duke has had a long confidential letter from Arbuthnot about the Duke of Wellington, and his dread of Grey and his reforms, the object of it being to deter the Government from attempting anything else. It is clear they have dragged the Duke with them as far as he can be persuaded to go, and if they try anything more, and make any further attempts on his patience or condescension, he will then turn restive and resign.
DEATH OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.
June 7th.[19]—More than a month has elapsed since I have written anything, and from the usual cause, that of having been occupied with Epsom, Ascot, and Newmarket. The principal events which have occurred have been the deaths of Bessborough and O'Connell, which took place almost at the same time, within a day or two of one another. The departure of the latter, which not long ago would have excited the greatest interest and filled the world with political speculations, was heard almost with unconcern, so entirely had his importance vanished; he had in fact been for some time morally and politically defunct, and nobody seems to know whether his death is likely to prove a good or an evil, or a mere matter of indifference. The death of Bessborough excited far greater interest, and no man ever quitted the world more surrounded by sympathy, approbation, respect, and affection, than he did. During his last illness, which he himself and all about him knew to be fatal, he was surrounded by a numerous and devoted family, and the people of Dublin universally testified their regard for him, and their grief at losing him. He continued in the uninterrupted possession of his faculties almost to the last hour of his existence, and he calmly discussed every matter of public and private interest, in conversation with his children and friends, or dictating letters to John Russell and his colleagues at home. He expired at eleven o'clock at night; at nine he felt his pulse and said he saw the end was approaching. He then sent for all his family, seventeen in number, saw them and took leave of them separately, and gave to each a small present he had prepared, and then calmly lay down to die; in less than two hours all was over. They say that his funeral was one of the finest and most striking sights possible from the countless multitudes which attended it, and the decorum and good feeling which were displayed. Clarendon has kept the whole of Bessborough's staff and household, with one exception; and he told them that he kept them on account of their attachment to his predecessor.
The reputation which Bessborough had acquired, which at the time of his death and since his Irish administration was very considerable, affords a remarkable example of the success which may be obtained by qualities of a superior description, without great talents, without knowledge and information, and without any power of speaking in Parliament. He had long been addicted to politics, and was closely connected by relationship or friendship with the most eminent Whig leaders. His opinions had always been strongly Liberal, and he seemed to have found the place exactly adapted to his capacity and disposition when he became the Whig whipper-in of the House of Commons; he was gradually initiated in all the secrets of that party, and he soon became a very important member of it from his various intimacies and the personal influence he was enabled to exercise. He had a remarkably calm and unruffled temper and very good sound sense. The consequence was that he was consulted by everybody, and usually and constantly employed in the arrangement of difficulties, the adjustment of rival pretensions, and the reconciliation of differences, for which purposes some such man is indispensable and invaluable in every great political association. He continued to acquire fresh weight and influence, and at length nothing could be done without Duncannon as he then was. Everybody liked him, and King William, when he hated the rest of the Whigs, always testified good humour and regard for him. He took office and became a Cabinet Minister, and he contrived to do a vast deal of Parliamentary business, especially in the House of Lords, and carry bills through Parliament without ever making the semblance of a speech. In this way by his good nature and good sense, and an extreme liveliness and elasticity of spirits, which made him a very pleasant and acceptable member of society, he continued to increase in public reputation and private favour, and when the Government was formed last year, his appointment to the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland was generally approved of. He had almost always been on good terms with O'Connell, indeed he never was on bad terms with anybody; and as an Irishman he was agreeable to the people. In his administration, adverse and unhappy as the times were, he displayed great industry, firmness, and knowledge of the character and circumstances of the Irish people, and he conciliated the good will of those to whom he had been all his life opposed. Lord Roden, the head of the Orange party, who has all along acted a very honourable and patriotic part, afforded ample testimony to his merits, and gave him a very frank and generous support.
LORD CLARENDON GOES TO IRELAND.
There was a great pother for some time before his death about a successor. The candidates soon became reduced to three, though candidates they must not be called; that is, the choice lay between the Duke of Bedford, Clarendon, and Morpeth. Lord John communicated with the Duke and with Labouchere upon the subject, and perhaps with Lord Lansdowne, and, for a long time, he rather leant to the Duke's going, and tried to persuade him, not, however, without misgivings; but he thought it not fair to ask Clarendon, and he had no mind to send Morpeth, who was dying to go. The Duke was rather tickled at the idea of the appointment, somewhat encouraged by the numerous invitations he received to take it, but desperately afraid of it all the time. To my surprise he did not absolutely reject it, as I thought he would have done. In this wavering and uncertain state of mind he broached the matter to Clarendon, who affected to repudiate it and to dread and dislike it, and urged the Duke to go himself. I say affected, because it soon became very clear to me, as it did to the Duke, that Clarendon had no disinclination to go, and would in fact be excessively mortified and disappointed if anybody went but himself. The play of human nature was amusing; the Duke was not quite willing to give it up, but much more afraid to go, and he enjoyed mightily all the expressions of a desire that he should be Lord-Lieutenant, which were addressed to him from various quarters; on the other hand, Clarendon treated it as a sacrifice and a misfortune; hesitated, objected, and did everything to make it appear as if it were a painful burthen cast upon him, but he was all the time in a great fright lest the Duke should be persuaded to accept it, and he said, and made me say to him, that one of his principal motives for accepting it himself was his desire to save the Duke from a burthen which would, he was sure, break him down with anxiety and labour. A great deal of time was wasted and much useless talk expended in fictitious fears and scruples, but at last it was settled that he should go, as it might just as well have been without any fuss or difficulty, for the truth is that he is the fittest man, and is universally considered so. Nothing can be more flattering and gratifying than the reception he has met with from all ranks and all parties, and he is now (whatever doubts or misgivings he may have had, and, in spite of his secret wishes, he probably had some) quite satisfied with his appointment.
The death of O'Connell, I have said, made little or no sensation here. He had quarrelled with half of his followers, he had ceased to be the head of a great party animated by any great principle, or encouraged to pursue any attainable object; the Repeal cause was become despicable and hopeless without ceasing to be noisy and mischievous. O'Connell knew not what to say or what to do; he had become bankrupt in reputation and in power, and was no longer able to do much good or much harm; broken in health and spirits, and seeing Ireland penetrated by famine and sickness, and reduced to a condition of helpless dependence on England, having lost a great part of his prestige in Ireland without having gained respect or esteem in England, he went away unregretted and unnoticed to breathe his last in a foreign land. He was received everywhere on his route with the marks of respect and admiration which were considered due to his wonderful career and to the great part he had played in the history of his country, and his memory has been treated with some appearance of affection in Ireland, and with a decent respect and forbearance here. History will speak of him as one of the most remarkable men who ever existed; he will fill a great space in its pages; his position was unique; there never was before, and there never will be again, anything at all resembling it. To rise from the humblest situation to the height of empire like Napoleon is no uncommon destiny; there have been innumerable successful adventurers and usurpers; but there never was a man who, without altering his social position in the slightest degree, without obtaining any office or station whatever, raised himself to a height of political power which gave him an enormous capacity for good or evil, and made him the most important and most conspicuous man of his time and country. It would not be a very easy matter to do him perfect justice. A careful examination of his career and an accurate knowledge of his character would be necessary for the purpose. It is impossible to question the greatness of his abilities or the sincerity of his patriotism. His dependence on his country's bounty, in the rent that was levied for so many years, was alike honourable to the contributors and the recipient; it was an income nobly given and nobly earned. Up to the conquest of Catholic Emancipation his was certainly a great and glorious career. What he might have done and what he ought to have done after that, it is not easy to say, but undoubtedly he did far more mischief than good, and exhibited anything but a wise, generous, and patriotic spirit. In Peel's administration he did nothing but mischief, and it is difficult to comprehend with what object and what hope he threw Ireland into confusion, and got up that Repeal agitation, the folly and impracticability of which nobody must have known so well as himself.
THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP OF INDIA.
June 14th.—The Duke of Bedford has been telling me what has been going on about India and the appointment of Hardinge's successor. In the first place Normanby has been making desperate attempts to get it, but Lord John will not hear of it, and believes the Directors would object to him if he was proposed. Lord John is resolved that this great appointment shall not be made an affair of party, and he desired the Chairs to furnish him with a list of the persons they would consider most eligible for the office of Governor-General without distinction of party. They sent him four or five names—Clarendon, Graham, I think Dalhousie, and the others I forget, but Normanby's was not among them. Lord John has made up his mind to offer the post to Graham, and has communicated his intention to the Duke of Wellington, at the same time consulting him about the military appointment. The Duke approves of Graham, and proposes Sir George Napier for Commander-in-Chief, to which Lord John agrees. Normanby, who had a suspicion that Graham was thought of, from something the Duke of Bedford had said to him, wrote him a long letter, strongly arguing against this appointment, and not a very bad argument either. Meanwhile I have seen Graham, and had a long conversation with him. It began about the Portuguese question, which is now going on in the House of Commons; but after discussing this and some electioneering matters, I asked him what his own projects were. He said he was indifferent about them and had settled nothing. I said, 'You know that it is reported in the world that you are likely to go to India.' He said he had three times refused to go there; that it would always be a matter of much doubt and deliberation, both on private and public grounds, whether he should accept it if offered; but at present it was out of the question, for Lord John Russell was evidently animated by very implacable sentiments towards him, and he never would take an office from him while he was in such a disposition, and when the appointment would be clearly offered at the suggestion of others, and not by his own free will. He then talked a great deal about the feeling which subsisted between himself and the Whigs—of their resentment towards him; of the way in which he had been persecuted by them; of Lord John's sending for him in the autumn of 1845; about the change of government; how gratified he had been; how frankly he had behaved; how desirous he had been to give every aid in his power to his successor; how generally friendly to the Government, of which he gave instances; and then how hurt he had been at the bitterness and severity of Lord John's attack upon him in reply to his speech objecting to the exclusion of Catholics from the grant; that that speech had proved to him that Lord John's dislike of him was unmitigated and unappeasable. This is a very brief summary of a long discourse he made to me on the subject. I told him he was mistaken in Lord John's sentiments, which were by no means so bitter and hostile as he imagined, and on the occasion he alluded to, Lord John had spoken under great irritation and with strong resentment, thinking that Graham had made a most offensive and unjust speech, and that he had most unfairly done his best to embarrass the Government; that such was the general opinion of Lord John's friends, and I would not conceal from him my own opinion; that his speech had been calculated to produce that effect; that it had appeared to many people, to me amongst them, that Peel had been conscious of the effect produced by his (Graham's) speech, and had spoken, as he did, in a very different tone to repair the effect of it. He must not therefore infer from the vivacity of Lord John's tone on that occasion that he was animated by such sentiments as he ascribed to him; that I did not mean to say he had any feelings of extreme cordiality; but I had reason to know that he rendered ample justice to his public character and capacity, and felt no bitterness towards him; that some day I would give him proofs of the truth of what I said, but that in the meantime I must beg him to take my word for it; and I entreated him not to deceive himself by the exaggerated, and, I was convinced, unfounded notion he entertained of Lord John's disposition. A great deal passed on this subject, and I found that he was very low and very much vexed, both on the above ground and about a very mortifying communication that had been made to him about Cumberland.
THE CUMBERLAND ELECTION.
Aglionby had informed him they were going to put up Charles Howard and William Marshall, which was an intimation that that they would not have him. He replied that he would not pledge himself about the two candidates, but would support Howard, saying civil things about Lord Carlisle and the whole family. The other day he got a letter, not very judiciously worded—cold, but intended to be civil—from Morpeth, announcing that he was going to support the two candidates on his own side of the House, accompanied with some expression of regret that his support could not rather have been given to him. Graham took this very ill, and was evidently excessively hurt at the way in which he was thus excluded from the representation. All these things were evidently souring his mind, and I strongly suspect stimulating him to act an unfriendly part in the Portuguese discussion, and I was therefore very glad that I had an opportunity of saying what I did, for I said quite enough to let him see that India is full in view, and I do not think he will now do anything to mar this prospect. He would not tell me what he or Peel meant to do, and Peel happens to be exceedingly out of humour in consequence of young Campbell's speech at Cambridge; so is Graham. Graham told me he never saw Peel so put out and so angry with anything, and they are the more so because old Jack (Lord Campbell) went down, they say, to Cambridge with his son.
June 19th.—I was obliged to break off in the midst of the above conversation, and have since been out of town. I told the Duke of Bedford all that had passed between Graham and me, and advised that Lord John should show him some civility, which he undertook that he should do. On Tuesday evening the Portuguese discussion was resumed in the Commons and came on in the Lords. I went down to hear Stanley speak, never having heard him before. His style and manner, fluency and expression, are admirable, and he speaks with an appearance of earnestness, even of dignity, that is marvellously striking; but nothing could be more injudicious than his speech, and I was as much disappointed with the matter of it as I was charmed with the manner. Never was there so ridiculous and contemptible an ending to an affair begun with such a flourish of trumpets and note of preparation, and which for a moment put the Government into a state of alarm. The whippers-in in both Houses had collected all their forces, and when the House of Lords met, a long night and a doubtful division were announced.
The first thing that happened was that Peel made an admirable speech in the House of Commons, strong in defence of Government, and without any 'buts' or drawbacks. He spoke very early. Very few people were there, and many went away after; so, finding the House in this state, George Bentinck made Newdigate count it out, and the whole thing thus fell to the ground. This he considered a very skilful piece of jockeyship, apparently unconscious of the ridicule which it cast on the whole affair. Great was the astonishment in the Lords when news was brought that the House of Commons had been counted out. Stanley had gone home to dinner, and after a few insignificant speeches (the Duke of Wellington having spoken strongly for the Government) nobody seemed disposed to go on. Clarendon went to Ellenborough and to Brougham, and asked them if they would not speak: both declined; the latter said it was very dull and he should say nothing. Accordingly they divided, many on both sides absent, and Government had a majority of twenty. Stanley was not present, and when he came back to the House found it all over. So ended this solemn farce. Stanley would have beaten the Government if he could, and have thought it very good fun, trusting to the majority he knew they would have in the Commons to induce them to put up with a defeat. Lord John, however, was not disposed to take it so quietly, and there can be very little doubt that Brougham and the rest saw that a division against Government in the Lords without any division for them in the Commons would make matters very different, and the sudden termination of the debate in the other House greatly cooled their ardour.
WYATT'S STATUE OF THE DUKE.
The other day I met John Russell in the Park as he was going to Apsley House by appointment with the Duke. He said he was going on important business (it was about the Indian appointments), and he asked me if I thought he had better say anything to him or not about the Statue.[20] I said 'Better not.' The Duke of Bedford told me after that it was very fortunate advice I gave Lord John, for if he had said anything there would have been an explosion. The Duke said to Arbuthnot, when Lord John wrote to say he wished to see him, 'What can he want? what can he be coming about? do you think it is about the Statue?' and then he went off on that sore subject, and said he should place his resignation in Lord John's hands! However, Lord John said nothing about it, and the Duke was put into great good humour by being consulted about the Indian affairs; and he said afterwards that he only wished they would get the pedestal made, put the Statue up, and have done with it. But it is curious, as showing how sensitive and irritable he is become, how the strong mind is weakened. He is, however, very happy on the whole, in excellent health, and treated with the greatest deference and attention by everybody. The Queen is excessively kind to him. On Monday his grand-daughter was christened at the Palace, and the Queen dined with him in the evening. She had written him a very pretty letter expressing her wish to be godmother to the child, saying she wished her to be called Victoria, which name was so peculiarly appropriate to a grand-daughter of his. All these attentions marvellously please him.
June 20th.—The Duke of Bedford told me he wanted to speak to me. I called on him, and he said, 'I wish you would see Graham again; a good deal has passed; I won't tell you what now, but I am curious to know what he will say to you in reference to his last conversation.' I accordingly called on Graham; he talked incessantly de omnibus rebus, but never alluded to Lord John or himself, or India, or to what I had before said to him. I had considerable difficulty in getting anything in, but at last, just as I was going and seeing he was resolved to say nothing, I said 'I hope you have thought on what I said to you the other day, for I am quite certain I was right.' He broke in 'Oh, no, that is quite impossible,' and then began again upon Ireland, evidently determined to avoid the former subject. I returned to the Duke and told him what had passed between us, when with some difficulty I got him to tell me what had occurred. As soon as the Portuguese debate was over, Lord John wrote to Graham a very kind and handsome letter, and offered him India, saying that he wished to forget all their differences and only to remember that they had been colleagues in Lord Grey's Government. Graham asked leave to consult Peel, who at once put an extinguisher upon it, entreated him to decline it, and said that their support of the Government would be considered to have been given in reference to this appointment. Peel gave many reasons, which I now forget, against his taking it, and (as I suspect very reluctantly) Graham did decline the offer, of course with many expressions of gratitude and gratification. Peel himself said nothing could be handsomer than the offer. Lord John, however, would not accept the refusal as final, and caused Graham to be informed that he should not appoint anybody else, but wait and see what might occur. Graham might not get a seat in the next Parliament, or the reasons which now influenced him might cease to exist; he would, therefore, not fill up the office till Sir John Hobhouse told him it was absolutely necessary to do so. So the matter stands at present. It is a profound secret only communicated 'to some of the Cabinet,' and Graham has not even told his wife. No wonder he was so reserved with me, though the Duke thinks he might as well have said that he was satisfied my opinion of Lord John's sentiments towards him was correct. Graham, who is always in the garret or in the cellar, was in such spirits the other day as compared with the day before, that it was easy to see something agreeable had happened to him. He talked of all sorts of things: poor laws, railroads, abolition of Lord-Lieutenancy, very good sense and friendly to the Government; said that they had been unlucky in Strutt's appointment, of which great things had been expected and which was a complete failure, and he strongly advised the Government should not persist in their Bill this year.[21] I told the Duke of Bedford this, and I find the Bill was withdrawn last night.
OFFERS TO SIR JAMES GRAHAM.
It is very curious how jealously and anxiously Peel's actions and disposition are scanned, and amusing to hear what people say of them. Bonham went to Arbuthnot the other day, and told him Peel was getting up a party, and expected to have 250 people in the next Parliament. Then Lady Westmorland went and told him that Peel had told her he had 120 followers in the House of Commons, and that he alone kept the Government in office. They put these things together, and inferred all sorts of deep designs and ambitious projects on his part. Arbuthnot told the Duke of Bedford, who told me. I laughed at them, and said that probably what Bonham and Lady Westmorland reported was false or exaggerated, and it was better to look at Peel's acts and see how they corresponded with such supposed intentions. He disclaims being the leader of any party at all, totidem verbis, and the other day he did not tell anybody what he was going to do. His speech was calculated to strengthen the Government, and to render them independent, whereas his policy would be to weaken them, if he had such designs as are imputed to him. I told Graham what I had heard, and what I had said. He said, 'Peel's position is a very extraordinary one, and he is determined to enjoy it. He has an immense fortune, is in full possession of his faculties and vigour, has great influence and consideration in Parliament and in the country; he has shown the world that he is capax imperii. In this position he will not retire from public life to please any man; he does not want to be the head of a party, still less to return to office, but he will continue to take that part in public affairs which he considers best for the public service, reserving to himself the faculty of acting according to circumstances in any political contingency.' I forget the exact phraseology he used, but what he conveyed was that Peel had made no positive resolution never to enter into the public service again, and that circumstances might occur to induce him to do so, but that he neither desired nor expected anything of the kind, nor would do anything to bring it about. At present he is certainly acting a very creditable and a very useful part, and one, if he persists in it, which will redound to his honour, and greatly enhance his reputation. But it is difficult to feel entire confidence in a man who is not really high-minded. If he once begins to shuffle and intrigue, he is lost. The best security for his good conduct is that it is not only his best policy, but it is almost his only possible policy. His influence and his power depend upon his great abilities, and upon his judicious and honourable employment of them; he has no party at his back, he has few political and still fewer personal adherents, nor does he seem to make any exertions to acquire either the one or the other.
A BAD WEEK FOR GOVERNMENT.
June 28th.—The last week was a bad one for the Government. One incident was ridiculous, one unfortunate. Strutt came down to the House on Monday, made a speech of two hours on his Railroad Bill, developing the whole plan, and ended by withdrawing it: a mountain and a mouse. Great was the surprise, and great the ridicule. The dessous des cartes was that Strutt had got up his speech with much labour, and was only told just before the House met that Government had resolved to withdraw the Bill. All this comes of having an inefficient man and a bad measure; thence vacillation, uncertainty, failure, and mortification. This was bad. Then they suffered a defeat on the Poor Law. The clause for prohibiting the separation of old people was carried against them; it was a mistaken piece of humanity, for the old people would be better off as the Bill was. All this shows that it is high time the session should be brought to a close.
July 13th.—The session is drawing to a close, but far from satisfactorily for the Government, who have lost ground in public estimation. Bill after bill has been thrown over, and, after a great deal of time entirely wasted, the session will end with hardly anything having been done. The last two measures given up were the Health of Towns and the Irish Estates Bills, and then the affair of the Wellington Statue came to crown all, in which the Government were bullied and tricked by Croker and Trench, who contrived to enlist the passions or prejudices of the Duke in their cause, made him their cat's-paw, and so accomplished their ends. The vexatious opposition to the Health of Towns Bill by George Bentinck, Hudson, and Co., made it very difficult to carry it, but the truth is they were wrong to bring in such measures so late in the session, and the measures were not framed in a manner to get through with short discussions. It is easy to say 'What could they do?' and 'They could not help it,' but the public does not analyse but looks to results, and therefore sees in the whole conduct of affairs proofs of weakness, vacillation, and mismanagement. This discredits the Government; they had before no popularity, and were accepted as a necessity under circumstances rather than as desirable. Ellesmere, who is very friendly to them, tells me they have no credit or fame so far as his observation goes in the country, and people say 'this can't go on,' though without any fixed idea what is to be done. All this is very deplorable. Then Lord John does not make up by his personal qualities for his political mistakes or shortcomings; he is not conciliatory, and sometimes gives grievous offence. The other night in the House of Commons he was so savage with Hume, without any cause, that he enlisted all sympathies in Hume's favour, and was generally blamed for his tone and manner. He is miserably wanting in amenity, and in the small arts of acquiring popularity, which are of such incalculable value to the leader of a party, still more of a Government; then, while he has the reputation of being obstinate, he is wanting in firmness. His conduct about his own election has been very unwise, and has given great offence; he has suffered himself to be persuaded to stand for the City of London in conjunction with three other Liberals, including Rothschild, and to make a great contest, instead of coming quietly in by a compromise, which all moderate men desired, and none more than Lord John himself. He was so opposed to a contest, and especially to Rothschild's standing (which is a great piece of impertinence, when he knows he can't take his seat), that he threatened to resign himself if they persisted in their scheme of bringing in all four, and then he was over-persuaded to consent to the contest. They offered to pay his expenses; this he refused, and the Duke will have to pay them. In short, on the whole, the Government is not in good odour: they don't inspire confidence; they are neither popular nor respected, but they are indispensable, and have the strength of circumstances. If the country was polled, nineteen out of twenty would vote for Peel's being minister; the Queen would be enchanted to have him back; but Peel has no party, and can have none unless circumstances and necessities make one for him. The great Tory party is acephalous, or rather they are weak from the utter incompetence of their leaders, so that matters are in that sort of lock which prevents any other combination and any change, but which renders the present Government very powerless.
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S VAGARIES.
The Cambridge installation went off with prodigious éclat, and the Queen was enchanted at the enthusiastic reception she met with; but the Duke of Wellington was if possible received with even more enthusiasm. It is incredible what popularity environs him in his latter days; he is followed like a show wherever he goes, and the feeling of the people for him seems to be the liveliest of all popular sentiments; yet he does nothing to excite it, and hardly appears to notice it. He is in wonderful vigour of body, but strangely altered in mind, which is in a fitful uncertain state, and there is no knowing in what mood he may be found; everybody is afraid of him, nobody dares to say anything to him; he is sometimes very amiable and good-humoured, sometimes very irritable and morose. About this affair of the Statue, Croker and Trench contrived to work him up to a state of frenzy; he was as near as possible resigning upon it. When Lord John wrote to him the other day in consequence of what passed in the House of Commons, he wrote a long rigmarole of an answer, which Lord John did not read yesterday, but gave the substance of it. All this is very unlike him. Then he is astonishing the world by a strange intimacy he has struck up with Miss ——, with whom he passes his life, and all sorts of reports have been rife of his intention to marry her. Such are the lamentable appearances of decay in his vigorous mind, which are the more to be regretted because he is in most enviable circumstances, without any political responsibility, yet associated with public affairs, and surrounded with every sort of respect and consideration on every side—at Court, in Parliament, in society, and in the country.
July 22nd.—All last week at Croxteth for Liverpool races, on Saturday to Worsley, passing four hours at Liverpool to see sights; went to the docks, town hall, &c.; and met Cardwell canvassing. I was told there that Peel is very unpopular in Liverpool on account of the heavy losses that have been sustained this year by mercantile men, all of which they attribute to his Currency Bill, consequently the Peelite Conservatives are very few; but my informant added that nevertheless everybody, even those who were most angry with him on account of this Bill, would be glad to see him in office again. I expressed surprise at this; he said they all thought him the best workman, and found when they approached him on business that he knew everything about the subjects which interested them. Liverpool is increasing enormously in trade, which is now greater than in London. Last week appeared Peel's letter to the electors of Tamworth, and John Russell's speech in the City. The latter was very good, and the former not bad in its way; but Peel's case for himself, however well put, is no answer to the accusations which have been elaborated in the 'Quarterly Review' with all the malignity and virulence of ungovernable hatred. There is some truth in the article, which is, however, revolting from its coarse and savage spirit. Arbuthnot told me yesterday an anecdote about that article. It was a review of a pamphlet called 'Pitt and Peel Policy.' Croker contrived to get hold of a copy of the proof-sheets of it, and sent it to the Duke of Wellington, pointing out a passage rather offensive to him, and informing the Duke he meant to review it. The Duke in sending it back advised Croker if he did review it to do so in terms of decency and moderation, and asked to see the review before it was printed. The passage about the Duke was struck out in the process of correction, and Croker had to alter his review in consequence; but he disregarded the Duke's advice, and published the article without letting the Duke see it. He gave as his reason for this that he wished the Duke to be able to say that he had never read a word of it. It seems that after some of his former attacks he tried to put himself on his former footing of intimacy with Peel, and wrote to him 'My dear Peel.' Peel would not hear of it, wrote to him a dry, formal answer, and told him in so many words that their intimacy was at an end. Croker was furious, and has been overflowing with gall and bitterness ever since.[22]
PANIC IN THE MONEY MARKET.