CHAPTER XXVII.
Anarchy in France—Another Omission of Lord Palmerston's—His Spanish Interference attacked—Sir H. Bulwer's Account of his Expulsion from Madrid—Conviction of John Mitchell—Lord Grey objects to Palmerston's Conduct—Mirasol's Mission—Death of Princess Sophia—Weakness of the Spanish Case—Further Evasions of Palmerston—The Queen's Attachment to the Orleans Family—Blunders and Weakness of the Government—Danger of a Tory Government and a Dissolution—Disturbed State of London—The Spanish Debate—Measures taken against the Chartists—Perturbation of Society—Abolition of the Navigation Laws—The Oaths Bill—Chartist Demonstration—Lord John's West India Bill—Isturitz leaves England—Sir Henry Bulwer's Intrigues in Madrid—Lord Clarendon's Distrust of the Irish Catholics—Dangerous Position of the Government—Prospect of a Tory Government—Attitude of the Peelites—Lord Grey's Defence—Defeat of Sir J. Pakington's Amendment—Ferocious Contest in Paris—Improved Position of the Government—Louis Philippe's Opinion of the French Generals—Endsleigh—The West of England—State of Ireland—State of England—Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland—Collapse of the Irish Insurrection—Sir Robert Adair—Lord Hardinge's Appointment to Ireland as Commander-in-Chief—Lord Hardinge in India—The Sikh Battles—A Chartist Establishment—Capture of Smith O'Brien—Sicilian Independence—The Sale at Stowe—Anecdote of Peel and Huskisson—Lord Clarendon on Ireland—Lord Palmerston's Conduct to Austria and Italy—Debate on Foreign Affairs—State of France—Irish Troubles—Charles Buller's Schemes for Ireland—Close of the Session—Death of Lord George Bentinck—Lord George Bentinck's Political Career—At the Jockey Club.
Stud House: May 22nd and 25th, 1848.—In these times a hiatus of ten days leaves an immense arrear of events and circumstances of different sorts. The principal one last week was the strange scene in the French Chamber and the conspiracy against its independence which was so completely frustrated. It is never worth while to describe scenes which are better and more circumstantially narrated in the newspapers. The spirit of order was completely victorious, but the conduct of those who have got the upper hand is still very unaccountable.[48] People go on wondering that Lamartine should be so irresolute, and that he should endure Ledru Rollin as a colleague. Madame de Lieven supplied me with the solution of this question which I dare say is the true one. She told me that Roberts the painter (who brought her away from Paris) came to her the other day and told her that the Revolution found Lamartine as well as Ledru Rollin ruined men, and that they formed a compact to feather their nests, which both have accomplished. While they have been ostensibly (and perhaps really) the heads of different sections of the Government and the promoters of different principles, they have always been connected by a secret understanding and a common interest, and therefore they cannot break with each other, and accordingly whenever the moderate party appear to have the upper hand and cry out to Lamartine to come forward and crush his colleague, Lamartine, on the contrary, shuffles, temporises and compromises, and so he and Ledru Rollin go on together. The consequence of all this is that there is no Government in France, and all the material interests of the country keep getting worse and worse, and ruin stares everybody in the face.
DEBATE ON THE RUPTURE WITH SPAIN.
On Monday morning before I came here I learnt that there had been a fresh matter of complaint against Palmerston, which had given Lord John great annoyance. It seems that several days ago Brunnow communicated to Palmerston that the Emperor of Russia had determined to make common cause with the King of Denmark, and at the same time he made this known to the Prince of Prussia.[49] The next day the Prince went to pay a visit to the Queen, when he alluded to this important communication; the Queen was excessively embarrassed, for she had never heard a word about it, Palmerston having omitted to tell her. As soon as the Prince was gone, she sent for Lord John Russell, who was at Richmond. He came up to town and went to the Queen, who told him what had passed, describing her embarrassment, but said that she thought it better not to let the Prince know she was in ignorance of such a matter, and she had therefore pretended to be aware of it. By mere accident John Russell himself had received a box from Palmerston with this communication a few minutes before he went to the Queen; if it had arrived ten minutes later he would have known nothing about it either. This coming after the Spanish affair, and so soon, does not improve Palmerston's position with the Queen or his colleagues.
I found the Duke of Bedford, who had sent for me, much disturbed at a communication he had received from Arbuthnot, who told him that the Government would be very hard pressed on Friday upon Bankes' motion on the Spanish correspondence;[50] that the motion had been settled by Bankes and Lincoln together, and approved by Stanley; that all the Protectionists would support it; and if Hume and the Radicals did so likewise, the Government would be beaten. All this Arbuthnot had learnt from a Protectionist friend, who added that he did not know what Peel and Graham and their friends would do. This latter point I undertook to ascertain, and I forthwith called on Graham and asked him. He told me that both he and Peel would support the Government, not approving Palmerston's conduct, but not wishing to damage the Government, and not thinking it fair or proper to inflict upon Palmerston a Parliamentary censure. He told me what he should say on the occasion, which I need not say here, as he will say it himself. We had a great deal of talk about the state of affairs. I told him what was said about Lincoln and Bankes, and what the effect of Lincoln's conduct was; he deplored it very much, and said that it was not only very imprudent but very unfair to others, but that he could do nothing about it. If Peel was like other men he would keep Lincoln straight, and it behoves him especially to do so, as Lincoln is supposed to be his favourite adherent.
Yesterday I rode to the course at Epsom with Clanricarde, and we talked about Palmerston and John Russell. He said that such things as had lately happened were not to happen again, but that he thought there had not been enough of common consultation and understanding in their Cabinet upon important matters; he did not think Palmerston had done many objectionable things, but owned that John Russell was not fit to be the head of a Government, was admirable in the House of Commons, but wanting in the qualities that a Prime Minister ought to have.
While this Spanish debate is impending, the difficulty of the case is greatly increased by the news of Bulwer's having been driven out of Madrid, his passport sent him, and he himself ordered to quit it in forty-eight hours; and last night I received a letter from him announcing his arrival and begging to see me. I saw Stanley at Epsom, who said that this event had rendered it very difficult to know what course to pursue; he concludes that Narvaez could not have taken such a step without having sufficient evidence to prove that they had a good case against Bulwer, and that this evidence must have been transmitted to our Government. I am going to London to see Bulwer to hear his story.
SIR HENRY BULWER'S DEFENCE.
May 30th.—I called on Bulwer on Thursday, found him with Delane, and soon after Hayward came in, so had no opportunity of questioning him. He told his story in a long, rambling style, pretty much as the Spanish papers give it; he said he had originally sent a long account to Palmerston of the state of parties in Spain, and the character of the principal men, and advised him to be on good terms with Narvaez and his Government. He did not say what answer Palmerston sent, but I inferred that it did not meet his views. The thing that struck me was the knowledge which he betrayed of the plots or intrigues that were going on against the Government, and it does not appear either from these papers or from what he said to me that he ever gave the benefit of his information to the Spanish Ministers. For example, he knew of the military insurrection, the day on which, the place at which, it was to take place, who was to command it, and, in short, particulars which implied familiarity, if not complicity, with the conspirators. Then there appears to have been a system of offensive and injudicious interference, and in the functions discharged by the English Minister one searches in vain for any international interest, or anything in which we are concerned, and he seems only to have existed at Madrid to meddle and give officious, unrequired, and unwelcome advice. The whole affair is at present in a very embarrassing state, but the man who takes it the most lightly is Palmerston himself. Everybody condemns the spirit of meddling which Palmerston has exhibited in this as in so many instances, and even those who think his interference warrantable, admit that his tone and manner have been very injudicious and in exceeding bad taste. At present his colleagues show no disposition to give him up, and his will is so strong and he is so daring and reckless, while they are all so feeble and yielding, that he will probably harness them all to his car and make them assist in lugging him out of the difficulty. This affair will, however, prove a source of discredit out of the Cabinet, and of weakness and dissension within it. There is not a Minister who does not feel more or less disgusted and alarmed at Palmerston's proceedings, and still more at his character. Out of doors the reprehension is universal. Graham, who had announced his opposition to Bankes' motion and his intention to assist the Government, has now communicated to them (through me) that he can pledge himself to no course till he shall have seen all the papers and heard all the explanations on the subject. Bulwer and Isturitz met at Palmerston's dinner on the Queen's birthday, and accosted each other very cordially. It was remarked that the Queen was very civil to Isturitz at the Levée.
The account of Mitchell's conviction[51] has given great satisfaction here, and compensated for the defeats in the other cases. The good of it is that the Government have proved to the Irish and to the world that they have the means of punishing these enormous offenders, and that they will not be able to pursue their turbulent and factious course with impunity. The three hundred imitators whom Mitchell announced as ready to encounter similar martyrdom will probably not be forthcoming. So far as the system of terror is concerned, which is the only one we can now employ, it is a great and happy event, but it will not contribute to the regeneration of the country, and will probably augment the fund of accumulating hatred against English connexion. Still, anything is better than political impotence, and, before any attempt can be made to introduce those practical improvements which may disarm the Irish of their prejudices and animosities, the power of the law and the Government must be firmly asserted and enforced. An incident has, however, accompanied these trials which is not pleasant to the Government. The Whigs, and Lord John Russell at the head of them, when in opposition, bitterly attacked the conduct of the Law Officers in their jury challenges in the political trials. On this occasion, the Whig Law officers found they must either do exactly as their predecessors had done, or connive at their own defeat. They wisely and properly chose the former alternative, but of course at the cost of exposing the present Government to charges of gross inconsistency. Last night in the House of Commons the subject was touched upon, and John Russell had the imprudence to read part of a private letter from Clarendon, referring to the conduct of the late Government in striking the jury in O'Connell's case as open to reproach. This brought up Graham, who affirmed that the instructions given by his Government and those given by the present Government were precisely the same, which John Russell was obliged to admit. The allusion, however, gave offence both to Graham and to Peel. The former has written me a note about it this morning, by which I see that he is a good deal nettled.
MIRASOL'S MISSION.
May 31st.—Yesterday Lord Grey called on the Duke of Bedford to talk over the Spanish affair, at which he is beginning to kick, though very gently. The present state of the case is this: from all that appears in public, the Spanish Government has been wholly unjustifiable, and we are not likely to know more as yet, for Mirasol[52] having brought no credentials, Palmerston refuses to receive him, and has desired him to convey what he has to say through Isturitz; but he came away in such a hurry (running a race with Bulwer) that he left all his papers behind him, and accordingly he has nothing to show. What between the awkwardness of the Spaniards, the artfulness of Palmerston, and the reluctance there is on all sides to push the Government to extremities, it appears most likely that the discussions in Parliament will produce no other result than a good deal of talk, and some expression of an opinion that the Spanish Government has been very impertinent. But nobody cares about the affront they have offered us, for the simple reason that it is universally considered as aimed at Palmerston and Bulwer, and that both have provoked it by their own insolent and unbecoming interference, the matter and the manner of which are equally condemned. It is now reported that Palmerston means to insist on sending Bulwer back to Madrid, for no other reason, of course, than to make the Spaniards eat humble pie; and, for the sake of achieving a personal triumph, he will not mind making the English Government and country odious in Spain. Every day the difficulties of the Government increase, and its weakness becomes more apparent, but without any tolerable alternative presenting itself. The friends and subordinates of the Government acknowledge this. There is a general sense of rottenness, and a consciousness that they inspire no confidence. Hawes told me yesterday that 'he was nobody, and could only shrug up his shoulders at all he saw.' They were beaten last night (on small matters, it is true) in both Houses,[53] and now there appears a very good chance of their being beaten on the resolutions of the West Indian Committee, which has reported to the House in favour of a duty on sugar of ten shillings for six years. Lord John at once declared he should oppose it. The division in the Committee was a very curious one; this resolution was carried by seven to five, and by a strange crossing over of opposite parties. Goulburn and Cardwell did not vote; two or three Whigs voted for it.
The Princess Sophia[54] died a few days ago, while the Queen was holding the Drawing-room for her Birthday. She was blind, helpless, and suffered martyrdom; a very clever, well-informed woman, but who never lived in the world. She was the intimate friend of the Duke of York while he lived, and of the Duchess of Gloucester up to the last. The Princess left a letter for the Queen, which was delivered to her in the garden of Buckingham Palace by Andrew Drummond on Monday morning.
LORD GREY'S REMONSTRANCE.
June 1st.—Isturitz has sent in Mirasol's case, which, he admits himself, is no case at all, flimsy and weak, and unsupported by proofs. This, however, though it puts the Spanish Government in the wrong, does not thereby relieve our embarrassment; for, while it imposes on us the necessity of requiring some reparation for so gross an affront, it is very difficult to know what to demand; and if the Spaniards don't comply, what are we to do next? There seems to be very little doubt that the coals have been blown by Louis Philippe and Guizot, the latter of whom is in constant correspondence with Madrid, as our Government have ascertained, and both are animated with the strongest desire to do Palmerston an ill turn.
Meanwhile, the affair has become more serious here. Lord Grey has at last been to John Russell, and in very temperate terms told him matters cannot any longer go on as they have done, and he afterwards went to the Duke of Bedford, and told him what he had done. Grey learnt for the first time, when he spoke to Lord John, what had happened about the despatch to which Lord John had objected. The Duke wrote his brother a very long letter, setting forth all the danger and discredit which accrued to the Government from their proceedings, and the discontent which was produced amongst their friends. Lord John took this letter in good part, and he told the Duke that if they got over this affair something must be settled for the future. He at the same time gave him another anecdote as an example of Palmerston's way of doing business, which fortunately ended without mischief, but might have had a very different result. One day when the Duc de Broglie was with Palmerston, he asked him if there was any news. Palmerston said he had just got a box, which he had not yet opened, but he would open it then. He did so, found a despatch from Howden on the subject of the Monte Video business, and gave it to the Duc de Broglie to read. The Duc read it, said that its contents were not pleasant, and remonstrated against them, whatever they were, which I do not know, and, for the point of the story, does not signify. Immediately after, Palmerston joined the Queen in Scotland, leaving the conduct of this affair in the hands of John Russell. Lord John and the Duc de Broglie came to an understanding, but in the meanwhile Palmerston wrote a despatch to Normanby on the subject, which passed through London without being communicated to Lord John Russell. This, which Normanby was instructed to read to Guizot, surprised him very much, and he told Normanby that it was different from what the Duc de Broglie had given him reason to expect. This annoyed Normanby very much, and as it placed him in a very awkward situation, he complained of it. The matter was then explained, and eventually Guizot acted with so much moderation that it was adjusted amicably. Palmerston when urged on the subject threw the blame on the Foreign Office, which they say he is constantly in the habit of doing.
I learn to my great astonishment that all the Queen's former attachment to Louis Philippe and the French Royal Family has revived in greater force than ever; she says the marriages are not to be thought of any more. Nothing but the extraordinary good sense of Prince Albert and the boundless influence he has over her keeps her affectionate feelings under due restraint; but for him she would have made all her household go to Claremont, and when the French Royal Family have come to visit her she has received them as King and Queen, and one day one of the children went up to Louis Philippe and called him 'Your Majesty,' which had no doubt been done by the Queen's commands. I take for granted that they have persuaded the Queen that their ruin has been the work of Palmerston, for this is what they always say, and possibly they believe it.
THE WEST INDIA COMMITTEE.
June 3rd.—Yesterday morning I saw Graham. He said matters were going on worse and worse; the Government seemed to be paralysed, and to have lost their understandings. They had such a night on Tuesday in the House of Commons as he never witnessed. He then enumerated their defeats and their blunders and mismanagement, without bitterness but with great contempt. They sustained a defeat on Bowring's motion about the collection of taxes, a very important matter, not having got their people down. I found out afterwards that they did not expect a division, and thought to prevent one by counting out the House, and to aid this Sir George Grey told people who were waiting there they had better go away. This was blundering. Then they made a great mistake in fighting the Derby writ, in which they, in conjunction with the Protectionists, got beaten by the Liberals and the Peelites. On Anstey's Roman Catholic Relief Bill none of the Government were present. On Thursday night Lord John came down with two very foolish notices, one for our alteration of the Oath (which is only a new Jew bill in a fresh form), and another to relieve voters from disqualification on account of non-payment of the assessed taxes, which was intended as a sop to Hume before his Reform motion. Both these Graham denounced as weak and unwise. I asked him what they thought of the resolution of the West India Committee.[55] He said it was very awkward. He was as strong as ever against the proposition, and the best reason he gave was that it would be of no service to the West Indians if it was carried; that if all foreign sugar was prohibited they would be as much swamped by Mauritius and the East as by Cuba and Brazil. He will, therefore, oppose it; but he is not sure the Government may not be in a minority, and I told him if Lord John was defeated on it I really believed he would resign. He said he thought the Protectionists were prepared to form a Government if they carried the resolution. I do not, however, believe any such thing, and I reminded him that such a division, composed as the majority would be of the most heterogeneous materials, would be no test of their strength as a party; and that if they were mad enough to attempt it, and the Queen would consent (which she never would) to let them, they would not stay in three days. He said they must dissolve; they had no other course, and that revolution would be the inevitable consequence of a dissolution and a fresh election at such a time as this; that such a Parliament would be returned as we had never seen; Hume's reform and the four points would be carried, and the Monarchy swept away. However, though he believes these results would follow from the formation of a Stanley Government, he does not, I am sure, for a moment, contemplate such a contingency as within the limits of possibility. I told the Duke of Bedford all Graham had said, and that he might make any use of the knowledge this gave him of the Government proceedings to put matters if he could in a better train. He said he would talk to Lord John, though he hates doing so, for he is always suffering under that deplorable infirmity of Lord John's—his disinclination to hear unpalatable truths, and above all to be found fault with. The consequence of this is that he receives everybody ill who goes to him to tell him what he does not like to hear, and nobody now but the Duke (and he very reluctantly) will go to him to tell him what he ought to hear. The Duke said he agreed with Graham as to the consequences of a Protectionist Government, but that it was out of the question, and if Lord John was forced to resign, Peel must take the Government, and the Whig party must join and support him; and between some of the present Cabinet and some of the late a very strong Government might be formed.
I afterwards saw Lord Grey, who talked to me about the state of the Government, and what had passed between Lord John and him touching Palmerston. He said that he only came into office with a distinct understanding that Lord John should exercise a control over the Foreign Office and secure the Cabinet against any imprudence of Palmerston's.
CHARTISM IN THE COUNTRY.
The Government are now getting seriously uneasy about the Chartist manifestations in various parts of the country, especially in London, and at the repeated assemblings and marchings of great bodies of men. Le Marchant told me that two or three months ago, when he was at the Home Office, he received accounts he thought very alarming of the wide-spreading disaffection of the people, and particularly of the enormous increase of cheap publications of the most mischievous and inflammatory character, which were disseminated among the masses and eagerly read; and lately, accounts have been received from well-informed persons, whose occupations lead them to mix with the people, clergymen—particularly Roman Catholic—and medical men, who report that they find a great change for the worse amongst them, an increasing spirit of discontent and disaffection, and that many who on the 10th of April went out as special constables declare they would not do so again if another manifestation required it. The speeches which are made at the different meetings are remarkable for the coarse language and savage spirit they display. It is quite new to hear any Englishmen coolly recommend assassination, and the other day a police superintendent was wounded in the leg by some sharp instrument. These are new and very bad symptoms, and it is impossible not to feel alarm when we consider the vast amount of the population as compared with any repressive power we possess. The extent and reality of the distress they suffer, the impossibility of expecting such masses of people to be eternally patient and forbearing, to restrain all their natural impulses, and endure tamely severe privations when they are encouraged and stimulated to do otherwise, and are thus accessible to every sort of internal and external temptation,—all these considerations may well beget a serious presentiment of danger. But though many do feel this and brood much over it, there appears to be a fatal security amongst the majority, whose sluggish minds cannot be awakened to the possibility of a great convulsion here, notwithstanding the continental conflagration that stares them in the face. What we principally want is a strong Government which shall obtain public confidence and respect, and which may have a chance of conciliating, satisfying, and keeping in check public opinion. This the divisions and subdivisions of parties, and the enduring enmities and vindictive feelings of the Conservatives, effectually prevent. The only strong Government that could be formed would be a Liberal one under Peel, and the Protectionists would rather encounter the chances of revolution than see the man whom they detest so bitterly at the head of affairs again. They are so blind to their own interest, or so insane in their resentment, that they would prefer to run the risk of all that Radicals or Chartists could do than owe their safety to Peel, whom they affect to think the enemy of their best interests, and a man not to be trusted; and this they go on harping upon, although half of them now admit that it is the greatest blessing to them to have been saved by his measures from the dangerous predicament in which they would now otherwise be.
June 10th.—At Ascot all last week. The Spanish debate went off just as might have been expected; all fought in muffled gloves, and as the outrageous conduct of the Spanish Government rendered it a national affair, it was impossible to attack either Palmerston or Bulwer; but the latter was not only not attacked, but he was bepraised by everybody to an extent that now seems ridiculous. Peel said all that Graham told me he should say, praising Bulwer and quizzing Palmerston, while he affected to defend him. Guizot saw all this farce with considerable vexation, mixed with disdain, but it could not take any other turn all circumstances considered.
CHARTIST AGITATION.
The Government have at last taken strong measures against the Chartists; but in spite of the arrest of some of their leaders, another demonstration is expected on Monday, for which great preparations are to be made. These demonstrations are getting a great bore, besides being very mischievous. The townspeople, who are thus perpetually alarmed, are growing very angry, and the military are so savage that Lord Londonderry told the Duke of Wellington he was sure, if a collision took place, the officers of his regiment would not be able to restrain their men. Many people think that a severe chastisement of these mobs will alone put a stop to their proceedings, and that it will be better the troops should be allowed to act and open fire upon them. This is an extremity which must be avoided if possible, but anything is better than allowing such an evil as this to go on increasing. But if these multitudes of discontented men can be daunted into submission, fearful considerations remain behind. We have an enormous overgrown population, a vast proportion of which are in undeniable misery and distress, and are soured and exasperated by their sufferings. To expect such beings to be reasonable, and still more to be logical, is to expect a moral impossibility. While the minds of the masses are in a combustible state, and they are ready to listen to anybody who appears to sympathise with them, and who pretends to be able to put them in the way of mending their condition, there are not wanting agents who strive with all their might, and not without success, to inflame and mislead them. The suffering people are prompt to believe that that cannot be a sound and just condition of society in which they are abandoned to starvation and destitution, while other classes are revelling in luxury and enjoyment. They have confused notions that this is all wrong, and that under some different political dispensation their interests would be better cared for, and according to their necessities they would be comforted and relieved. They are neither able to comprehend nor disposed to listen to the long processes of argument by which it might be demonstrated to them that all the prevailing misery and distress are attributable to causes over which Government has no control, and which no legislation can counteract: the unhappy state of the world, the confusion which prevails everywhere, the interruption of regular industry, the disturbance of the ordinary course of social life, and the universal poverty and suffering react upon this country and to a certain degree undermine the broad foundations on which our social and political fabric stands. We are not indeed yet shaken from our equilibrium, but there is a restlessness, an apprehension, a heaving and struggling, which appear like warnings and forerunners of a possible earthquake. We seem to have got into another stage of existence, our world is almost suddenly altered, we deal with new questions, men seem to be animated with fresh objects; what are called politics, international questions and the strife of parties, sink into insignificance; society is stirred up from its lowest depths, and we are obliged to turn our eyes and thoughts and faculties to the vast spectacle that is laid bare before us—and an appalling and awful spectacle it is which may well make the most thoughtless reflect, and turn levity and indifference into seriousness and fear.[56]
June 11th.—A very good debate on Friday night on the Navigation Laws, and a good division and majority. Peel made an excellent speech.
June 13th.—John Russell was highly delighted with Peel's speech on Friday, says he behaved most handsomely, and that he is not like the same man. The virulence and immortal hate of his quondam friends was exhibited in the most indecent manner on this occasion. When he rose to speak they tried to hoot and bellow him down, and at the head of these vulgar clamourers was a Judge, the Recorder Law; it was a very disgraceful scene, and shows what an incorrigible faction they are.
It seems that Lord John's proposition about altering the oaths, has had the effect of preventing a fresh election in the City, which was viewed with great dread by everybody, but which would otherwise have taken place. Lord John will now make a speech and announce his plan, but not attempt to carry any Bill this year. This will satisfy Rothschild, who will not stir, but wait to see the result of the measure in the next session. The Oaths are very absurd and want altering. There are two Peers—Lord Bradford and Lord Clancarty—who will not take them, nor consequently their seats in the House of Lords; and the Duke of Bedford told me, that though he had taken them, as a matter of course, he doubted if he could bring himself to do so again.
CHARTIST DEMONSTRATION FAILS.
The expected Chartist demonstration yesterday ended in smoke, both here and in the provinces; nevertheless great preparations were made of military, police, and special constables. It rained torrents the whole day, which probably would have been enough to prevent any assemblages of people; but the determined attitude of the Government and the arrests that have taken place intimidated the leaders. Everybody had got bored and provoked to death with these continued alarms, but it is now thought that we shall not have any more of them. The Chartists themselves must get tired of meeting and walking about for nothing, and they can hardly fail to lose all confidence in their leaders, whose actions so ill correspond with their promises and professions. A man of the name of MacDougal, who appears to be the chief of the London Chartists, harangued his rabble a few days ago, declared the meeting should take place in spite of Government, and announced the most heroic intentions. He went to the ground (at one of the rendezvous), and finding a magistrate there, asked him if the meeting was illegal, and if the Government really intended to prevent it. The magistrate referred him to the printed placard, by which he would see that it was illegal, and that the Government did intend to prevent it; on which he made a bow, said he did not mean to oppose the law, would go away, and advise his friends to do the same; and off he went. The failures have been complete everywhere, and nobody feels any alarm; nevertheless the spirit and the sour disaffection, and the vast numbers that are infected with it, are dangerous, and may some day be productive of serious consequences.
June 18th.—On Friday the Government had a bad night in the House of Commons. John Russell brought forward his West India plan (concocted by Wilson), which was very ill received on all sides, and met by objections from the most opposite quarters and on the most opposite grounds; he made a very bad opening speech, but a very good reply. The Protectionists were very violent, and Hawes was furiously attacked about a despatch of Sir Charles Grey's, which he had not produced to the West India Committee, and which he was accused of unfairly suppressing. It was a very ugly case, and afforded George Bentinck and Disraeli materials for much triumph and abuse, of which they largely availed themselves. These personal affairs, which have a discreditable look, are always very damaging, and there is again a notion abroad of Lord John's feebleness, and of the impossibility of his conducting the Government when the times are so difficult and his health so frail. The Government are very confident that they shall carry their West India measure, notwithstanding the storm of reproach with which it is assailed.
The curtain has fallen on another act of the Spanish drama, Isturitz having been civilly sent out of this country. The papers present a case all to our advantage. Bulwer's despatch of May 30, in vindication of himself, was very well done, and Palmerston's last note to Isturitz excellent. The Spaniards have played their cards (not bad ones originally) so miserably ill, that they have given the game to our Foreign Office, though it is difficult to say what the stake is worth; they are, however, like people who had a very good hand, but revoked at a critical moment, and so lost the game. Bulwer and Palmerston are triumphantly curvetting about, completely smashing their antagonists in argument, partly because the latter are blunderers who have deceived themselves and been misled by others, and partly because they cannot put forth their true case and the reasons which have influenced them. They know perfectly well that Palmerston and Bulwer have all along moved heaven and earth to keep or drive Narvaez out of office, and Montpensier out of Spain, while Sotomayor has put forward frivolous or unsustainable pretexts for the violent and rash course they have adopted. Narvaez is compelled to keep back the real case he had against Bulwer, and the cause of his animosity towards him. He knows that Bulwer tried to prevent his coming into power; that he was the life and soul, the leader and director of the faction opposed to him, whom he instigated to adopt the most violent measures. I read in Bulwer's own handwriting an account of his proceedings and of the failure of his schemes. It was through Serrano all this was to be done, but Serrano was under the influence of his mother, and Narvaez of his doctor, and these were both corrupted by the other side. This was the cause of failure. Then Serrano, as all the world knows, was himself brought over, and he has since given to Narvaez in writing a detailed account of his communication with Bulwer, and of the conduct of the latter, but in which the Queen is so implicated and compromised, that it is impossible for Narvaez to make any use of it. This Guizot (who knows everything that passes at Madrid) told Reeve, and I have no doubt it is true, because it corresponds with that letter of Bulwer's which I myself saw. This is the secret history of the matter.
AN IMPENDING CRISIS.
I find Clarendon's views in respect to the government of Ireland are becoming known, and producing no small sensation.[57] Lord Barrington asked me the other night if it was true that his opinions had undergone a great change, and that he was now convinced Ireland could only be governed in connexion with and by the support of the Orangemen. I told him there was, I apprehended, much exaggeration in this, but some truth; that I conceived a man of his penetration could not have governed Ireland for a year without seeing that the whole Catholic body were either disaffected and dangerous, or so timid as to be useless, and that in fact the Protestants alone were to be depended upon for attachment to the British connexion, and resolution to support it, but that I was convinced he would not suffer the ingratitude and misconduct of the Catholics to interfere with his determination to render equal justice to all.
June 24th.—We are on the brink of a crisis and one of a most fearful nature. This sugar question is going to destroy this Government, as former sugar questions have destroyed former Governments. Until yesterday I was satisfied that Government would not think it necessary to resign if beaten on Pakington's amendment, and Hobhouse, whom I met the other day, seemed to think they need not. Many of them, however, thought differently, and yesterday there was a Cabinet, at which they came to a unanimous resolution to resign. The Duke of Bedford thought as I had done, and strongly urged Lord John not to resign; this he told me yesterday morning, but that he had not been able to convince him. After I saw him I went to Graham; I found him in great alarm at the state of affairs and the prospect of the country. He said that he expected the Government would be beaten, and that he did not see how they could go on if they were; he approved of their resigning; that it was a vote of censure or want of confidence, and that in fact they had lost all hold of the House of Commons; that they had done so in great measure by their own blunders and follies; and he then enumerated many of these; and he was satisfied they had so lost credit and power that they could not go on, and therefore if they survived this vote they would fall by some other. He then told me that Peel's friends had separated themselves from him, and would vote with the Protectionists; he and Peel should support the Government, but he did not know for certain of any others who would go with them; he should do so with great reluctance he owned, but he would not turn them out. The rest of the Peelites are angry with Peel for supporting the Government as he had done; they were impatient, could no longer be restrained, and were resolved to join the Protectionists. Graham had had no communication with any of them, but he concluded they were and must be ready to join Stanley and take office under him if he invited them. He looked on Stanley's coming into office as inevitable. I asked him what his Cabinet would be: he supposed principally Peel's old Cabinet with George Bentinck and Disraeli; and he then descanted on all the evils and dangers to be apprehended from their assumption of power however brief, much as he did in our former conversation; the great impetus it would give to reform, and the vast power the Radical and subversive interest would acquire; in fact, his anticipations are of the most serious and gloomy character—foreseeing the downfall of the Church, the House of Lords, and the Crown itself. In the afternoon I told the Duke of Bedford what he had said of the defection of the Peelites from their chief, and that this event would be openly manifested in the course of the present debate. The Duke was to dine at the Palace, where I knew he would have a great deal of conversation with the Queen, so I called on him this morning to hear what had passed. She and the Prince entered into it all, and were aware of what was impending, for Lord John had prepared her for it. She said she was very sorry, as everything had gone on very smoothly with one exception. Lord John has made up his mind to advise her to send for Stanley, and she is prepared to do so. Nobody now doubts that Stanley, if sent for, means to undertake it, and this is the state of affairs up to this time. There was a most scandalous scene in the House of Commons last night, originating in the virulence of George Bentinck's attack on Hawes; but I know nothing of it as yet but from the newspaper report.[58]
IRRITATION OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
June 25th.—Everybody was full of the scene in the House of Commons, which seems to have been to the last degree deplorable and disgraceful, calculated to bring the House of Commons into contempt. Everybody behaved ill; nothing could exceed the intemperance of George Bentinck's attack on Grey and Hawes, accusing them in terms not to be mistaken of wilful suppression of documents, and then the most disgraceful shuffling and lying to conceal what they had done and escape from the charges against them. On the other hand, John Russell lost his temper; and as gentlemen in that predicament usually do, at the same time lost his good taste and good sense. He twitted George Bentinck with his turf pursuits, and managed to make what he said appear more offensive than it really was intended to be. This brought Disraeli to the defence of his friend, and he poured forth a tide of eloquent invective and sarcasm which was received with frantic applause by his crew; they roared and hooted and converted the House of Commons into such a bear-garden as no one ever saw before. When Hawes got up to defend himself they would not hear him, and attempted to bellow him down with groans and 'ohs,' spurning all sense of justice and decency. It was grief and scandal to all reasonable men. Peel sat it out and never uttered a word, but he cheered Hawes when he was speaking.
PEEL'S RELUCTANCE TO TAKE OFFICE.
June 26th.—The state of the Government is like that of a sick man, the bulletins of whose health continually vary, one hour better with good hopes, another worse.[59] Yesterday it looked up. Tufnell's list presented a chance of success; he had sixty-nine doubtfuls, and they now think a good many of these will vote with Government. Graham told me yesterday he had thought Government sure to be beaten, but he now found more people were disposed to go with Peel than he had believed, and that he now rather expected a majority. Many are waiting to hear Peel's speech, and will be guided by him. Everybody is talking, however, of what is to be done, and whom the Queen is to send for. The Duke of Bedford has persuaded Lord John not to say anything about resigning in his speech, and instead of at once advising the Queen to send for Stanley, to consult Peel as to the advice he shall give her. Melbourne has written to her and advised her to send for Peel. Beauvale told me this, and his notion is that a Government may be formed with Aberdeen at the head of it. It is incredible what harm Lord John's foolish speech on Friday night has done; it will very likely influence the votes, and certainly will prove very injurious to the Government; everybody thinks, let this end as it may, that we have got to the beginning of the end. At night I met Jocelyn, who told me that he meant to vote with Lincoln and Sidney Herbert against Government. I asked him how they could all be so foolish as not to follow Peel's example and do as he did. He then informed me that these Peelites have no intention whatever of joining Stanley and taking office with him; their notion is that this Government is so weak and inefficient that it cannot stand, and that it will be found so impossible to form any other, that it cannot fail to fall into Peel's hands, and they expect by a sort of gentle violence to compel him to take it, having persuaded themselves that he will find a general support, though they can't well say how or where. Such are the tactics of the impatients; they hate the Whigs, and imagine they can become a Government and be recruited by moderate Conservatives and moderate Radicals, setting aside Whigs and Protectionists. He hinted to me that Peel might have prevented their taking this course if he disapproved of it. I told him they were plucking the fruit before it was ripe. On the other hand Graham discoursed largely on the impossibility of Peel's coming into office, and repeated what he has so often said before about party governments; the hatred of the Whigs, of Peel, and still more of himself; Peel's fear for his health, and the impression made on him by the fact that nobody had ever led the House of Commons after sixty, which Macaulay told him. I wasted a great deal of time in arguing with him against objections which were all simulated on his part. Every now and then he let out in the way of admissions certain things which showed how ready and anxious he really is to come in again whenever he can. I asked him why Peel had not endeavoured to keep his youngsters straight, and at all events given them good advice for their conduct. He declared that he had done so. His conduct is not very clear, and I have not that opinion of his purity and singleness of purpose that would make me believe his course has been altogether candid, straightforward, and fair, not such as the Duke of Wellington's would have been, but it is very difficult to know what he has really said and done, and impossible to know what he really thinks, wishes, and means. We were kept all yesterday in a state of intense curiosity by the news of the fighting in the streets of Paris.[60]
June 30th.—On Tuesday I went to the House of Lords to hear Lord Grey in the matter of the suppressed despatches, and his defence against the various charges brought by George Bentinck and others. He had been exceedingly excited and was resolved to bring the matter forward, though many people thought he had better leave it as it was, and rest satisfied with what had passed in the House of Commons. He promised himself, however, a signal vindication and triumph, and the pleasure of severely chastising his accusers, but it turned out a very unfortunate night, and a painful one to those who heard the discussion. Grey made a long and not judicious speech. He entered into too many details, and said much that he had better have let alone. Then Stanley rose, and after a complimentary exordium set heartily to work, made a réchauffé of George Bentinck's and Disraeli's speeches with his own peculiar sauce of style and diction, and made as bitter, ill-natured, and (all things considered) as ill-timed an attack as ever was heard. But he wound it up with a charge in reference to the memorial of certain planters, which was certainly well founded and made a very disagreeable impression. On this point Lord Grey was clearly in the wrong and could make no sufficient defence for himself; it has damaged him very much, and the Government through him; and this affair has altogether turned out very unhappily, for it has not only wounded the credit and character, and thereby impaired the strength of the Government, but it has struck at the honour of public men, and this is in these times a great evil. There was a very severe article in the 'Times' yesterday morning on Grey, which was, however, not more than the truth. This affair coming at a time when Government has nothing to spare in point of credit and authority is peculiarly disastrous.
PARTY COMBINATIONS.
In the meantime, however, the division on Pakington's motion was generally known to be safe, and accordingly there was a majority of fifteen against it last night, which was ten or fifteen less than was expected; on Sunday last Graham told me that he thought there would be a majority, as he found many people meant to wait for Peel's speech and would probably vote as he did. We then discussed what should be done if the Government should be in a minority, and consequently resign. The same evening I wrote him a note and told him that I thought if this did happen Lord John would consult Peel before he gave the Queen any advice. I am sure he told Peel this, for on Monday night I got a note from him (Graham) begging to see me the next morning. I went to him, when he said with great earnestness that he wanted to impress upon me that it was of the greatest consequence that the Queen (in case the necessity occurred) should send for Stanley forthwith, and that without consulting anybody Lord John should give her this advice. It was very desirable that there should be no appearance of any concert between him and Peel, while a consultation between them would certainly be known to Stanley, and would take away much of the grace of sending for him; that Stanley should have no excuse for declining, and the Queen should tell him she was left without a Government and that she placed herself in his hands, giving him carte blanche, and telling him she was prepared to agree to everything he proposed to her. He said he did not believe Stanley would be able to form a Government, still less to carry it on if he did form one; but he thought it of the greatest consequence that his failure should be complete, and that every opportunity and advantage should be given to him. He urged this with an unction which showed me clearly enough, if I had before had any doubt, which I had not, what his secret thoughts and intentions are, and that he is quite prepared, and Peel too, to come into office provided circumstances turn out favourably for Peel's resumption of power. I promised I would take care that this should be done, and yesterday morning I told the Duke of Bedford, who was just going off to Endsleigh. Every day I find more evidence of the way in which people's minds are turning towards Peel and anticipating his return to power. Emily Eden told me that Auckland was very anxious for a junction, and quite ready to give up his own office to facilitate it. Matters are not yet ripe for such a consummation, but it must end in this manner.
GREAT BATTLE IN PARIS.
The details which reach us of the extraordinary contest which has just taken place at Paris are equally horrible and curious. Hitherto we have been struck by the absence of that ferocity which distinguished the first Revolution, and the little taste there seemed for shedding blood; but the ferocity of the people broke out upon this occasion in the most terrible examples. There was a savage rancour about this exceeding the usual virulence of civil contests; the people not only murdered, but tortured, their prisoners. Since the victory the prisoners have been executed by hundreds, and with hardly any form of trial; indeed, no trial was possible or necessary, they were rebels taken en flagrant délit, at once rebels and prisoners of war. One man, when he was going to be shot, said he did not care, for he had had his revenge already, and he pulled out of his pocket twenty tongues that had been cut out. All agree that the organisation, the military skill displayed, and the vast resources the insurgents possessed in the material of war, were as extraordinary as unaccountable. The preparations must have been long before made, for the houses of their principal fortifications were perforated for the purpose of communication and escape, the staircase removed, and there were telegraphic signals arranged by lights on the tops of the buildings. There certainly was a commander-in-chief who presided over the whole, but nobody knows who he was; and the Government have never yet been able to ascertain who the leaders were. Although distress and famine were the prime causes of this great struggle, it is remarkable that there was no plundering or robbery; on the contrary, they were strictly forbidden and apparently never attempted. It is the only example, so far as I know, that history records of a pitched battle in the streets of a great capital between the regular army and the armed civil power on one side, and the populace of the town militarily armed and organised also on the other, nobody knowing how the latter were organised or by whom directed. Colonel Towneley, who came from Paris last night, told me that it is believed that the old Municipal Guard, who were disbanded by the Provisional Government after the Revolution, had a great deal to do with it, but that the skill with which the positions had been chosen or fortified was perfect. Prodigies of valour seem to have been performed on both sides, and the incidents were to the last degree romantic. An Archbishop appearing as a minister of peace in the midst of the fray, and mounting the barricades to exhort the living and to bless the dying amidst the din and fury of the contest, and then perishing a martyr to his attempt to stop the effusion of blood; women mixing in the contest, carrying ammunition and supplies, daring everything, their opponents shrinking from hunting these Amazons, and at last being obliged to fire upon them in self-defence; the strange artifices employed to convey arms and cartouches. The Garde Mobile, composed of the gamins de Paris, signalised themselves with peculiar heroism, and it is fortunate that they were on the side of the Government instead of on that of the people. There was one boy, not above fifteen or sixteen, a frightful little urchin, who scaled three barricades one after another and carried off the colours from each; Cavaignac embraced him and gave him the Legion of Honour from his own person, and he was carried in triumph and crowned with laurels to a great banquet of his comrades. But it would be endless to write down the particulars of a contest which fills the columns of every newspaper now, and will be recorded in innumerable books hereafter.
July 5th.—Since the division on Pakington's motion the Government stock has considerably risen, and they are now generally considered safe for the present and for some indefinite time to come; they will probably get their Sugar Bill through. The loud complaints that have been made of this waste of time in Parliament have not been without effect, and there is an appearance of getting on with business. Then the Chancellor of the Exchequer's announcement that the deficit of 2,000,00l. will be reduced to 500,000l., and that no new taxes will be wanted, has put people in better humour. The funds are rapidly rising, the harvest promises to be good, and on the whole our prospects are considerably improved within the last week. The state of the Continent, though still bad enough, is somewhat more promising; there appears to be something of a lull from exhaustion and perplexity, there is a chance of the Danish quarrel being arranged. The great victory in Paris, the establishment of a strong military Government, and the evident determination of the Assembly to promote the cause of law and order, and to put down all the wild theories which have been in the ascendant for the last three months, have largely tended to brighten the political sky; and this example may encourage others to act with the same vigour and in the same spirit. The whole world is influenced by all that is done at Paris. But in the midst of this improved prospect we have enough to disturb our tranquillity; it will be impossible for a long time for the Continent to be restored to a healthy state, and its disturbed and impoverished condition fearfully reacts upon us, and paralyses that foreign trade on which not merely the prosperity but the subsistence of vast masses of our population depends. We cannot therefore look forward to anything but great distress and suffering in our manufacturing population; and this, together with Ireland, are enough to keep us in hot water.
FRENCH GENERALS.
The Government, though safer, are not stronger, and nobody thinks they can go on very long, though without any clear idea what is to turn them out, or what is to succeed. It is pretty generally understood now that Stanley has never had the least notion of forming a Government, nor even of making the attempt. Had the event occurred he would have made a pirouette and whisked off; having done his mischief and had his fun, he would have considered his work over. It was very significant that while all the world was fancying he meditated becoming Prime Minister, he accepted the office of Steward of the Jockey Club, to which high dignity he is this day to be promoted. I told Charles Wood this the other day, when he said he had never believed Stanley seriously contemplated being Minister, and that it was clear there were only two men in the country who could be—John Russell and Peel.
Meanwhile the Peelites are playing an odd game: they appear to be disengaging themselves from their chief, without joining the Tories, and they are so conducting themselves as to make any junction with the Whigs very difficult. It is never easy to know what Peel himself is at, and what his real sentiments are. If I may judge from a few words which dropped from Graham the last time I saw him, he and Peel (who are man and wife politically) are provoked with their followers and resent their conduct. What he said was something about 'letting them see the consequences of their insubordination,' or some such expressions. It was the tone in which it was said that struck me. I do not know to which of them they were meant especially to apply, but I suppose to Lincoln and Sidney Herbert.
Brougham told me yesterday that he had been to see Louis Philippe, who had described to him the military men who are now ruling France. He said Cavaignac was a brave and good soldier who had been very rapidly promoted, that he was a downright but honest Republican. When he went with the King's sons to Algiers, he told them, he would serve their father with fidelity, but not from conviction, for his sentiments were republican. He is not a man of great ability; Bedeau, Lamoricière, and Changarnier are all abler men, but they are thoroughly imbued with ideas of military despotism. Everybody believes that the late Government connived at the émeute. Gabriel Delessert told me it was impossible such preparations could be made, and that they should be so organised and abundantly provided without the knowledge of the police.
Endsleigh,[61] July 14th.—I escaped from the 'fumum strepitumque Romæ,' from racing and politics, on Monday last, and came down with De Mauley to this place. We have passed four days here pleasantly enough; it is exquisitely beautiful, so is the country round about it; a mass of comfort and luxury; house perfection, and everything kept as English houses alone are. This place was a creation of the Duke's. The house, which is a cottage, cost between 70,000l. and 80,000l., and the grounds, laid out with inimitable taste, must have cost thousands more. There are sixty miles of grass rides and gravel walks. Yesterday we went to see a farmhouse, once one of the hunting seats of the Abbot of Tavistock, a great man whose ample domains were granted to the Earl of Bedford, who was gorged with ecclesiastical spoils here and at Woburn. We then went to see the great copper mine discovered three or four years ago, the best and most profitable in the West of England. The ground was leased three and a half years ago to certain adventurers, who covenanted to give the Duke one-fifteenth of the gross produce; and as soon (if ever) as they made 30,000l. a year from it, one-twelfth. After some fruitless attempts they came upon this lode very near the surface, and found it of the best copper. A fortune was made instanter. The shares were at one time worth 700,000l., i.e. 700l. apiece; since that there has been a great fall, but they are now worth 200l. apiece. The expense of working is, however, so much increased, that the Duke's agent told me he got nearly one-half the net profits. All this country is full of copper, but the Duke told me he was resolved not to grant any more leases for mining, although he had applications every day and could make a great deal of money by giving them; but he does not want the money, and he is averse to promote the spirit of gambling, which money speculations very generally excite among the people, often greatly to their loss and always to the detriment of the agriculture of the country; the latter is neglected for the chances of the former; the farmers let their carts and horses to the miners instead of employing them on their own farms; and though mining is both a profitable and a popular employment, the Duke deems it so mischievous that he will not suffer any more of his ground to be broken up for the chance of the copper that may be found underneath it. I have not heard a word here in the way of politics.
A TOUR IN DEVONSHIRE.
London, July 21st.—Left Endsleigh on Saturday and went to Plymouth; received by two Admirals to whom Auckland recommended us, and we saw everything—the breakwater, the new docks, a magnificent work, and Mount Edgecumbe. On Sunday, after church, went on board the 'Caledonia' (120), and visited every part of the ship; then to the citadel, the whole thing well worth seeing. On Sunday afternoon went on to Exeter; in the morning saw the Cathedral and went to church; a beautiful choir, church handsome inside, poor in monuments. Then De Mauley and I separated. I went to Wells; was delighted with the Cathedral and with the Bishop's palace. On Tuesday to John Thynne's parsonage, Walton, near Glastonbury; on Wednesday returned to town, having seen a great deal and passed the time very agreeably.
When I got here, found that Clarendon, whose arrival had been announced to me, and who was to have come on Monday, had been obliged to give up coming in consequence of the threatening aspect of affairs in Ireland, and he himself writes word that he does not think an outbreak can be prevented.[62] The disgust felt here at the state of Ireland and the incurable madness of the people, constantly worked upon by the agitators, is now so great that most people appear to think the sooner the collision takes place the better, and that nothing is now left to be done but to fight it out and reconquer the country. I have certainly arrived at a conviction that no political measures can now avail to restore peace and to cement the Union, which in point of fact only now exists in name. There is no union for any of the real purposes of a union. What makes the Irish question, the more dreadful is that the potatoes are again failing, and starvation will be the inevitable lot of the people. In that emergency, when it arrives, the Irish will look in vain to England, for no subscriptions or parliamentary grants or aid of any sort, public or private, will they get; the sources of charity and benevolence are dried up; the current which flowed last year has been effectually checked by the brutality and ingratitude of the people, and the rancorous fury and hatred with which they have met our exertions to serve them. The prospect, neither more nor less than that of civil war and famine, is dreadful, but it is unavoidable.
John Russell gave notice the other night of the measures he meant to go on with, and those he meant to abandon; nobody expected anything more, so no great complaints were made. The Government is safe enough, but they fall more and more into discredit. There has been a blunder about the sugar duties, which makes Ministers look ridiculous, and it is in fact the constant repetition of small things which damages their credit, and makes them so miserably weak. The funds have been rapidly rising and trade improving little by little, but this Irish affair has checked the rise and produced alarm. Then the potatoes are failing in England, and we have every chance of low prices of agricultural produce without abundance, and if this should happen we shall have an unquiet winter. So far as I can form an opinion from what I heard in my tour, the state of the country is not satisfactory. Chartism seems to increase, and the masses, the operatives in villages, are restless, ill-disposed, and want they know not what. It is a great evil that while education is sufficiently diffused to enable most people to read, they get either from inclination or convenience nothing but the most mischievous publications, which only serve to poison their minds, to render them discontented, and teach them to look to all sorts of wild schemes as calculated to better their position. The best part of the press (the 'Times,' for instance) seldom finds its way to the cottages and reading-rooms of the lower classes, who are fed by the cheap Radicalism of the 'Weekly Dispatch,' and other journals, unknown almost to the higher classes of society, which are darkly working to undermine the productions of our social and political system. The lessons of experience which might be so well taught by the events now passing in France and elsewhere, are not presented to the minds of the people in a manner suggestive of wholesome inferences, but on the contrary they are only used as stimulants and for purposes of misrepresentation and perversion.
STRONG MEASURES IN IRELAND.
July 22nd.—Last night Lord John Russell gave notice of a Bill to enable the Lord Lieutenant to apprehend any suspected persons, and Lord Lansdowne did the same in the House of Lords. Lord Lansdowne made a very animated speech, but it was impossible not to think that all he said and was going to do might as well have been said and done long ago. Brougham said as much; Stanley spoke very well; and the announcement was hailed with universal satisfaction. It would have been still better in my opinion if they had suspended the Habeas Corpus at once.
July 24th.—The House of Commons was wonderful on the 22nd; nobody had the least idea of it, not the Cabinet. It was an inspiration of John Russell's; he began by making an excellent speech, an hour and a half. When they divided he made a speech in the lobby, begged the people not to go away, and said he meant to propose to go on with the Bill. To his own amazement as much as anybody's, he found no opposition, and carried the Bill through at the sitting. By seven o'clock it was completed and he was on his way to Richmond, where I dined with him. He was in high spirits; Sheil and Ward were there, and we talked over the payment of the priests, which we all agreed (Lord John included) must be soon done, or at least attempted. Yesterday was spent in searching for precedents, to see if it was possible to pass the Bill to-day through the Lords. The Chancellor, Duke of Wellington, and others, said it was impossible, as notice must be given of the suspension of the Standing Orders. Lord Lansdowne said if only one precedent could be found he would take it, and carry the Bill through; but if not, they must wait till to-morrow. I should have made the precedent: a more fitting occasion could not be. However, what was done in the House of Commons will infallibly produce all the effect that is required, and will strike terror into the Irish rebels. It was a great event, for which neither the Lord Lieutenant nor anybody in Ireland will have been the least prepared.
THE OUTBREAK AT BALLINGARRY.
July 31st.—At Goodwood all last week, but I found no time to write or do anything there. The day after we arrived we were startled by the intelligence of the rebellion in Ireland having actually broken out; it was not, however, believed, and turned out to be a mere hoax.[63] Instead of breaking out, it has not shown a symptom of vitality, and all the swaggering and boasting and the dreadful threats and exhibition of physical force have absolutely shrunk into nothing and evaporated before the formidable preparations and determined attitude of the Government. The leaders are skulking about nobody knows where; the clubs are either suppressed or self-dissolved; the people exhibit no disposition to rise; the sound and fury which were echoed and re-echoed from the clubs and meetings, and through the traitorous press, have been all at once silenced. The whole thing is suddenly become so contemptible as to be almost ridiculous. My own conviction was that there would be no outbreak; but I did not contemplate that all these mighty preparations, this club organisation and universal arming would all at once dwindle into nothingness and general submission just as easily as the Chartist demonstrations did here some weeks ago; but so it is, and it is now pretty clear that in a short time Ireland will be just as quiet and submissive as if Conciliation Hall had never existed. The most satisfactory part of the business is the good conduct of the Catholic clergy, who appear to have very generally used their influence over the people to deter them from their rebellious courses. It is to be hoped that the recollection of their behaviour on this trying occasion will have a considerable effect in paving the way for the payment of the Irish clergy, when that vital question comes on, as very soon it must. George Grey declared himself in favour of it in a speech which he made on Saturday last, and it is clear that as soon as Ireland is thoroughly pacified, this question must be regularly taken up by the Government, and in spite of all the opposition which pride, prejudice, and bigotry will throw in its way, it must be forced through. It seems at first sight as if the best thing which could happen was the bloodless suppression of this talking rebellion, but I am not sure that it would not have been better in the end if the leaders had succeeded in bringing together a body of insurgents, and if a signal chastisement and ignominious dispersion of them had taken place. There would be a great advantage in letting them see the fearful consequences of a collision, and as far as England is concerned, the people of this country would be better disposed to clemency and conciliation after they had severely punished the Irish for their turbulence and folly. As matters are, though there will be no outbreak, no bloodshed, and an easy triumph, it will leave the great chronic disease of the country just where it was; the disaffection, the hatred of the Union, the enmity to law, will remain the same; the people will be subdued but not reconciled; and these feelings will be the stronger because the distress will be greater than ever. No country can be so shaken to pieces without enormous distress to the masses; and if the potato crop again fails (as it has threatened to do) the misery will be appalling and irremediable. By what has passed and is still passing, England will not be softened towards Ireland, but contempt will be added to resentment.
Clarendon will, I take it, have been astonished at the result corresponding so little with the beginnings of this Irish manifestation. He evidently considered an outbreak as imminent and almost certain. The Duke of Bedford showed me a letter from him which he received at Goodwood, bitterly complaining of the Government for not having at an earlier period furnished him with the powers he demanded, and saying that though he had repeatedly asked both John Russell and George Grey to do so, they never would. He said he had never to any human being disclosed what had passed between himself and the Government on this matter, but he evidently feels deeply hurt both at their not attending to his request, and at the blame of stronger and earlier measures not having been applied for, being thrown upon him. It is certainly true that the Government have allowed it to be believed that they have all along been ruled by his advice, and that they have done at each successive stage of the business all that he desired. Even Lord Lansdowne in the House of Lords the other night declared that there had been the most perfect agreement all along between the Government and the Lord Lieutenant.
THE THIRD DUKE OF PORTLAND.
I dined at Holland House yesterday, and sat next to old Sir Robert Adair, eighty-five years old, but with mind very fresh. He lived in great intimacy with all the 'great of old, who still rule our spirits from their own,' and I believe possesses a great store of anecdotes of bygone days. He gave me an account of young Burke's preventing the reconciliation between his father and Fox, which, however, is too well known to require repetition; but he told me how the Duke of Portland[64] came to be put at the head of the Whig party on the death of Lord Rockingham in 1782, which I had not heard before. There was a meeting of the party to choose their chief; the Duke of Richmond put forth his pretensions, but he was so great a Radical (having views of Parliamentary Reform not only far beyond those of any man of that day, but beyond the Reform we have actually got), that they were afraid of him; and Charles Fox got up and said that he thought he, as leader of the House of Commons, had claims at least as good as the Duke of Richmond's, but that they ought both of them to waive their own claims, and in his judgement the man they ought to place at their head was the Duke of Portland. This compromise was agreed to, but the Duke of Richmond was so disgusted that he joined Lord Shelburne. My grandfather was a very honourable, high-minded, but ordinary man; his abilities were very second-rate, and he had no power of speaking; and his election to the post of leader of the great Whig party only shows how aristocratic that party was, and what weight and influence the aristocracy possessed in those days; they would never have endured to be led by a Peel or a Canning. Adair told me that old Lord George Cavendish expressed the greatest indignation at their party being led by Burke in the House of Commons, and it was this prevalent feeling, together with the extraordinary modesty of Burke, who had no vanity for himself, though a great deal for his son, which accounts for the fact, so extraordinary according to our ideas and practice, that though Burke led the Whig party in the House of Commons for four or five years, when that party came into power he was not offered a place in the Cabinet, but put in a subordinate office, which he condescended to accept, seeing men so immeasurably inferior to himself occupying the highest posts.
August 5th.—In Ireland there has hardly been a semblance of resistance; flight and terror and sulky submission have been the order of the day. Meanwhile the military preparations and arrangements have not been relaxed, and the arrests have been multiplied. Hitherto the search for O'Brien and the other leaders has been fruitless, and it is currently reported that the former has escaped; letters have been written with detailed accounts of his escape, but this is believed to be only a trick to facilitate it. The rebellion is effectually suppressed, but the state of Ireland is lamentable, and a great and long futurity of difficulties and evils may be expected. Very few arms have been taken; they are all hid by the peasantry, to be drawn forth when occasion offers itself.
Brougham in the House of Lords delivered a flaming panegyric on Hardinge's patriotism in going to Ireland, and the Duke of Wellington's wisdom in appointing him; but the real truth is that he was selected for this post by the Queen and Lord John Russell, without the knowledge and not entirely to the satisfaction of the Duke. Hardinge himself, though he evinced a proper readiness and immediately consented to go, begged he might be released as soon as possible. Arbuthnot told the Duke of Bedford that it was a pity Lord John had not consulted the Duke about sending Hardinge, instead of only telling him after it was settled, which sufficiently shows the Duke's feeling; and Clarendon, though he made no objection, evidently did not like it. If they had known how little there would be to do, he probably would not have been sent to Ireland at all. The Duke does not think very highly of Hardinge's military talents. The two men whom he places his confidence in are Sir Charles Napier and Sir Harry Smith; he was asked the question, and this was his answer; and moreover he thinks that on one occasion in India Hardinge committed a dangerous military blunder which Gough repaired; whereas all the world believes that Gough, though a very brave soldier, was a very inefficient commander, and that to Hardinge was attributable the success of the Sikh campaign.
THE SIKH CAMPAIGN.
The true history of that campaign is as yet little known, but whenever it is fairly put before the world it will exhibit one of the most striking and extraordinary examples of the chances and accidents on which the fate of empires depend that has ever been recorded. I have often heard that the events of those Sikh battles were very precarious, but it was only the other day that I heard on what a marvellous accident the last great battle depended. Hardinge considered the battle lost, and the destruction of his army inevitable. Not expecting to survive the defeat, he gave his watch and some other things about him to one of his officers, desiring him to have them conveyed to his wife, with the assurance that his last thoughts were with her. At this juncture a staff officer (whose name I did not hear), who from nervousness or fear had lost his head, went to the commander of our cavalry, and told him that he was the bearer of an order to him to retire; that officer asked if he had no written order, he said he had not, but he spoke so positively as to the instruction with which he was charged, that the other believed him and began to draw off his men. This movement was seen by the Sikhs, and, mistaking its purport, they fancied it indicated a disposition to take them in flank and cut off their communications. They were seized with a sudden panic, and immediately commenced their retreat: it was thus that this victory was won when it was all but lost, and won by the mistake or the invention of an officer who in terror or confusion had communicated an order which never was given to him, and which he had himself invented or imagined. It is universally agreed that if we had been defeated in that action our Eastern Empire would have been lost to us, for the prestige of our power would have been lost, and all India would have risen to cast off our yoke. After the action the question arose how this officer was to be dealt with, but it was not considered prudent to bring him to a court-martial, when the consequences of his conduct had been such as they were, and the inquiry might have revealed the magnitude of the peril from which we had escaped.
August 8th.—At Latimers from Saturday till Monday. Called on Wriothesley Russell at Chenies, and Lady Wriothesley told me that there is not far off a Chartist establishment; a society of Chartists located and living on land bought by Chartist subscriptions; a sort of communist society. It has existed some years, but is now falling into decay. Feargus O'Connor spoke to Charles Russell about it, and said he wished his brother would take some notice of them, for they liked to be noticed by people of rank; and, he added, 'Collectively they are with me, but individually they are with you.' In these words a great lesson and significant fact are contained well worth attention.
On arriving in town yesterday found the news of Smith O'Brien's capture, which some think a good thing and some a bad one; some say he is mad, some are for hanging him, some for transporting, others for letting him go; in short, quot homines tot sententiæ. He is a good-for-nothing, conceited, contemptible fellow, who has done a great deal of mischief and deserves to be hung, but it will probably be very difficult to convict him.
August 10th.—On Tuesday evening Stanley made a brisk attack on the Government for their Sicilian policy; Lord Lansdowne made a moderate defence.[65] They refused to say whether they had or had not instructed Admiral Parker to prevent the Neapolitan fleet from attacking Sicily, from which it is of course inferred that such instructions have been given him in violation of the principle of non-intervention and the law of nations. The man in the Cabinet who has been most strenuous for intervention, after Palmerston, has been Grey.
August 16th.—Went on Saturday with Lord Lansdowne and Granville to Stowe:[66] it was worth seeing, but a sorry sight; a dull, undesirable place, not without magnificence. The garden front is very stately and palatial; the house full of trash mixed with some fine things; altogether a painful monument of human vanity, folly, and, it may be added, wickedness, for wickedness it is thus recklessly to ruin a great house and wife and children.
LORD CLARENDON'S POLICY IN IRELAND.
Thence to Nuneham, a charming place, and on Monday to London. I heard an anecdote at Nuneham which was new to me: Harcourt gave it on the authority of Sir Robert Peel. He said that when the discussion took place about the East Retford question during the Duke of Wellington's Government, in the Cabinet Peel was for giving the representation to one of the great towns, and Huskisson against it; that Peel was overruled by a majority of his colleagues and consequently took the part he did in Parliament; while Huskisson was induced to change his opinion and to take in Parliament the opposite line from that which he had taken in the Cabinet; he and Peel, in fact, both changing sides. His colleagues were naturally very indignant with Huskisson, and this accounts for the bitterness which the Duke of Wellington evinced, and for his celebrated 'No mistake.' This seemed to me a strange story, though some people there wondered I had never heard it before. If it be true, it is equally discreditable to both Peel and Huskisson; in the former it was both a fault and a crime; it was a great error in judgement and very wrong in itself.
I found a letter from Clarendon when I got to town, telling me he had been 'much bothered by the vacillation and timidity of our rulers on this occasion as on the preceding ones, when I was compelled to insist on further power for the protection of life and the maintenance of law and order. It is not pleasant to have to poke a Cabinet into a sense of duty, or to extract by threats as if for a personal favour that which should be readily acceded to when the public necessity for it was proved and manifest. However, that has been my task, and I don't much care if the thing is achieved and nobody knows it.... Against the clubs a law of some kind was necessary. No one could doubt that, and so I insisted, making for the third time my remaining here conditional upon it. So they succumbed, but not with a good grace.' All along the Government have been afraid to adopt a vigorous and decided course, and have been fencing with Clarendon, who has insisted on it. The consequences of endeavouring to make the law work are now apparent in the failure of the first of the trials. It is trying to make bricks without straw; the people will not work the machinery of the law, but, on the contrary, abhor and will oppose the law itself; everybody sees that and still the Government do not dare openly say so, and adopt the measures that are necessary to cope with the difficulty. There was an excellent article in the 'Morning Chronicle' yesterday in this sense. I pointed it out to Lord Lansdowne, who expressed his concurrence with it. However, for the present I believe Clarendon is in possession of power enough to keep the country in order. He can imprison everybody and put down the clubs by so doing, but he will never be able to obtain convictions. Indeed, it would probably be better they should all fail at first than have one succeed every now and then, just enough to prevent their having recourse to another system.
The brilliant success of the Austrians and the disgraceful termination of Charles Albert's campaign[67] has produced a fresh interest in foreign affairs and great anxiety as to the result of the offered mediation of England and France. Palmerston's conduct throughout the Milanese war has been very extraordinary, but I will pronounce no positive opinion on it till I am better informed of all the hidden circumstances in which the question has been involved. What appears is this: some time ago the Austrians invited our mediation, sent Hummelauer over here for that purpose, and were prepared to make great sacrifices to settle the question. Palmerston refused; he thought the Austrian cause was irretrievably ruined, that all Italy would be lost to them, and he wished that result to take place. Old Radetzky cunctando restituit rem, and the tide of war was on a sudden victoriously rolled back, and the King of Sardinia completely baffled. Then Palmerston stepped in with his offer of mediation when there were no longer any parties to mediate between, or matters to mediate about, losing sight of his own conduct in the Swiss affair, when after the defeat of the Sunderbund he declared that the quarrel was decided and no mediation was necessary. He is now on the best possible terms with Cavaignac, and acting cordially with France. Cavaignac seems to have behaved with great frankness and good sense; he sent M. de Beaumont here with the most amicable professions;[68] he said that his object was to preserve peace, did not attempt to disguise the fact of the deplorable state of his finances, and the great object it therefore was to abstain from war; but he appears to have assumed that the honour of France was in some way concerned in delivering by fair means or foul the Milanese from the Austrian yoke. How far Palmerston has admitted this pretension remains to be seen, and we do not yet know whether he has come to an understanding with France as to what is to be done by her in the event of the joint mediation being declined; whether or no he has tacitly or expressly assented to the invasion of Italy by the French, and their making war on Austria to expel her from Lombardy. It would hardly appear possible that he should have done so, if it were not for his conduct in reference to Naples and Sicily, for if it turns out to be true that the British Admiral is ordered to prevent the King of Naples from making any attempt to reconquer Sicily, he cannot object to the French Government's interfering in the affairs of the North of Italy. But if the Austrians reject the mediation (as they probably will), and Cavaignac sends an army across the Alps with our connivance and consent, we shall not play a very dignified part, and I question if such policy will find general acceptance here.
MEDIATION IN ITALY.
August 20th.—On Wednesday night Disraeli made a very brilliant speech on foreign affairs in the House of Commons, and Palmerston a very able reply which was received with great applause and admiration. It was, however, only a simulated contest between them; for Dizzy, while pretending to attack Palmerston with much fire and fury, did not in reality touch him on difficult points. In reference to the mediation, Palmerston had with his usual good luck received on the morning of the debate a communication from the Austrian Minister stating the desire of his Court to avail itself of our mediation, which he employed with great effect. His speech was certainly very dexterous, and all the more so because he contrived to glide undetected over the weak points, and to satisfy the House of Commons without giving them any information whatever.
All the people who come from Paris represent the state of affairs there and in France in a curious light. The tranquillity is complete, the submission general, and there is little probability of any fresh outbreak, none of a successful one. The Republic is universally despised, detested, and ridiculed, but no other form of Government and no Pretender is in much favour or demanded by public feeling or inclination. They hate the Republic because they are conscious that the Revolution which turned France into one has inflicted enormous evils upon them. The best chance at the present moment seems to me to be that of the Duc de Bordeaux, Henry V., not because anybody cares about him, for he is almost unknown in France, and what is known of him does not make him an object of interest to Frenchmen, nor (what is by no means unimportant) to Frenchwomen; but he represents a principle, and there still lingers in many parts of France, and reigns in some, a sentiment of attachment and loyalty to the elder branch and the legitimate cause. This gives him a chance, but nobody seems to have any idea what sort of monarchy could be restored, if to a monarchy the French eventually recur. But I was told last night by Bulwer, who is just come from Paris, a fact which if it be true is of great importance, namely, that there has sprung up in France a great respect for station and position, a sentiment that did not exist before, indicating a revolution in the minds of men of a very reactionary and beneficial character.
IRISH DISAFFECTION AND REMEDIES.
Bessborough, who is just come back from Ireland, brings a very bad account of the state of the country, and Clarendon seems to have talked to him very openly upon all matters connected with Irish administration, and the views and conduct of the Government here. Though the rebellion is put down, the whole animus of the people is as bad as ever; they brood over their defeats, and only long for revenge and action at some future time. The outbreak was within an ace of taking place, and seems to have been prevented by an accident and by the pusillanimity or prudence of the clubs. They had established a very perfect club organisation and were in a state of great preparation, but had resolved not to rise till September. When the suspension of the Habeas Corpus was proposed, Smith O'Brien and the other leaders saw that they must proceed to action instantly or that they should be taken up, and they proceeded to Carrick, addressed the people, and asked them if they were ready; they said they were, but the clubs must be consulted; he sent to the clubs, but a small body of troops having marched into Carrick the same day, the clubs were intimidated and refused their consent to the rising. This put an extinguisher on the whole thing; if the clubs had consented many thousands would have poured down from the hills, and the country would everywhere have been up. He says Clarendon does everything in Ireland himself, and directs judges, law-officers, commander-in-chief, stipendiary magistrates, police constables—his work enormous. He wants to come over here that he may see the Cabinet collectively and explain his own views and opinions; he is evidently disgusted to the greatest degree at the impossibility of getting them to move out of the beaten track, and face the difficulties of the case by measures of a decisive character.
September 5th.—On Saturday to the Grange, where Charles Buller showed me a paper he has drawn up with suggestions of measures for Ireland, which are very sound and good on the whole, though I do not know that I should agree as to all the details. He proposes strong government, abolition of jury unanimity in criminal cases, emigration on a large scale—particularly to the Cape of Good Hope, and the constitution of a Board of employment and cultivation, who are to borrow money and invest it just as an individual capitalist might do. He adds to this, payment of the Catholic clergy by funds to be raised in Ireland, not asking imperial aid nor touching the Protestant Church; he only allots to this purpose 350,000l., not enough. He very justly says, however, that unless Government do something bold, new, comprehensive, and on a great scale, they will incur disgrace and ultimately ruin.
We had a Council yesterday for the parting Speech, and to-day this long session, the longest and most tedious ever known, closes. On Wednesday last, Disraeli with a great flourish of trumpets and note of preparation delivered an oration à la Lyndhurst, of three hours long, to which John Russell made a pretty good reply. Dizzy's speech was very sparkling and clever, but it was, after all, nothing but a theatrical display, without object or meaning but to show off his own powers. It was prefaced by a sort of advertisement that the great actor would take his benefit that morning on the stage of St. Stephen's; an audience was collected, and he sent word to Delane that he was going to speak in order that he might have one of his best reporters there. He quizzed Charles Wood unmercifully, and showed up a good many of the blunders and really stupid things which the Government did in the course of the session.
September 22nd.—No sooner was Parliament up than every creature took flight, and London became more empty and deserted than ever I saw it.
DEATH OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.
September 28th.—I was about to record my own proceedings and such other scraps as occurred to me, when my mind was diverted from all other topics by the intelligence of the death of George Bentinck.[69] This event was so strange and sudden, that it could not fail to make a very great sensation in the world, and so it did. It would be false and hypocritical were I to pretend that it affected me personally with any feeling of affliction, but I can say with truth that I was much shocked, and that I was sincerely sorry for it. I was sorry for the heavy blow thus inflicted on his father and his family, and it was impossible not to regard with compassion and something of regret the sudden termination of a career which promised to be one of no small prosperity and success. He was in truth a very remarkable man, of very singular character and disposition, and his history is one very much out of the common way. I am in one respect better, and in another worse, fitted to describe him than any other person, for nobody knew him so intimately and so well as I once did, nobody is so well acquainted with his most private thoughts and feelings as well as with his most secret practices; but, on the other hand, I should never be deemed an impartial biographer of a man from whom I had been so long and completely estranged, and between whom and myself there existed such strong feelings of alienation and dislike. Nevertheless, I will try to describe him as I think he really was, nothing extenuating, and nothing setting down in malice. The world will and must form a very incorrect estimate of his character; more of what was good than of what was bad in it was known to the public; he had the credit of virtues which he did not possess, or which were so mixed with vices that if all had been known he would have been most severely reproached in reference to the matters in which he has been the most loudly and generally bepraised; but his was one of those composite characters, in which opposite qualities, motives, and feelings were so strangely intermingled that nothing but a nice analysis, a very close and impartial inspection of it, can do him justice. His memory has been kindly and generously dealt with; he was on the whole high in favour with the world; he had been recently rising in public estimation; and his sudden and untimely end has stifled all feelings but those of sympathy and regret, and silenced all voices but those of eulogy and lamentation. He has long been held up as the type and model of all that is most honourable and high-minded; 'iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,' indeed, but the lofty and incorruptible scorner of everything mean and dishonourable, and the stern exposer and scourger of every species of delinquency and fraud, public or private. Oh for the inconsistency of human nature, the strange compound and medley of human motives and impulses, when the same man who crusaded against the tricks and villanies of others did not scruple to do things quite as bad as the worst of the misdeeds which he so vigorously and unrelentingly attacked! But it is only possible to make his character intelligible by a reference to certain passages of his life, especially to his transactions and connexions with myself.
He was brought up at home under a private tutor, was not studious in early life, and very soon entered the army. I do not remember whether he went to a public school. He soon distinguished himself in the army by his great spirit and courage, and by that arrogance which was his peculiar characteristic, and which never deserted him in any situation or circumstance in which he was placed. I well remember his getting into a quarrel which would have led to a duel, if his father had not got me to go to the Duke of York, by whose interposition the hostile collision was prevented.[70] I have, however, forgotten both the name of his antagonist and the merits of the case. He very soon quitted the army, and when Mr. Canning became Prime Minister he made George his private secretary. It has been said that Canning predicted great things of him if he would apply himself seriously to politics, but I do not know whether this is true. It is certain that after Canning's death, although by no means indifferent to public affairs, he took no active or prominent part in them, and the first development of his great natural energy took place in a very different field. He fell desperately in love, and he addicted himself with extraordinary vivacity to the turf. At this time and for a great many years we were most intimate friends, and I was the depositary of his most secret thoughts and feelings. This passion, the only one he ever felt for any woman, betrayed him into great imprudence of manner and behaviour, so much so, that I ventured to put him on his guard. I cannot now say when this occurred, it is so long ago, but I well recollect that as I was leaving——after the races I took him aside, told him it was not possible to be blind to his sentiments, that he was exposing himself and her likewise; that I did not mean to thrust myself into his confidence in so delicate a matter, but besought him to remember that all eyes were on him, all tongues ready to talk, and that it behoved him to be more guarded and reserved for her sake as well as his own. He made no reply, and I departed, I think I repeated the same thing to him in a letter; but whether I did or no, I received from him a very long one in which he confessed his sentiments without disguise, went at great length into his own case, declared his inability to sacrifice feelings which made the whole interest of his existence, but affirmed with the utmost solemnity that he had no reason to believe his feelings were reciprocated by her, and that not only did he not aspire to success, but that if it were in his power to obtain it (which he knew it was not), he would not purchase his own gratification at the expense of her honour and happiness; in short, his letter amounted to this—
'Let me but visit her, I'll ask no more; Guiltless I'll gaze, and innocent adore.'
I allude to this to show the terms of intimacy on which he and I were, and likewise to do justice to the purity and unselfishness of his devotion, for I am certain that all he said to me was true. He was, however, not of a very warm temperament, and this may perhaps materially diminish the virtue and the value of his high-flown and self-immolating sentiments; but let them pass for what they are worth.
CHARACTER OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.
The first time I ever knew him much occupied with politics was during the great Reform battles in 1831 and 1832, when he was member for Lynn. He took much the same views that I did, and was very anxious to modify the Reform Bill and render it a less Radical measure. The people of Lynn wanted a member and commissioned him to find one, and he exerted himself greatly for that purpose. By his desire I applied to Kindersley, then a man of some eminence at the Chancery bar, but he declined. I remember that he and his father did not coincide in their opinions. The Duke was frightened out of his wits, dreaded the loss of his vast property, and thought that the only safe policy was unconditional submission to the roar for Reform. Hating the measure in his heart, he was against any endeavour to arrest its progress; and he was not at all pleased with George for the part which he took. The latter, however, to do him justice, was never afraid of anybody or anything; and he sturdily but deferentially adhered to his own opinion in opposition to the Duke's. Meanwhile, he constantly attended Newmarket, and it was not long before he began to have horses of his own, running them, however, in my name. The first good racehorse he possessed was 'Preserve,' which I bought for him in 1833, and she, alas! was the cause of our first quarrel, that which was made up in appearance, but in reality never. Of course in this quarrel (which took place in August 1835) we both thought ourselves in the right. Till then not an unkind word had ever passed between us, nor had a single cloud darkened our habitual intercourse; but on this occasion I opposed and thwarted him, and his resentment broke out against me with a vehemence and ferocity that perfectly astounded me, and displayed in perfection the domineering insolence of his character. I knew he was out of humour, but had no idea that he meant to quarrel with me, and thought his serenity would speedily return. I wrote to him as usual, and to my astonishment received one of his most elaborate epistles, couched in terms so savage and so virulently abusive, imputing to me conduct the most selfish and dishonourable, that I knew not on reading it whether I stood on my head or my heels. I was conscious that his charges and insinuations were utterly groundless, but what was I to do? I could not tamely endure such gross and unwarrantable insults, and I could not challenge my uncle's son. In this dilemma I consulted a friend, and placed the letter in his hands; he went to him, and (not I believe without great difficulty) he persuaded him to ask to withdraw it. It was agreed that the letter should be destroyed, and that there should be no ostensible quarrel between us; but it was evident that our turf connexion could no longer subsist, and accordingly it was instantly dissolved, and other arrangements were made for his stud.
RACING RECOLLECTIONS.
Then commenced his astounding career of success on the turf; he soon enlarged the sphere of his speculations, increased his establishment, and ultimately transferred it all to John Day at Danebury, where he trained under all sorts of different names, it being a great object with him to keep his father in ignorance of his proceedings.[71] He and I met upon civil but cool terms, according to the agreement; but in about two years we began to jumble into intimacy again, and at length an incident happened which in great measure replaced our relations on their former footing. My horse Mango was in the St. Leger, and I wanted to try him. John Day told me he was sure Lord George would gladly try him for me. I proposed it to him, and he instantly assented. We went down together and tried the horse. Mango won his trial, won the St. Leger, and George won 14,000l. on the race. All this contributed to efface the recollection of past differences, and we became mutually cordial again.[72] With me the reconciliation was sincere. I had forgiven his behaviour to me, and desired no better than to live in amity with him for the rest of my life; whether it was equally sincere on his part he alone knew, but I very much doubt it. We continued, however, to live very well together up to the time when he brought out the famous 'Crucifix,' when, without any fresh quarrel, our intimacy became somewhat less close in consequence of my perceiving a manifest intention on his part to keep all the advantage of her merits to himself without allowing me to participate in them. Still we went on, till the occurrence of the notorious 'Gurney affair,' on which he and I took opposite sides, and in which he played a very conspicuous and violent part. While this was going on we were brought into personal collision at Newmarket in a matter relating to the revision of the rules of the Jockey Club, when his arrogance and personal animosity to me broke out with extraordinary asperity. There was still no regular and avowed quarrel till the spring following, when at a meeting of the Jockey Club I made a speech in opposition to him which he chose to construe into an intentional insult, and the next time he met me he cut me dead. I made several attempts, as did our mutual friends, to do away with this impression and to effect a reconciliation, but he refused to listen to any explanation or overture, and announced his resolution not to make it up with me at all. From that time our estrangement was complete and irreparable. He was now become the leviathan of the turf; his success had been brilliant, his stud was enormous, and his authority and reputation were prodigiously great.
In 1844 he became still more famous by his exertions in detecting the 'Running Rein' fraud, and in conducting the 'Orlando' trial. There can be no doubt that the success of that affair was in great measure attributable to his indefatigable activity, ingenuity, and perseverance. The attorney in the cause was amazed at the ability and dexterity he displayed, and said there was no sum he would not give to secure the professional assistance of such a coadjutor. He gained the greatest credit in all quarters by his conduct throughout this affair, which was afterwards increased by his manner of receiving a valuable testimonial, subscribed for the purpose of honouring and rewarding his exertions: he refused to accept anything for himself, but desired the money might be applied towards the establishment of a fund to reward decayed and distressed servants of the turf, which was eventually denominated 'The Bentinck Fund.'[73] He was exceedingly self-willed and arrogant, and never could endure contradiction; and whatever he undertook he entered into with an ardour and determination which amounted to a passion. As he plunged into gaming on the turf, he desired to win money, not so much for the money, as because it was the test and the trophy of success; he counted the thousands he won after a great race as a general would count his prisoners and his cannon after a great victory; and his tricks and stratagems he regarded as the tactics and manœuvres by which the success was achieved. Not probably that the money itself was altogether a matter of indifference to him: he had the blood of General Scott in his veins, who won half a million at hazard, and the grandson most likely chassait un peu de sa race. But to do him justice, if he was 'alieni appetens,' he was 'sui profusus.' Nobody was more liberal to all his people, nor more generous and obliging in money matters to his friends, and I am inclined to think that while he was taking to himself the mission of purifying the turf, and punishing or expelling wrongdoers of all sorts, his own mind became purified, and (though I do not know it) I should not wonder if he looked back with shame and contrition to all the schemes, plots, and machinations to which, in the ardour of his racing pursuit, he had been a party. What makes me think that it was less the base desire of pecuniary gain than the passionate eagerness of immense success which urged him on, is the alacrity with which he cast away his whole stud, at a moment when it promised him the most brilliant results and most considerable profits, as soon as another passion and another pursuit had taken possession of his mind; one in which there was not only no pecuniary benefit in view, but the occupation of which obliged him to neglect his turf concerns so entirely that he lost a great deal of money in consequence.
LORD GEORGE SELLS HIS STUD.
This brings me to his very extraordinary political career. I well remember, in the winter of 1845, when Peel's intentions began to be known or suspected, what indignation he expressed and what violent language he used about him. As soon as Parliament met he began to take an active part amongst the Protectionist malcontents, and he devoted much time to getting up the pro Corn Law case. He had never studied political economy, and knew very little on the subject, but he was imbued with the notions common to his party that the repeal of the Corn Laws would be the ruin of the landed interest; he therefore hated the Anti-Corn Law League, and—considering that the first and most paramount of duties was to keep up the value of the estates of the order to which he belonged, and that Peel had been made Minister and held office mainly for this purpose—he considered Peel's abandonment of Protection, and adoption, or rather extension, of Free Trade, as not only an act of treachery, but of treason to the party which claimed his allegiance, and he accordingly flung himself into opposition to him with all his characteristic vehemence and rancour. Still neither he himself nor any one else anticipated the part he was about to play, and the figure he was destined to make. One of the men whom he was in the habit of talking to, was Martin, Q.C.,[74] and he told him that he had a great mind to speak on the Corn Law debate, but that he did not think he could; he had had no experience and could not trust himself.[75] Martin told me this. I said I thought he could; that I had been much struck with a speech he had made at the Jockey Club, when he had spoken for two hours, and in a way which satisfied me he had speaking in him. Martin went and told him this, which struck him very much, and it decided him (so Martin told me) to make the attempt. His début in the House of Commons was a remarkable exhibition, and made a great impression at the time: not that it was a very good, still less an agreeable speech; quite the reverse. He chose the worst moment he possibly could have done to rise; the House was exhausted by several nights of debate and had no mind to hear more. He rose very late on the last night, and he spoke for above three hours; his speech was ill-delivered, marked with all those peculiar faults which he never got rid of; it was very tiresome; it contained much that was in very bad taste; but in spite of all defects it was listened to, and it was considered a very extraordinary performance, giving indications of great ability and powers which nobody had any idea that he possessed.
LORD GEORGE'S POLITICAL CAREER.
The rest of his career is well known. He brought into politics the same ardour, activity, industry, and cleverness which he had displayed on the turf, and some of the same cunning and contrivances too. He never was and never would have been anything like a statesman; he was utterly devoid of large and comprehensive views, and he was no pursuer and worshipper of truth. He brought the mind, the habits, and the arts of an attorney to the discussion of political questions; having once espoused a cause, and embraced a party, from whatever motive, he worked with all the force of his intellect and a superhuman power of application in what he conceived to be the interest of that party and that cause. No scruples, moral or personal, stood for a moment in his way; he went into evidence, historical or statistical, not to inform himself and to accept with a candid and unbiassed mind the conclusions to which reason and testimony, facts and figures, might conduct him, but to pick out whatever might fortify his foregone conclusions, casting aside everything inimical to the cause he was advocating, and seizing all that could be turned to account by any amount of misrepresentation and suppression he might find it convenient to employ. It was thus he acted in the West India Committee; his labour and application were something miraculous; he conducted the enquiry very ably, but anything but impartially; having had no political education, and being therefore unimbued with sound principles on fiscal and commercial questions, he had everything to learn; and having flung himself headlong into the Protectionist cause, he got up their case just as he did that of 'Orlando' or 'Running Rein,' and ran amuck against everything and everybody on the opposite side.
Against Peel he soon broke out with indescribable fury and rancour. Such was the attack he made upon him about his conduct to Canning, which has been since ascribed to his attachment to the latter, and a long cherished but suppressed resentment at Peel's behaviour to him. Nothing could be more ridiculously untrue; he did not care one straw for Canning, alive or dead, and he did not himself believe one word of the accusations he brought against Peel; but he thought he had found materials for a damaging attack on the man he detested, and he availed himself of it with all the virulence of the most vindictive hatred. It was a total failure, and he only afforded Peel an opportunity of vindicating himself once for all from an imputation which had been very generally circulated and believed, but which he proved to be altogether false. The House of Commons gave Peel a complete triumph, and George Bentinck was generally condemned; nevertheless, with more courage and bull-dog perseverance than good taste and judgement, he returned to the charge, and instead of withdrawing his accusations, renewed and insisted on them in his reply. This was just like him; but though his conduct was very ill advised, I well remember thinking his reply (made too against the sense and feeling of the House) was very clever.
LORD GEORGE'S POPULARITY.
I have always thought that his conduct in selling his stud all at one swoop, and at once giving up the turf, to which he had just before seemed so devoted, was never sufficiently appreciated and praised. It was a great sacrifice both of pleasure and profit, and it was made to what he had persuaded himself was a great public duty. It is true that he had taken up his new vocation with an ardour and a zeal which absorbed his old one, but still it was a very fine act, and excessively creditable to him. He never did anything by halves, and having accepted the responsible post of leader of his party, he resolved to devote himself to their service, and he did so without stint or reserve; and when he had ceased to be nominally their leader, a transaction in which his behaviour was honourable and manly, he still voluntarily and gratuitously imposed upon himself an amount of labour and anxiety on particular questions, which beyond all doubt contributed to the accident which terminated his life. Notwithstanding his arrogance and his violence, his constant quarrels and the intolerable language he indulged in, he was popular in the House of Commons, and was liked more or less wherever he went. He was extremely good-looking and particularly distinguished and high-bred; then he was gay, agreeable, obliging, and good-natured, charming with those he liked, and by whom he was not thwarted and opposed. His undaunted courage and the confident and haughty audacity with which he attacked or stood up against all opponents, being afraid of no man, inspired a general sentiment of admiration and respect, and his lofty assumption of superior integrity and his resolute determination to expose and punish every breach of public honour and morality were quietly acquiesced in, and treated with great deference by the multitude who knew no better, and were imposed on by his specious pretensions. The sensation caused by his death, the encomiums pronounced on his character, and the honours paid to his memory, have been unexampled in a man whose career has been so short, and who did not do greater things than he had it in his power to accomplish. He had become, however, the advocate of powerful interests, and of vast numbers of people whose united voices make a great noise in the world, and there is something in the appalling suddenness of the catastrophe which excites general sympathy and pity, and makes people more inclined to think of his virtues, his powers, and his promise, than of his defects. Of the latter perhaps the greatest was his constant disposition to ascribe the worst motives to all those to whom he found himself opposed;
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
and when he invariably fancied that he saw intentional fraud and the utmost baseness in the conduct of his antagonists, it is impossible not to ascribe such false and erroneous views of human nature to the moral consciousness which was the result of his own former courses, constantly suspecting others of the same sort of practices with which he was once so familiar. I have not the least doubt that, for his own reputation and celebrity, he died at the most opportune period; his fame had probably reached its zenith, and credit was given him for greater abilities than he possessed, and for a futurity of fame, influence, and power which it is not probable he ever would have realised. As it is, the world will never know anything of those serious blemishes which could not fail to dim the lustre of his character; he will long be remembered and regretted as a very remarkable man, and will occupy a conspicuous place in the history of his own time.
STATE OF FRANCE.