The Greville Memoirs, Part 2 (of 3), Volume 3 (of 3) / A Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria from 1837 to 1852

by Charles Greville

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Louis Blanc on France—The Catholic Priesthood—Failure of Scheme for Ireland—Evils of Total Repeal of Duties—Reaction in Prussia—A Message from M. Thiers—Conversation of Louis Philippe with Lord Clarendon—Dinner at Mr. Reeve's—Death of Lord Melbourne—Death of Charles Buller—Their Characters—Plans for Ireland—A Dinner of Historians—Election of Louis Napoleon as President of the French Republic—Death of Lord Auckland—The Saturnalia of 1848—The Admiralty offered to Sir James Graham—Graham declines—Lord Palmerston's Attacks on Austria—Grounds of Sir J. Graham's Refusal—Opening of Parliament—Debate in the Lords—Debate in the Commons—Mr. Disraeli the Leader of the Tories—The Irish Policy of the Government—Lord John Russell limits the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act to Six Months—The Irish Grant—Dreadful State of Ireland—Admiral Cécille Ambassador in London—The Ceylon Committee—Affair of the Sicilian Stores—The Fall of Hudson, the Railway King—Sir Charles Napier's Appointment to command in India—The Sicilian Arms.

London, October 20th, 1848.—One day the week before last, I dined with D'Orsay to meet Louis Blanc. Nobody there but he and I. We had a great deal of talk. He is very gay, animated, and full of information, takes in very good part anything that is said to him, and any criticisms on his Revolution and the Provisional Government. After that, a week at Newmarket, and last week at the Grange with a large party, agreeable enough. M. Dumon[76] was there, and we asked him to explain why the Government of which he was a member had so obstinately refused to concede any reform. He gave an explanation and apology for their conduct, which was not very satisfactory, and amounted to little more than the old story of the necessity of keeping together the Conservative majority. Louis Blanc told me the Revolution had not ruined France; that the ruin was already consummated, and the Revolution only tore away the veil which concealed it.

November 7th.—While I was at Newmarket, Lord Clarendon came over here, but I never succeeded in seeing him till yesterday. He is to have the Garter, the Duke of Leinster and Lord Fitzwilliam having both refused it, and he wished to refuse it also, but Lord John made a point of his taking it. A Committee of Cabinet is appointed to consider Irish measures, but I see very clearly that no attempt will be made to pay the priests; and though I have not changed my opinion as to the measure itself, I am disposed to think that at this time it could not be attempted with any chance of success. While everything else is in a constant state of change, Protestant bigotry and anti-Catholic rancour continue to flourish with undiminished intensity, and all the more from being founded on nothing but prejudice and ignorance, without a particle of sense and reason.

November 11th.—George Bentinck's servant called on me the other morning, and told me that he had a strong impression his Lord would have soon thrown up politics and taken to racing again as suddenly as he took to the former; that his interest in the turf continued to be very great; and that his disappointment at the failure of the West Indian attempt had been excessive, having been confident of success, and of turning out the Government upon it. This man gave me many details of his labours and exertions, all corresponding with what I had heard before. He often sat up all night, never got any air or exercise, and passed his whole time between his own house and the House of Commons, writing, reading, and seeing people, often as many as twenty or thirty in a day.

Just after writing the above I saw the correspondence which took place between George Bentinck and Bankes on his giving up the leadership, from which it was evident that the labour and anxiety had already begun to make no inconsiderable inroad on his constitution, and that he was quite conscious of the risk he incurred by continuing his parliamentary and political career with the same intensity.

RAISING MONEY FOR IRELAND.

The Irish scheme propounded by Charles Buller, and so readily taken up by the Government (at first), seems now likely to vanish into smoke. It was soon evident that the payment of the priests would not be attempted. Clarendon has been always against it, and he showed me two days ago a letter from Redington (who had undertaken during his absence to sound the Catholic prelates), with an account of his conversation with Archbishop Murray, from which it was clear that it would be useless to attempt it, and so Redington himself said, he being the man (so Clarendon told me) above all others most strongly feeling the degradation of his Church; so that this matter will be left in statu quo. Last night I met Charles Wood, and soon found from his conversation that there is not much greater probability of the financial part of the scheme being carried out. He, at all events, is dead against it, against raising money and expending capital by the Government. I said something about this part of the plan, when he said, very contemptuously, 'What, you are in favour of that scheme, are you? I am surprised that with your sense you should think it practicable.' He then went off upon the inexpediency of any government interference. He admitted the evils that existed, the ruin that would overtake a great many people, but nevertheless was for letting matters take their course. He said: 'You are in too great a hurry. I admit that capital is required for improvement, but it must come in the regular way and by private investment. There is great depreciation, and there will be more, and in the end this will attract capital, and people who have money to lay out will have recourse to this as a profitable investment.' It is needless to detail our several arguments, and sufficient to say that with the Chancellor of the Exchequer of this mind it is not likely that anything will be done. I told Charles Buller in the evening what had passed, and he said it was only what he expected, as from the moment a Committee of Cabinet was appointed he was sure nothing would be done.

Charles Wood lamented to me very bitterly the fatal effects of the mistake Peel had made in abolishing all Corn duty whatever (prospectively) and the Timber duties. He said George Bentinck was quite right in his preference for low duties instead of abolition, and that if we could now have the above duties they would relieve the revenue from almost all its difficulties, and be felt by nobody; and the unhappy thing is that this mistake is irretrievable, for revocare gradum is totally impossible. Peel acknowledged his error about timber, and probably he might also about corn. He was, in fact, misled and carried away by his flourishing revenue, and acted without consideration.

November 15th.—The scheme for improving Ireland seems likely to fall to the ground altogether. Everybody affirms or admits that the time is so unpropitious for 'endowment' that it is useless to think of it, and Charles Wood and George Grey have convinced themselves that Parliament and the country will not be disposed to advance money in any shape for Irish purposes. I had a long conversation with Clarendon on the subject yesterday, and laboured to persuade him that this was an error, and that if Government can show that the money will be judiciously employed, and in all probability that there will be no ultimate loss to the State, there will be no difficulty in gaining the assent of Parliament to the fiscal part of the proposed plan.

THE FRENCH ROYAL FAMILY.

In the morning I met Bunsen, who said the King of Prussia was going on well, and he augured success to his present measures. It is a great thing to see reaction anywhere, and the revolutionary and democratic tide rolled back which has been deluging all Europe; but this is a very doubtful contest, and the King inspires no confidence. The Prussian affair points a great moral, and reads an important lesson. It shows at once the danger of resistance to just demands and reasonable desires, and the dangers and evils of full democratic sway, sweeping everything before it. If the King of Prussia had long ago fulfilled his promises, and given a constitution to his country while he could have done so gracefully and safely, the new institutions would have had time to develope and consolidate themselves, and would in all probability have proved the security of the Crown when the flood of revolution broke over Europe. He refused, and fought it off so long that at last his people grew discontented and angry, and when the French Revolution set all Germany on fire, the work was so far from being perfected that the Crown was left to battle with the democratic fury that broke forth, and its own weakness and vacillation rendered the power irresistible which might have been coerced and restrained. Whether it is still time to retrace his steps remains to be seen. The success of Louis Napoleon in France now seems beyond all doubt. Thiers has sent a message to Guizot, through a friend of both, to say that he is resolved to take no part in his Government, and Normanby informs me that Odilon Barrot is to be his Minister. This will make the whole thing perfect, Odilon Barrot being of all men the most unpractical, and having failed ridiculously in everything he ever undertook.

November 25th.—I met Guizot at dinner twice last week. He told me Thiers had sent a man over to him, and to the King, to make to him the assurance above stated. Rather curious his keeping up this communication with the exiled Sovereign and Minister—the two men, too, whom he most detests. I asked him if he believed what he said, when he intimated that it might or might not be true. They have never sent the Royal Family any money up to this time, though the Chamber long ago voted back their property; but the Government have promised to send the King 20,000l., and the Duc d'Aumale 10,000l.; the latter has 50,000l. a year and no debts. From what Guizot's daughter said to me, it is clear they by no means give up the idea of returning to France and of his taking a part in public affairs, but not yet.

Lord Clarendon went to see the King a few days ago, and was with him two hours, when he told him the whole history of his flight and all his adventures. He said, he should not know which to vote for, Cavaignac or Louis Napoleon, if he had a vote to give. Guizot, however, is all for the latter, I can very well see. He told me it would be the first step towards a monarchy, but he did not say what monarchy he meant. The King told Clarendon we need not fear a war; that the army knew its strength, and meant to exercise it, and would insist on deciding on the political futurity of France; that it detested the Republic, but had no desire to go to war, and moreover it could not, for it was dénuée de tout. He said nobody knew how ill provided the French army was, and that this was alone a security against war. Clarendon told him he did not consider it as such, as a country like France could always provide everything very quickly, but that he thought there were other causes operating in the direction of peace. He found him very well and in very good spirits; he has been greatly pleased at the visits of the National Guards to him (who went in great numbers); but it drives him wild when they say to him, 'Sire, pourquoi nous avez-vous quittés?' He knows he threw everything away, and constantly tries to persuade himself and others that the army would not have supported him. Flahault said to him the other day that he had no right to cast such an imputation on the army, which had proved its fidelity in all circumstances and to all Governments, even in July, and that the army would have saved him if it had been allowed to act. Everybody now knows that if he had done anything but run away, if he had gone to St. Cloud only, or anywhere, and called the troops about him, all would have been saved. He threw his cards on the table, and the game was stupidly and disgracefully lost.

I met Guizot at a dinner at Reeve's on Thursday, with M. Lemoinne, one of the rédacteurs of the 'Journal des Débats,' and the man who wrote the excellent articles on England and our politics and condition, showing great knowledge of this country. There were besides, Woodham, who writes in the 'Times,' a clever man; Longman, Lord Clarendon, and Mr. Wheaton, the author of a well-known work on the 'Law of Nations.'

November 29th.—Lord Melbourne died on Friday night at Brocket, without suffering pain, but having had a succession of epileptic fits the whole day, most painful and distressing to his family collected about him.

DEATH OF LORD MELBOURNE.

This morning has occurred the death, after a short illness, of another remarkable man, Charles Buller. He had an operation successfully performed about ten days ago, but he was afterwards attacked by typhus fever and diarrhoea. The case became hopeless, and be expired at half-past five this morning in the forty-first year of his age. The career of Melbourne was over; that of Charles Buller for great and useful purposes may be said to have been only just beginning. His friends are deeply annoyed and angry at a biographical article on Melbourne which appeared in the 'Times' the morning after his death; and it certainly was coarse, vulgar, and to a great degree unjust. It was a mere daub and caricature, and very discreditable to the paper.

But it is a difficult thing to write a good article upon Melbourne, one which shall delineate his character with impartiality and discrimination, and describe fairly and truly his political career. I have known a great deal of him in the course of my life, but I never lived in real intimacy with him; and as he at no time seemed to have much inclination for my company, though we were always very good friends, I saw but little of him; but every now and then we had something to say to each other, and at rare intervals we met on intimate and confidential terms. He was certainly a very singular man, resembling in character and manner, as he did remarkably in feature, his father, the late Lord Egremont.[77] He was exceedingly handsome, when first I knew him, which was in 1815 or thereabouts. It was at this period that the irregularities of his wife had partly estranged him from her, though they were not yet separated, and he was occasionally amused by her into condonation of her amours, and into a sort of half-laughing, half-resentful reconciliation. They lived in this queer way. He, good-natured, eccentric, and not nice; she, profligate, romantic, and comical. Both were kept together, as they had been brought together, by the influence and management of their common relations and connexions; but it was during this period that he devoted himself with ardour to study, and that he acquired the vast fund of miscellaneous knowledge with which his conversation was always replete, and which, mixed up with his characteristic peculiarities, gave an extraordinary zest and pungency to his society. His taste for reading and information, which was confirmed into a habit by the circumstances of these years, continued to the end of his life, unbroken, though unavoidably interrupted by his political avocations. He lived surrounded by books, and nothing prevented him, even when Prime Minister, and with all the calls on his time to which he was compelled to attend, from reading every new publication of interest or merit, as well as frequently revelling amongst the favourite authors of his early studies. His memory was extremely retentive, and amply stored with choice passages of every imaginable variety, so that he could converse learnedly upon almost all subjects, and was never at a loss for copious illustrations, amusing anecdotes, and happy quotations. This richness of talk was rendered more piquant by the quaintness and oddity of his manner, and an ease and naturalness proceeding in no small degree from habits of self-indulgence and freedom, a license for which was conceded to him by common consent, even by the Queen herself, who, partly from regard for him, and partly from being amused at his ways, permitted him to say and do whatever he pleased in her presence. He was often paradoxical, and often coarse, terse, epigrammatic, acute, droll, with fits of silence and abstraction, from which he would suddenly break out with a vehemence and vigour which amused those who were accustomed to him, and filled with indescribable astonishment those who were not. His mother-in-law, Lady Bessborough, told me that high office was tendered to him many years before he began to play any political part, but at that time he preferred a life of lettered and social idleness, and he would not accept it. He never was really well fitted for political life, for he had a great deal too much candour, and was too fastidious to be a good party man. It may be said of him, at least in his earlier days, that he was

'For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.'

CHARACTER OF LORD MELBOURNE.

And still less was he fit to be the leader of a party and the head of a Government, for he had neither the strong convictions, nor the eager ambition, nor the firmness and resolution which such a post requires. From education and turn of mind, and from the society in which he was bred and always lived, he was a Whig; but he was a very moderate one, abhorring all extremes, a thorough Conservative at heart, and consequently he was only half identified in opinion and sympathy with the party to which he belonged when in office; he often dreaded and distrusted his colleagues, and was secretly the enemy of the measures which his own Government originated, and of which he was obliged to take the credit or bear the obloquy. No position could be more false than the position in which Melbourne was often placed, and no man ever was more perplexed and tormented than he was by it, for he was remarkably sensitive; and most of the latter years of his administration were passed in a state of dissatisfaction with himself and with all about him. He hated the Reform Bill, which he was obliged to advocate. He saw, indeed, that Reform had become irresistible, and therefore he reconciled it to his conscience to support the Bill; but he had not sufficient energy of character or strength of will to make a stand against the lengths which he disapproved, and he contented himself with those indirect attempts to modify it which I have narrated in their proper place. It was probably his personal popularity, and the reluctance of Lord Lansdowne to take so laborious a post,[78] which led to his being made Prime Minister on the resignation of Lord Grey, for there never was a man more incapable of exercising the vigilance and supremacy which that office demands. After the great breach of 1835, and the abortive attempt of William IV. to throw over the Whig Government, his relations with his Ministers became very uncomfortable; but Melbourne was a good-natured man, and a gentleman, and perhaps no one else would have gone on with the King so harmoniously as he managed it.

But it was upon the accession of the Queen that his post suddenly grew into one of immense importance and interest, for he found himself placed in the most curious and delicate position which any statesman ever occupied. Victoria was transferred at once from the nursery to the throne—ignorant, inexperienced, and without one human being about her on whom she could rely for counsel and aid. She found in her Prime Minister and constitutional adviser a man of mature age, who instantly captivated her feelings and her fancy by his deferential solicitude, and by a shrewd, sagacious, and entertaining conversation, which were equally new and delightful to her. She at once cast herself with implicit confidence upon Melbourne, and, from the first day of her reign, their relations assumed a peculiar character, and were marked by an intimacy which he never abused; on the contrary, he only availed himself of his great influence to impress upon her mind sound maxims of constitutional government, and truths of every description that it behoved her to learn. It is impossible to imagine anything more interesting than more calculated to excite all the latent sensibility of his nature. His loyal devotion soon warmed into a parental affection, which she repaid by unbounded manifestations of confidence and regard. He set himself wisely, and with perfect disinterestedness, to form her mind and character, and to cure the defects and eradicate the prejudices from which the mistakes and faults of her education had not left her entirely free. In all that Melbourne said or did, he appears to have been guided by a regard to justice and truth. He never scrupled to tell her what none other would have dared to say; and in the midst of that atmosphere of flattery and deceit which kings and queens are almost always destined to breathe, and by which their minds are so often perverted, he never scrupled to declare boldly and frankly his real opinions, strange as they sometimes sounded, and unpalatable as they often were, and to wage war with her prejudices and false impressions with regard to people or things whenever he saw that she was led astray by them. He acted in all things an affectionate, conscientious, and patriotic part, endeavouring to make her happy as a woman, and popular as a queen.

It is notorious that he committed two great errors in judgement, both of which were attended with disastrous consequences, and I believe that in both cases his discretion was misled by his feelings, and that it was his care for her ease and happiness which betrayed him into these fatal mistakes. The first was the Flora Hastings affair, the scandal of which he might certainly have prevented; the other was the Bedchamber quarrel, when her reluctance to part with him, and his tenderness for her, overruled his better judgement, and made him adopt a course he must have known to be both impossible and wrong. In these affairs (especially the first), Melbourne must have suffered torments, for his tender solicitude for the Queen, and the deep sense of his own responsibility, were sure to weigh heavily upon him. His influence and authority at Court were not diminished, nor his position there altered by her marriage; but the Prince, though always living on very friendly terms with him, was secretly rejoiced when the political power of this great favourite was brought to a close; for, so long as Melbourne was there, he undoubtedly played but an obscure and secondary part. When the inevitable change of Government at last took place, the parting between the Queen and her Minister was very sorrowful to both of them, and it was then that he gave his last and generous proof of his anxiety for her happiness in sending me with his advice to Peel.

It would be rendering imperfect justice to Melbourne's character to look upon him rather as a courtier than as a statesman, and to fancy that he made his political principles subordinate to his personal predilections. He was deeply attached to the Queen, but he had all the patriotism of an English gentleman, and was jealous of the honour and proud of the greatness of his country. He held office with a profound sense of its responsibilities; there never was a Minister more conscientious in the distribution of patronage, more especially of his ecclesiastical patronage. He was perfectly disinterested, without nepotism, and without vanity; he sought no emoluments for his connexions, and steadily declined all honours for himself. The Queen often pressed him to accept the Garter, but he never would consent, and it was remarked that the Prime Minister of England was conspicuous at Court for being alone undecorated amidst the stars and ribands which glittered around him. He has been not inappropriately compared to Sallustius Crispus, as described by Tacitus: 'Quamquam prompto ad capessendos honores aditu, sine dignitate senatoriâ multos triumphalium consulariumque potentiâ anteiit; diversus a veterum instituto per cultum et munditias; copiâque et affluentiâ luxu propior. Suberat tamen vigor animi ingentibus negotiis par, eo acrior, quo somnum et inertiam magis ostentabat. Igitur incolumi Mæcenate proximus; mox præcipuus cui secreta Imperatorum maxime inniterentur.'[79]

MELBOURNE'S CONVERSATIONS AND OPINIONS.

At the time Melbourne left office he was only an occasional guest at Court, but the Queen continued to correspond with him constantly, and gave him frequent proofs that her regard for him was undiminished. He took very little part in politics after 1841, and it was not long before his health began to give way. He had been so completely absorbed by the Court, that for many years he had been almost lost to society; but as soon as he was out of office, he resumed his old habits, and was continually to be found at Holland House, at Lady Palmerston's, and with a few other intimate friends. There he loved to lounge and sprawl at his ease, pouring out a rough but original stream of talk, shrewd, playful, and instructive. His distinctive qualities were strong sound sense, and an innate taste for what was great and good, either in action or sentiment. His mind kindled, his eye brightened, and his tongue grew eloquent when noble examples or sublime conceptions presented themselves before him. He would not have passed 'unmoved by any scene that was consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by wisdom.' But while he pursued truth, as a philosopher, his love of paradox made him often appear a strange mass of contradiction and inconsistency. A sensualist and a Sybarite, without much refinement or delicacy, a keen observer of the follies and vices of mankind, taking the world as he found it, and content to extract as much pleasure and diversion as he could from it, he at one time would edify and astonish his hearers with the most exalted sentiments, and at another would terrify and shock them by indications of the lowest morality and worldly feelings, and by thoughts and opinions fraught with the most cold-hearted mocking and sarcasm. His mind seems all his life long, and on almost every subject, to have been vigorous and stirring, but unsettled and unsatisfied. It certainly was so on the two great questions of religion and politics, and he had no profound convictions, no certain assurance about either. He studied divinity eagerly and constantly, and was no contemptible theologian; but he never succeeded in arriving at any fixed belief, or in anchoring himself on any system of religious faith. It was the same thing in politics. All the Liberal and Constitutional theories which he had ever entertained had been long ago more than realised, and he was filled with alarm at the prospect of their further extension. All his notions were aristocratic, and he had not a particle of sympathy for what was called progressive reform. He was a vehement supporter of the Corn Laws, abused Peel with all the rancour of a Protectionist, and died in the conviction that his measures will prove the ruin of the landed interest.

DEATH OF CHARLES BULLER.

During his administration his great object seemed to be to keep a rickety concern together, less from political ambition than from his personal feelings for the Queen. He abhorred disputes and quarrels of every description, and he was constantly temporising and patching them up when they occurred in his Cabinet (as they often did) by all sorts of expedients, seldom asserting either the dignity or the authority of his position as head of the Government. Such weak and unworthy misrule brought his Cabinet, his party, and himself into contempt, and it was unquestionably in great measure owing to his want of judgement and firmness that they became so unpopular, and at last fell with so little credit and dignity as they did in 1841. He was capricious about money, and generous and stingy by fits and starts. Easy and indolent, he suffered himself to be plundered by his servants, and took little trouble in looking after his affairs. He was fond of his family, and much beloved by them, but, both with regard to them and his friends, he was full of a jealousy and touchiness, which made him keenly alive to any appearance of indifference, and equally sensible of any attentions that were shown him. This grew into a morbid feeling after his health had given way, and tinged his latter days with melancholy, for he fancied himself neglected and uncared for. On the promotion of Lord John Russell's Government, he was mortified at not being invited to take a share in it. It was evident that he was conscious of, and bitterly felt, the decay of his own powers, and the insignificance to which he was reduced. He would, if he could, have disguised this from himself and others, but it preyed on his mind, and made him very unhappy, and often apparently morose. Sometimes his feelings would find vent in these lines from the 'Samson Agonistes,' which he would repeat with a sad memory of the past, and sense of the present:

So much I feel my general spirit droop, My hopes all flat, nature within me seems In all her functions weary of herself, My race of glory run, and race of shame, And I shall shortly be with them that rest.

Taking him altogether, he was a very remarkable man in his abilities and his acquirements, in his character and in his career, with virtues and vices, faults and merits, curiously intermingled, and producing as eccentric results as society has often beheld.

December 2nd.—The death of Charles Buller has occurred when he can be ill spared to the party of which he was rapidly becoming an important member, and to the country which he was capable of serving. He is a great social and a great public loss, more especially in days of mediocrity and barrenness like the present. He was clever, amiable, accomplished, and honest. His abilities were of a very high order, and though he loved the world and its pursuits, he had great powers of application. Few people were more agreeable and entertaining in society, and he had a very gentle and affectionate disposition. He never made, and never would have made, much progress in the profession of the law, which he originally embraced. It was evidently unsuited to his genius, his taste, and his habits, and he judged rightly in exchanging it once for all for a political career in which, had his life been spared, he would have achieved great eminence. In politics he was originally a Radical, but though the old leaven not unfrequently showed itself, it was greatly modified in his latter years; and when he manifested ultra-Liberal sympathies, it was probably more from love of paradox and controversy, than from real and sincere conviction. His political opinions, however, which for a long time seem to have been in an unsettled and transitional state, he never suppressed or compromised for any personal interest; and though he was both very ambitious and very poor, he never committed a mean or discreditable act for the sake of either favour or office. A man more honourable and independent never existed, and he would have been indebted for the political exaltation which was certainly in store for him to nothing but the force and influence of his own capacity and power. His career of usefulness was in fact only beginning. Up to a very recent period he had made no progress in public life commensurate with his ability, and especially with his parliamentary talents; but if justice was not done him, it was mainly because he did not do justice to himself. He was perhaps the most popular member of the House of Commons. By universal acknowledgement he was an admirable speaker, full of matter, lucid, never dull, and generally very amusing, so that he never rose without being sure of an attentive and favourable audience. His greatest speeches were on dry and serious subjects, such as colonisation, emigration, or records, none of which became heavy or uninteresting in his hands. He had, however, one great defect, which not only rendered him less agreeable in society than he would otherwise have been, but which had a very serious and unhappy influence on his political career. He was seduced by his keen perception of the ridiculous and an irresistible propensity to banter into an everlasting mockery of everything and everybody, which not only often became tiresome and provoking, but gave an appearance of levity to his character that largely deducted from the estimation in which he would otherwise have been held. It was impossible to be sure when he was in earnest and when he was in jest, when he really meant what he said, and when he was only jeering, gibing, and making game. It is incredible what damage this pernicious habit did him; for it created a notion that though he was very witty and entertaining, he had no settled principles and convictions, and that he 'made a mockery of life.' Of this defect (with which his friends had often reproached him) he was manifestly curing himself. He had begun to take a more sober and earnest view of the great concerns of the world, and his really excellent understanding was asserting its predominance over the wild vagaries of his wit. In thus disciplining his mind into more of practical wisdom, he was paving the way for his own success; and had he not been snatched away thus suddenly, 'while his hopes were as warm and his desires as eager as ours,' he would have become an eminent man. As it is he has left behind him a memory cherished for its delightful social qualities, and a vast credit for undeveloped powers.

PLAN FOR IRISH EMIGRATION.

Yesterday, Clarendon went to the Grange on his way to Dublin. I had a long conversation with him before he went. He told me what they are meditating for Ireland. They give up all idea of paying the priests, and laying out money for any purpose but that of emigration. For this, however, they have a great scheme connected with Canadian railways. Their purpose is to establish a vast line of railways in Canada, and to make a large emigration from Ireland for this purpose. A tax on Canadian timber, and a sum of money to be borrowed here, the interest on which Clarendon thinks he can supply (180,000l.), are to provide the necessary funds. They have satisfied themselves that this is as much as they can venture to attempt.

He informed me that Wylde (to whom the Prince is in the habit of talking very openly) told him that the Prince had been discussing with him the possibility of some change of government being rendered necessary by Lord John's health breaking down, and that they would like him (Clarendon) to succeed him, and that if such an event occurred, the Queen would certainly send for him to consult him on the subject. Clarendon desired him to take an opportunity of telling the Prince that no power on earth should induce him to accept such a post, and as it was much better the Queen should never make an overture which would not be accepted, he wished none such might ever be made to him. He then gave his reasons for considering himself disqualified. I told him they would not accept his excuses, because since his Irish administration he had acquired a reputation which rendered him in the eyes of the world fit for any post, but that I understood well why for various reasons he might wish to decline the office. He said he could not speak, and had not had parliamentary experience enough, having come too late into the House of Lords, and never having been in the House of Commons. Finally he begged me to tell anybody who suggested such a possible contingency, that no power on earth would ever induce him to take it. But I don't think he was displeased when I told him I should certainly not say that, because I did not consider it so absolutely impossible, and that events might occur, and the state of parties be such, that his acceptance of the post would become a matter of public duty on his part. The truth is, he is sincere in his disclaimer, but with an arrière pensée of ambition, which not unnaturally smiles on the idea of such a prodigious elevation.

December 9th.—I dined on Tuesday last with Milman, Guizot, Macaulay, and Hallam; Macaulay receiving felicitations with great modesty and compliments on his book,[80] of which the whole impression was sold off, and not a copy was to be got, though it had only been out three days. Macaulay and Hallam talked of a branch of our literature of which Guizot, well informed as he is, could know nothing. Macaulay's French is detestable, the most barbarous accent that ever has écorché les oreilles of a Parisian.

On Tuesday I breakfasted with Macaulay, very small party and nothing remarkable. Went in the afternoon to see Lord Beauvale.[81] He talked to me of Melbourne, and so did she. They are not at all pleased at Brougham's being his executor, which astonishes everybody. It would be mighty inconvenient to have Melbourne's papers overhauled by Brougham. Ellice has written to him to propose that they should all be delivered to Beauvale unseen by anybody. He left a letter for Beauvale. In this letter he gives certain pecuniary directions in favour of Lady Brandon and Mrs. Norton, and a solemn declaration that what he had instructed the Attorney-General to say on the trial as to her purity was true. He said that, as his indiscretion had exposed her to obloquy and suspicion, he was bound to renew this declaration.

ELECTION OF LOUIS NAPOLEON.

Bowood, December 20th.—The result of the French election for President has astonished the whole world.[82] Everybody thought Louis Napoleon would be elected, but nobody dreamt of such a majority. Great alarm was felt here at the probable consequences of Cavaignac's defeat and the success of his rival, and the French funds were to rise if Napoleon was beaten, and to fall if he won. The election has taken place: Napoleon wins by an immense majority, the funds rise, confidence recovers, and people begin to find out that the new President is a marvellous proper man. I really believe that the foolish affair of the tame eagle in 1840 was the principal cause of the contempt with which he was regarded here; added to this, he led an undistinguished life in this country, associating with no conspicuous people, and his miserable failure in the Chamber when he attempted to speak there, confirmed the unfavourable impression. But Van de Weyer, who is here, says that he has long known him and well, that he is greatly underrated here, and is really a man of considerable ability. He crossed the water with him when he went to take his seat after his election to the Assembly, and he then expressed the most undoubting confidence in his own success at the Presidential election, and said that he had every reason to believe, if he chose to put himself forward, he would be supported by an immense force, and that he might assume any position he pleased; but that he should do nothing of the kind, that he had a legal position beyond which he would not force himself, but that he was prepared to accept all the consequences to which it might lead. And now there is a pretty general opinion that he will be Emperor before long. The ex-Ministers and Legitimists, who were hot for his election, considering him merely as a bridge over which the Bourbons might return to power, begin to think the success greater than is agreeable, and that such a unanimous expression of public opinion may lead to the restoration of the Bonapartes instead of to that of the Bourbons.

London, January 2nd, 1849.—The past year, which has been so fertile in public misfortunes and private sorrows, wound up its dismal catalogue with a great and unexpected calamity, the death of Auckland, who went to the Grange in perfect health on Friday last, was struck down by a fit of apoplexy on his return from shooting on Saturday, and died early on Monday morning, having only shown a slight and momentary consciousness on seeing his sister Fanny in the course of Sunday. His loss to the Government is irreparable, and to his family it is unspeakably great. To his sisters he was as a husband, a brother, and a friend combined in one, and to them it is a bereavement full of sadness almost amounting to despair. He was a man without shining qualities or showy accomplishments, austere and almost forbidding in his manner, silent and reserved in society, unpretending both in public and in private life, and in the House of Lords taking a rare and modest part in debate, and seldom speaking but on the business of his own department. Nevertheless he was universally popular, and his company more desired and welcome than that of many far more sprightly and brilliant men. His understanding was excellent, his temper placid, his taste and tact exquisite; his disposition, notwithstanding his apparent gravity, cheerful, and under his cold exterior there was a heart overflowing with human kindness, and with the deepest feelings of affection, charity, and benevolence. Engaged from almost his earliest youth in politics and the chances and changes of public life, he had no personal enemies and many attached friends amongst men of all parties. His colleagues in office were fully sensible of the merits which he never endeavoured to push forward, and he was successively raised to the posts of President of the Board of Trade, First Lord of the Admiralty, and Governor-General of India; and he was a second time First Lord of the Admiralty on the formation of John Russell's Administration in 1846.

DEATH OF LORD AUCKLAND.

His government of India was the subject of general applause till just as it was about to close, when the unfortunate Cabul disaster tarnished its fame, and exposed him to reproaches which he did not deserve. Whether that expedition was wisely or unwisely undertaken, it is incontestable that it was suggested or sanctioned by some of the greatest authorities both in England and in India; that the military operations were completely successful, and that the subsequent misfortunes were not attributable to any neglect or impolicy on the part of the civil government. But rage and shame took possession of the public mind at the bloody and discreditable reverse which befel our arms, and without any discrimination all who were concerned in the invasion were involved in a common sentence of indignant reprobation. Lord Auckland bore this bitter disappointment with the calmness and dignity of a man who felt that he had no cause for self-reproach, probably trusting to an ultimate and unprejudiced estimate of the general merits of his laborious and conscientious administration.

His conduct of affairs at the Admiralty, his diligence, his urbanity, his fairness and impartiality have been the theme of loud and general praise. In an office in which jobbing and partiality have so often prevailed, in which from the nature of the service the Minister is compelled to disappoint many fair hopes and just expectations, and to wound the pride, the vanity, and the feelings of many brave and honourable men, it requires the greatest firmness to be just, and the nicest tact and delicacy to avoid giving offence. In this most difficult function no First Lord ever was more successful than Auckland. Always patient and affable, holding out none of the false hopes which in the end make sick hearts, dealing openly and frankly with his officers, he inspired the whole profession with confidence and esteem. Such a character and such a career may well be envied by every well-regulated mind; nor can the termination of that career, however grievous and deplorable to all who loved him, be regarded as an unhappy destiny for himself, for if the pursuits and pleasures of existence were suddenly and prematurely cut off, he was spared from sickness and infirmity with their train of suffering and sorrow, and from the privations which attend the approaches of old age and the gradual decay of the bodily and mental powers. He closed a useful, honourable, and prosperous life with his faculties unimpaired, leaving behind him a memory universally honoured and regretted, and cherished by the tender affection and inconsolable grief of his family and his friends.

RETROSPECT OF THE YEAR.

This Annus Mirabilis, as it may well be called, is at last over, and one cannot but feel glad at getting rid of a year which has been so pregnant with every sort of mischief. Revolutions, ruin, sickness, and death have ravaged the world publicly and privately; every species of folly and wickedness seems to have been let loose to riot on the earth. It would be easy to write a great deal of wise matter, but very little that is new, on these topics. If ever mankind is destined to learn by its own experience, to look at beginnings, middles, and endings, to see what comes of what, and to test the virtue, wisdom, and utility of plausible maxims and high-sounding phrases, this has been the time for mankind's going to school and studying the lessons put before it. We have seen such a stirring up of all the elements of society as nobody ever dreamt of; we have seen a general Saturnalia—ignorance, vanity, insolence, poverty, ambition, escaping from every kind of restraint, ranging over the world and turning it topsy-turvy as it pleased. Every theory and crotchet has had full swing, and powers and dominations have bowed their necks to the yoke and cowered under the misbegotten tyranny which has suddenly changed places with them. Democracy and philanthropy have never before (or hardly ever) had their own way without let or hindrance, carte blanche to work out their own great and fancy designs. This time they leave behind them—and all Europe exhibits the result—a mass of ruin, terror, and despair. Nothing strikes one more than the poverty of invention as well as the egregious folly of the new patriots all over the world. They can think of nothing but overturning everything that exists, and of reconstructing the social and political machine by universal suffrage. To execute the most difficult task which the human mind can have set before it, the task which demands the highest qualities of knowledge, experience, and capacity, it is thought enough to invite masses of men with strong passions and prejudices, without even any of that practical knowledge which might serve, though inadequately, to enable them to play their part in this prodigious operation. Universal suffrage is to pick out the men fit to frame new Constitutions, and when the delegates thus chosen have been brought together—no matter how ignorant, how stupid, how in every way unfit they may be—they expect to be allowed to have their own absurd and ruinous way, and to break up at their caprice and pleasure all the ancient foundations, and tear down the landmarks of society; and this havoc, and ruin, and madness, are dignified with the fine names of constitutional reform. Nor can the excuse be urged that this inundation of wickedness and folly has been brought about by a resistance which stood out too long, and was at last swept away by the effects of its own obstinacy.

Leaving out France altogether, whose Revolution was an accident—and France is retracing her steps as fast as she can, scrambling, crestfallen, perplexed, and half-ruined, out of the abyss into which she suffered herself to be plunged—let us look at Prussia and Rome. In both places the sovereigns spontaneously advanced to meet the wishes and promote the interests of the people: they went to work in the right way. In countries where the people had never exercised political rights and privileges, where self-government was unknown, it was clear that the masses were not capable of legislating or taking an immediate part in framing Constitutions for themselves; but in every country, even in the Roman States, there were some men of education, knowledge, genius, who were more or less qualified to undertake the great work, and the Pope called such men to his councils, and gave the Romans the framework of a Government as liberal as was compatible with the working of any government at all. This was what sense and reason suggested; but, though it pleased his foolish and despicable people for a moment, they soon got tired of such safe and gradual progress as this, ran riot, flung off all control, and proceeded from one excess to another, constantly rising in the scale of democracy, till they reached their climax by assassinating the Pope's Minister, and forcing the Pope himself to escape in disguise from Rome. Nobody knows what they want, nor do they know themselves how they are to recover from the anarchy and ruin in which they are so deeply plunged.

In Prussia better things might have been expected, for there at least the people are better educated, and they have enjoyed municipal institutions, and do know something of the practice of civil administration; nevertheless, Prussia has not shown until lately much more moderation and wisdom than Rome. This, however, now appears to have been entirely the King's fault. If he had displayed more firmness and decision he would have rallied round him the Conservative feelings and interests of the country; but when these interests found themselves abandoned by a Sovereign who commanded 200,000 faithful troops, and they saw him bowing his head to the dictation of the rabble of Berlin, they lost all heart, and democracy became rampant and unrestrained.

At length a reaction began. Vienna first, and Berlin afterwards, were reduced to obedience, and the tide is now flowing back. It is impossible to speculate on the final result, but for the present at least the disgust and abhorrence of the brutal excesses committed under the pretence of a spurious liberalism are intense and apparently increasing.

THE ADMIRALTY OFFERED TO GRAHAM.

London, January 19th.—Lord Auckland's death naturally excited great interest and curiosity about the Admiralty. The first and most general feeling was a desire that Lord Minto might not be his successor. This was proclaimed in the press and in all places; but such a disagreeable manifestation was hard upon him, as it turned out that he not only never aspired to the place, but he at once told John Russell to take the Privy Seal from him without scruple and do anything he pleased with it if his resignation would be of use in any fresh combination he might wish to make; in fact, he behaved very well. Lord John resolved to make the offer to Graham (after having consulted Lord Lansdowne) provided the Cabinet did not object. He called them together and proposed him. Though certainly some of them did not like it, they consented unanimously, and he accordingly wrote to Graham and asked him to come up to town. Graham arrived, and they had a long and frank conversation. Graham said he was quite independent, and his being invited alone was no objection. He asked Lord John what the views and intentions of Government were, and Lord John explained everything to him in the most open and candid manner. Graham seems to have made no objections to anybody or anything, but rather to have hinted his apprehensions that they might not go far enough in the way of economy; and he showed some leaning towards Cobden's schemes, that is, he said he thought there was a great deal in his speech and letter. At the end of the conversation he asked Lord John if he had any objection to his consulting Peel, who, he had reason to believe, was to pass through London that afternoon; if he had, he would give him his answer at once. Lord John said he had no objection, and Graham went away. In the evening he came back, said he had missed Peel and could not consult him, and finally he declined, somewhat I think to Lord John's surprise, for he gave no good reason for declining, and, after asking for information as to the Government plans, and appearing satisfied with them, Lord John naturally expected he would accept. They parted on very friendly terms, but Lord John is not pleased; it has not raised his opinion of Graham, and he will not make him another proposal if he can help it. They cannot understand his conduct and motives, but they think he was afraid—which probably is the truth. They then proposed it to Sir Francis Baring, who took it directly. On the whole he will probably be of more use to them than Graham. The accession of the latter would have been distasteful to the Whigs generally and to many of the Government; he would not have been at his ease with his colleagues nor they with him, and I only wonder he ever hesitated. It is perhaps as well that the offer was made to him, but on the whole better as it is. The Protectionists, who, contemptible as they are as a party, can always do some mischief, would have been more disposed to thwart and embarrass the Government when Graham had become a part of it, for he is their favourite aversion.

Cobden's new economical agitation is making a great stir, and the Government are so uneasy at it that they are moving heaven and earth in the way of reduction.

ATTACKS ON LORD PALMERSTON.

Palmerston has been dreadfully nettled at some recent attacks on him in the 'Times.' Charles Wood sent for Delane and entreated him to desist from these bitter attacks, and he promised he would for the present; he said they had recorded their opinions and did not want to do any more. The state of our foreign affairs and Palmerston's management of them are the astonishment of Europe. There will certainly be more discussion than usual about them in the ensuing Session, but probably with no more result than heretofore. Stanley and Aberdeen will do their best or their worst in the House of Lords, but all their blows will fall on the soft, non-resisting cushion of Lansdowne's evasive urbanity, while in the House of Commons there will be nobody to attack Palmerston, and between those who won't grapple with him, and those who can't, he will come off unscathed, as he has always done. It is said, however, that he is more uneasy (as well he may be) than he ever was before, and from several little symptoms I expect this to be the case. Whether he is or not his colleagues are, and his Royal Mistress still more. Within the last few days fresh difficulties have arisen with reference to Lord Palmerston's conduct of foreign affairs, for he keeps the Queen, his colleagues, his friends, and the party in continual hot water; and on this occasion he seems to have given serious offence to a foreign Power, insomuch that a formal apology is said to be required of him. Yet Lord John has made up his mind to fight through the Session in defence of a colleague whose proceedings give him perpetual annoyance. Aberdeen has been with Peel, and says that he is still more animated against Palmerston than he is himself, and he expects that Peel will not abstain from manifesting his opinion when Parliament meets. Aberdeen said he had no hostility to the Government, and no objection to anything but the conduct of foreign affairs, so much so that if Clarendon came to the Foreign Office he would give him his proxy if he would hold it. The Government are evidently in a stew. There was an article in the 'Times' on Thursday, in which, though there was no attack on Palmerston, who was not named, there was an allusion to former articles and to our conduct to Austria, which evidently rubbed on a sore place, for Charles Wood sent for Delane and expressed his regret that we were on such bad terms with Austria. Delane said, he had all along been saying the same thing, when Charles Wood replied that he did not think we had done anything we could not justify and defend, but unfortunately Palmerston's manner of doing things and the language he employed had given great offence, and that it was much to be regretted that he had given advice and expressed opinions in so offensive a tone as he had done, especially to Austria.[83] All this showed clearly enough that Austria was the Power whom he last insulted. He has not, however, been quite idle about Russia, having instructed Stratford Canning to move the Porte to take some steps to thwart Russian policy in that quarter. Canning was very prudent, and nothing serious came of it; but the Emperor is informed of his proceedings, and has taken care to let him know that he is, without making any quarrel. He has also given Palmerston to understand that it is not his intention to allow great European questions, in which he may naturally be expected to take an interest, to be dealt with without his being consulted and considered.

London, January 28th.—It appears that Graham did not give the same account to Peel and to Lord Aberdeen of what had passed with John Russell about his taking office. Lord John says that he appeared well inclined to accept, made no serious objections to anybody or to anything, and that he could not make out why he finally refused. It is clear, however, that Graham must have given some reasons for declining, and, in fact, they are pretty well agreed as to the latter part of their several statements. John Russell, when the Queen asked him why Graham declined, told her that the reasons he gave were some doubts whether their contemplated reductions would go far enough, and some objections as to the foreign policy; but Lord John clearly thought that these doubts and objections were so faintly expressed that they did not amount to anything like insuperable obstacles. He said with reference to foreign policy, that it always must be remembered that Palmerston had kept us at peace, and as Graham went away expressly to consult Peel, that implied that if Peel advised him to accept he would do so. This is not the conduct of a man who had serious objections to our past policy. Of course he could not join without subscribing to the past and undertaking its defence; but to Peel he declared that he had refused because he could not approve of or defend Palmerston's foreign policy, and because their reductions were not sufficient, putting his objections and refusal in a much stronger way than he appears to have put them to Lord John. All this comes from his timidity, and I have no doubt the want of a really clear conscience. He pines for office, he dreads to take it; he knows he is an object of suspicion and dislike to people of all parties; he is embarrassed with his own position; he is clear-sighted enough to perceive all its entanglements and difficulties. All sorts of absurd stories are current about his demands and what the negotiation went off upon.

OPENING OF THE SESSION.

February 7th.—Parliament opened last Thursday, and the Government began the campaign very victoriously. A great flourish of trumpets had been sounded to announce the attack which Lord Stanley was to make, especially on the vulnerable point of the foreign policy, and the Government and their friends were not at all easy as to the result. Stanley's was one of the worst speeches he ever made, ill put together and arranged, full of ignorance, and consequently of misrepresentations and misstatements. Lord Lansdowne made a very able and judicious reply. The Government got a majority of two in a division which Stanley most unwisely forced on, and the affair ended in a general opinion that the Ministers had much the best of it, and that Stanley had been signally defeated. His blunders, however, were not confined to his speech. He had at first determined not to move any amendment to the Address, and the Duke of Wellington had entreated him not to do so. He had accordingly told Eglinton, his whipper-in, he should not, and Eglinton told Strafford none would be moved. Then Stanley changed his mind, contrary to the opinions of Eglinton and others, and much to the annoyance of the former, who had misled Strafford by his information. After Lansdowne's speech, to persist in the amendment was very injudicious. The Duke of Wellington opposed it in a very sensible speech, when Stanley rose and said there was nothing in his amendment about foreign affairs; on which Lord St. Germains pointed out to him that that was an express allusion to them. He said he had forgotten it, and still persisted; but it is much believed that some of his own people were sent away to avoid the embarrassment of their being in a majority. So much for the Lords.

In the Commons Government was equally triumphant. There had been a great deal of squabbling among the Protectionists about their leadership, some wanting Herries, some Granby, and some Disraeli, and when Parliament met there was nothing settled. Stanley had written a flummery letter to Disraeli, full of compliments, but suggesting to him to let Herries have the lead. Disraeli, brimful of indignation against Stanley and contempt for Herries, returned a cold but civil answer, saying he did not want to be leader, and that he should gladly devote himself more to literature and less to politics than he had been able to do for some time past. Meanwhile Herries declined the post, and Granby with Lord Henry Bentinck insisted on Disraeli's appointment, both as the fittest man, and as a homage to George Bentinck's memory. I saw a note from Disraeli a day or two ago, saying he had received the adhesions of two-thirds of this party. In the House of Commons he appeared as leader, for he moved Stanley's Amendment, which was sent to him so late that he placed Stanley's draft in his own handwriting in the Speaker's hands. He made a clever speech with some appearance of attacking Palmerston in earnest. The debate was adjourned, and the next night Palmerston made one of the cleverest, most impudent, and most effective speeches that ever was heard. It took vastly with the House, threw his opponents into confusion, and he came out of the mêlée with flying colours. The Opposition have committed nothing but blunders, and the Government have naturally reaped the benefit of them, and they are in a high state of elation.

As soon as Graham came to town, he called on me, and gave me his reasons for not having accepted office. He said nothing could be handsomer or more gratifying than John Russell's conduct to him. He had been more than frank, he had been confidential, and had told him things that he desired him not to repeat even to Peel or Aberdeen, and which he said he never would repeat to anybody. Graham made an excellent case for himself, and after hearing him I am satisfied that he both acted fairly and judged wisely. He said, 'I have played some pranks before high heaven in my time. I quitted the Whigs once, and it would not do to quit them again; and unless I could subscribe to all their past conduct and policy, as well as feel quite satisfied for the future, it was better not to join.' The great obstacle he owned was Palmerston, and he anticipated being very likely placed in a state of collision with him, which might have been most embarrassing to himself and to the Government.

SIR J. GRAHAM DECLINES OFFICE.

On Sunday he came to me again. He told me he had called on Stanley and had a good deal of conversation with him. Stanley found fault with Clarendon's letter, which he thought insufficient for the re-suspension of the Habeas Corpus,[84] and Graham said it appeared to him very meagre. He then went on to say that he felt great difficulty in supporting such a coercive measure, when unaccompanied by any remedial measures whatever; that he did not wish to do or say anything to embarrass the Government, but he could not conceal his opinion that remedial measures ought to be brought forward, especially the payment of the Irish Clergy, and he felt the more difficulty about this, because Disraeli in his speech had made an evident appeal to Protestant bigotry by treating this question as altogether gone by and defunct, and one which never could be raised again, and against this he thought a protest ought to be made. He said he was much struck by the absence of all allusion to the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in both Stanley's and Disraeli's speeches, and he could not help thinking they were preparing to embarrass the Government by some opposition to it, and consequently that the task of carrying it through the House of Commons would not be so easy as Government imagined. He gave me to understand that he wished me to communicate to John Russell what he had said to me.

The next day I went and told Lord John what had passed, and afterwards I told Lord Lansdowne. Yesterday morning I saw Graham again, when I found him no longer inclined to think that Stanley would take any part against the Habeas Corpus Bill. When I got to the office, I saw Lord Lansdowne, who told me (albeit not used to talk politics with me) that what I had said to John Russell had had such an effect upon him, that he had determined, as he (Lord Lansdowne) thought very unwisely, and much to his regret, to propose the renewal for six months only instead of for a year as had been intended. I was exceedingly annoyed at this, and told Lord Lansdowne that Lord John must have misunderstood me, or exaggerated the importance of what I had said, and I hoped it was not too late to revert to the original intention, as I was quite certain there was no necessity for limiting the period, and that if there was opposition from any quarter, it would be as great for six months as for twelve. He begged me to go to John Russell at the House of Commons and say so to him, which I did; but he said merely that they had resolved to adopt a former precedent, and should take it for six months. In the evening I saw Lord Lansdowne, who was evidently extremely mortified and disappointed, and said to me, 'I think we have made a great mess of it,' which was a great deal for him. All this proves that there has been considerable difference of opinion in the Cabinet, and it shows a vacillation and infirmity of purpose, which has been all along the besetting sin of this Government.

February 9th.—It appears that the change from twelve to six months was a sudden turn of Lord John's under the influence of fear. He had got it into his head that there would be a strong opposition to the longer period, but not to the shorter. Accordingly at two o'clock on Tuesday he summoned his Cabinet, and to the great astonishment of all or most of them, announced his intention to make this alteration. There was evidently a considerable struggle. Clanricarde told me he did not believe the Bill was necessary at all, and he would rather have let it drop. Labouchere owned yesterday morning it was all wrong. George Grey and Wood evidently went with Lord John.

DISTRESS IN IRELAND.

On Wednesday night the Government found themselves in a great dilemma. When Charles Wood proposed his grant of 50,000l. he had no idea of meeting with any opposition, for he told me he was not sure whether he should give the Irish 50,000l. or 100,000l.; but the English members and constituencies have become savage and hard-hearted towards the Irish, and one after another of all parties jumped up and opposed the grant. Graham said he was for giving it, with the understanding that it should be the last, whereas Charles Wood proposed it as the first of a series of grants. Nobody knows whether it will be carried or not, but it is quite certain that nothing more will be given, let the consequences be what they may. Meanwhile the state of things is monstrous and appalling.

Ireland is like a strong man with an enormous cancer in one limb of his body. The distress is confined to particular districts, but there it is frightful and apparently irremediable. It is like a region desolated by pestilence and war. The people really are dying of hunger, and the means of aiding them do not exist. Here is a country, part and parcel of England, a few hours removed from the richest and most civilised community in the world, in a state so savage, barbarous, and destitute, that we must go back to the Middle Ages or to the most inhospitable regions of the globe to look for a parallel. Nobody knows what to do; everybody hints at some scheme or plan to which his next neighbour objects. Most people are inclined to consider the case as hopeless, to rest on that conviction, and let the evil work itself out, like a consuming fire, which dies away when there is nothing left for it to destroy. All call on the Government for a plan and a remedy, but the Government have no plan and no remedy; there is nothing but disagreement among them; and while they are discussing and disputing, the masses are dying. God only knows what is to be the end of all this, and how and when Ireland is to recover from such a deplorable calamity. Lord Lansdowne, a great Irish proprietor, is filled with horror and dread at the scheme that some propound, of making the sound part of Ireland rateable for the necessities of the unsound, which he thinks is neither more nor less than a scheme of confiscation, by which the weak will not be saved, but the strong be involved in the general ruin. Charles Wood has all along set his face against giving or lending money, or any Government interference in the capacity of capitalist, and he contemplates (with what seems like very cruelty, though he is not really cruel) that misery and distress should run their course; that such havoc should be made amongst the landed proprietors, that the price of land will at last fall so low as to tempt capitalists to invest their funds therein, and then that the country will begin to revive, and a new condition of prosperity spring from the ruin of the present possessors. This may, supposing it to answer, prove the ultimate regeneration of Ireland; but it will be at a cost of suffering to the actual possessors and to the whole of the present generation such as never was contemplated by any system of policy. Lord Lansdowne thinks Trevelyan[85] is the real author of this scheme, who, he tells me, has acquired a great influence over Charles Wood's mind.

February 11th.—I heard from Clarendon last night. He takes the matter of the Habeas Corpus more quietly than I expected, but he says, 'I thank you for telling me the cause of what I consider great vacillation and cowardice on the part of the Government. In the speeches there is no evidence of opposition that could justify a Government in turning away from its purpose.'

Madame de Flahault told me an anecdote about the new French Ambassador, Admiral Cécille, creditable to all the parties concerned. When the Embassy here was offered him, he told the President that he had always been attached to Louis Philippe, and if he was to be made the instrument of saying or doing anything disagreeable to him or his family, he could not accept it. The President said he might be perfectly easy on that score, and that he might go and pay his respects at Claremont as soon as he arrived if he pleased. Accordingly the Admiral sent to the King to offer to wait on him, but Louis Philippe very sensibly said it would only place him in a position of embarrassment, and that he had better not come. I met Duchâtel at dinner on Thursday at Lansdowne House. He spoke highly of the French Ministry and of the President, and he evidently thinks the Monarchy or Empire is more likely to be revived in his person than in that of any other candidate.

THE CEYLON COMMITTEE.

February 15th.—The Government got good divisions the other night on their Irish questions. Graham told me (the morning of the discussion) that he would strongly advise them to make a declaration of their intention to revise local taxation, and connect that question with the Poor Laws. I wrote Charles Wood word what he said, and John Russell acted on the advice. Lord Lansdowne did not conceal from me his disgust at the resolution to which the Cabinet had come of proposing a sort of rate which is to embrace under certain restrictions all Ireland.

February 24th.—Last Tuesday was as disastrous a night as any Government ever suffered, for it was injurious and humiliating. Baillie[86] had given notice of a motion for a Committee of Enquiry into the administration of Ceylon, British Guiana, and Mauritius, with a view to their better government. He afterwards withdrew Mauritius, and the Government resolved to give the Committee about the other two; and they did this, though they knew that what was really meant was an attack on Lord Torrington[87] about Ceylon, and on Lord Grey on both scores. Ellice and I told Grey, whom we met at dinner the day before, that they ought not to give the Committee; but he seemed to be all for it, whether nolens or volens I know not. On Tuesday night this motion came on, when Baillie made the most bitter and abusive speech that could be uttered. He said that he meant it as a vote of censure, and he accused Lord Grey (who was sitting under the gallery all the time) of the most disgraceful and dishonourable conduct, especially in reference to the celebrated Jamaica Memorial in the House of Commons last year. The House went with Baillie, and against Grey and Torrington. The Government met the case in a very poor, blundering, low way; a sort of dodge was attempted and totally failed in the shape of an amendment proposed by Ricardo. Peel said a few damaging words, and John Russell made a very poor speech, which had all the air of throwing Grey over. The motion for a Committee was carried without any division or resistance, and with scarcely any alteration. The effect was as bad as it could possibly be. The Government and their people were mortified and dejected, Grey immensely disgusted, and the Opposition, especially Protectionists, insolent and elated. It is generally believed that if they had divided, they would have been beaten, for all the scattered sections of the Opposition and some of their own friends would have voted against them, and this has revealed the disagreeable truth that they have in fact no hold in the House of Commons, no certain majority, and that whenever all the other parties can find a common ground to meet upon, the Government are sure to be beaten.

Graham called on me on Thursday to talk over this debate. He thought it very damaging and very bad; John Russell wretched; he thought after Baillie's speech he ought to have refused the Committee and abided by the consequences, standing up and manfully defending both his colleague and his employé. He said he had observed that Peel had latterly been more ill-natured to the Government, and that he still bitterly resented Lord John's speech reviving the old dispute on the Appropriation Clause. Lord Aberdeen says the same thing, adding that Peel had never liked Lord John, and that he thought his conduct in attacking him, after the support he had given him, was very bad, and he resented it accordingly, and this was not the last proof he would give of his resentment.

A BREACH OF NEUTRALITY.

March 2nd.—A day or two ago Bankes asked a question in the House of Commons about the stores furnished to the revolutionary Sicilian Government, to which Palmerston made a reply, and the matter dropped. It is very singular that none of the Opposition leaders got hold of it, for there never was a stronger case coupled with all the rest of Palmerston's Sicilian doings. They have so entirely mismanaged their case, and contrived to give him so great a triumph, and to establish such a prestige of his success and dexterity, that it is now difficult, if not impossible, to take the field against him afresh with any prospect of success. But the Sicilian case is so strong and so bad, that even now, when the papers are published, they may make a good deal of it, and do Palmerston some damage if they manage the case well. His case for the maritime interference after the capture of Messina has been thrown over completely by the speech of General Filangieri in the Neapolitan Parliament, which bears every mark of truth; and I have since heard how he got up the story of atrocities supposed to be committed, which he put into the mouth of the Queen in her speech in Parliament, and which he repeated himself with so much effrontery in the House of Commons, and made Lord Lansdowne so innocently repeat in the House of Lords. Long after, I believe two months after the intervention, he wrote to Lord Napier, and desired him to instruct the British Consul at Messina to collect details of the Neapolitan atrocities, and to send them to him, and this was the evidence on which he made the statements which so materially assisted in carrying him through the debate the first night of the session. The mention in the Queen's Speech of the 'King of Naples,' instead of the King of the Two Sicilies, is now said to have been a mere inadvertence, but I have no doubt it was overlooked by his colleagues, but put in by him intentionally and with a significant purpose. It is his whole antecedent conduct from first to last which confers such importance on the case of the stores. Sicilian agents came over here and applied to the Government contractor to supply them, with stores. He said he had none ready, having just supplied all he had to Government, but that if Government would let him have them back, he would supply them to the agents, and replace the Government stores in a short time. The Sicilians had no time to lose, and by their desire the contractor applied to the Ordnance, stating the object of his application. If the matter had been merely treated commercially, and the contractor, without stating his object, had asked the Government to oblige him as a convenience to himself, it would have been quite harmless; but the object having been stated, it became a political matter. So the Ordnance considered it, and they referred the request to Palmerston as Foreign Secretary, who gave his sanction to the transaction. This made the whole thing a political affair, and a direct assistance rendered by Government to the Sicilian insurgents. The Neapolitan Minister heard of it, and an apology to his Government became necessary. All the Ministers saw the gravity of this matter, but by the extraordinary good fortune which never deserts Palmerston, nobody found it out, and not a word was said about it the first night, to the great joy and surprise of the Ministers, who were trembling lest this delicate point should be touched upon.[88]

BATTLE OF CHILLIANWALLAH.

The rate in aid for Ireland is making a great stir and very bad blood in Ireland. The evidence before both Committees is very much against it. Labouchere told me yesterday that the Commons Committee had been much shaken by the evidence of one of the Poor Law Commissioners examined before them yesterday, and the same effect has been produced in the House of Lords. Lord Lansdowne cannot endure it, and, though it is a Government measure, the Cabinet are anything but unanimous about it. Clarendon does not like it either, but he must have money, quocunque modo rem.

In the midst of more important affairs the exposure that has just been made of Hudson's railway delinquency[89] has excited a great sensation, and no small satisfaction. In the City all seem glad of his fall, and most people rejoice at the degradation of a purse-proud, vulgar upstart, who had nothing to recommend him but his ill-gotten wealth. But the people who ought to feel most degraded are those who were foolish or mean enough to subscribe to the 'Hudson Testimonial,' and all the greedy, needy, fine people, who paid abject court to him in order to obtain slices of his good things.

March 7th.—The news from India of Gough's disastrous and stupid battle[90] filled everybody with indignation and dismay, and a universal cry arose for Sir Charles Napier. On Saturday evening I met Lord John Russell at Lord Granville's, and told him so, entreating him to send him out. He answered, in his cold, easy way, that 'it was too late now,' that the campaign could not last beyond the end of this month or middle of the next, and that he therefore could not get out in time; that they had appointed Sir William Gomm, and that the Duke of Wellington gave him a high character, and he thought all would do well; in short, he seemed not inclined to do anything.

On Sunday I called on Arbuthnot at Apsley House, where I found the Duke. I talked to him of the battle; he shook his head, and lifted up his hands. I said they ought to send out Napier; he said he had long ago wanted to do so, that now he could not get out till the campaign was over; that he hoped it would all end well, though it had been a bad affair, and ill-managed. I asked him would Napier go if they would appoint him. He said, 'Oh yes; he would go, he would go,' he repeated. He then went away. When he was gone, Arbuthnot said to me, 'Though the Duke puts a good face upon it, and endeavours to make the best of it, I can tell you (though he will not say so to you or to anybody) that he is extremely alarmed, and thinks the state of things most serious.' He then said that the Duke would like exceedingly to send out Napier, but that he would express no opinion, and give no advice; that he always said he was not a Cabinet Minister, and it was not for him to tender advice, but he would give it if it was asked. I said I had spoken to John Russell the evening before, when Arbuthnot said, if I could do anything with the Government to induce them to send Napier out, it would be doing a great service, and he knew that the Duke would afford every assistance in his power for that purpose. I said I would try. I determined to go and speak to Hobhouse.[91] In my way to Brooks', where I went to look for him, I met Lord Lansdowne, when I urged him to send out Napier. He said he would not go. I told him I knew he would, and then repeated what had passed at Apsley House. He said John Russell had seen the Duke the day before, who had said nothing about it. I told him the Duke would not say anything unless he was asked, but then he would, and would give his opinion. I then went to Hobhouse, found him, and urged him, as strongly as I could, to send Napier out, telling him how clamorous everybody was for it, and what the Duke and Arbuthnot had said to me. He acknowledged that it was the only thing to do, but that he did not know how the Directors were to be brought to consent to it, and that his having the seat in Council or not made the difference between 8,000l. or 18,000l. a year to him, to say nothing of the insult which Napier considered would be put upon him by excluding him from the Council. Hobhouse then said, 'You do not know the difficulties I have had with these men. I have brought the Government, the Duke of Wellington, and the Queen all to bear upon them, and all in vain. It was only the other day, after the affair in which Cureton was killed, that I made another attempt. I sent to Sir James Lushington, and asked him if it was not then possible to send Napier out to India. The next day he sent me word that it was impossible, for if it was proposed not one man would vote for it.'

SIR CHARLES NAPIER SENT TO INDIA.

I replied, since all the powers had failed, that I would bring one more to bear upon them, viz. the House of Commons, and advised him to go down and announce the appointment of Napier as Commander-in-Chief; and if the Directors refused the seat in Council, to cast all the responsibility on them, and ask Parliament for the additional salary. He approved of the plan, if it should become necessary. I ended by urging him to probe the Duke of Wellington, who would tell him his real opinion (he was to see him the next morning), and then to take a decisive step, and send Napier out. I told him his Government wanted credit, and that while in the event of any fresh disasters they would incur an enormous responsibility, and be called to a severe account for not having sent the best man they could find, by doing so now, they would acquire reputation, vigour, and resolution. The next morning early he went to Lord John Russell, and they agreed to appoint Napier. Hobhouse went to the Duke, and it was settled at once, greatly to the Duke's satisfaction. Napier, however, took twelve hours to consider of it, and the Duke told me he did not at all like it. The Directors behaved well, and, whether agreeable to them or not, they acquiesced with a good grace. Ellenborough advised Napier to demand powers greater than had ever been given to any commander-in-chief, but Napier consulted Hardinge, who advised him to do no such thing. He said there was no necessity for them, and that he had much better go out as all his predecessors had done. This was sound advice, and Napier took it. It would have been most unwise in a man appointed under such circumstances to make extraordinary demands upon the authority which only with the greatest reluctance could be induced to give him any powers at all. Hardinge told me this in the House of Lords last night.

The satisfaction at Napier's appointment is great and universal, but I really believe it is in a considerable degree attributable to the accident of my seeing the Duke on Sunday, and bringing him and the Government to an understanding on the subject. If I had not seen Hobhouse on Sunday afternoon, I doubt if any change would have been made, and am inclined to think Gomm's appointment would have been carried out.

Last night in the House of Lords Palmerston got the hardest hit he has ever yet had, though his skin is so impenetrably thick that he will hardly feel it. Some nights ago Bankes had asked a question about the Sicilian arms, which Palmerston answered in his usual offhand way, and as usual the matter fell flat, nobody appearing to think or care anything about it. Palmerston made a sort of explanation, such as it was, without a word in it of regret or excuse, as if it had been all quite natural and right. But the matter did not go off so easily in the Lords. Stanley stated the case he had heard, and asked if it was true. Lord Lansdowne at once owned it was true; he called it 'an inadvertence'! But he said that as soon as it was known to the Cabinet, they were deliberately of opinion that the permission ought to have been withheld, and that instructions had been sent to Temple in case any complaint was made, to apologise, explain, and promise nothing of the sort should ever recur. A more mortifying declaration for Palmerston (if anything can mortify him) could not well be, and it was besides an exposure not to be mistaken. If this affair had stood alone, it might have passed for an inadvertence, but conjoined with all the other circumstances of the case, and the general tenor of Palmerston's Italian policy, nothing can well be worse. Palmerston is safe enough as far as his office is concerned, and the Government will not be shaken, but it is damaging beyond all doubt, and when the question comes to be regularly discussed, Stanley, though now too late, will give him a tremendous dressing.

AFFAIR OF THE SICILIAN ARMS.

March 16th.—I have been entirely occupied with the labour and trouble of migration from Grosvenor Place to Bruton Street, where I took up my abode yesterday evening, and the consequence is that I have not found time to write a line about passing events.[92]

A day or two after Lord Lansdowne's explanation in the House of Lords about the Sicilian arms Bankes made another interpellation in the House of Commons, the object of which was to ask the same question that Stanley had done. But unlike his chief he made a long, rambling, stupid speech, which gave Palmerston one of those opportunities of which he never fails to avail himself with so much dexterity, and accordingly he delivered a slashing, impudent speech, full of sarcasm, jokes, and clap-traps, the whole eminently successful. He quizzed Bankes unmercifully, he expressed ultra-Liberal sentiments to please the Radicals, and he gathered shouts of laughter and applause as he dashed and rattled along. He scarcely deigned to notice the question, merely saying a few words at the end of his speech in replying to it. All this did perfectly well for the House of Commons, and he got the honours of the day. Stanley was furious, and all the Anti-Palmerstonians provoked to death, while he and his friends chuckled and laughed in their sleeves. John Russell also came to his rescue, and made an apology for him, which in his mouth was very discreditable, for it was in fact inconsistent with what Lord Lansdowne had said in the House of Lords.

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