September 23rd, 1829
At Fulham till Friday, when I came to town. Went to Stoke on Saturday, and returned yesterday; old Lady Salisbury, Giles, E. Capel, and Conroy. There is always something to be learnt from everybody, if you touch them on the points they know. Giles told me about the letter to his sister written by Francis,[5] and which was supposed to have afforded another proof that he was Junius. Many years ago Francis was in love with his sister, Mrs. King (at Bath), and one day she received an anonymous letter, enclosing a copy of verses. The letter said that the writer had found the verses, and being sure they were meant for her, had sent them to her. The verses were in Francis’ handwriting, the envelope in a feigned hand. When the discussion arose about Francis being Junius, Giles said to his sister one day, ‘If you have kept those verses which Francis wrote to you many years ago at Bath, it would be curious to examine the handwriting and see if it corresponds with that of Junius.’ She found the envelope and verses, and, on comparing them, the writing of the envelope was A MAN WITHOUT MONEY. identical with that of Junius as published in Woodfall’s book.
[5] [Sir Philip Francis, the reputed author of the ‘Letters of Junius.’ This anecdote has since been verified with great minuteness by Mr. Twisleton in his researches on the authorship of ‘Junius.’ The copy of verses and the envelope in a feigned hand are still in existence. I have seen them. The feigned hand appears to be identical with that of Junius.]
Old Creevey is rather an extraordinary character. I know nothing of the early part of his history, but I believe he was an attorney or barrister; he married a widow, who died a few years ago; she had something, he nothing; he got into Parliament, belonged to the Whigs, displayed a good deal of shrewdness and humour, and was for some time very troublesome to the Tory Government by continually attacking abuses. After some time he lost his seat, and went to live at Brussels, where he became intimate with the Duke of Wellington. Then his wife died, upon which event he was thrown upon the world with about 200ℓ. a year or less, no home, few connections, a great many acquaintance, a good constitution, and extraordinary spirits. He possesses nothing but his clothes, no property of any sort; he leads a vagrant life, visiting a number of people who are delighted to have him, and sometimes roving about to various places, as fancy happens to direct, and staying till he has spent what money he has in his pocket. He has no servant, no home, no creditors; he buys everything as he wants it at the place he is at; he has no ties upon him, and has his time entirely at his own disposal and that of his friends. He is certainly a living proof that a man may be perfectly happy and exceedingly poor, or rather without riches, for he suffers none of the privations of poverty and enjoys many of the advantages of wealth. I think he is the only man I know in society who possesses nothing.
Captain Dickinson’s trial[6] ended last week, with a sentence which was levelled against Codrington, and which called the charges groundless, frivolous, and vexatious. It is generally thought that this sentence might have been spared, though the acquittal was proper; that Codrington behaved very foolishly, and in ever mentioning the round robin after he had forgiven it, very inexcusably; but that, on the other hand, the Admiralty had displayed a spirit of hostility and rancour against him which is very disgusting, and that Blackwood was sent down to the court-martial for the express purpose of bullying and thwarting him. I saw him after the sentence; he seemed annoyed, but said that such a sentence made it necessary the matter should not stop there, and that it must be taken up in Parliament. I cannot see what he is to gain by that; he may prove that the Ministry of that day (which was not the Duke’s) behaved very ill, but that has nothing to do with the court-martial.
[6] [Captain Dickinson fought the ‘Genoa’ at the battle of Navarino after Captain Bathurst, the commander of the ship, was killed. A quarrel afterwards took place between him and Sir Edward Codrington, and Dickinson was tried by court-martial for not making proper use of the springs ordered by the Admiral to be placed on the anchors, the consequence of which was that her broadside was not directed against the enemy, but fired into the ‘Albion.’ Captain Dickinson was honourably acquitted of all the charges, and it was proved that Sir Edward Codrington’s recollection of what had passed was inaccurate in some particulars.]
The whole press has risen up in arms against the Duke’s prosecution of the ‘Morning Journal,’ which appears to me, though many people think he is right, a great act of weakness and passion. How can such a man suffer by the attacks of such a paper, and by such attacks, the sublime of the ridiculous?—‘that he is aiming at the Crown, but we shall take care that he does not succeed in this.’ The idea of the Duke of Wellington seeking to make himself King, and his ambition successfully resisted by the editor of a newspaper, ‘flogs’ any scene in the ‘Rehearsal.’ I saw the Duke yesterday morning; he was just come from Doncaster, where he told me he had been very well received. He was with Chesterfield, who was to have had a large party. Afterwards I rode with him, and he took me to see his house, which is now excellent. He told me that both the King’s eyes were affected, the left the most, and that he would have the operation performed when they were fit for it; he said that the King never evinced any fear upon these occasions, that he was always perfectly cool, and neither feared operations or their possible consequences; that he remembered when he had a very painful and dangerous operation performed some time ago upon his head, that he was not the least nervous about it, nor at all afraid of dying, for they told him that he would very likely not recover. I said, ‘Then, after CHATSWORTH. all, perhaps he who has the reputation of being a coward would prove a very brave man if circumstances occasioned his showing what he is.’ He said, ‘Very likely;’ that he seemed to have but one fear, that of ridicule: he cannot bear the society of clever men, for fear of ridicule; he cannot bear to show himself in public, because he is afraid of the jokes that may be cut on his person.
In the evening I met Matuscewitz, who is all glorious at the Russian successes. He, Montrond, and I talked the matter over, and he said that they should make peace, but of course (I had said, ‘Vous serez modestes, n’est-ce pas?’) they should profit by circumstances; that the Allied Ministers would not be permitted to interfere, and they should grant such terms as they pleased without consulting them. This was a lie,[7] for Bandinell had told me in the morning that the negotiations were going on in concert with the Ambassadors of the Allies.
[7] It was not a lie though after all, for I don’t believe the Allied Ministers had any concern in the matter. (December 5th.)—[C.C.G.]