February 6th, 1832

Dined yesterday with Lord Holland; came very late, and found a vacant place between Sir George Robinson and a common-looking man in black. As soon as I had time to look at my neighbour, I began to speculate (as one usually does) as to who he might be, and as he did not for some time open his lips except to eat, I settled that he was some obscure man of letters or of medicine, perhaps a cholera doctor. In a short time the conversation turned upon early and late education, and Lord Holland said he had always remarked that self-educated men were peculiarly conceited and arrogant, and apt to look down upon the generality of mankind, from their being ignorant of how much other people knew; not having been at public schools, they are uninformed of the course of general education. My neighbour observed that he thought the most remarkable example of self-education was that of Alfieri, who had reached the age of thirty without having acquired any accomplishment save that of driving, and who was so ignorant of his own language that he had to learn it like a child, beginning with elementary books. Lord Holland quoted Julius Cæsar and Scaliger as examples of late education, said that the latter had been wounded, and that he had been married and commenced learning Greek the same day, when my neighbour remarked ‘that he supposed his learning Greek was not an instantaneous act like his marriage.’ This remark, and the manner of it, gave me the notion that he was a dull fellow, for it came out in a way which bordered on the ridiculous, so as to excite something like a sneer. I was a little surprised to hear him continue the thread of conversation (from Scaliger’s wound) and talk of Loyola having been wounded at Pampeluna. I wondered how he happened to know anything about Loyola’s wound. Having thus settled my opinion, I went on eating my dinner, when Auckland, who was sitting opposite to me, addressed my neighbour, ‘Mr. Macaulay, will you drink a glass of wine?’ I thought I should have dropped off my chair. It was Macaulay, the man I had been so long most curious to see and to hear, whose genius, eloquence, astonishing knowledge, and diversified talents have excited my wonder and admiration for such a length of time, and here I had been sitting next to him, hearing him talk, and setting him down for a dull fellow. I felt as if he could have read my thoughts, and the perspiration burst from every pore of my face, and yet it was impossible not to be amused at the idea. It was not till Macaulay stood up that I was aware of all the vulgarity and ungainliness of his appearance; not a ray of intellect beams from his countenance; a lump of more ordinary clay never enclosed a powerful mind and lively imagination. He had a cold and sore throat, the latter of which occasioned a constant contraction of the muscles of the thorax, making him appear as if in momentary danger of a fit. His manner struck me as not pleasing, but it was not assuming, unembarrassed, yet not easy, unpolished, yet not coarse; there was no kind of usurpation of the conversation, no tenacity as to opinion or facts, no assumption of superiority, but the variety and extent of his information were soon apparent, for whatever subject was touched upon he evinced the utmost familiarity with it; quotation, illustration, anecdote, seemed ready in his hands for every topic. Primogeniture RELUCTANCE TO MAKE PEERS. in this country, in others, and particularly in ancient Rome, was the principal topic, I think, but Macaulay was not certain what was the law of Rome, except that when a man died intestate his estate was divided between his children. After dinner Talleyrand, and Madame de Dino came in. He was introduced to Talleyrand, who told him that he meant to go to the House of Commons on Tuesday, and that he hoped he would speak, ‘qu’il avait entendu tous les grands orateurs, et il désirait à présent entendre Monsieur Macaulay.’

February 7th, 1832

Called on Melbourne. He said he had not meant Haddington to understand that it was desirable the declaration should be delayed; on the contrary, that it was desirable Ministers should be informed as speedily as possible of the intentions of our friends and of the force they can command, but that if only a few declared themselves, they would certainly be liable to the suspicion that they could not get adherents; he added that every man in the Government (except one) was aware of the desperate nature of the step they were about to take (that man of course being Durham.) I told him that his communication to Haddington had to a certain degree had the effect of paralysing my exertions, and he owned it was imprudent. I was, however, extremely surprised to hear what he said about the Cabinet, and I asked him if it really was so, and that all the members of it were bonâ fide alarmed at, and averse to, the measure; that I had always believed that, with the exception of those who were intimate with him, they all wanted the pretext in order to establish their power. He said no, they really all were conscious of the violence of the measure, and desirous of avoiding it; that Lord Grey had been so from the beginning, but that Durham was always at him, and made him fall into his violent designs; that it was ‘a reign of terror,’ but that Durham could do with him what he pleased. What a picture of secret degradation and imbecility in the towering and apparently haughty Lord Grey! I told Melbourne that it was important to gain time, that there was an appearance of a thaw among the 199, but that most of them were in the country; communications by letter were difficult and unsatisfactory; that many were averse to breaking up the party or leaving the Duke—in short, from one cause or another doubtful and wavering; that it was not to be expected they should at a moment’s warning take this new line, in opposition to the opinions and conduct of their old leaders, and that when Lord Harrowby was exerting himself indefatigably to bring them to reason, and to render a measure unnecessary which in the opinion of the Cabinet itself was fraught with evil, it was fair and just to give him time to operate. He said this was very true, but that time was likewise required to execute the measure of a creation of Peers, that people must be invited, the patents made out, &c. We then parted. Downstairs was Rothschild the Jew waiting for him, and the valet de chambre sweeping away a bonnet and a shawl.

On my way from Melbourne called on Lord Harrowby, and read a variety of letters—answers from different Peers to his letters, Wharncliffe’s correspondence with the Duke of Wellington, and Peel’s answer to Lord Harrowby. Wharncliffe wrote a long and very conciliatory letter to the Duke, nearly to the effect of Lord Harrowby’s circular, and containing the same arguments, to which the Duke replied by a long letter, written evidently in a very ill humour, and such a galimatias as I never read, angry, ill expressed, and confused, and from which it was difficult to extract anything intelligible but this, ‘that he was aware of the consequences of the course he should adopt himself,’ and wished the House of Lords to adopt, viz., the same as last year, but that be those consequences what they might, the responsibility would not lie on his shoulders, but on those of the Government; he acknowledged that a creation of Peers would swamp the House of Lords, and, by so doing, destroy the Constitution, but the Government would be responsible, not he, for the ruin that would ensue; that he was aware some Reform was necessary (in so far departing from his former declaration of the 30th of November), but he would neither propose anything himself, nor take this measure, nor try and amend it.’ In short, he will do nothing but talk nonsense, despair, and be PEEL’S DESPONDENCY. obstinate, and then he is hampered by declarations (from which he now sees himself that he must dissent), and obliged from causes connected with the Catholic question and the Test and Corporation Acts to attend more to the consistency of his own character than to the exigencies of the country, but with much more personal authority than anybody, and still blindly obeyed and followed by men many of whom take very rational and dispassionate views of the subject, but who still are resolved to sacrifice their own sense to his folly. He really has accomplished being a prophet in his own country, not from the sagacity of his predictions, but from the blind worship of his devotees.

Peel’s letter, though arriving at the same conclusion, was in a very different style. It certainly was an able production, well expressed and plausibly argued, with temper and moderation. He owned that much was to be said on the side of the question which he does not espouse, but the reasons by which he says he is mainly governed are these: that it is of vital importance to preserve the consistency of the party to which we are to look for future safety, and that when this excitement has passed away the conduct of the anti-Reformers will have justice done to it. But there is a contradiction which pervades his argument, for he treats the subject as if all hope had vanished of saving the country, ‘desperat de republicâ,’ and he does not promise himself present advantage from the firmness and consistency of the Tories, but taking it in connection with the folly and wickedness of the other party (who he is persuaded bitterly regret their own precipitate violence and folly), he expects it to prove serviceable as an example and beacon to future generations. All the evils that have been predicted may flow from this measure when carried into complete operation, but it is neither statesmanlike nor manly to throw up the game in despair, and surrender every point, and waive every compensation, in order to preserve the consistency of himself and his own party, not that their consistency is to produce any advantage, but that hereafter it

May point a moral or adorn a tale.

So senseless is this, that it is clear to me that it is not his real feeling, and that he promises himself some personal advantage from the adoption of such a course. Peel ‘loves’ himself, ‘not wisely but too well.’

February 9th, 1832

Yesterday I met Lord Grey and rode with him. I told him that the Tories were pleased at his speech about the Irish Tithes. He said ‘he did not know why, for he had not said what he did with a view to please them.’ I said because they looked upon it as an intimation that the old Protestant ascendency was to be restored. He rejected very indignantly that idea, and said he had never contemplated any ascendency but that of the law and the Government. I said I knew that, but that they had been so long used to consider themselves as the sole representatives of the law and the Government, that they took the assertion he had made as a notification that their authority was again to be exercised as in bygone times. He then asked me if I knew what Lord Harrowby had done, said he had spoken to him, that he was placed in a difficult position and did not know what to do. I said that Harrowby was exerting himself, that time was required to bring people round, that I had reason to believe Harrowby had made a great impression, but that most of the Peers of that party were out of town, and it was impossible to expect them on the receipt of a letter of invitation and advice to reply by return of post that they would abandon their leaders and their party, and change their whole opinions and course of action, that I expected the Archbishop and Bishop of London would go with him, and that they would carry the bench. He said the Bishop of London he had already talked to, that the Archbishop was such a poor, miserable creature that there was no dependence to be placed on him, that he would be frightened and vote any way his fear directed. Then he asked, how many had they sure? I said, ‘At this moment not above eight Lords and eight bishops.’ He said that was not enough. I said I knew that, but he must have patience, and should remember that when the Duke of Wellington brought the Catholic Bill into the House of Commons he had a majority CONVERSATION WITH LORD GREY. on paper against him in the House of Lords of twenty-five, and he carried the Bill by a hundred. He said he should like to talk to Harrowby again, which I pressed him to do, and he said he would. I find Lord John Russell sent for Sandon, and told him that he and the others were really anxious to avoid making Peers, and entreated him to get something done by his father and his associates as soon as possible, that there was no time to be lost, that he should not deny that he wished Peers to be made, not now, but after the Reform Bill had passed. I called on Lord Harrowby in the afternoon, and found him half dead with a headache and dreadfully irritable. Letters had come (which he had not seen) from Lord Bagot refusing, Lord Carteret ditto, and very impertinently, and Lord Calthorpe adhering. I told him what had passed between Lord Grey and me. He said their insolence had been hitherto so great in refusing to listen to any terms (at the meeting of the six), and in refusing every concession in the House of Commons and not tolerating the slightest alteration, that he despaired of doing anything with them, that Lord Grey had told him he could not agree to make a sham resistance in Committee, but that he on the other hand would not agree to go into Committee, except on an express understanding that they should not avail themselves of the probable disunion of the Tories to carry all the details of their Bill. The difficulties are immense, but if Grey and Harrowby get together, it is possible something may be done, provided they will approach each other in a spirit of compromise. It is certainly easier now, and very different from the House of Commons, where I have always thought they could make no concession. In the House of Lords they may without difficulty. I dread the obstinate of both parties.