Last night I went to Holland House; found my Lord and my Lady sitting tête-à-tête. About twelve she went to bed, and Standish and I stayed with him till two o’clock, hearing his accounts of speeches and speakers of old times, and anecdotes, some of which I had heard before, and some not, but they bear repeating. He is marvellously entertaining in this way; the stories so good, so well told, his imitations of the actors in the events which he narrates giving you such a conviction of their fidelity. If Lord Holland has prepared any memoirs, and put down all he remembers, as well as all he has been personally concerned in, it will make a delightful book. I asked him if his uncle and Pitt were in habits of communication in the House of Commons, and on terms of mutual civility and good-humour, and he said, ‘Oh yes, very; I think they had a great respect for each other; latterly I think my uncle was more bitter against him’—I enquired whether he thought they would have joined? He thought they might have done so. He thinks the finest speeches Fox made (if it were possible to select out of so many fine ones) were on the war, on the Scrutiny, and on Bonaparte’s overtures. Grattan complimenting him on his speech on the war, he said, ‘I don’t know if it was good, but I know I can’t make a better.’ Fox never wrote his speeches, was fond of preparing them in travelling, as he said a postchaise was the best place to arrange his thoughts in. Sheridan wrote and prepared a great deal, and generally in bed, with his books, pen, and ink, on the bed, where he would lie all day. Brougham wrote and rewrote, over and over again, whole speeches; he has been known to work fifteen hours a day for six weeks together.
It is inconceivable the effect the division on the address has had. Holland said last night he thought it had given them a new lease, and Hobhouse, whom I met in the morning in high glee, talked with great contempt of the tactics and miserable composition of the Tory party. He said that he knew to a vote what their numbers would be on the Church question, and on everything else they should beat them hollow (he did not mean, of course, to include the Irish Corporation Bill in this). The sensible Tories admit it to have been a great blunder, but the authors of the folly affect to bluster and put a good face on it, though it is easy to see that they are really in doleful dumps. But of all bad hits Stanley certainly made the worst. He went on to the last moment living with the Ministers with the utmost cordiality, and giving them to understand that he was generally friendly to them; talked strong anti-Tory language, and impressed on them the conviction that he was with them on everything but the Church. (Exactly like his conduct to Peel and his former colleagues on the matter of Free Trade when he separated from them—1847.) If he had contented himself with declaring that he did not mean to be committed to any particular course by the address, and deprecated a division, he would not only have prevented it, but he would have at once placed himself in a respectable position as a sort of mediator and arbiter between the two parties, and would have had the satisfaction of showing the world that both were disposed to treat him with deference and respect. A word from Stanley would have made Peel abstain from moving his amendment or withdraw it. I met Graham the day before yesterday in the Park, but only exchanged a few words with him. He said the division was a very bad business.
February 9th, 1836
MACAULAY AND BROUGHAM. I was talking yesterday with Stephen about Brougham and Macaulay. He said he had known Brougham above thirty years, and well remembers walking with him down to Clapham, to dine with old Zachary Macaulay, and telling him he would find a prodigy of a boy there of whom he must take notice. This was Tom Macaulay. Brougham afterwards put himself forward as the monitor and director of the education of Macaulay, and I remember hearing of a letter he wrote to the father on the subject, which made a great noise at the time; but he was like the man who brought up a young lion, which finished by biting his head off. Brougham and Macaulay disliked each other. Brougham could not forgive his great superiority in many of those accomplishments in which he thought himself unrivalled; and being at no pains to disguise his jealousy and dislike, the other was not behind him in corresponding feelings of aversion. It was unworthy of both, but most of Brougham, who was the aggressor, and who might have considered the world large enough for both of them, and that a sufficiency of fame was attainable by each. Stephen said that, if ever Macaulay’s life was written by a competent biographer, it would appear that he had displayed feats of memory which he believed to be unequalled by any human being. He can repeat all Demosthenes by heart, and all Milton, a great part of the Bible, both in English and (the New Testament) in Greek; besides this his memory retains passages innumerable of every description of books, which in discussion he pours forth with incredible facility. He is passionately fond of Greek literature; has not much taste for Latin or French. Old Mill (one of the best Greek scholars of the day) thinks Macaulay has a more extensive and accurate acquaintance with the Greek writers than any man living, and there is no Greek book of any note which he has not read over and over again. In the Bible he takes great delight, and there are few better Biblical scholars. In law he made no proficiency, and mathematics he abominates; but his great forte is history, especially English history. Here his superhuman memory, which appears to have the faculty of digesting and arranging as well as of retaining, has converted his mind into a mighty magazine of knowledge, from which, with the precision and correctness of a kind of intellectual machine, he pours forth stores of learning, information, precept, example, anecdote, and illustration with a familiarity and facility not less astonishing than delightful. He writes as if he had lived in the times and among the people whose actions and characters he records and delineates. A little reading, too, is enough for Macaulay, for by some process impossible to other men he contrives to transfer as it were, by an impression rapid and indelible, the contents of the books he reads to his own mind, where they are deposited, always accessible, and never either forgotten or confused. Far superior to Brougham in general knowledge, in fancy, imagination, and in the art of composition, he is greatly inferior to him in those qualities which raise men to social and political eminence. Brougham, tall, thin, and commanding in figure, with a face which, however ugly, is full of expression, and a voice of great power, variety, and even melody, notwithstanding his occasional prolixity and tediousness, is an orator in every sense of the word. Macaulay, short, fat, and ungraceful, with a round, thick, unmeaning face, and with rather a lisp, though he has made speeches of great merit, and of a very high style of eloquence in point of composition, has no pretensions to be put in competition with Brougham in the House of Commons. Nor is the difference and the inferiority of Macaulay less marked in society. Macaulay, indeed, is a great talker, and pours forth floods of knowledge on all subjects; but the gracefulness, lightness, and variety are wanting in his talk which are so conspicuous in his writings; there is not enough of alloy in the metal of his conversation; it is too didactic, it is all too good, and not sufficiently flexible, plastic, and diversified for general society. Brougham, on the other hand, is all life, spirit, and gaiety—‘from grave to gay, from lively to severe’—dashing through every description LORD WILLIAM BENTINCK. of folly and fun, dealing in those rapid transitions by which the attention and imagination are arrested and excited; always amusing, always instructive, never tedious, elevated to the height of the greatest intellect, and familiar with the most abstruse subjects, and at the same moment conciliating the humble pretensions of inferior minds by dropping into the midst of their pursuits and objects with a fervour and intensity of interest which surprises and delights his associates, and, above all, which puts them at their ease.
[Quantum mutatus! All this has long ceased to be true of Brougham. Macaulay, without having either the wit or the charm which constitutes the highest kind of colloquial excellence or success, is a marvellous, an unrivalled (in his way), and a delightful talker.—1850.]
February 12th, 1836
Lord William Bentinck has published an address to the electors of Glasgow which is remarkable, because he is the first man of high rank and station who has publicly professed the ultra-Radical opinions which he avows in this document. It is by no means well done, and a very silly address in many respects. He is a man whose success in life has been greater than his talents warrant, for he is not right-headed, and has committed some great blunder or other in every public situation in which he has been placed; but he is simple in his habits, popular in his manners, liberal in his opinions, and magnificently hospitable in his mode of life. These qualities are enough to ensure popularity. Here is the inscription for the column, or whatever it be, that they have erected to his honour in India, written by Macaulay:—
TO
WILLIAM CAVENDISH BENTINCK,
WHO DURING SEVEN YEARS RULED INDIA WITH EMINENT PRUDENCE,
INTEGRITY, AND BENEVOLENCE;
WHO, PLACED AT THE HEAD OF A GREAT EMPIRE, NEVER LAID ASIDE THE
SIMPLICITY AND MODERATION OF A PRIVATE CITIZEN;
WHO INFUSED INTO ORIENTAL DESPOTISM THE SPIRIT OF BRITISH FREEDOM;
WHO NEVER FORGOT THAT THE END OF GOVERNMENT IS THE HAPPINESS
OF THE GOVERNED;
WHO ABOLISHED CRUEL BITES;
WHO EFFACED HUMILIATING DISTINCTIONS;
WHO GAVE LIBERTY TO THE EXPRESSION OF PUBLIC OPINION;
WHOSE CONSTANT STUDY IT WAS TO ELEVATE THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL
CHARACTER OF THE NATIONS COMMITTED TO HIS CHARGE;
THIS MONUMENT
WAS ERECTED BY MEN
WHO, DIFFERING IN RACE, IN MANNERS, IN LANGUAGE, AND IN RELIGION,
CHERISH WITH EQUAL VENERATION AND GRATITUDE
THE MEMORY OF HIS WISE, UPRIGHT, AND PATERNAL ADMINISTRATION.
February 20th, 1836
I walked home with Lord Sandon last night, and had much talk about the state of parties, particularly about Peel and the events at the close of the last session. He talked upon the usual topic of Peel’s coldness, uncommunicative disposition, want of popular qualities, and the consequent indifference of his followers to his person. With respect to last year, he said that Peel had arranged with the Duke of Wellington and Lyndhurst the course that it would be advisable to adopt with regard to the Corporation Bill, and that he was put exceedingly out of humour by the House of Lords adopting a different line; that the leaders of the Lords found their party impracticable, and they were compelled (or thought themselves so) to give way to the prejudices of the majority. But Peel did not understand this knocking under to violence and folly, and his pride was mortified, because it was a sort of renunciation of his authority as leader and chief of the whole party. Accordingly it was with reference to these proceedings that LORD SANDON’S OPINION OF PEEL. Peel spoke with great bitterness to Sandon, and said that ‘he never would be the tool of the Lords,’ He left town in high dudgeon, and was probably not sorry to display his resentment at the same time with his power, when he suddenly returned and made his speech on the Lords’ amendments. Sandon confirmed the statement of his having done this without any communication with the Duke and Lyndhurst, in which he thinks he was to blame. I think he ought to have seen the Duke, and have imparted to him his intentions and his motives; but with Lyndhurst he probably felt very angry for the part he took. He has now, however, put himself more openly and decidedly at the head of the party, and Sandon considers that Stanley already virtually belongs to it, inasmuch as they sit together and consult together, and the other day when he went to Peel’s house he found Stanley there.