[14] [This related to the Catholic foundation of St. Sulpice in Canada.]

Reeve is gone to Paris. He saw Guizot on his arrival, who announced to him what he meant to do. He waits till the Four Powers have settled the Eastern Question, in which he will not meddle in the slightest degree; and when it is settled, he will be ready to join in the Convention. Bourqueney has signed the document de bene esse; this is his wisest and most dignified course.

March 30th, 1841

Nothing new for the last fortnight, the Eastern Question apparently progressing to a settlement DEBATE ON THE POOR LAW. through some not very important obstacles, and, what is of much greater consequence, a fair prospect of an amicable arrangement with America. The new President’s inaugural speech, pedantic and ridiculous as it was, had the merit of being temperate; and Webster had already written to Evelyn Denison, desiring him not to judge of the real sentiments of America by the trash spoken and the violence exhibited in Congress, or by the mob of New York. John Bull, too, who had begun to put himself into a superfine passion, and to bluster a good deal in the French vein, is getting more tranquil, and begins to see the propriety of going to work moderately and without insisting on having everything his own way.

In Parliament there has been nothing of interest but the Poor Law Bill, debated with great heat, and the several clauses carried by majorities very little indicative of the real opinion of the majority of the House. But the truth is that the Tories are (generally) behaving very ill on this question, and their shabbiness is the more striking because the Government have behaved so well. The Tories are just as anxious for the passing of the Bill as their opponents, or more so, nevertheless they stay away or abuse and oppose the clauses, in order to curry favour with their own constituencies and to cast odium on their opponents, by which they may profit in the event of a general election. There is probably not a man of them who would not be annoyed and disappointed to the greatest degree if the Bill should be impaired in its leading principles and material provisions. The Government might, if they had chosen it, have proposed the law as an experimental measure for a short period, so as to cast upon their opponents the ultimate responsibility of the measure, but they dealt with it liberally and wisely, and without reference to temporary interests or party purposes, which, so far from eliciting a corresponding spirit from their opponents, only afforded them the opportunity (of which, without shame or decency, they are availing themselves) to convert it into a source of unpopularity against the Government who bring it forward.

April 5th, 1841

While the American question looks well, the affairs of the East are all unsettled again. The Pasha has, with all humility, declined the conditions of the Sultan’s Hatti-sherif, and the whole thing remains still to be adjusted. Nobody, however, cares or thinks much about it at all, for the Eastern business is become as tedious as a twice-told tale. No more danger to the peace of Europe is apprehended from it; nobody cares a straw for Sultan or Pasha, and still less for the repose of the countries they misgovern or the happiness of the people they oppress.

Sir Robert Peel has dined at the Palace for the first time since the Bedchamber quarrel, and this is deemed important. All domestic interest is absorbed in the blow which has fallen upon Lord Granville at Paris, in the shape of a paralytic stroke, which, from the character of the man, his social position, and the important and unhappy consequences of this affliction to a numerous class of people, excites a very deep and general interest.

May 2nd, 1841

The approach of the Newmarket meetings usually absorbs my thoughts, oppresses me with its complicated interests, and destroys all my journalising energies. After a month’s interval, I take up my pen to note down the events that have occurred in it. I went to Newmarket on Saturday before the Craven Meeting, and on Sunday morning received a letter informing me of the sudden death of my sister-in-law (Mrs. Algernon Greville), which obliged me to return to town. This grievous affliction, so heavy and irreparable to those whom it immediately concerns, matters but little to the mass of society, who for the most part good-naturedly sympathised with the sufferers; but the object, so precious to the narrow circle of her own family, was too unimportant to the world at large to be entitled to anything more than a passing expression of regret. I went down to the funeral, and was unutterably disgusted with the ceremony, with the bustling business of the undertaker, mixing so irreverently with the profound grief of the brothers and other relations who attended, the decking us out in the paraphernalia of woe, and thus dragging us in mourning coaches through LOSS OF THE ‘PRESIDENT.’ crowds of curious people, by a circuitous route, that as much of us as possible might be exhibited to vulgar curiosity. These are things monstrous in themselves, but to which all-reconciling custom makes us submit.