The world was astonished by Sir Thomas Acland giving notice of a motion, which comes on to-morrow, for expunging from the Journals the famous Appropriation Resolution which turned out Peel’s Government.[1] It was doubted at first whether this was a spurt of his own or a concerted project, but it turns out to have been the latter. The Government think it a good thing for them, as they count THE APPROPRIATION CLAUSE MAINTAINED. upon a certain majority, and I am quite unable to see the use of such a motion as this, even as a party move. The Duke of Wellington said, at the end of last Session, that he wished to meet the Government half way, and settle the Tithe question, and nothing can be less likely to promote an adjustment than this attack; but I understand now they do not wish to settle it, and that they prefer trusting to the operation of Stanley’s Bill, and say there is no reason for accepting 75 per cent. for the clergy when they can eventually get the whole. But they had better settle the question if they possibly can, for experience might have shown them that if the spirit of resistance and hostility to the Church is again roused into action, the means of vexing and impoverishing the clergy will not be wanting, and the provisions of Stanley’s Bill will only have the effect of making the landlords parties to the contest, who, if they find their own interests at variance with the interests of the Church, will not hesitate for a moment in sacrificing the latter. It is very surprising that Peel should consent to this motion, and the more so because his speech at the dinner yesterday is said to have been extremely moderate in all respects.
[1] [Upon Lord John Russell bringing in a Bill for settling the Irish Tithe question, Sir Thomas Acland moved, as a preliminary step to this discussion, that the celebrated resolution of the 8th of April, 1835, for the appropriation of the surplus revenues of the Irish Church should be rescinded. Upon a division the Government proposal was carried by 317 to 298 votes.]
May 18th, 1838
At Newmarket all the week past. Since I have been away there was the debate and division on Acland’s motion. The Government talked of 23, and the Opposition of 15 majority, and it turned just between the two. It was a very ill-advised measure, and I have no doubt was forced on Peel against his judgement, and that it was not approved by the Duke; but the fact is, they cannot manage their party. Peel’s speech was anything but good, and smacked of unwillingness; Stanley’s was very poor; John Russell’s was very good in facts, but ill-judged in some respects, and it is neither wise nor dignified, nor in good taste, to keep flinging at the Bishop of Exeter as he does; Morpeth’s was the best, brilliant and effective. Peel said to him, when they were going out to divide, ‘I can appreciate a good speech when made against me as well as when it is for me, and I must tell you that yours was the best speech of the debate.’ This was becoming and judicious, and such courtesies soften the asperities of Parliamentary warfare. The Government had much the best of the argument, and the Tories contrived to afford them a triumph upon the Appropriation Clause, and at the same time enabled them to shake it off (onerous and inconvenient as it was) without further difficulty. There was some ingenuity in doing this. I cannot help thinking Peel likes to see his party defeated in this way. The Government think it has been a very great thing for them, and no doubt it has done them service. Peel’s speech at the banquet was somewhat didactic, and too much in the style of a political sermon; but it was very good, full of excellent sense, couched in excellent language, but it may be doubted if his moderation was palatable to the majority of his hearers.[2]
[2] [A banquet was given to Sir R. Peel on the 12th of May, in Merchant Taylors’ Hall, by 300 Conservative members of the House of Commons.]
May 23rd, 1838
Talleyrand is dead. He died after a short illness some day last week. It would require a nice discrimination of character and intimate knowledge of the man to delineate his, a great deal more of both than I possess, therefore I shall not attempt it. During the period of his embassy in England I lived a good deal with him, his house being always open to me, and I dined there en famille whenever I pleased. Nothing could be more hospitable, nothing more urbane and kind than he was; and it was fine to see, after his stormy youth and middle age, after a life spent in the very tempest and whirlwind of political agitation, how tranquilly and honourably his declining years ebbed away. Still retaining his faculties unimpaired, and his memory stored with the recollections of his extraordinary and eventful career, and an inexhaustible mine of anecdotes, his delight was to narrate, which he used to do with an abundance, a vivacity, and a finesse peculiar to himself, and to the highest degree interesting and attractive. No name was once held in greater detestation in England than that of Talleyrand. He was looked upon universally as a sink of moral and political profligacy. Born at the end of Louis XV.’s reign, and bred up in the social pleasures and corruptions of DEATH OF TALLEYRAND. that polite but vicious aristocracy, he was distinguished in his early youth for his successful gallantries, for the influence he obtained over women, and the dexterity with which he converted it to his advancement. A debauched abbé and bishop, one of the champions and then one of the victims of the Revolution, afterwards (having scrambled through the perilous period of Terrorism) discarding his clerical character, he became the Minister of the Consulate and the Empire, and was looked upon all over Europe as a man of consummate ability, but totally destitute of principle in public or in private life. Disgraced by Napoleon, he reappeared after his fall, and was greatly concerned in the restoration of the Bourbons. For a short time only employed, but always treated by them with consideration and respect, the Revolution of July again brought Talleyrand prominently on the stage, and, to the surprise of all men, he accepted the embassy to London. The years he passed here were probably the most peaceful of his life, and they served to create for him a reputation altogether new, and such as to cancel all former recollections. His age was venerable, his society was delightful, and there was an exhibition of conservative wisdom, ‘of moderate and healing counsels,’ in all his thoughts, words, and actions very becoming to his age and station, vastly influential from his sagacity and experience, and which presented him to the eyes of men as a statesman like Burleigh or Clarendon for prudence, temperance, and discretion. Here therefore he acquired golden opinions, and was regarded by all ranks and all parties with respect, and by many with sincere regard. When he was attacked in the House of Lords the Duke of Wellington rose in his defence, and rebuked the acrimony of his own friends. Talleyrand was deeply affected at this behaviour of the Duke. I regret much not having availed myself of the opportunities I might have had to listen to and record the talk of Talleyrand, but the fact is, he was so inarticulate, and I so deaf, that the labour would have been greater than I could go through for the object. The account which my brother has sent me of the circumstances which preceded his death, and of his reconciliation with the Church, are very curious.[3] He had always desired to die at Valençay, in order to avoid the scandal which he apprehended there might be in Paris from the severity of the Archbishop, but it was contrived to get everything quietly and decently settled, and he died in peace with the Church, and with all the absolutions and benedictions that she could have bestowed upon the most faithful of her sons.
[3] [These particulars are now published in the ‘Leaves from the Journals of Henry Greville,’ selected by his niece, the Viscountess Enfield.]
May 27th, 1838
Yesterday, at two o’clock, died, after a week’s illness, of a low bilious fever, Lady Harrowby,[4] the oldest and most intimate of my friends, and the woman in the world for whom I had the greatest respect and regard. My intercourse with her had been much diminished for many years past; such changes take place in our social habits without any cause except those which the lapse of time, different pursuits, ties, and habits, bring about. There is a melancholy satisfaction in dwelling upon the noble qualities which death has extinguished, and the excellence of Lady Harrowby demands a brief tribute of affection and admiration from those who, having best known her virtues, have the greatest reason to deplore, and are best able to appreciate, her loss. She had a mind of masculine strength united with a heart of feminine softness; for while she was resolute and determined, and had firmness and courage to bear up against the heaviest afflictions, she had no coldness or insensibility in her temperament, but was endowed with the tenderest and warmest affections. She was not by nature imaginative, but her understanding was excellent and utterly devoid of lumber and affectation. She had the sound practical sense of a vigorous and healthy mind, without a particle of vanity or conceit; she never attempted to plunge out of her depth, or to soar beyond the level of her comprehension and her knowledge. Her conversation therefore was CHARACTER OF LADY HARROWBY. happily described by an old and attached friend and very competent judge, when he said of it that ‘her talk was so crisp.’[5] She had an even flow of animal spirits, was never capricious or uncertain, full of vivacity, with a constant but temperate enjoyment of society; never fastidious or exclusive, tasting and appreciating excellence without despising or slighting mediocrity; attentive, affable, and obliging to all, and equally delighting all, because her agreeableness was inseparable from her character, and was an habitual and unceasing emanation from it, rather than the exertion of a latent power only drawn forth by the attraction of corresponding intellectual energies; perfectly natural both in manner and character, honest, straightforward, sincere, and true, but with a genuine benevolence which made her sensitively shrink from the infliction of pain. Delivered altogether from ‘envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,’ she was ever inclined to extenuate the faults, to pardon the errors, and to put the best construction on the motives of others; no mean jealousy ever entered her mind, no repining at the prosperity, however unmerited, of other people. She drew pleasure from the purest of all sources, from the contemplation of the success, the happiness, and the welfare of her friends and acquaintance. With an exquisite tact, without the slightest appearance of art, frank without severity, open without imprudence, always negligent of self and considerate of others, all her thoughts, impulses, and actions were regulated by the united influence of the highest principles, the clearest judgement, and the kindliest feelings. Thus blessed in her own happy disposition, she was a blessing to all around her. She was the ornament and delight of society, the comfort, support, and joy of her own family. The numerous friends who admired and esteemed her will sincerely deplore her loss; the world, in which she never made an enemy, will render its tribute of justice to her merit in a transient but general expression of regret; but to the grief of her children, the bitterness of which time alone can assuage, time itself can afford but an imperfect consolation, for so entirely was she associated with the interests, the habits, and the pursuits of their existence, that every passing day and hour will bring something to remind them of the loss they have sustained. But although it has not been permitted to them to see her days extended to the ordinary term of human life, and to be engaged in the tender office of ‘rocking the cradle of her declining age,’ for herself it is no unhappy or unenviable lot to have closed a useful, an honourable, and a prosperous career in the unimpaired possession of her faculties, without mental disquietude or bodily pain, and surrounded by all the dearest objects of her interest and her love.