Next to this episode, Jemmy Bradshaw’s speech at Canterbury has attracted the greatest attention, and he has been for many days the hero of newspaper discussion. This speech, which was a tissue of folly and impertinence, but principally remarkable for a personal attack of the most violent and indecent kind upon the Queen, was received with shouts of applause at a Conservative dinner, and reported with many compliments, and some gentle reprehension by the Tory press. His example has since been followed in a less offensive style by two others calling themselves Tories—a Mr. Roby and a Mr. Escott. Of these rabid and disloyal effusions, the Government papers have not failed to make the most, by pointing out the disaffected and almost treasonable character of modern Toryism when embittered by exclusion from office; and there is no doubt that, contemptible as the authors are, their senseless and disgusting exhibitions are calculated to do great mischief; for, if no other evil ensued, it is one of no small consequence to sour the mind of the Queen still more against the whole Tory party, and fasten upon her an impression which it will be difficult to efface, that she is odious and her authority contemptible in their eyes, so long as she is unfavourable to them, and commits herself to other hands than theirs. Peel is to be pitied for having to lead such an unruly and unprincipled faction. VIOLENCE OF THE TORIES. Everything seems disjointed, all is confusion; moderate men, desirous of good government, stability, security, and safe amendment of political evils or errors, can find no resting-place. The Tories, the professors and protectors of Conservative principles, the abhorrers of changes, who would not have so much as a finger laid upon the integrity of the Constitution, are ready to roll the Crown in the dirt, and trample it under their feet; and the Government, to whom the maintenance of the Constitution is entrusted, whose especial duty it is to uphold the authority of the laws, are openly allied with, and continually truckling to, those factions, or sections of factions, which make no secret of their desire and determination to effect changes which nobody denies to be equivalent to revolution; and then we have the weight of the Crown thrown into the scale of this unholy alliance, from the mere influence of personal predilections and antipathies. To such a degree is principle dormant, or so entirely is it thrust into the background by passion, prejudice, or the interest of the passing hour.
November 13th, 1839
At Holland House for three days last week. Lord Holland told many stories of Lord Chatham, some of which I had heard before, and some not. His stories are always excellent, and excellently told, and those who have heard them before can very well bear to hear them again. I think I have somewhere inserted the ‘Sugar’ story, which Lord Harrowby told me many years ago, but without the vivacity and good acting of Lord Holland. Another of his sayings was in the House of Lords, when, on I forget what question, he was unsupported: ‘My Lords, I stand like our First Parents—alone, naked, but not ashamed.’ This was fine. Lord Holland said there was nothing like real oratory in Parliament before the American war.
He had received several letters from Brougham in a most strange, incoherent style, avowedly for the purpose of thanking Lady Holland for the interest he heard she had shown about him when his death was reported, and at the same time to explain that he had no hand in the report, which he did with the utmost solemnity of asseveration;[10] but he took this opportunity to descant on the conduct of the party towards him, of the press, of the people, and of the leading Whigs, talked of the flags of truce he had held out, and how they had been fired on, and that he must again arm himself for another fight. All this in a curious, disjointed style. As these letters were considered flags of truce, Lady Holland fired upon them an invitation to dinner, but he would not come. I met him on Sunday, and asked him why he did not come, but he would not give any answer whatever. On that occasion he talked for two hours without stopping, abusing one person after another, particularly Fonblanque, and then telling the whole history of the Reform Bill and of the famous dissolution, and of all his own exploits on that occasion. It was amusing enough, but he talks too much, and his talk has the grand fault of not impressing his hearers with an idea of its truth; it is lively, energetic, vivacious, abundant, but it is artificial and unsatisfactory, because liable to suspicion and doubt.
[10] It was well known, eventually, that the hoax was entirely his own, and the letter dictated by himself.
Windsor Castle, November 15th, 1839
Here for a Council. I sat next to Baroness Lehzen at dinner—a clever, agreeable woman. She complained of Peel’s having said in the House of Commons that he did not mean to turn her out, and says he ought to have said he could not, and that he had nothing to do with her, as she is not in the public service. I defended Peel. In the evening, Lord Melbourne told me to search the Council books and see what was the form of declaration of the Sovereign’s marriage, so that matter is pretty clearly settled.
November 23rd, 1839
At Wolbeding for three days. Then news came of the Duke’s illness, which, though it turned out to be exaggerated, will, I fear, prove to have given him a shake. The Council being summoned to declare the Queen’s marriage to-day, I have come up to town for it, and am just returned from the declaration, which took place in the lower apartments of the palace. About eighty Privy Councillors THE QUEEN’S BETROTHAL. present, all who were within call having attended. Peel, Lyndhurst, and the Duke. The Duke arrived last night for the purpose; he looked very old, very feeble, and decrepit. I thought a great change was observable in him, but he was cheerful as usual, and evidently tried to make the best of it. The Queen had sent in the morning to enquire after him, and the answer was, ‘He had had a restless night.’ All the Privy Councillors seated themselves, when the folding-doors were thrown open, and the Queen came in, attired in a plain morning-gown, but wearing a bracelet containing Prince Albert’s picture. She read the declaration in a clear, sonorous, sweet-toned voice, but her hands trembled so excessively that I wonder she was able to read the paper which she held. Lord Lansdowne made a little speech, asking her permission to have the declaration made public. She bowed assent, placed the paper in his hands, and then retired.