At Newmarket last week. While there the debate took place on the Registration Bill, carried by a majority of only three, by the defection of Howick and Charles Wood, which was caused, as is said, entirely by the influence of Lord Grey, who is always out of humour with the Government, glad to give them a knock, though ostensibly their friend. However this may be, there was nothing inconsistent in their conduct, and Wood accounted for his vote very fairly. The Tories were triumphant for a moment, but these defeats are now so common and so unproductive of any consequences, that after the first shouting was over nobody seemed to attach much importance to it. The Cambridge and Ludlow elections having gone against them is of greater consequence, because they show that the tide is running that way, and that a dissolution must in all probability be ruinous to them. The Chancellor of the Exchequer’s budget seems to have been very successful, and all agree that he did his part exceedingly well.
Yesterday I met the Duke of Wellington. He was walking in the garden of the park adjoining his own, promenading two young ladies—Lord Salisbury’s daughters—arm in arm. He left them and took me to walk with him to Lansdowne House. He began discoursing about the state of affairs, and lamenting that there was, and could be, no strong Government, and that there never would be till people were convinced by experience of the necessity of having one. He then said, ‘If other people would do as I do, support the Government when they can, and when the Government ought to be supported, it would be much better.’ I said I agreed with him, and that it had given me the greatest pleasure to read his speech on China. He said, ‘All I know is, that it is absolutely necessary that question should be settled, and the justice of our cause be made manifest.’ I said, I was sure it was what he would feel, and that he had done just what I expected, but that he must be aware there were many of his own people who were by no means so well pleased, but, on the contrary, to the last degree annoyed and provoked at his speech. He replied, ‘I know that well enough, and I don’t care one damn. I was afraid Lord Stanhope would have a majority, and I have not time not to do what is right.’
June 12th, 1840
On Wednesday afternoon, as the Queen and Prince Albert were driving in a low carriage up Constitution Hill, about four or five in the afternoon, they were shot at by a lad of eighteen years old, who fired two pistols at them successively, neither shots taking effect. He was in the Green Park without the rails, and as he was only a few yards from the carriage, and, moreover, very cool and collected, it is marvellous he should have missed his aim. In a few moments the young man was seized, without any attempt on his part to escape or to deny the deed, and was carried off to prison. The Queen, who appeared perfectly cool, and not the least alarmed, instantly drove to the Duchess of Kent’s, to anticipate any report that might reach her mother, and, having done so, she continued her drive and went to the Park. By this time the attempt upon her life had become generally known, and she was received with the utmost enthusiasm by the immense crowd that was congregated in carriages, on horseback, and on foot. All the equestrians formed themselves into an escort, and attended her back to the Palace, cheering vehemently, while she acknowledged, with great appearance of feeling, these loyal manifestations. She behaved on this occasion with perfect courage and self-possession, and exceeding propriety; and the assembled multitude, being a high-class mob, evinced a lively and spontaneous feeling for her—a depth of interest which, however natural under such circumstances, must be very gratifying to her, and was satisfactory to witness.
Yesterday morning the culprit was brought to the Home Office, when Normanby examined him, and a Council was THE QUEEN SHOT AT. summoned for a more personal examination at two o’clock. A question then arose as to the nature of the proceeding, and the conduct of the examination, whether it should be before the Privy Council or the Secretary of State. We searched for precedents, and the result was this: The three last cases of high treason were those of Margaret Nicholson, in 1786; of Hatfield, in 1800 (both for attempts on the life of the Sovereign); and of Watson (the Cato Street affair), for an attempt on the Ministers in 1820. Margaret Nicholson was brought before the Privy Council, and the whole proceeding was set forth at great length in the Council Register. There appeared no entry of any sort or kind in the case of Hatfield; and in that of Watson there was a minute in the Home Office, setting forth that the examination had taken place there by Lord Sidmouth, assisted by certain Lords and others of the Privy Council. There was, therefore, no uniform course of precedents, and Ministers had to determine whether the culprit should be brought before the Privy Council, or whether he should be examined by the Cabinet only—that is, by Normanby as Secretary of State, assisted by his colleagues, as had been done in Watson’s case. After some discussion, they determined that the examination should be before the Cabinet only, and consequently I was not present at it, much to my disappointment, as I wished to hear what passed, and see the manner and bearing of the perpetrator of so strange and unaccountable an act. Up to the present time there is no appearance of insanity in the youth’s behaviour, and he is said to have conducted himself during the examination with acuteness, and cross-examined the witnesses (a good many of whom were produced) with some talent. All this, however, is not incompatible with a lurking insanity. His answers to the questions put to him were mysterious, and calculated to produce the impression that he was instigated or employed by a society, with which the crime had originated, but I expect that it will turn out that he had no accomplices, and is only a crackbrained enthusiast, whose madness has taken the turn of vanity and desire for notoriety. No other conjecture presents any tolerable probability. However it may turn out—here is the strange fact—that a half-crazy potboy was on the point of influencing the destiny of the Empire, and of producing effects the magnitude and importance of which no human mind can guess at. It is remarkable how seldom attempts like these are successful, and yet the life of any individual is at the mercy of any other, provided this other is prepared to sacrifice his own life, which, in the present instance, the culprit evidently was.
August 13th, 1840
Two months have elapsed since I have written anything in this book, owing to an unaccountable repugnance, which daily grew stronger, to take up my pen for that purpose. It is true that I had nothing of great interest to note down, but I could frequently have found something worth recollecting if I had not been too idle, too occupied with other things, or paralysed by the disgust I had taken to the task of journalising. It is now too late to record things as I was told them, or events as they occurred, and all is confusion in my recollections. If I were now to begin to describe the transactions of the late two months, I should be writing history, for which I am in no way qualified. However, as I must make up my mind to begin again, and write something, or give up the practice altogether, and as I don’t choose (just yet, at least) to do the latter, I will scribble what occurs to me, and take a short survey of the Parliamentary campaign that is just over. The danger, whether real or supposed, which the Queen ran from the attempt of the half-witted coxcomb who fired at her, elicited whatever there was of dormant loyalty in her lieges, and made her extremely popular. Nothing could be more enthusiastic than her reception at Ascot, where dense multitudes testified their attachment to her person, and their joy at her recent escape by more than usual demonstrations. Partly, perhaps, from the universality of the interest evinced, and partly from a judicious influence or more impartial reflection, she began about this time to make her Court much less exclusive, and all these circumstances produced a better state of feeling between the REVIEW OF THE SESSION. Court and the Tories, and helped to soften the acrimony of political warfare.
Throughout the Session the Ministerial majorities continued to be small and uncertain; but it was all along evident that the Government would not be turned out, that the leaders of the Opposition did not wish to turn them out, and that the differences which prevailed in the Tory party rendered it anything but desirable a change should take place. Consequently, for one reason or other, the Government were never pressed hard upon any points on which defeat would have compelled them to resign. The greatest, most hard-fought, and lengthened contest was upon Stanley’s Irish Registration Bill, which was admirably devised as a party measure, very ably worked, and in support of which the whole body of the Tories came down, night after night, with a constancy, zeal, and unanimity, really remarkable. Their repeated majorities elated them to such a pitch that they were ready, one and all, to relinquish everything else, to come and vote on these questions. It was evident, however, that all their exertions would be foiled by the determination of their opponents to interpose such delays and obstacles as must prove fatal to the measure; and it was not the least judicious part of Stanley’s management when he came down to the House, and, after his long series of victories, announced that he had abandoned his Bill for this year. It was an extremely embarrassing question to Government, and one upon which they could not appear in a favourable point of view. On one hand they were compelled to aid and abet their Irish allies in their opposition to this Bill, so fatal as it would have been to their influence in all the vexatious and unfair modes which they adopted; and on the other hand it showed how little this self-called Reform Ministry cared for any measure of Reform, or rather how heartily they were opposed to any of which the tendency would be injurious to their own political influence. There never was a simpler question of Reform than this, a clearer case of wrong, or one which more loudly demanded a remedy; but the wrong was one by which they largely benefited, and the correction of it would have the effect of augmenting the power of their opponents. Accordingly, by every species of sophistry, by falsehoods of all kinds, by vehement denunciations and endeavours to arouse the passions of the Irish people, they moved Heaven and earth to thwart and defeat the measure. There was, however, only one moment at which the Government were in any jeopardy, for they very early resolved not to let the majorities against them shake them out of their seats. But when Stanley, complaining of the unfair means which had been employed to prevent his bringing on his measure in its different stages, announced that he would invade the days reserved for Government business, Lord John Russell began darkly to hint at the impossibility of the Government conducting the public business if the House sanctioned such an encroachment, and much irritation was exhibited for a short time. Both parties, however, got calm, and a compromise was the result. The Government offered Stanley certain days, which he immediately accepted, acknowledging that nothing but an extreme provocation would justify the course he had threatened to adopt, and so the storm blew over; and this question was nearly the only one which produced any violent debates and close divisions. Besides the usual light skirmishing and the taunts, accusations, and reproaches, here and there thrown out against the Government, there were no serious attacks upon their policy and measures, either domestic or foreign; and upon the whole, setting apart the smallest of their dependable majority, they got through the Session with remarkable success, and have closed it apparently stronger, and with more of public confidence and approbation by many degrees than they enjoyed at the opening. And I believe this to be the truth, notwithstanding the fact that almost all the elections occurring during the Session (in which there have been contests) have been carried by the Tories.
August 18th, 1840 (continued at the Grove)
This improved condition of the Ministry is attributable partly to the success of their measures and the efficient manner in which the LORD JOHN RUSSELL AS LEADER. most important offices have been filled, and partly to the dissensions which prevailed among their adversaries, some striking symptoms of which were exhibited to the public. At the end of the Session, Sir Robert Inglis said to one of the Government people: ‘Well, you have managed to get through the Session very successfully.’ ‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘thanks to your dissensions among yourselves.’ ‘No,’ said Sir Robert, ‘it is not that, but it is the conduct of your leader, his honesty, courage, and ability, which has enabled you to do so.’ Ley, the Clerk of the House of Commons, and a man of great experience, said he had never seen the business so well conducted as by John Russell. Besides this, his reputation in his office is immense, where all his subordinates admit that Colonial affairs never were so well administered. But there can be no doubt that the ill-humour, which on several occasions broke out, sometimes between the leaders and sometimes among the masses of the party—‘The Tory Democracy,’ as the ‘Standard’ calls them—was of essential service to the Government. This first began at the end of last year upon the Privilege question, which Peel took up vehemently, and at once identified himself with John Russell in support of the privileges of the House of Commons. The moment Parliament opened, this matter came under discussion, and for some time exclusively occupied the attention of the House of Commons. There could be no doubt that if Peel had changed his mind and taken the adverse side, he would have thrown the Government into great difficulty and embarrassment, but instead of doing so he took the Privilege side still more warmly than before, threw himself into the van of the contest, and was the most strenuous and the ablest advocate in the cause. Nothing could exceed the disappointment and annoyance of the great body of the Tories at his conduct. Many of them opposed him, and though Graham, Stanley, and others of the principal men voted with him, they did so very reluctantly, and maintained an invincible silence throughout all the discussions. When at last it was settled that a Bill should be introduced, and that Bill had passed the House of Commons, considerable doubt existed whether it would pass the Lords, the Duke of Wellington’s opinion being decidedly at variance with Peel’s on the question. Nothing could have gratified his party more than the rejection of this Bill by the Lords, but however well inclined the Duke was to reject it, he knew that this would be too desperate a game to play, and while it might lead to the dissolution of the Government, it would entail that of the Tory party also. Many conferences took place between Graham and Arbuthnot and Lyndhurst, the result of which was, that the Duke was persuaded to let the Bill pass, but this was not accomplished without much murmuring against the obstinacy of Peel.