Last night died very suddenly Colonel Armstrong, a man who will leave many social regrets behind him. He was formerly A.D.C. to the Duke of York, and equally a favourite of his and of the Duchess. He had very little general knowledge, and had never received much education, but he was very quick and intelligent, with a strong turn for humour and drollery, and perfectly good-humoured, inoffensive, and well-bred. Nobody ever heard him say a spiteful or ill-natured thing, and he was always lively and agreeable without ever being obtrusive in society. He was an excellent specimen of a man of the world, who lived upon its passing events without mixing himself up in its malignities and its quarrels, and who was universally respected and esteemed. The regrets of the world are of a very light and transitory nature, but Armstrong leaves a void in the society which he frequented, and this is all the sensation which anybody without public importance can expect to produce.
DEATH OF COLONEL ARMSTRONG.
June 5th.—I have not written one line since March 23—a longer interval, I think, than has ever passed since I first began to journalise. The principal reason for this cessation has been that my mind has been disquieted and unsettled. The racing and racehorses, and all things appertaining thereto, the betting, buying, selling, the quarrels and squabbles, the personal differences and estrangements, the excitement and agitation produced by these things, have had the effect on my mind of withdrawing my attention from public affairs, from literature, from society, from all that is worth attending to and caring for, from everything that is a legitimate object of interest, and wasting my thoughts, faculties, and feelings on all that is most vile, most worthless, and most morally and mentally injurious. This is the confession that I am obliged to make, for this is the true cause why I have left unnoticed and unrecorded every event or circumstance that has occurred for many weeks past. It is also, in some degree, owing to the circumstance of my knowing very little of what is going on. While the late Ministry were in office, my intimacy with so many of them or their near connexions put me in the way of information; but I have no intimacy with any of these people, and consequently I know nothing but what everybody else knows. The history of the last two months may be very briefly told, and a short sketch will suffice for all that is essential of it.
Peel's government has been acquiring fresh power and solidity every day till now; there is hardly any opposition to it in Parliament or out. The whole country is prepared, if not content, to take his measures, and let him have his own way without let or hindrance. For the last few weeks bribery and fancy balls have excited much greater interest than income-tax and tariff. The distress in the country does not diminish, but its miseries are neither seen nor felt amidst the 'fumum et opes, strepitumque Romæ;' and as nobody thinks that the 'sanguine cloud' has 'quenched the orb of day,' that it arises from any other than temporary and accidental causes, the world waits patiently for some beneficial change.
Last week the Queen was shot at, very much in the same manner and on the same spot as two years ago. She was aware that the attempt had been meditated the day before, and that the perpetrator was at large, still she would go out, and without any additional precautions. This was very brave, but imprudent. It would have been better to stay at home, or go to Claremont, and let the police look for the man, or to have taken some precautionary measures. It is certainly very extraordinary, for there is no semblance of insanity in the assassin, and no apparent motive or reason for the crime. This young Queen, who is an object of interest, and has made no enemies, has twice had attempts made on her life within two years. George III., a very popular king, was exposed to similar attempts, but in his case the perpetrators were really insane; while George IV., a man neither beloved nor respected, and at different times very odious and unpopular, was never attacked by anyone.
The night before last, the play of 'The Hunchback' was acted at Bridgewater House by Mrs. Butler, Adelaide Kemble, Vandenhoff (instead of Sheridan Knowles, who was to have done it), my brother Henry, and some other amateurs. The dining-room made but a middling theatre, the actors and audience being too near each other. This materially injured the effect, still it went off well, and Mrs. Butler acted as well as Fanny Kemble did ten or twelve years ago, but, with all her power, genius, and voice, she is not a first-rate actress.
REVIEW OF THE SESSION.
Last night I went to Hullah's choral meeting, at Exeter Hall, where the Queen Dowager appeared. It was fine to see, and fine and curious to hear; but the finest thing was when the Duke of Wellington came in, almost at the end. The piece they were singing stopped at once; the whole audience rose, and a burst of acclamation and waving of handkerchiefs saluted the great old man, who is now the idol of the people. It was grand and affecting, and seemed to move everybody but himself.
September 1st.—During the whole of the past Session, besides having been occupied with other things than politics, I have had no communication with politicians, and have seen nothing of public affairs. My knowledge, therefore, is no greater than that of any casual observer, and all I could have done was to note and record the various floating opinions which have come across me in my intercourse with society.
Peel began the Session with his great financial measures, which were received, on their first appearance, with considerable applause by the Opposition, and with a sulky acquiescence on the part of the Tories. The former, however, soon began to change their note and to pick holes, but probably this rather was of service to him than otherwise, for the semblance of an Opposition—and it was no more—kept together the masses of the Government party, and the tone of superiority and even supremacy which he assumed from the beginning has imposed upon both friend and foe, and enabled him to get through a very laborious and troublesome session without any serious difficulty. John Russell not only showed no disposition to lead his party in regular attacks on the Government, but he very soon became impatient to go and seek rural recreation, and some time before the close of the session he abandoned them to their fate. Before his departure, however, a sort of guerilla warfare had begun, which afterwards became more desultory, but more brisk and incessant. Charles Buller, Tom Duncombe, Hawes, and Vernon Smith took different departments, and, Palmerston taking the post of leader, they all kept up an incessant fire upon the Treasury Bench. The Whigs were exceedingly provoked with Lord John for quitting his post, and equally delighted with Palmerston for retaining his with such constancy and for taking so active a part. Nothing, however, occurred very remarkable in the way of debate till the last night of the session, when Palmerston made a grand attack upon the Government, à la Lyndhurst, in a speech of great ability, as his opponents themselves allow. Peel, however, replied to him in a still abler speech, and, with this brilliant single combat, which took place in a very empty House, the session ended.