The day I came here Lady Holland died, that is, she died at two o'clock in the preceding night. She evinced during her illness a very philosophical calmness and resolution, and perfect good humour, aware that she was dying, and not afraid of death. The religious people don't know what to make of it. She never seems to have given the least sign of any religious feeling or belief. She has made a curious will, leaving the greater part of the landed property at her disposal to John Russell for his life, and her jewels to Lady Elizabeth Grey, a poor parson's wife—bequests severely blamed and justly. The legatees ought not to accept what she has bequeathed to them, but give all up to her daughter who wants it. Though she was a woman for whom nobody felt any affection, and whose death therefore will have excited no grief, she will be regretted by a great many people, some from kindly, more from selfish motives, and all who had been accustomed to live at Holland House and continued to be her habitués will lament over the fall of the curtain on that long drama, and the final extinction of the flickering remnant of a social light which illuminated and adorned England and even Europe for half a century. The world never has seen and never will again see anything like Holland House, and though it was by no means the same thing as it was during Lord Holland's life, Lady Holland contrived to assemble round her to the last a great society, comprising almost everybody that was conspicuous, remarkable, and agreeable. The closing of her house, therefore, will be a serious and an irreparable loss, especially to those old friends who are too old to look out for new places of resort and to form new social habits. She was a very strange woman, whose character it would not be easy to describe, and who can only be perfectly understood from a knowledge and consideration of her habits and peculiarities. She was certainly clever, and she had acquired a great deal of information both from books and men, having passed her whole life amidst people remarkable for their abilities and knowledge. She cared very little for her children, but she sometimes pretended to care for them, and she also pretended to entertain strong feelings of friendship for many individuals; and this was not all insincerity, for, in fact, she did entertain them as strongly as her nature permitted. She was often capricious, tyrannical, and troublesome, liking to provoke, and disappoint, and thwart her acquaintances, and she was often obliging, good-natured, and considerate to the same people. To those who were ill and suffering, to whom she could show any personal kindness and attention, among her intimate friends, she never failed to do so. She was always intensely selfish, dreading solitude above everything, and eternally working to enlarge the circle of her society, and to retain all who ever came within it. She could not live alone for a single minute; she never was alone, and even in her moments of greatest grief it was not in solitude but in society that she sought her consolation. Her love and habit of domination were both unbounded, and they made her do strange and often unwarrantable things. None ever lived who assumed such privileges as Lady Holland, and the docility with which the world submitted to her vagaries was wonderful. Though she was eternally surrounded with clever people, there was no person of any position in the world, no matter how frivolous and foolish, whose acquaintance she was not eager to cultivate, and especially latterly she had a rage for knowing new people and going to fresh houses. Though often capricious and impertinent she was never out of temper, and she bore with good humour and calmness the indignant and resentful outbreaks which she sometimes provoked in others, and though she liked to have people at her orders and who would defer to her and obey her, she both liked and respected those who were not afraid of her and who treated her with spirit and freedom. Although she was known to be wholly destitute of religious opinions she never encouraged any irreligious talk in her house. She never herself spoke disrespectfully or with levity of any of the institutions or opinions which other people were accustomed to reverence, nor did she at any time, even during periods of the greatest political violence, suffer any disloyal language towards the sovereign, nor encourage any fierce philippics, still less any ribaldry against political opponents. It was her great object, while her society was naturally and inevitably of a particular political colour, to establish in it such a tone of moderation and general toleration that no person of any party, opinion, profession, or persuasion might feel any difficulty in coming to her house, and she took care that no one who did should ever have reason to complain of being offended or annoyed, still less shocked or insulted under her roof. Never was anybody more invariably kind to her servants or more solicitous for their comfort. In this probably selfish considerations principally moved her; it was essential to her comfort to be diligently and zealously served, and she secured by her conduct to them their devoted attachment. It used often to be said in joke that they were very much better off than her guests.
BRETBY AND OSSINGTON.
Ossington, December 3rd.—Left Worsley on Wednesday last; went to Bretby, stayed there till Saturday, not a creature there, nothing to do but look at horses in the morning and go to sleep in the evening. What would the last Lord Chesterfield but one, the celebrated peer, say, if he could see into what hands his title has fallen, and the half of his estate which has not been squandered away? Came here on Saturday, stopped at Southwell to see the church, a beautiful specimen of Norman architecture. It is quite a cathedral, though only a collegiate church, and with no higher dignitaries than prebends. It has been shorn of its splendour by the Ecclesiastical Commission, and with some difficulty enough of its revenues was saved for its handsome maintenance. The Chapter-house is exceedingly beautiful, especially a gateway erected or adorned by Wolsey, who sometimes resided here, as it was formerly a church in the diocese of York, though now removed to that of Lincoln. On Monday we rode all over the Forest, through Thoresby, Clumber, and Clipston, and by the Duke of Portland's water-meadows. Twenty years have elapsed since I saw this country in which so much of my youth was passed, and I had forgotten, or never sufficiently remembered, how grand it is.
London, December 5th.—I came to town yesterday, and find political affairs in a state of the greatest interest and excitement. The whole town had been electrified in the morning by an article in the 'Times,' announcing, with an air of certainty and authority, that the discussions and disputes in the Cabinet had terminated by a resolution to call Parliament together early in January, and propose a total repeal of the Corn Laws, and that the Duke had not only consented, but was to bring forward the measure in the House of Lords. Nobody knew whether to believe this or not, though all seemed staggered, and the more so because the 'Standard,' though affecting to disbelieve the 'Times,' and treating it as a probable fiction, did not contradict it from authority, as might naturally have been expected if it had been untrue. This morning I heard the whole matter precisely as it stands, and the affair, including the way it comes to my knowledge, presents a curious under-current in politics. On this question of the Corn Laws Aberdeen has taken a very strong and decided part, and he has been Peel's most strenuous supporter in the contest he has had to maintain in his Cabinet, for it now appears that Peel has all along been for repealing the Corn Laws, and has not, as I was once led to believe, been disposed to stand by his own sliding scale. It appears that before the appearance of John Russell's letter, the free-trading Ministers were disposed to take the course now determined on, and Aberdeen thinks it was a great error and misfortune that they did not do so in November, and so appear to have taken the initiative, rather than to be goaded to it. Lord John's letter, however (which was written without concert with, or the knowledge of, anybody), fell like a spark on a barrel of gunpowder. The effect it produced was far greater than he even could have expected, greater probably than he is yet aware of. It struck despair into the hearts of the Protectionists, but it really was of service to Peel, though it appeared to put him in fresh difficulty. The publication of the letter was followed by an article in the 'Times,' alluding to this difficulty, and the day this article appeared Aberdeen sent for Delane, and told him that Peel considered the letter mischievous, but the article far more mischievous than the letter. In the course of this and other conversations he gave Delane to understand what his own opinions were, and told him pretty clearly what sort of a contest was going on in the Cabinet. The Duke was at first decidedly against repeal;[108] and Ripon and Wharncliffe were, as far as I can make out, the most strenuous opponents besides. On Tuesday last the decisive Cabinet was held, at which it was finally to be determined which party should prevail, and if Peel could not carry his views, it was his intention to resign, and Aberdeen with him. On Wednesday, Aberdeen sent again for Delane, and after talking to him about all sorts of matters connected with foreign policy, and many other things, and when Delane was preparing to leave him, he began upon the Corn Laws, and told him, in fact, the substance of what appeared in the article yesterday, together with many details which did not appear. He told him that the Duke of Wellington had offered to resign, but that Peel said, if he resigned, he himself would also, for he could not undertake to carry the measure without the Duke's concurrence and support, and at last the Duke gave way, and agreed to stay in, and use his influence to carry it through the House of Lords. Peel was aware that without this it would have been impossible, and as it is, he expects great opposition, and several resignations in the Cabinet.[109] These resignations will, however, materially strengthen the Government, as the men who go out will probably be replaced by Ellenborough, Dalhousie, and Gladstone, a great improvement in point of capacity.
REPEAL OF THE CORN LAWS.
When the article appeared yesterday morning, Lord Wharncliffe was in a great state of agitation, and told Reeve (as he had done before) that it was not true, that the 'Times' was mystified, and had been all along. Reeve said that certainly the editor of the 'Times' thought he had good authority for what he had put forth, and would not have risked his credit so far without strong grounds, but that if Lord Wharncliffe really meant to declare that to his knowledge the statement was false, he would, if he pleased, send for Delane and tell him so. He hung back on this, and said he did not wish to appear. Reeve said he need not appear, but if he would authorise the contradiction, it should be contradicted. He would not, however, but said that 'nothing was settled.' I have no doubt that though everything is virtually settled, the matter remains to be formally arranged. The Chiefs are agreed, but the whole Cabinet is not yet agreed, and this is what he means, while any hopes he may have entertained of staving off the blow are defeated by this rapid publication. There can be very little doubt that it was Aberdeen's object that Delane should publish what he did, though he did not tell him to do so, and the reason is very obvious. Yesterday the American Mail went off, and it took with it the morning papers, and consequently this article in the 'Times.' It was exactly what Aberdeen wanted. As Foreign Secretary his most earnest desire is to get over the Oregon affair as well as he can, and he knows that nothing will have so great an effect in America, nothing tend so materially to the prevalence of pacific counsels, as an announcement that our Corn Laws are going to be repealed.
THE 'TIMES' CONTRADICTED.
December 6th.—It is impossible to describe the agitation into which all classes of persons have been thrown by the announcement about the Corn Laws—the doubts, hopes, and fears it has excited, and the burning curiosity to know the truth of it. Some deride and scout it; others believe it, partly or entirely. Yesterday morning I went to the office and saw Wharncliffe. 'His face was as a glass, where men might read strange matters;' it was easy to see his state of agitation. Assuming it was all true, I said I hoped he did not mean to resign, and that whatever his opinions might be, if the Duke did not, he surely need not either, and any break-up of the party would be an evil. He acknowledged nothing, but replied, very lugubriously, that he was seventy years old! I did my best to encourage him, and he did his best to make me doubt the accuracy of the 'Times' statement, telling me nothing, but mysteriously saying a very short time would reveal the truth. In the afternoon he went to a Cabinet. Meanwhile the 'Standard' appeared with a contradiction of the 'Times' in large letters. Wharncliffe came into my room from the Cabinet much excited, but apparently rather hilarious. I asked him if he had seen the 'Standard.' He said no, he wanted to see it. He read it, and then said, 'What do you say to that?' I said, I laughed at it, and had not a doubt that the 'Times' was right. 'Very well,' he replied, 'it will soon be seen who is right; but I tell you the "Times" has been mystified, and neither you nor Reeve know anything of what is going on.'[110] I was enough staggered by his manner to write to Reeve and tell him this, and he went to Delane. They went over all that had passed with Aberdeen, which was too clear, too precise, and too decisive to admit of any mistake. After his communication to Delane, Aberdeen asked him what he meant to do with what he had told him. 'Publish it,' he answered, 'to be sure!' A pretty strong proof that he told it him for no other purpose. Palmerston hit the right nail on the head, for William Cowper told me last night he had guessed that Aberdeen had got this information put into the 'Times,' that it might go over to America and influence the Oregon question; only he did not seem certain it was true, and was not without a suspicion that it was done with an intention to deceive, and not to enlighten the American public.
December 9th, Tuesday.—On Saturday afternoon Wharncliffe came to the office and sent for me. I found him walking about the room, when he immediately broke out, 'Well, I must say the impudence of the "Times" exceeds all I ever knew.' 'What's the matter?' I asked, 'what have they done?' 'Why, notwithstanding the contradiction in the "Standard" last night, they have not only neither qualified nor withdrawn their assertion, but have repeated the statement more positively than before. I must say this beats every other impudence.' 'Well,' I said, 'don't you see the reason, namely, that the "Times" does not care for the denial of the "Standard," and thinks its own authority for the statement better than any the "Standard" can have for denying it.' I then told him that everybody believed the 'Times,' go where you would people canvassed which was the most credible, and all believed the 'Times,' Lord Carnarvon, whom I met in the morning, for instance; and I myself believed it, that is, I believed it to be substantially correct, though perhaps not so in all its details. 'Very well,' he said, 'a short time will show the truth; but I tell you again that the "Times" knows nothing about it, has been mystified, and you will soon see that you are all wrong.' On this I said, 'Am I then to understand you that the facts put forth by the "Times" are really untrue, that no resolution has been come to by the Cabinet, and that the Duke of Wellington in one House and Peel in the other are not going to bring forward a measure which, without quibbling or splitting of hairs, is a virtual abandonment of the principle of protection?' He said, 'Well, I do mean to say that all this is untrue, it is not the fact; I positively tell you so, and I mean it without any quibbling whatever.' 'Very well, of course you know and I cannot, and I am bound to believe you. May I then contradict it on your authority?' 'No, I will not have my name used. I tell you not to believe it, and you may say what you please as from yourself, but I will not have my authority mentioned, and events will contradict it soon enough.' We had a great deal more talk. He complained of the mischief that the report had done, and the speculation it had set afloat. After this contradiction so positive, specific, and peremptory, I knew not what to believe. On Monday I looked with anxiety for the article in the 'Times,' and found only a calm adhesion to its story. Delane had seen Aberdeen the evening before, who said to him that he had not said a bit too much, except that his statement the second day, that 'the heads of the Government had agreed,' was more correct than that of the first, which said that 'the Cabinet' had. He desired him to go on in the same strain, reasoning on it as a fact. He gave him, however, to understand that the publication had created considerable agitation. Delane in the course of conversation said that the whole thing turned on the Duke of Wellington, whether he was consenting or not, but Aberdeen would not tell him which way the Duke was.
THE 'TIMES' MAINTAINS ITS GROUND.