THE QUEENS OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.
Affairs in Spain and Portugal are in a very strange state. The young Queen of Spain exhibits some character and some talent, but she is unsteady and uneducated. The turn matters have taken at Madrid is, however, enough to provoke and annoy the French, while every day exhibits more and more the infamy and disgrace of the marriage which the French Government forced upon the Queen. Her husband is a wretched imbecile sulky fanatic, who passes his life in trying to make embarrassments for the Queen, and in praying to the shade of his mother to forgive him for having married the usurper of his cousin's throne. They have been endeavouring to effect the semblance of a reconciliation between them, but he is incurably sulky, and will not make it up. Not long ago he sent for Pacheco, and told him it was his desire that a Council should be convened forthwith. Pacheco said very well, but begged His Majesty would be so good as to tell him for what purpose he wished for it. The King replied that his object was to lay before the Council proofs of the Queen's infidelity to him. Pacheco said if that was his object he must beg to decline to summon the Council. On this he announced that he had prepared a manifesto to the nation setting forth his wrongs, and that it should be immediately published. They persuaded him to desist from this scandalous intention, and as a sort of compromise they got Serrano to quit Madrid. It appears that the Queen-mother, seeing how matters were going on, intended to return; but her daughter had no mind she should, and told her Ministers they had better look to it. It was their affair, but that if Mama came back matters would go ill. On this they sent Concha to Paris to stop her. Christina wrote Isabella a lecture on her proceedings, and told her that she was too little educated to know how to conduct herself properly, to which she replied, 'Mama knows that I did not educate myself.' However, everything is in a state of the greatest doubt and uncertainty there, and the French are sure to begin their intrigues again and to create as much confusion as they can.
In Portugal, the other Queen continues as obstinate as ever, yielding inch by inch as the danger approaches her more nearly, and is supported in her obstinacy by the security she is still able to find in foreign intervention. We have anchored our ships close to the town, and are prepared to land our Marines to protect her person, and, thus knowing she is personally safe, she is emboldened to refuse or demur to the terms of accommodation which Palmerston has suggested, and to try on the chances of war totally regardless, of course, of the misery of prolonging the contest. The natural course for us to take would be to offer our mediation, and if she refused it to withdraw our ships and leave her to her fate. But we cannot do this, because if we were to desert her the Spaniards and French would instantly step in and reconquer her kingdom for her. Such is the nodo sviluppato in which these wretched affairs are involved. Lisbon is ready to rise in insurrection the moment the army of the Junta makes its appearance. Southern writes very curious accounts to Clarendon of the state of the town. The jealousy and aversion of the Queen of Portugal to him have compelled him to withdraw altogether from the affairs of the mission, though he is still Secretary of Legation. Our Court continues to take the same interest in the Lisbon Coburgs, and would willingly interfere in their favour with more vigour if the Ministers would consent to do so. Palmerston's defects prove rather useful in his intercourse with the Court. To their wishes or remonstrances he expresses the greatest deference, and then goes on in his own course without paying the least attention to what they have been saying to him.
May 2nd.—Yesterday morning the Duke of Bedford called on me, and told me Lord John's secret intentions about Ireland, which he said he had not yet imparted to any of the Cabinet, and only discussed with him. I believe, however, that Lord John has told Labouchere, and nobody else. He thinks of taking this opportunity of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant and making a Secretary of State for Ireland, who is not to reside permanently but go there occasionally, and he destines this office for Clarendon. This is his plan, which, however, he has by no means determined on, and they both think it doubtful if it would do. The moment, however, seems propitious for effecting this alteration; there is no O'Connell either to inveigh against it or to seize any power that may be, or appear to be, relinquished, and the difficulty of selecting a successor to Lord Bessborough is so great as to be almost insuperable. Meanwhile the town is full of reports about a new Lord-Lieutenant, nobody dreaming of what Lord John is resolving in his mind. Everybody has got some story (from the best authority) of the post having been offered to this person, and pressed upon that. Bessborough still lingers on, and a more striking and touching deathbed has seldom been seen. He is surrounded by the whole of his numerous family, overwhelmed with affliction, a general manifestation of sympathy and regret, and the deep sense which is entertained of the loss which the country will sustain by his death, afford the best and most feeling testimony to his capacity and his merit. He is perfectly aware of his condition, and in full possession of his faculties. Duncannon wrote to John Russell yesterday, as I am told, an admirable letter, which was sent to the Queen. Bessborough was bent upon writing himself to John Russell before he died, and was preparing to do so. Certainly a greater loss both public and private has seldom occurred.
THE LORD-LIEUTENANCY OF IRELAND.
May 3rd.—The Duke of Bedford came here this morning. They now find there are immense difficulties in the way of abolishing the office of Lord-Lieutenant at present; they are assured that if it was proposed the Repealers would raise a furious clamour and be joined by the Orangemen. Some Irishman (he did not tell me who), a sensible man and favourable to the abolition, tells him and Lord John this, consequently Lord John has told the Duke that his going there would be the only solution of the difficulty. This difficulty, he says, is enormous and increasing; that everything tends to prove that dangers are thickening round them, and that next year they will have to propose measures that will be very unpopular. Bessborough has dictated to Lord John a most affecting letter; his daughter, Lady Emily, wrote also, saying that her father was so weak that he was scarcely intelligible, and she was not sure she had quite faithfully written what he had dictated, but that she had given the substance of it as well as she could. He tells Lord John that the dangers and difficulties are very great, and that he foresees their increase, and he expects him to appoint a man to succeed him who shall be firm and bold, and, above all, who will not seek for popularity. I found the Duke most unwilling, and almost, but not quite, decided not to go. He will go if Lord John insists on it, but he dreads and shrinks from it; neither his health, nerves, nor spirits are equal to such a task. The principal reason for his going is, that he alone can go temporarily, and Lord John does not contemplate his remaining. Lord John says he cannot ask Clarendon to go on account of the expense, unless he was to stay there for three years. He says that not one of the men who have been mentioned will do for the office, especially Morpeth; and he thinks Bessborough's warning as to the sort of man they ought to choose was intended to point at Morpeth as the one they ought not to appoint. Morpeth himself is longing to go. 'It is now come to this,' the Duke said: 'it must be either Clarendon, myself, or Lords Justices.' He went from me to Clarendon to talk it over with him. Grey and Labouchere are the only members of the Cabinet to whom he has mentioned the matter. The Duke has had a long confidential letter from Arbuthnot about the Duke of Wellington, and his dread of Grey and his reforms, the object of it being to deter the Government from attempting anything else. It is clear they have dragged the Duke with them as far as he can be persuaded to go, and if they try anything more, and make any further attempts on his patience or condescension, he will then turn restive and resign.
DEATH OF LORD BESSBOROUGH.
June 7th.[19]—More than a month has elapsed since I have written anything, and from the usual cause, that of having been occupied with Epsom, Ascot, and Newmarket. The principal events which have occurred have been the deaths of Bessborough and O'Connell, which took place almost at the same time, within a day or two of one another. The departure of the latter, which not long ago would have excited the greatest interest and filled the world with political speculations, was heard almost with unconcern, so entirely had his importance vanished; he had in fact been for some time morally and politically defunct, and nobody seems to know whether his death is likely to prove a good or an evil, or a mere matter of indifference. The death of Bessborough excited far greater interest, and no man ever quitted the world more surrounded by sympathy, approbation, respect, and affection, than he did. During his last illness, which he himself and all about him knew to be fatal, he was surrounded by a numerous and devoted family, and the people of Dublin universally testified their regard for him, and their grief at losing him. He continued in the uninterrupted possession of his faculties almost to the last hour of his existence, and he calmly discussed every matter of public and private interest, in conversation with his children and friends, or dictating letters to John Russell and his colleagues at home. He expired at eleven o'clock at night; at nine he felt his pulse and said he saw the end was approaching. He then sent for all his family, seventeen in number, saw them and took leave of them separately, and gave to each a small present he had prepared, and then calmly lay down to die; in less than two hours all was over. They say that his funeral was one of the finest and most striking sights possible from the countless multitudes which attended it, and the decorum and good feeling which were displayed. Clarendon has kept the whole of Bessborough's staff and household, with one exception; and he told them that he kept them on account of their attachment to his predecessor.
The reputation which Bessborough had acquired, which at the time of his death and since his Irish administration was very considerable, affords a remarkable example of the success which may be obtained by qualities of a superior description, without great talents, without knowledge and information, and without any power of speaking in Parliament. He had long been addicted to politics, and was closely connected by relationship or friendship with the most eminent Whig leaders. His opinions had always been strongly Liberal, and he seemed to have found the place exactly adapted to his capacity and disposition when he became the Whig whipper-in of the House of Commons; he was gradually initiated in all the secrets of that party, and he soon became a very important member of it from his various intimacies and the personal influence he was enabled to exercise. He had a remarkably calm and unruffled temper and very good sound sense. The consequence was that he was consulted by everybody, and usually and constantly employed in the arrangement of difficulties, the adjustment of rival pretensions, and the reconciliation of differences, for which purposes some such man is indispensable and invaluable in every great political association. He continued to acquire fresh weight and influence, and at length nothing could be done without Duncannon as he then was. Everybody liked him, and King William, when he hated the rest of the Whigs, always testified good humour and regard for him. He took office and became a Cabinet Minister, and he contrived to do a vast deal of Parliamentary business, especially in the House of Lords, and carry bills through Parliament without ever making the semblance of a speech. In this way by his good nature and good sense, and an extreme liveliness and elasticity of spirits, which made him a very pleasant and acceptable member of society, he continued to increase in public reputation and private favour, and when the Government was formed last year, his appointment to the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland was generally approved of. He had almost always been on good terms with O'Connell, indeed he never was on bad terms with anybody; and as an Irishman he was agreeable to the people. In his administration, adverse and unhappy as the times were, he displayed great industry, firmness, and knowledge of the character and circumstances of the Irish people, and he conciliated the good will of those to whom he had been all his life opposed. Lord Roden, the head of the Orange party, who has all along acted a very honourable and patriotic part, afforded ample testimony to his merits, and gave him a very frank and generous support.
LORD CLARENDON GOES TO IRELAND.