After this, and indeed before it too, Graham and I had many conversations about the Government, its state and prospects, John Russell and his health, Peel and political probabilities and possibilities. We agreed that the Government was much damaged, weak and unpopular, and would have difficulty in going on, especially if, as seemed most likely, Lord John's health gave way, and he should be forced to retire. I said nothing would then be possible but Peel. On this he made me a speech, declaring Peel was impossible. He was, in the first place, determined not to take office; Lady Peel, who has great influence with him, doing her best to dissuade him; but, besides personal reluctance and objections, his position puts him out of the question. The Protectionists hate him as much as ever, and he hates them with equal intensity; he abhors what he considers their ingratitude as well as their folly, and nothing would induce him to have anything to do with them, even if they would with him; therefore he has no party. In the House of Lords he has not ten followers: how then, in a country which can only be governed by party, can he become Minister? That to think of putting himself at the head of a Whig party would be absurd: at sixty years old to begin such a strange career would be ridiculous. He said a great deal more in the same strain, all very plausible and not easy to answer; and the conclusion from which was that, for various reasons, Peel would not under any circumstances be Minister again. But in the meantime the reports of Lord John's declining health gained ground; the weakness of the Government became more apparent; the Radicals declared war against them; and one person after another began to turn his eyes towards Peel. There was some talk about sending for Clarendon, which I wrote to him; and in reply he entreated me to extinguish any such idea if I met with it; and he then demonstrated that Peel was a necessity and the only alternative. So many people in different ways said the same thing to me, that I told Graham. He was (or affected to be) still impressed with all the insuperable obstacles to Peel's return, amongst which he himself and Aberdeen were considerable, as Peel would never return without both of them, and they were particularly odious to the Whigs. I said he was not popular with them, but neither was he so odious; and they knew very well that if Peel returned, he must and would return with him. As to Aberdeen it was different, because he had behaved so ill ever since he left office, and opposed the Government in the most unfair and ungenerous manner. He said Peel never would have Palmerston at the Foreign Office, and would want Aberdeen there, in whom all his confidence was placed: not but what Aberdeen would be very ready to make any sacrifice. I told him that it was evident there was but one way by which Peel could return to office, and that was the arrival of a state of things which at once rendered him a great public necessity, and the urgency of which would make his refusal impossible; that he must be invited by the whole Whig party, not as a favour due to him but as a sacrifice exacted from him; and that this must be done heartily, sincerely, and in a spirit of unselfishness, and on public and patriotic grounds. Since this Lord John Russell has taken himself off to Hastings to try and get well. As Graham tells Peel everything I say, the latter now knows well what is thought and expected, and he has only so to conduct himself as to make the adhesion and overtures of the Whig party possible and not difficult when the time and occasion are ripe. The matter is replete with difficulties, and nothing but a great exigency can smooth them away. At present there are too many jealousies and animosities afloat; there is too much of suspicion, distrust, and old dislike lingering in men's minds to admit of the desired amalgamation; and unhappily the characters of the principal actors, both of John Russell and Peel, are extremely ill suited to deal with such a delicate and difficult state of affairs.
STATE OF PARIS.
March 10th.—Lord John Russell is better, and writes word confidently from Hastings that he shall return convalescent. Yesterday I saw Southern and Mrs. Austin, both just arrived from Paris. They have each been writing letters the last two or three days in the 'Times,' which are excellent descriptions of the state of affairs in France. Nothing can be more deplorable than it all is, and daily getting worse: no confidence, no work, and everything threatening frightful financial and commercial difficulties, and a general expectation of confusion, violence, and bloodshed. Southern told me that the dissensions in the Provisional Government were great, and the discussions violent; Lamartine often in a minority; no regular parties formed, but a continual dividing and crossing on different subjects. Lamartine wanted to omit what he said in his Circular about the Treaties of 1815, but was overruled. Southern thinks the Provisional Government will quarrel and break up before the Chambers can meet. They both agree that all France abhors this Revolution, but notwithstanding the bitter and universal regret that it has occasioned, and will still more hereafter, that nobody thinks of endeavouring to restore the monarchy in any way or under any head. The King was not so unpopular as Guizot, and they confirm all previous impressions, that not only he might have been saved, but that nothing but a series of fatal and inconceivable blunders and the most deplorable weakness could have upset him. The causes of this prodigious effect were ludicrously small. Southern declares there were not above 4,000 armed men of the populace actually employed; but the troops were everywhere paralysed, boys carried off the cannon from the midst of them without resistance. No one has the slightest conception what turn matters will take, but all seem to be of opinion they will have nothing to do with the Bonapartes. The Orleanses are now detested, and even the Legitimists do not look to the Duc de Bordeaux, because he is a poor creature, has no children, and they believe is not likely to have any; therefore it would not be worth while to restore a dynasty which would end with him.
March 11th.—Guizot received a letter from the Duc de Broglie yesterday, in which he said that Paris was quiet on the day he wrote, but such was the state of things that any day it might be the scene of confusion and rapine. I asked Madame de Lieven what the policy of the Government had been about Reform. She said, King, Duchâtel, and Guizot had all been determined against Reform; the latter willing to concede a very little, but always resolved to keep the Conservative majority, with which Reform was incompatible. I asked why, after having allowed the banquets in the provinces, they would not suffer that in the capital? The reply was very insufficient: because they did not like to stop the expression of public opinions in the country generally; but at Paris, when and where the Chambers were assembled, those opinions might have been expressed in them. I met Guizot at dinner at the Hollands'; he goes about everywhere, is very cheerful, and puts a good face on it; everybody is very civil to him, and he feels the kindness of his reception, especially as he knows he has been personally obnoxious since the Spanish marriages. He said last night, that he considered the payment of the members of the Convention fatal to the composition of that Assembly. The old revolutionary Assemblies never paid their members. Napoleon was the first who introduced that custom: his Senators were paid 30,000 fr.; his Deputies 10,000 fr. Guizot went to see the King and Queen two days ago: the interview was very affecting; both threw themselves on his neck; the King is the most abattu of the two; he has no money.
THE KING'S NARRATIVE.
March 12th.—Yesterday Lady Granville and Lady Georgiana Fullerton went to Claremont to see the Royal Family. The Queen was gone to town, but they were received by the King, who talked to them for an hour and gave them a narrative of his adventures, which they related to me last night. It was very carious, that is, curious as an exhibition of his character. He described his flight, and all his subsequent adventures, his travels, his disguises, his privations, the dangers he incurred, the kindness and assistance he met with, all very minutely. They said it was very interesting, and even very amusing; admirably well told. He was occasionally pathetic and occasionally droll; his story was told with a mixture of the serious and the comic—sometimes laughing and at others almost crying—that was very strange. It struck them that he was very undignified, even vulgar, and above all that he seemed to be animated with no feeling towards his country, but to view the whole history through the medium of self. He said of the French, 'Ils ont choisi leur sort; je dois supporter le mien.' He gave a very different account of what passed from that of Guizot. He said he was in personal danger when he was on horseback reviewing the National Guard on Thursday morning; that they pressed round him, shouting for reform. He cried out, 'Mais vous l'avez, la réforme; laissez-moi passer donc;' and that he was obliged to spur his horse through the mob, and got back to the Tuileries with difficulty. He said he had posé la question of resistance to Guizot, who had refused to entertain it, said that he could not give orders to fire on the National Guards. Their two statements are quite irreconcileable, and thus occur historical perplexities and the errors and untruths which crowd all history. I have always said that it is nothing but a series of conventional facts. There is no absolute truth in history; mankind arrives at probable results and conclusions in the best way it can, and by collecting and comparing evidence it settles down its ideas and its belief to a certain chain and course of events which it accepts as certain, and deals with as if it were, because it must settle somewhere and on something, and because a tolerable primâ facie and probable case is presented. But when one sees how the actors in and spectators of the same events differ in narrating and describing them; how continually complete contradictions are discovered to facts the most generally believed; there is no preserving the mind from a state of scepticism, nor is it possible to read or hear anything with entire satisfaction and faith. It appears that the Royal Family have no money, the King having invested his whole fortune in France, and beggary is actually staring them in the face. The King evinced no bitterness except in speaking of the English newspapers, especially the 'Times;' and he attributed much of his unpopularity, and what he considers the unjust prejudices against him, to the severity of their personal attacks on him! Curious enough this; but as he felt these philippics so acutely, why did he not take warning from them?
John Russell made his appearance in the House on Friday, but as they were not to divide he did not stay. Wilson (of the 'Economist') made a very fine speech; Disraeli very amusing, and Gladstone very good. It was a great night for Free Trade, which Wilson and Gladstone vindicated with great ability. The Government have been sadly vexed at an article in the 'Times' on Friday, speaking of them, and Lord John especially, very contemptuously. The truth is, the 'Times' thinks it has sniffed out that they cannot go on, and wants, according to its custom, to give them a shove; but matters are not ripe for a change yet, nor anything like it. It is evident that the notion of the weakness and incapacity of the Government is spreading far and wide, and nothing can exceed Charles Wood's unpopularity, nor is any confidence felt in Lord John himself. Palmerston is the most in favour at this moment; he has done well and gained some credit. Peel still holds the same language about not taking office, and treats it as a thing that is quite out of the question; but his friends see well enough that matters are moving on to this inevitable consummation.
March 14th.—The Government had a capital division last night, and Lord John made a very good and stout speech. In France everything is going down hill at railroad pace. This fine Revolution, which may be termed the madness of a few for the ruin of many, is already making the French people weep tears of blood. Hitherto there has been little or no violence, and fine professions of justice and philanthropy; up to this time, not a month from the beginning, the account may be thus balanced: they have got rid of a King and a Royal Family and the cost thereof; they have got a reform so radical and complete, that it can go no further; they have repealed some laws and some taxes which were obnoxious to different persons or different classes, but none of which were grievous or sensibly injurious to the nation at large. In short, it is difficult to point out any considerable advantage either of a positive or a negative character which they have obtained, or have got the prospect of obtaining. However, it remains to be seen whether they can work out any advantage from their new institutions.
FRENCH PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT.
Meanwhile, the other side of the account presents some formidable items for a political balance sheet. They have got a Government composed of men who have not the slightest idea how to govern, albeit they are men of energy, activity, and some capacity. The country is full of fear and distrust. Ruin and bankruptcy are stalking through the streets of the capital. The old revolutionary principles and expedients are more and more drawn forth and displayed by the present rulers; they are assuming despotic power, and using it without scruple; they confer it on their agents; they proclaim social and political maxims fraught with ruin and desolation, and incompatible with the existence of any Government. The different Ministers vie with one another in the extravagance of their several manifestoes. Louis Blanc holds a parliament of operatives, whom he feeds with soft sawder and delusive expectations, giving them for political truths all the most dangerous absurdities of his book. Garnier Pagès, in his frank exposé of the finances of the country, approaches to the very verge of national bankruptcy, and is evidently prepared for the next step. Carnot instructs the people to elect for their representatives (who are to be the unchecked masters of the Empire), not men of property and education, but any men who have republican ideas; and Ledru Rollin desires his agents to act in the same spirit, and with all the authority (which means despotism) that a revolutionary government always assumes it to be its right to exercise. In short, all is terror, distress, and misery, both material and moral; everybody fleeing away from the turbulent capital, and hiding what money he can collect; funds falling, everything depreciated in value, the shops unfrequented, no buyers, tranquillity still doubtfully preserved by factitious means, but the duration of which no one counts upon. As the embarrassment and suffering increase, so will the clouds continue to gather, and at last the storm will burst—but how, when, and where, with what fury, whom it will spare, or whom sweep away, none can venture to predict. Such, however, is the state of the capital, the heart of everything; while the provinces are motionless, and seem to wait with patient resignation the unfolding of events. All the letters that arrive here, whether they come from Legitimists, or Liberals, or Orleanists, or indifferents to all parties, tell the same tale of disgust, distress, and dread.