Debate in the House of Lords — Lord Harrowby’s Position — Hopes of a Compromise
— Lord Melbourne’s View — Disturbances caused by the Cholera
— The Disfranchisement Clause — The Number ‘56’ — Peers contemplated
— The King’s Hesitation — ‘The Hunchback’ — Critical Position of
the Waverers — Bill carried by Nine in the Lords — The Cholera in Paris
— Moderate Speech of Lord Grey — End of the Secession — Conciliatory
Overtures — Negotiations carried on at Newmarket — Hostile Division in
the Lords — Lord Wharncliffe’s Account of his Failure — Lord Grey resigns
— The Duke of Wellington attempts to form a Ministry — Peel
declines — Hostility of the Court to the Whigs — A Change of Scene — The
Duke fails — History of the Crisis — Lord Grey returns to Office — The
King’s Excitement — The King writes to the Opposition Peers — Defeat
and Disgrace of the Tories — Conversation of the Duke of Wellington —
Louis XVIII. — Madame du Cayla — Weakness of the King — Mortality
among Great Men — Petition against Lord W. Bentinck’s Prohibition of
Suttee heard by the Privy Council — O’Connell and the Cholera — Irish
Tithe Bill — Irish Difficulties — Mr. Stanley — Concluding Debates of the
Parliament — Quarrel between Brougham and Sugden — Holland and
Belgium — Brougham’s Revenge and Apology — Dinner at Holland House
— Anecdotes of Johnson — Death of Mr. Greville’s Father — Madame de
Flahaut’s Account of the Princess Charlotte — Prince Augustus of
Prussia — Captain Hess — Hostilities in Holland and in Portugal — The
Duchesse de Berri — Conversation with Lord Melbourne on the State of
the Government.
There appear to have been as many differences
of opinion as of people on the discussion in the House of
Lords when the Bill was brought up, and it seems paradoxical,
but is true, that though it was on the whole satisfactory, nobody
was satisfied. Lord Grey complained to me that Lord
Harrowby was too stiff; Lord Harrowby complained that
Lord Grey was always beating about the bush of compromise,
but never would commit himself fairly to concession. Melbourne
complained last night that what was done was done in
LORD HARROWBY’S PATRIOTIC CONDUCT.
such an ungracious manner, so niggardly, that he hated the
man (Harrowby) who did it. The ultra-Tories are outrageous
‘that he gave up everything without reason or cause;’
the ultra-Whigs equally furious ‘that he had shown how
little way he was disposed to go in Committee; his object was
to turn out the Government;’ and what is comical, neither
party will believe that Harrowby really is so obnoxious to
the other as he is said to be. Each is convinced that he is
acting in the interests of the other. What a position, what
injustice, blindness, folly, obstinacy, brought together and
exhibited! If ever there was a man whose conduct was
exempt from the ordinary motives of ambition, and who
made personal sacrifices in what he is doing, it is Lord
Harrowby, and yet there is no reproach that is not cast upon
him, no term of abuse that is not applied to him, no motive
that is not ascribed to him. No wonder a man who has seen
much of them is sick of politics and public life. Nothing
now is thought of but the lists, and of course everybody has
got one. The Tories still pretend to a majority of seven;
the Government and Harrowby think they have one of from
ten to twenty, and I suspect fifteen will be found about the
mark. The unfortunate thing is that neither of our cocks is
good for fighting, not from want of courage, but Harrowby
is peevish, ungracious and unpopular, and Wharncliffe
carries no great weight. To be sure neither of them pretends
to make a party, but then their opponents insist upon
it that they do, and men shrink from enlisting (or being
supposed to enlist) under Wharncliffe’s banner. However,
notwithstanding the violence of the noisy fools of the party,
and of the women, there is a more rational disposition on
the part of practical men, for Wharncliffe spoke to Ellenborough
yesterday, and told him that though he knew he
and Harrowby were regarded as traitors by all of them, he
did hope that when the Bill came into Committee they would
agree to consult together, and try and come to some understanding
as to the best mode of dealing with the question,
that it was absurd to be standing aloof at such a moment;
to which Ellenborough replied that he perfectly agreed with
him, was anxious to do so, and intended to advise his friends
to take that course.
Wharncliffe got Lord Grey to put off the
second reading for a few days on account of the Quarter
Sessions, which drew down a precious attack from Londonderry,
and was in fact very foolish and unnecessary, as it
looks like a concert between them, of which it is very desirable
to avoid any appearance, as in fact none exists. The
violence of the Tories continues unabated, and there is no
effort they do not make to secure a majority, and they expect
either to succeed or to bring it to a near thing. In the
meantime the tone of the other party is changed. Dover,
who makes lists, manages proxies, and does all the little
jobbing, whipping-in, busy work of the party, makes out a
clear majority, and told me he now thought the Bill would
get through without Peers. The Government, however, are
all agreed to make the Peers if it turns out to be necessary,
and especially if the Bill should be thrown out, it seems clear
that they would by no means go out, but make the Peers
and bring it in again; so I gather from Richmond, and he
who was the most violently opposed of the whole Cabinet to
Peer-making, is now ready to make any number if necessary.
There is, however, I hope, a disposition to concession, which,
if matters are tolerably well managed, may lead to an
arrangement. Still Wharncliffe, who must have a great deal
to do in Committee, is neither prudent nor popular. The
Tories are obstinate, sulky, and indisposed to agree to anything
reasonable. It is the unity of object and the compactness
of the party which give the Government strength.
Charles Wood told me the other day that they were well
disposed to a compromise on two special points, one the exclusion
of town voters from the right of voting for counties,
the other the metropolitan members. On the first he proposed
that no man voting for a town in right of a 10ℓ. house
should have a vote for the county in right of any freehold in
that town. That would be half-way between Wharncliffe’s
plan and the present. The second, that Marylebone should
return two members, and Middlesex two more—very like
CONVERSATION WITH LORD MELBOURNE.
Grey’s proposition which Harrowby rejected—but I suggested
keeping the whole and varying the qualification, to which he
thought no objection would lie.
At the Duchesse de Dino’s ball the night before last I had
a very anxious conversation with Melbourne about it all.
He said that ‘he really believed there was no strong feeling
in the country for the measure.’ We talked of the violence
of the Tories, and their notion that they could get rid of the
whole thing. I said the notion was absurd now, but that I
fully agreed with him about the general feeling. ‘Why, then,’
said he, ‘might it not be thrown out?’—a consummation I
really believe he would rejoice at, if it could be done. I said
because there was a great party which would not let it, which
would agitate again, and that the country wished ardently to
have it settled; that if it could be disposed of for good and
all, it would be a good thing indeed, but that this was now
become impossible. I asked him if his colleagues were impressed
as he was with this truth, and he said, ‘No.’ I told
him he ought to do everything possible to enforce it, and
to make them moderate, and induce them to concede, to
which he replied, ‘What difficulty can they have in swallowing
the rest after they have given up the rotten boroughs?
That is, in fact, the essential part of the Bill, and the truth is
I do not see how the Government is to be carried on without
them. Some means may be found; a remedy may possibly
present itself, and it may work in practice better than we
now know of, but I am not aware of any, and I do not see
how any Government can be carried on when these are swept
away.’ This was, if not his exact words, the exact sense,
and a pretty avowal for a man to make at the eleventh hour
who has been a party concerned in this Bill during the other
ten. I told him I agreed in every respect, but that it was
too late to discuss this now, and that the rotten boroughs
were past saving, that as to the minor points, the Waverers
thought them of importance, looked upon them as securities,
compensations, and moreover as what would save their own
honour, and that the less their real importance was the more
easily might they be conceded. We had a great deal more
talk, but then it is all talk, and à quoi bon with a man who
holds these opinions and acts as he does? Let it end as it
may, the history of the Bill, and the means by which it has
been conceived, brought forward, supported, and opposed, will
be most curious and instructive. The division in the Lords
must be very close indeed.
Orloff, who was looked for like the Messiah, at last made
his appearance a few days ago, a great burly Russian, but no
ratification yet.[1]
I have refrained for a long time from writing down anything
about the cholera, because the subject is intolerably
disgusting to me, and I have been bored past endurance by
the perpetual questions of every fool about it. It is not,
however, devoid of interest. In the first place, what has
happened here proves that ‘the people’ of this enlightened,
reading, thinking, reforming nation are not a whit less barbarous
than the serfs in Russia, for precisely the same prejudices
have been shown here that were found at St. Petersburg
and at Berlin. The disease has undoubtedly appeared
(hitherto) in this country in a milder shape than elsewhere,
but the alarm at its name was so great that the Government
could do no otherwise than take such precautions and means
of safety as appeared best to avert the danger or mitigate its
consequences. Here it came, and the immediate effect was
a great inconvenience to trade and commerce, owing to
restrictions, both those imposed by foreigners generally on
this country and those we imposed ourselves between the
healthy and unhealthy places. This begot complaints and
disputes, and professional prejudices and jealousies urged a
host of combatants into the field, to fight about the existence
or non-existence of cholera, its contagiousness, and any collateral
question. The disposition of the public was (and is)
to believe that the whole thing was a humbug, and accordingly
plenty of people were found to write in that sense, and
the press lent itself to propagate the same idea. The disease,
however, kept creeping on, the Boards of Health which were
everywhere established immediately became odious, and the
THE CHOLERA IN ENGLAND.
vestries and parishes stoutly resisted all pecuniary demands
for the purpose of carrying into effect the recommendations
of the Central Board or the orders of the Privy Council. In
this town the mob has taken the part of the anti-cholerites,
and the most disgraceful scenes have occurred. The other
day a Mr. Pope, head of the hospital in Marylebone (Cholera
Hospital) came to the Council Office to complain that a
patient who was being removed with his own consent had
been taken out of his chair by the mob and carried back,
the chair broken, and the bearers and surgeon hardly
escaping with their lives. Furious contests have taken place
about the burials, it having been recommended that bodies
should be burned directly after death, and the most violent
prejudice opposing itself to this recommendation; in short,
there is no end to the scenes of uproar, violence, and brutal
ignorance that have gone on, and this on the part of the
lower orders, for whose especial benefit all the precautions
are taken, and for whose relief large sums have been raised
and all the resources of charity called into activity in every
part of the town. The awful thing is the vast extent of
misery and distress which prevails, and the evidence of the
rotten foundation on which the whole fabric of this gorgeous
society rests, for I call that rotten which exhibits thousands
upon thousands of human beings reduced to the lowest stage
of moral and physical degradation, with no more of the necessaries
of life than serve to keep body and soul together,
whole classes of artisans without the means of subsistence.
However complicated and remote the causes of this state of
things, the manifestations present themselves in a frightful
presence and reality, and those whose ingenuity, and experience,
and philosophical views may enable them accurately to
point out the causes and the gradual increase of this distress
are totally unable to suggest a remedy or to foresee an end
to it. Can such a state of things permanently go on? can
any reform ameliorate it? Is it possible for any country to
be considered in a healthy condition when there is no such
thing as a general diffusion of the comforts of life (varying of
course with every variety of circumstance which can affect
the prosperity of individuals or of classes), but when the extremes
prevail of the most unbounded luxury and enjoyment
and the most dreadful privation and suffering? To imagine
a state of society in which everybody should be well off, or
even tolerably well off, would be a mere vision, as long as
there is a preponderance of vice and folly in the world.
There will always be effects commensurate with their causes,
but it has not always been, and it certainly need not be, that
the majority of the population should be in great difficulty,
struggling to keep themselves afloat, and, what is worse, in
uncertainty and in doubt whether they can earn subsistence
for themselves and their families. Such is the case at present,
and I believe a general uncertainty pervades every class
of society, from the highest to the lowest; nobody looks upon
any institution as secure, or any interest as safe, and it is only
because those universal feelings of alarm which are equally
diffused throughout the mass but slightly affect each individual
atom of it that we see the world go on as usual, eating,
drinking, laughing, and dancing, and not insensible to the
danger, though, apparently indifferent about it.
Charles Wood[2]
came to me yesterday, and
brought a paper showing the various effects of a different
qualification from 10ℓ. to 40ℓ. for the metropolitan districts,
to talk over the list, but principally to get me to speak to
Harrowby about a foreseen difficulty. The first clause in
the Bill enacts that fifty-six boroughs be disfranchised. This
gave great offence in the House of Commons, was feebly
defended, but carried by the majority, which was always
ready and required no reason; it was an egregious piece
of folly and arrogance there, here it presents a real embarrassment.
I told him I knew Harrowby had an invincible
repugnance to it, and that the effect would be very bad if
they split upon the first point. He said he should not defend
it, that all reason was against it, but that there it was,
and how was it to be got rid of? I suggested that it should
be passed over, and that they should go at once to the boroughs
A DIFFICULTY AT SCHEDULE A.
seriatim. He said if that clause was omitted a suspicion
would immediately arise that there was an intention of
altering Schedule A, and nothing would avert that but
getting through a great part of it before Easter, and that this
might be difficult, as the longest time they could expect to sit
would be three days in Passion Week. He talked a great
deal about the country expecting this, and that they would
not be satisfied if it was not done, and all the usual jargon
of the Reformers, which it was not worth while to dispute,
and it ended by my promising to talk to Lord Harrowby
about it. This I did last night, and he instantly flew into
a rage. He said ‘he would not be dragged through the
mire by those scoundrels. It was an insolence that was
not to be borne; let them make their Peers if they would, not
Hell itself should make him vote for fifty-six; he would vote
for sixty-six or any number but that, that he would not split
with the Tories on the first vote; if indeed they would consent
to fifty-six he would, or to anything else they would agree
to, but if the Government brought this forward no consideration
on earth should prevent his opposing it.’ We then
discussed the whole matter, with the proposed amendments
which Wood and I had talked over with reference to the
metropolitan members and town and county voting, and I am
to go to-day and propose that after the second reading is
carried they should adjourn till after Easter, and give a little
time for the excitement (which there must be) to subside, and
to see how matters stand, and what probability there is of
getting the thing through quietly.
I called on the Duke of Richmond on Wednesday
morning, and told him what had passed between Wood
and me, and Lord Harrowby and me afterwards. He was
aware of the difficulty, and regretted it the more because he
might have to defend it in the House of Lords. He wished
me very much to go to Downing Street and see Lord Grey
himself if possible before the levee, and he suggested that the
words fifty-six might be left in blank by Lord Grey’s own
motion, that this would be in conformity with the forms of the
House. I set off, but calling at home on my way found Lord
Harrowby at my door. He came in, and was anxious to know
if I had said anything; he was more quiet than the night before,
but still resolved not to agree to fifty-six, though anxious
to have the matter compromised in some way. Lord Harrowby
wanted to adjourn after the second reading, but owned that
the best effect would be to get through Schedule A before
Easter. Yesterday I saw Wood; he harped upon the difficulty
and the old strain of the country. I suggested the point of
form which Richmond had mentioned, but he said that could
not be now in the Bill, as it was sent up from the Commons,
that if they were beaten on fifty-six the country would consider
it tantamount to throwing out Schedule A, and would highly
approve of a creation of Peers, and that, in fact (if they
wished it), it would be the best opportunity they could have.
I told him that it would heap ridicule upon all the antecedent
proceedings, and the pretext must be manifest, as it would
appear in the course of the discussions what the real reason
was. In the middle of our conversation Ellice came in, and
directly asked if my friends would swallow fifty-six, to which
I said, ‘No.’ We had then a vehement dispute, but at last
Wood turned him out, and he and I resumed. We finally
agreed that I should ask Lord Harrowby whether, if Lord
Grey of his own accord proposed to leave out the words fifty-six,
but with an expression of his opinion that this must be
the number, he (Lord Harrowby) would meet him with a
corresponding declaration that he objected to the specification
of the number in the clause, without objecting to the
extent of the disfranchisement, it being always understood
that what passes between us is unauthorised talk, and to
commit nobody—‘without prejudice,’ as the lawyers say.
I heard yesterday, however, from Keate, who is attending
me (and who is the King’s surgeon, and sees him when
he is in town), that he saw his Majesty after the levee on
Wednesday, and that he was ill, out of sorts, and in considerable
agitation; that he enquired of him about his health,
when the King said he had much to annoy him, and that
‘many things passed there (pointing to the Cabinet, out of
which he had just come) which were by no means agreeable,
THE KING’S RELUCTANCE TO MAKE PEERS.
and that he had had more than usual to occupy him that
morning.’ Keate said he was very sure from his manner
that something unpleasant had occurred. This was, I have
since discovered, the question of a creation of Peers again
brought forward, and to which the King’s aversion has returned
so much so that it is doubtful if he will after all
consent to a large one. It seems that unless the Peers are
made (in the event of the necessity arising) Brougham and
Althorp will resign; at least so they threaten. I have seen
enough of threats, and doubts, and scruples, to be satisfied
that there is no certainty that any of them will produce
the anticipated effects, but I am resolved I will try, out of
these various elements, if I cannot work out something which
may be serviceable to the cause itself, though the materials
I have to work with are scanty. The Ministers were all day
yesterday settling who the new Peers shall be, so seriously
are they preparing for the coup. They had already fixed
upon Lords Molyneux, Blandford, Kennedy, Ebrington,
Cavendish, Brabazon, and Charles Fox, Littleton, Portman,
Frederick Lawley, Western, and many others, and this would
be what Lord Holland calls assimilating the House of Lords
to the spirit of the other House, and making it harmonise
with the prevailing sense of the people.
Lord Harrowby was out of town when I called
there on Friday, so I wrote to him the substance of my conversation
with Wood. Yesterday he returned. In the evening
I met Wood at dinner at Lord Holland’s, when he told me
that he found on the part of his friends more reluctance than
he had expected to give up the fifty-six, that he had done
all he could to persuade them, but they made great objections.
Moreover he had had a conversation with Sandon which he did
not quite like, as he talked so much of holding the party together.
All this was to make me think they are stouter than
they really are, for I am better informed than he thinks for.
Yesterday morning I got more correct information about
what had passed with the King. Lord Grey went to him
with a minute of Cabinet requiring that he should make
Peers in case the second reading was thrown
out.[3]
To this
he demurred, raised difficulties and doubts, which naturally
enough alarm the Government very much. However, when
he got back to Windsor he wrote two letters, explaining his
sentiments, from which it appears that he has great reluctance,
that he will do it, but will not give any pledge beforehand,
that he objects to increasing the Peerage, and wants to call
up eldest sons and make Irish and Scotch Peers, that he did
not say positively he would make the Peers, but that he
would be in the way, and come up when it was necessary.
They think that he has some idea that his pledging himself
beforehand (though in fact he did so two months ago) might
be drawn into an improper precedent. However this may
be, his reluctance is so strong that a great deal may be
made of it, as it is probable (if he continues in the same
mind, and is not turned by some violence of the Opposition)
that he will resist still more making Peers when the Bill is
in Committee to carry the details, some of which he himself
wishes to see altered, but the difficulty is very great. It is
impossible to communicate with the Tory leaders; they will
not believe what you tell them, and if they learnt the King’s
scruples they would immediately imagine that they might
presume upon them to any extent, and stand out more
obstinately than ever. I went to Harrowby last night, and
imparted to him the state of things, which I shall do to
nobody else. To Wharncliffe I dare not. He is not indisposed
to Wood’s compromise, and I trust this will be settled,
but he still leans to putting off the second reading till after
Easter, and if the Tories also resolve upon that (which they
are mightily disposed to do) he will not separate from them
on that point, and they are sure to carry it. Unless this
was accompanied with some declaration from them that
they would be disposed to concede the great principles of
the Bill, I think the Government would consider it such an
indication of hostility as to call for an immediate creation
‘THE HUNCHBACK.’
of Peers, and I doubt whether the King could or would
resist. There are many reasons why it would be desirable
to make the second reading a resting-place, and adjourn then
till after Easter, provided all parties consented, but it would
be very unwise to make it the subject of a contest, and nobody
would ever believe that the real reason was not to get
rid of Schedule A by hook or by crook, or of a good deal of
it. Harrowby will, I am sure, not divide against them on
this, and they will not give it up; that there are means of
resistance, if they were judiciously applied, I am sure, and
if there were temper, discretion, and cordiality, the Bill
might be licked into a very decent shape.
I went to see Sheridan Knowles’ new play the other
night, ‘The Hunchback.’ Very good, and a great success.
Miss Fanny Kemble acted really well—for the first time, in
my opinion, great acting. I have not seen anything since
Mrs. Siddons (and perhaps Miss O’Neill) so good.
The Duke of Wellington made a very good speech on
Irish affairs on Friday, one of his best, and he speaks
admirably to points sometimes and on subjects he understands.
I wish he had let alone that Irish Education—disgraceful
humbug and cant. I don’t know that there is anything
else particularly new. Orloff is made a great rout with, but
he don’t ratify. The real truth is that the King of Holland
holds out, and the other Powers delay till they see the result
of our Reform Bill, thinking that the Duke of Wellington
may return to power, and then they may make better terms
for Holland and dictate to Belgium and to France. If the
Reform Bill is carried, and Government stays in, they will
ratify, and not till then. The cholera is disappearing here
and in the country.
Saw Lord Harrowby yesterday morning. He
can’t make up his mind what is best to be done, whether to go
into Committee or not. He rather wishes to get through
Schedule A, but he won’t vote against the Tories if they
divide on adjourning. Then went to Wood and told him
there would be no difficulty about fifty-six. Lord Grey
came in, and talked the whole thing over. He said he
was ill—knocked up—that in his speech to-day he should
be as moderate and tame as anybody could wish. From
what Wood said, and he himself afterwards, I should
think they wish to adjourn after the second reading, but to
make a merit of it if they do. Duncannon, whom I saw
afterwards, seemed to be of the same opinion, that it would
be best not to sit in Passion Week. At night Wharncliffe
came back from Yorkshire. He is all for getting into
Schedule A, and making no difficulties about fifty-six or
anything else, and Harrowby, now that he fancies the Government
want to adjourn, rather wants not, suspecting some
trick. Upon going all over the list, we make out the worst
to give a majority of six, and the best of eighteen, but the
Tories still count upon getting back some of our people. We
had a grand hunt after Lord Gambier’s proxy; he sent it to
Lord de Saumarez, who is laid up with the gout in Guernsey,
and the difficulty was to get at Lord Gambier and procure
another. At last I made Harrowby, who does not know
him, write to him, and Wood sent a messenger after him,
so we hope it will arrive in time.
The day before yesterday Lord Grey introduced
the Reform Bill in a speech of extreme moderation; as
he promised, it was very ‘tame.’ The night’s debate was dull;
yesterday was better. Lord Mansfield made a fine speech
against the Bill; Harrowby spoke well, Wharncliffe ill.
Nothing can equal the hot water we have been in—defections
threatened on every side, expectations thwarted and doubts
arising, betting nearly even. Even de Ros came to me in
the morning and told me he doubted how he should vote; that
neither Harrowby nor Wharncliffe had put the question on
the proper ground, and his reason for seceding from the
Opposition was the menaced creation of Peers. I wrote to
Harrowby and begged him to say something to satisfy tender
consciences, and moved heaven and earth to keep De Ros
and Coventry (who was slippery) right, and I succeeded—at
least I believe so, for it is not yet over. Nothing can equal
the anxiety out of doors and the intensity of the interest in
the town, but the debate is far less animated than that of
REFORM BILL CARRIED IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS.
last year. As to our business, it is ‘la mer à boire,’ with
nobody to canvass or whip in, and not being a party. We
shall, however, I believe, manage it, and but just.
I saw Keate this morning, who had been with the King.
His Majesty talked in high terms of Ellenborough and of
Mansfield. It is difficult to count upon such a man, but if the
second reading is passed I do not believe he will make Peers
to carry any points in Committee, unless it be the very vital
ones, but it is very questionable if the Opposition will fight
the battle then at all, or, if they do, fight in a way to secure
a fair, practical result.
The Reform Bill (second reading) was
carried this morning at seven o’clock in the House of Lords
by a majority of nine. The House did not sit yesterday.
The night before Phillpotts, the Bishop of Exeter, made a
grand speech against the Bill, full of fire and venom, very
able. It would be an injury to compare this man with Laud;
he more resembles Gardiner; had he lived in those days he
would have been just such another, boiling with ambition,
an ardent temperament, and great talents. He has a desperate
and a dreadful countenance, and looks like the man he
is. The two last days gave plenty of reports of changes
either way, but the majority has always looked like from
seven to ten. The House will adjourn on Wednesday, and
go into Committee after Easter; and in the meantime what
negotiations and what difficulties to get over! The Duke of
Wellington and Lord Harrowby have had some good-humoured
talk, and the former seems well disposed to join
in amending the Bill, but the difficulty will be to bring these
extreme and irritated parties to any agreement as to terms.
The debate in the Lords, though not so good as last year,
has been, as usual, much better than that in the Commons.
The accounts from Paris of the cholera are awful, very
different from the disease here. Is it not owing to our
superior cleanliness, draining, and precautions? There have
been 1,300 sick in a day there, and for some days an average
of 1,000; here we have never averaged above fifty, I think,
and, except the squabbling in the newspapers, we have seen
nothing of it whatever; there many of the upper classes have
died of it. Casimir Périer and the Duke of Orleans went to
the Hotel Dieu, and the former was seized afterwards, and has
been very ill, though they doubt if it really was cholera, as he
is subject to attacks with the same symptoms.
The debate in the House of Lords was closed
by a remarkable reply from Lord Grey, full of moderation,
and such as to hold out the best hopes of an adjustment of
the question—not that it pacified the ultra-Tories, who were
furious. The speech was so ill reported at that late hour
that it is not generally known what he did say, and many of
those who heard it almost doubt their own accuracy, or
suspect that he went further than he intended, so unlike was
it to his former violent and unyielding language. He said,
with regard to a creation of Peers, that nothing would justify
him in recommending the exercise of that prerogative but a
collision between the two Houses of Parliament, and that in
such a case (he is reported to have said) he should deem it
his duty first to recommend a dissolution, and to ascertain
whether the feeling of the country was with the other House
(these were not the words, but to this effect). If this be at
all correct, it is clear that he cannot make Peers to carry
the clauses, for, in fact, the collision between the two Houses
will not have arrived unless the Commons should reject any
amendments which may be made by the Lords. The tone,
however, of the violent supporters of Government is totally
changed; at Lord Holland’s last night they were singing in
a very different note, and, now, if the councils of the Lords
are guided by moderation and firmness, they may deal with
the Bill almost as they please; but they must swallow
Schedule A. The difficulties, however, are great; the High
Tories are exasperated and vindictive, and will fiercely fight
against any union with the seceders. The Duke is moderate
in his tone, ready to act cordially with all parties, but he
owes the seceders a grudge, is anxious to preserve his influence
with the Tories, and will probably insist upon
mutilating the Bill more than will be prudent and feasible.
The Harrowby and Wharncliffe party, now that the second
LORD WHARNCLIFFE AND LORD HARROWBY.
reading is over,
ceases to be a party. It was a patched-up,
miscellaneous concern at best, of men who were half
reasoned, half frightened over, who could not bear separating
from the Duke, long to return to him, and, besides, are
ashamed of Wharncliffe as a chief. There never was such a
‘chef de circonstance.’ He is a very honest man, with a
right view of things and a fair and unprejudiced understanding,
vain and imprudent, without authority, commanding
no respect, and in a false position as the ephemeral leader
he is, marching in that capacity pari passu with Harrowby,
who is infinitely more looked up to, but whose bilious complexion
prevents his mixing with society and engaging and
persuading others to follow his opinions; nor has he (Lord
Harrowby) any plan or design beyond the object of the moment.
He has no thought of mixing again in public life, he
does not propose to communicate with anybody on anything
further than the middle course to be adopted now, and few
people are disposed to sever the ties on which their future
political existence depends for the sake of cultivating this
short-lived connection. If the Government, therefore, looks
to the seceders who have carried the question for them to
carry other points, they will find it won’t do, for their
followers will melt into the mass of the anti-Reformers, who,
though they will still frown upon the chiefs, will gladly take
back the rank and file. A fortnight will elapse, in the course
of which opportunities will be found of ascertaining the disposition
of the great party and the probability of an arrangement.
The debate was good on Friday, but very inferior to the
last. Phillpotts got a terrific dressing from Lord Grey, and
was handled not very delicately by Goderich and Durham,
though the latter was too coarse. He had laid himself very
open, and, able as he is, he has adopted a tone and style
inconsistent with his lawn sleeves, and unusual on the
Episcopal Bench. He is carried away by his ambition and
his alarm, and horrifies his brethren, who feel all the danger
(in these times) of such a colleague. The episode of which
he was the object was, of course, the most amusing part of
the whole.
Ill and laid up with the gout
for this week past. Came here on Friday, the 20th. The
carrying of the second reading of the Bill seems to have
produced no effect. Everybody is gone out of town, the
Tories in high dudgeon. The Duke of Wellington has
entered a protest with all the usual objections, which has
been signed by a whole rabble of Peers, but not by Lyndhurst,
Ellenborough, or Carnarvon, who monopolise the brains of the
party; they declined. In the meantime things look better.
Wharncliffe, Harrowby, and Haddington have had two interviews
with Lyndhurst and Ellenborough, and though they
did not go into particulars the result was satisfactory, and
a strong disposition evinced to co-operation and moderation.
It was agreed they should meet again next week, and see
what could be arranged. On Friday Palmerston sent to
Wharncliffe and desired to see him. They met, and Palmerston
told him that he came from Lord Grey, who was
desirous of having an interview with him, adding that Lord
Grey had now become convinced that he might make much
more extensive concessions than he had ever yet contemplated.
He added that Lord Grey would rather see Wharncliffe
alone, without Harrowby, whose manner was so snappish
and unpleasant that he could not talk so much at his ease
as he would to Wharncliffe alone. Wharncliffe replied that
he could have no objection to see Lord Grey, but that he
must fairly tell him his situation was no longer the same,
having put himself in amicable communication with Lyndhurst
and Ellenborough; that the concurrence of the Tories
was indispensable to him and his friends to effect the alterations
they contemplated, and he could not do anything which
might have to them the appearance of underhand dealing;
that he could tell Lyndhurst and Ellenborough, and if they
made no objection he would see Lord Grey. Ellenborough
was gone out of town, but he went to Lyndhurst, who immediately
advised him to see Lord Grey, and said it was
most desirable they should be made acquainted with the
MEETING OF LORD GREY AND LORD WHARNCLIFFE.
views and disposition of Government, and he undertook to
write word to the Duke of Wellington of all that had passed.
Lord Grey was unable to leave Sheen yesterday, so it was
arranged that the meeting should be delayed till Wharncliffe’s
return to London. The Duke of Richmond has, however, got
a letter of four sides from Grey, empowering him to treat here
with Wharncliffe, and Stanley and Graham being expected, it
is very likely some progress may be made. Nothing can
promise better, and if the chiefs of the Tories can be brought
to moderation the stupid obstinacy of the mass will not
matter, and I do not think they will dare hold out, for when
a negotiation on such a conciliatory basis is proposed, a
terrible case would be made hereafter against those who should
refuse to listen to it. The advantages are so clear that
nothing would make them persist in the line of uncompromising
opposition but an unconquerable repugnance to afford
a triumph to the Waverers, which a successful termination
would do; not that they would profit by it, for they are so
few, and those who will have been wrong so many, that
clamour will silence justice, and a thousand excuses and
pretences will be found to deprive them of their rightful
credit. It is a long time—not probably since the days of
Charles II.—that this place (Newmarket) has been the
theatre of a political negotiation, and, conceding the importance
of the subject, the actors are amusing—Richmond,
Graham, Wharncliffe, and myself. By-the-bye it is perfectly
true that (if I have not mentioned it before) the Royal
carriages were all ready the morning of the decision of the
second reading to take the King to the House of Lords to
prorogue Parliament, and on Tuesday the Peers would have
appeared in the ‘Gazette.’
Nothing written for a long time,
nor had I anything to write till a few days ago. From the
time of Wharncliffe’s departure I heard nothing, and I bitterly
regret now not having been in town last
week.[4]
The Committee
stood for Monday; on Friday se’nnight last I was
at Buckenham, when the Duke of Rutland told me he was
going to London, that they meant to divide on Monday on
a proposal to postpone Schedules A and B till after C and
D, and expected to beat the Government; I wrote by that
post to Lady Harrowby, saying I hoped this was not true,
and that if it was it appeared to me most injudicious. On
Tuesday I received by the post a letter from Wharncliffe,
saying that they had been in frequent communication with
Ellenborough and Lyndhurst, that the Opposition were prepared
to make great and satisfactory concessions, and he
thought all would go off well. The only difficulty he apprehended
was from the postponement of the disfranchising
clause, which the Tories insisted on, and to which he and
Harrowby had thought it right to agree. The next day I
received a second letter, with an account of the debate and
its consequences, to which I wrote him a trimming reply,
and another to Lady Harrowby, expressing my sentiments
on their conduct on the occasion. Before all this happened
Wharncliffe had had to encounter abuse of every kind, and
he has certainly continued to play his cards in such a way,
from first to last, as to quarrel with Whigs and Tories in succession.
With very good intentions, and very honest, he has
exposed himself to every reproach of insincerity, intrigue,
and double-dealing.
On arriving in town I found a note from him, desiring
I would see him and hear his defence of himself before I
expressed elsewhere the opinion I had given to him. Accordingly
I went to Boodle’s, where I found him, and he
immediately began his case. He said that on his return to
town he saw Lord Grey, who said that he wished to know
what were the intentions of his party, and how far they
were disposed to go, and what concessions they looked for.
He replied that Lord Grey must understand that he now
DEFEAT OF GOVERNMENT IN COMMITTEE.
stood in a very different position, and that, reunited as he
was with the Tories, he must act with them—much, in
short, what he had before said to Palmerston. They then
discussed the question, and he said that there was one point
for which Lord Grey ought to be prepared, and that he knew
the Tories were much bent upon proposing the postponement
of Schedules A and B. Lord Grey said this would be productive
of the greatest embarrassment, that it would be a
thing they could not agree to, and he hoped he would do all
in his power to prevent it. Wharncliffe said that he would
endeavour, but he believed they were very eager about it,
and he added that Lord Grey might be sure he would support
nothing calculated to interfere with the essential provisions
of the Bill. After this his and Harrowby’s communications
with Ellenborough and his friends continued, and on
the Saturday (I think) Lyndhurst told him that the Tories
were so irrevocably bent upon this, and that they were so
difficult to manage and so disposed to fly off, that it was
absolutely necessary to give way to them, and it must be
proposed, though he would gladly have waived it, but that
was impossible; upon which Harrowby and Wharncliffe
gave in and agreed to support it. One of them (Haddington,
I think) suggested that Wharncliffe ought to communicate
this intention to Lord Grey, to which, however, Lyndhurst
objected, said that the Tories were suspicious, had already
taken umbrage at the communications between Wharncliffe
and Grey, and that it must not be. To this prohibition
Wharncliffe fatally submitted, and accordingly not a word
was said by anybody till the afternoon of the debate, when
just before it began Wharncliffe told the Duke of Richmond,
who of course told Lord Grey. Wharncliffe at the same time
had some conversation with John Russell and Stanley, who
strongly deprecated this intention, but it was too late to
arrange or compromise anything then. The debate came on;
the proposition was made in a very aggravating speech by
Lyndhurst, and on its being carried Lord Grey threw up the
Bill and the Government in a passion. It is the more remarkable
that they should have taken this course at once, because
they certainly had very strong reason to doubt whether the
King would consent to a creation of Peers, though they probably
thought he might be bullied upon an occasion which
they fancied they could turn to great account; but he was
stout and would not hear of it.
The day after the debate Grey and Brougham went down
to Windsor and proposed to the King to make fifty Peers.
They took with them a minute of Cabinet signed by all the
members except the Duke of Richmond. Palmerston proposed
it in Cabinet, and Melbourne made no objection. His
Majesty took till the next day to consider, when he accepted
their resignations, which was the alternative they gave him.
At the levee the same day nothing occurred; the King
hardly spoke to the Duke, but he afterwards saw Lyndhurst
(having sent for him). I do not know what passed between
them, but the Duke of Wellington was soon sent for. The
Duke and Lyndhurst endeavoured to prevail on Peel to take
the Government upon himself, and the former offered to act
in any capacity in which he could be useful, but Peel would
not. Some communication also took place between Lyndhurst
and Harrowby, but the latter declared at once he would
support the new Government, but not take office. When Peel
finally declined, the Duke accepted, and yesterday at three
o’clock he went to St. James’s. The King saw Peel and the
Speaker. Nothing is known of the formation of the Cabinet,
but the reports were first that Alexander Baring was to be
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and since that he has refused
on account of his health, and that Lyndhurst is to go to the
King’s Bench, Tenterden to retire, and the Great Seal to be
put in commission.
The first act of the Duke was to advise the King to reject
the address of the Birmingham Union, which he did, and
said he knew of no such body. All very proper. In the
morning I called upon Wood at the Treasury, to explain to
him that I had never been cognisant of the late proceedings
in the House of Lords, and that I was far from approving the
conduct of my old associates. He said he had never believed
POSITION OF PARTIES.
that I was any party to it, and regretted that I had not been
in town, when it was just possible I might have persuaded
them of the unworthiness of the course they were taking.
He said that I did not know how bad it was, for that
Wharncliffe had distinctly said that if such a thing was proposed
he should oppose it, and that Palmerston was present
when he said so. This Wharncliffe positively denies, and
yesterday he went to Palmerston to endeavour to explain,
taking with him a minute which he said he had drawn up at the
time of all that passed, but which he had never before shown
or submitted for correction, and which Palmerston told him
was incorrect, inasmuch, as it omitted that engagement.
They are at issue as to the fact. The position of the respective
parties is curious. The Waverers undertook a task
of great difficulty with slender means, and they accomplished
it with complete success. All turned out as they expected
and desired, but, after having been in confidential communication
with both parties, they have contrived mortally to
offend both, and to expose themselves to odium from every
quarter, and to an universal imputation of insincerity and
double-dealing, and this without any other fault than mismanagement
and the false position in which they found
themselves, without influence or power, between two mighty
parties. The Tories, who have exhibited nothing but obstinacy
and unreasonableness, and who thwarted the Waverers
by every means they could devise, have reaped all the benefit
of their efforts, and that without admitting that they
were right or thanking them for bringing matters to this
pass. They are triumphant, in spite of all they did to prevent
their own triumph, and have had all the spiteful
pleasure of abuse and obloquy, all the glory of consistency,
and the satisfaction of pertinacity, with all the advantages
that an opposite line of conduct promised to give them.
[Their triumph was of short duration, and nothing so complete
as their final discomfiture.]
The King took leave of his Ministers with a great effusion
of tenderness, particularly to Richmond, whom he entreated
to remain in office; but I take it that he easily consoles himself,
and does not care much more for one Minister than
another.
The debate in the House of Commons was not so violent
as might have been expected, and the Tories were greatly
elated with the divisions on Ebrington’s motion, because there
was a majority less by fifty-six than on a similar motion
when the Bill was rejected in October. The circumstances
were, however, different, and some would not vote because
they disapprove of creating Peers, which this vote would
have committed them to approve of. There is so much of
wonder, and curiosity, and expectation abroad that there is
less of abuse and exasperation than might have been expected,
but it will all burst forth. The town is fearfully quiet.
What is odd enough is that the King was hissed as he left
London the other day, and the Duke cheered as he came out of
the Palace. There have been some meetings, with resolutions
to support the Bill, to express approbation of the Ministers,
and to protest against the payment of taxes, and there will
probably be a good deal of bustle and bluster here and elsewhere;
but I do not believe in real tumults, particularly when
the rabble and the unions know that there is a Government
which will not stand such things, and that they will not be able
to bandy compliments with the Duke as they did with Althorp
and John Russell, not but what much dissatisfaction and much
disquietude must prevail. The funds have not fallen, which
is a sign that there is no alarm in the City. At this early
period of the business it is difficult to form any opinion of
what will happen; the present Government in opposition
will again be formidable, but I am disposed to think things
will go on and right themselves; we shall avoid a creation of
Peers, but we must have a Reform Bill of some sort, and perhaps
a harmless one after all, and if the elements of disorder
can be resolved into tranquillity and order again, we must
not quarrel with the means that have been employed, nor
the quantum of moral injustice that has been perpetrated.
The Tories are very indignant with Peel for not taking
office, and if, as it is supposed, he is to support Government
PEEL REFUSES TO TAKE OFFICE.
and the Bill out of office, and when all is over come in, it is
hardly worth while for such a farce to deprive the King and
the country of his services in the way that they could be
most useful, but he is still smarting under Catholic question
reminiscences, while the Duke is more thick-skinned. After
he had carried the Catholic question the world was prepared
for a good deal of versatility on his part, but it was in mere
derision that (after his speech on Reform in 1830) it used to
be said that he would very likely be found proposing a Bill of
Reform, and here he is coming into office for the express
purpose of carrying on this very Bill against which the other
day he entered a protest which must stare him in the face
through the whole progress of it, or, if not, to bring in
another of the same character, and probably nearly of the
same dimensions. Pretexts are, however, not wanting, and
the necessity of supporting the King is made paramount to
every other consideration. The Duke’s worshippers (a numerous
class) call this the finest action of his life, though it is
difficult to perceive in what the grandeur of it consists, or
the magnitude of the sacrifice. However, it is fair to wait
a little, and hear from his own lips his exposition of the mode
in which he intends to deal with this measure, and how he
will reconcile what he has hitherto said with what he is now
about to do. Talleyrand is of course in a state of great
consternation, which will be communicated like an electrical
shock to the Powers specially favoured and protected by the
late Government—Leopold and Don Pedro, for instance. It
will be a difficult thing for the Duke to deal with some of
the questions on which he has committed himself pretty considerably
while in opposition, both with respect to foreign
politics and especially Irish Education.
Nothing more was known yesterday,
but everybody was congregated at the clubs, asking, discussing,
and wondering. There was a great meeting at Apsley
House, when it was supposed everything was settled. The
Household went yesterday to St. James’s to resign their sticks
and badges; amongst the rest Lord Foley. The King was
very civil to him; made him sit down and said, ‘Lord Foley,
you are a young man.’ ‘Sir, I am afraid I cannot flatter
myself that I have any right to that appellation.’ ‘Oh, yes;
you are a young man—at all events in comparison with me—and
you will probably come into office again; but I am an old
man, and I am afraid I shall not have the pleasure of seeing
you there.’ It is supposed that this coup has been preparing
for some time. All the Royal Family, bastards and all, have
been incessantly at the King, and he has probably had more
difficulty in the long run in resisting the constant importunity
of his entourage, and of his womankind particularly, than
the dictates of his Ministers; and between this gradual but
powerful impression, and his real opinion and fears, he was
not sorry to seize the first good opportunity of shaking off
the Whigs. When Lord Anglesey went to take leave of him
at Windsor he was struck with the change in his sentiments,
and told Lady Anglesey so, who repeated it to my brother.
It is gratifying to find that those with whom I used to
dispute, and who would hear of nothing but rejecting the
second reading, now admit that my view was the correct one,
and Vesey Fitzgerald, with whom I had more than one discussion,
complimented me very handsomely upon the justification
of my view of the question which the event had
afforded. The High Tories, of course, will never admit that
they could have been wrong, and have no other resource but
to insist boldly that the King never would have made Peers
at all.[5]
The events of the last few days have
passed with a rapidity which hardly left time to think upon
them—such sudden changes and transitions from rage to
triumph on one side, and from foolish exultation to mortification
and despair on the other. The first impression was that
the Duke of Wellington would succeed in forming a Government,
with or without Peel. The first thing he did was to try
WELLINGTON’S EFFORTS TO FORM A MINISTRY.
and prevail upon Peel to be Prime Minister, but he was inexorable.
He then turned to
Baring,[6]
who, after much hesitation,
agreed to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. The work went
on, but with difficulty, for neither Peel, Goulburn, nor Croker
would take office. They then tried the Speaker, who was
mightily tempted to become Secretary of State, but still
doubting and fearing, and requiring time to make up his
mind. At an interview with the Duke and Lyndhurst at
Apsley House he declared his sentiments on the existing
state of affairs in a speech of three hours, to the unutterable
disgust of Lyndhurst, who returned home, flung himself into
a chair, and said that ‘he could not endure to have anything
to do with such a damned tiresome old bitch.’ After these
three hours of oratory Manners Sutton desired to have till
the next morning (Monday) to make up his mind, which he
again begged might be extended till the evening. On that
evening (Monday) ensued the memorable night in the House
of Commons, which everybody agrees was such a scene of
violence and excitement as never had been exhibited within
those walls. Tavistock told me he had never heard anything at
all like it, and to his dying day should not forget it. The House
was crammed to suffocation; every violent sentiment and vituperative
expression was received with shouts of approbation,
yet the violent speakers were listened to with the greatest
attention.[7]
Tom Duncombe made one of his blustering Radical
harangues, full of every sort of impertinence, which was received
with immense applause, but which contrasted with an
admirable speech, full of dignity, but also of sarcasm and
severity, from John Russell—the best he ever made. The conduct
of the Duke of Wellington in taking office to carry the Bill,
which was not denied, but which his friends feebly attempted
to justify, was assailed with the most merciless severity, and
(what made the greatest impression) was condemned (though
in more measured terms) by moderate men and Tories, such
as Inglis and Davies Gilbert. Baring, who spoke four times,
at last proposed that there should be a compromise, and that
the ex-Ministers should resume their seats and carry the
Bill. This extraordinary proposition was drawn from him
by the state of the House, and the impossibility he at once
saw of forming a new Government, and without any previous
concert with the Duke, who, however, entirely approved of
what he said. After the debate Baring and Sutton went to
Apsley House, and related to the Duke what had taken
place, the former saying he would face a thousand devils
rather than such a House of Commons. From that moment
the whole thing was at an end, and the next morning (Tuesday)
the Duke repaired to the King, and told him that he
could not form an Administration. This communication, for
which the debate of the previous night had prepared everybody,
was speedily known, and the joy and triumph of the
Whigs were complete.
The King desired the Duke and Lyndhurst (for they went
together) to advise him what he should do. They advised
him to write to Lord Grey (which he did), informing him that
the Duke had given up the commission to form a Government,
that he had heard of what had fallen from Mr. Baring
in the House of Commons the night before on the subject of
a compromise, and that he wished Lord Grey to return and
resume the Government upon that principle. Lord Grey
sent an answer full of the usual expressions of zeal and respect,
but saying that he could give no answer until he had
consulted his colleagues. He assembled his Cabinet, and at
five o’clock the answer was
sent.[8]
Yesterday morning Lord Grey saw the King; but up to
last night nothing was finally settled, everything turning
upon the terms to be exacted, some of the violent of the
party desiring they should avail themselves of this opportunity
to make Peers, both to show their power and increase
their strength; the more moderate, including Lord Grey
himself and many of the old Peer-makers, were for sparing
the King’s feelings and using their victory with moderation,
TRIUMPH OF THE WHIGS.
all, however, agreeing that the only condition on which they
could return was the certainty of carrying the Reform
Bill unaltered, either by a creation of Peers or by the
secession of its opponents. Up to the present moment
the matter stands thus: the King at the mercy of the Whigs,
just as averse as ever to make Peers, the violent wishing to
press him, the moderate wishing to spare him, all parties
railing at each other, the Tories broken and discomfited, and
meditating no further resistance to the Reform Bill. The
Duke is to make his exposé to-night.
Peel, who has kept himself out of the scrape, is strongly
suspected of being anything but sorry for the dilemma into
which the Duke has got himself, and they think that he
secretly encouraged him to persevere, with promises of present
support and future co-operation, with a shrewd anticipation
of the fate that awaited him. I am by no means indisposed
to give credit to this, for I well remember the wrath of
Peel when the Duke’s Government was broken up in 1830, and
the various instances of secret dislike and want of real cordiality
which have peeped from under a decent appearance of
union and friendship. Nothing can be more certain than that
he is in high spirits in the midst of it all, and talks with great
complacency of its being very well as it is, and that the salvation
of character is everything; and this from him, who
fancies he has saved his own, and addressed to those who
have forfeited theirs, is amusing.
The joy of the King at what he thought was to be his
deliverance from the Whigs was unbounded. He lost no
time in putting the Duke of Wellington in possession of
everything that had taken place between him and them upon
the subject of Reform, and with regard to the creation of
Peers, admitting that he had consented, but saying he had
been subjected to every species of persecution. His ignorance,
weakness, and levity put him in a miserable light, and prove
him to be one of the silliest old gentlemen in his dominions;
but I believe he is mad, for yesterday he gave a great dinner
to the Jockey Club, at which (notwithstanding his cares) he
seemed in excellent spirits; and after dinner he made a
number of speeches, so ridiculous and nonsensical, beyond
all belief but to those who heard them, rambling from one
subject to another, repeating the same thing over and over
again, and altogether such a mass of confusion, trash, and
imbecility as made one laugh and blush at the same time.
As soon as the Duke had agreed to try and form a
Government he applied to the Tories, who nearly all agreed
to support him, and were prepared to go to all lengths, even
to that of swallowing the whole Bill if necessary; the Duke
of Newcastle particularly would do anything. These were
the men who were so squeamish that they could not be
brought to support amendments even, unless they were permitted
to turn the schedules upside-down, straining at gnats
out of office and swallowing camels in. It is remarkable
that after the sacrifice Wharncliffe made to re-ingratiate
himself with the Tories, incurring the detestation and abuse
of the Whigs, and their reproach of bad faith, the former
have utterly neglected him, taking no notice of him whatever
during the whole of their proceedings from the moment of
the division, leaving him in ignorance of their plans and
intentions, never inviting him to any of their meetings, and
although a communication was made by Lyndhurst to
Harrowby (they wanted Harrowby to be Prime Minister),
the latter was not at liberty to impart it to Wharncliffe. It
is not possible to be more deeply mortified than he is at the
treatment he has experienced from these allies after having
so committed himself. From the account of the King’s
levity throughout these proceedings, I strongly suspect that
(if he lives) he will go mad. While the Duke and Lyndhurst
were with him, at one of the most critical moments (I forget
now at which) he said, ‘I have been thinking that something
is wanting with regard to Hanover. Duke, you are now my
Minister, and I beg you will think of this; I should like to
have a slice of Belgium, which would be a convenient addition
to Hanover. Pray remember this,’ and then resumed the
subject they were upon.
The night before last the Duke made his
statement. It was extremely clear, but very bald, and left
THE KING’S LETTER TO THE PEERS.
his case just where it was, as he did not say anything that
everybody did not know before. His friends, however,
extolled it as a masterpiece of eloquence and a complete
vindication of himself. The Tory Lords who spoke after him
bedaubed him with praise, and vied with each other in
expressions of admiration. These were Carnarvon, Winchelsea,
and Haddington. There was not one word from
the Duke (nor from the others) indicative of an intention to
secede, which was what the Government expected. His
speech contained a sort of covert attack upon Peel; in fact,
he could not defend himself without attacking Peel, for if the
one was in the right in taking office the other must have been
in the wrong in refusing to join him. There was nothing,
however, which was meant as a reproach, though out of the
House the Duke’s friends do not conceal their anger that
Peel would not embark with him in his desperate enterprise.
Lyndhurst was exceedingly able, highly excited, very
eloquent, and contrived to make his case a good one. It was
a fine display and very short. Carnarvon and Mansfield
were outrageously violent, but both in their way clever, and
parts of the speech of the latter were eloquent. Lord Grey was
excellent, short, very temperate and judicious, exactly what
was requisite and nothing more. Nobody else spoke on his
side, except Mulgrave at the end.
The debate, however interesting, left the whole matter in
uncertainty; and the next day the old question began again.
What was to be done—Peers or no Peers? A Cabinet sat
nearly all day, and Lord Grey went once or twice to the
King. He, poor man, was at his wits’ end, and tried an
experiment (not a very constitutional one) of his own by
writing to a number of Peers, entreating them to withdraw
their opposition to the Bill. These letters were written (I
think) before the debate. On Thursday nothing was settled,
and at another meeting of the Cabinet a minute was drawn up
agreeing to offer again the same advice to the King. Before
this was acted upon Richmond, who had been absent, arrived,
and he prevailed upon his colleagues to cancel it. In the
meantime the Duke of Wellington, Lyndhurst, and other
Peers had given the desired assurances to the King, which
he communicated to Lord Grey. These were accepted as
sufficient securities, and declarations made accordingly in
both Houses of Parliament. If the Ministers had again gone
to the King with this advice, it is impossible to say how it
would have ended, for he had already been obstinate, and
might have continued so on this point, and he told Lord
Verulam that he thought it would be contrary to his coronation
oath to make Peers. Our princes have strange notions
of the obligations imposed by their coronation oath.
On Thursday in the House of Commons Peel made his
statement, in which, with great civility and many expressions
of esteem and admiration of the Duke, he pronounced as
bitter a censure of his conduct, while apparently confining
himself to the defence of his own, as it was possible to do,
and as such it was taken. I have not the least doubt that he
did it con amore, and that he is doubly rejoiced to be out of
the scrape himself and to leave others in it.
Since I came back from Newmarket there has
not been much to write about. A calm has succeeded the
storm. Last night Schedules A and B were galloped
through the Committee, and they finished the business. On
Thursday next the Bill will probably be read a third time.
In the House of Lords some dozen Tories and Waverers have
continued to keep up a little skirmish, and a good deal of
violent language has been bandied about, in which the Whigs,
being the winners, have shown the best temper. In society
the excitement has ceased, but the bitterness remains. The
Tories are, however, so utterly defeated, and the victory of
their opponents is so complete, that the latter can afford to
be moderate and decorous in their tone and manner; and the
former are exceedingly sulky, cockering up each other with
much self-gratulation and praise, but aware that in the
opinion of the mass of mankind they are covered with odium,
ridicule, and disgrace. Peel and the Duke are ostensibly
great friends, and the ridiculous farce is still kept up of
each admiring what he would not do himself, but what the
other did.
FAVOURITES OF LOUIS XVIII.
Met the Duke of Wellington at dinner yesterday,
and afterwards had a long talk with him, not on
politics. I never see and converse with him without reproaching
myself for the sort of hostility I feel and express
towards his political conduct, for there are a simplicity, a
gaiety, and natural urbanity and good-humour in him, which
are remarkably captivating in so great a man. We talked
of Dumont’s book and Louis XVIII.’s ‘Memoirs.’ I said I
thought the ‘Memoirs’ were not genuine. He said he was
sure they were, that they bore the strongest internal evidence
of being so, particularly in their accuracy as to dates, that he
was the best chronologist in the world, and that he knew the
day of the week of every event of importance. He once
asked the Duke when he was born, and when he told him the
day of the month and year, he at once said it was on a Tuesday;
that he (the Duke) had remembered that throughout the book
the day of the week was always mentioned, and many of the
anecdotes he had himself heard the King tell. He then
talked of him, and I was surprised to hear him say that
Charles X. was a cleverer man, as far as knowledge of the
world went, though Louis XVIII. was much better informed—a
most curious remark, considering the history and end of
each. [Nothing could be more mistaken and untrue than
this opinion.] That Louis XVIII. was always governed,
and a favourite indispensable to him. At the Congress of
Vienna the Duke was deputed to speak to M. de Blacas, his
then favourite, and tell him that his unpopularity was so
great in France that it was desirable he should not return
there. Blacas replied, ‘You don’t know the King; he must
have a favourite, and he had better have me than another.
I shall go; he will have another, and you should take pains
to put a gentleman in that situation, for he is capable of
taking the first person that finds access to him and the
opportunity of pleasing him.’ He added that he should not
wonder if he took Fouché. He did not take Fouché, who was
not aware of the part he might have played, but he took De
Cazes, who governed him entirely. This continued till the
Royal Family determined to get rid of him, and by threatening
to make an esclandre and leave the château they at last
succeeded, and De Cazes was sent as Ambassador to London.
Then the King wrote to him constantly, sending him verses
and literary scraps. The place remained vacant till accident
threw Madame du Cayla in his
way.[9]
She was the daughter
of Talon, who had been concerned in the affair of the Marquis
de Favras, and she sent to the King to say she had some papers
of her father’s relating to that affair, which she should like
to give into his own hands. He saw her and was pleased
with her. The Royal Family encouraged this new taste, in
order to get rid entirely of De Cazes, and even the Duchesse
d’Angoulême promoted her success. It was the same thing
to him to have a woman as a man, and there was no sexual
question in the matter, as what he wanted was merely some
one to whom he could tell everything, consult with on all
occasions, and with whom he could bandy literary trifles.
Madame du Cayla, who was clever, was speedily installed, and
he directly gave up De Cazes. He told the Duke that he
was brouillé with De Cazes, who had behaved very ill to him,
but he had nothing specific to allege against him, except
that his manner to him was not what it ought to have been.
The Ministers paid assiduous court to Madame du Cayla,
imparted everything to her, and got her to say what they
wanted said to the King; she acted all the part of a mistress,
except the essential, of which there never was any question.
She got great sums of money from him and very valuable
presents.
Breakfasted on Thursday with Rogers, and
yesterday at the Athenæum with Henry Taylor, and met Mr.
Charles Austin, a lawyer, clever man, and Radical. The Bills
are jogging on and there is a comparative calm. The Whigs
swear that the Reformed Parliament will be the most aristocratic
we have ever seen, and Ellice told me that they cannot
hear of a single improper person likely to be elected for any
of the new places. [Their choice did not correspond with
this statement of their disposition.] The metropolitan districts
CHARACTER OF WILLIAM IV.
want rank and talent. The Government and their
people have now found out what a fool the King is, and it is
very amusing to hear them on the subject. Formerly, when
they thought they had him fast, he was very honest and
rather wise; now they find him rather shuffling and exceedingly
silly. When Normanby went to take leave of him on
going to Jamaica, he pronounced a harangue in favour of
the slave trade, of which he has always been a great admirer,
and expressed sentiments for which his subjects would
tear him to pieces if they heard them. It is one of the great
evils of the recent convulsion that the King’s imbecility has
been exposed to the world, and in his person the regal
authority has fallen into contempt; his own personal unpopularity
is not of much consequence as long as it does not
degrade his office; that of George IV. never did, so little so
that he could always as King cancel the bad impressions
which he made in his individual capacity, and he frequently
did so. Walter Scott is arrived here, dying. A great
mortality among great men; Goethe, Périer, Champollion,
Cuvier, Scott, Grant, Mackintosh, all died within a few weeks
of each other.
At Fern Hill all last week; a great party,
nothing but racing and gambling; then to Shepperton, and
to town on Saturday. The event of the races was the King’s
having his head knocked with a stone. It made very little
sensation on the spot, for he was not hurt, and the fellow
was a miserable-looking ragamuffin. It, however, produced
a great burst of loyalty in both Houses, and their Majesties
were loudly cheered at Ascot. The Duke of Wellington, who
had been the day before mobbed in London, also reaped a
little harvest of returning popularity from the assault, and
so far the outrages have done rather good than harm.
The suttee case was decided at the Privy
Council on Saturday last, and was not uninteresting. The
Chancellor, Lord President, Graham, John Russell and Grant,
Sir Edward East, the Master of Rolls, Vice-Chancellor, Lord
Amherst, and Lord Wellesley were present (the latter not the
last day). Lushington was for the appeal, and Home and
Starkie against. The former made two very able and ingenious
speeches; when the counsel withdrew the Lords gave their
opinions seriatim. Leach made a very short and very neat
speech, condemning the
order[10]
of the Governor-General, but
admitting the danger of rescinding it, and recommending,
therefore, that the execution of it should be suspended. Sir
Edward East, in a long, diffusive harangue, likewise condemned
the order, but was against suspension; Sir James
Graham was against the order, but against suspension; Lord
Amherst the same. The rest approved of the order altogether.
John Russell gave his opinion very well. The Chancellor was
prolix and confused; he hit upon a bit of metaphysics in one
of the cases on which he took pleasure in dilating. The result
was that the petition was dismissed.
I know nothing of politics for some time past. The
Reform fever having subsided, people are principally occupied
with speculations on the next elections. At present there
is every appearance of the return of a House of Commons
very favourable to the present Government, but the Tory
party keeps together in the House of Lords, and they are
animated with vague hopes of being able to turn out the
Ministry, more from a spirit of hatred and revenge than
from any clear view of the practicability of their carrying
on the Government. I conceive, however, that as soon as
Parliament is up there will be a creation of Peers. In the
House of Commons the Irish Tithe question has been the
great subject of interest and discussion. O’Connell and the
Irish members debate and adjourn just as they please, and
Althorp is obliged to give way to them. When Stanley
moved for leave to bring in his Bill, he detailed his plan in
a speech of two hours. They thought fit to oppose this,
which is quite unusual, and O’Connell did not arrive till
after Stanley had sat down. Not having heard his speech
he could not answer him, and he therefore moved the adjournment.
O’CONNELL’S DREAD OF CHOLERA.
Upon a former occasion, during the Reform
Bill, when the Tories moved an adjournment after many
hours’ debate, the Government opposed it, and voted on
through the night till seven o’clock in the morning; now
the Tories were ready to support Government against the
Irish members, but they would not treat the Radicals as
they did the Tories, and then on a subsequent occasion they
submitted to have the debate adjourned.
O’Connell is supposed to be horridly afraid of the cholera.
He has dodged about between London and Dublin, as the
disease appeared first at one and then the other place, and
now that it is everywhere he shirks the House of Commons
from fear of the heat and the atmosphere. The cholera is
here, and diffuses a certain degree of alarm. Some servants
of people well known have died, and that frightens all other
servants out of their wits, and they frighten their masters;
the death of any one person they are acquainted with terrifies
people much more than that of twenty of whom they knew
nothing. As long as they read daily returns of a parcel of
deaths here and there of A, B, and C they do not mind,
but when they hear that Lady such a one’s nurse or Sir
somebody’s footman is dead, they fancy they see the disease
actually at their own door.
I had a good deal of conversation yesterday
with Lord Duncannon and Lord John Russell about Ireland.
The debate the night before lasted till four o’clock. O’Connell
made a furious speech, and Dawson the other evening another,
talking of resistance and of his readiness to join in it. This
drew up Peel, who had spoken before, and who, when attacked
with cries of ‘Spoke!’ said, ‘Yes, I have spoken, but I will
say that no party considerations shall prevent my supporting
Government in this measure, and giving them my cordial
support.’ He was furious with Dawson, and got up in
order to throw him over, though he did not address himself
to him, or to anything he had said expressly. John Russell
spoke out what ought to have been said long ago, that the
Church could not stand, but that the present clergyman
must be paid. Both he and Duncannon are aware of the
false position in which the Government is placed, pretending
to legislate with a knowledge that their laws cannot be
enforced, and the latter said that, whatever might be done,
the Irish would take nothing at the hands of Stanley. It
is unfortunate that his attachment to the Church makes
him the unfittest man in the country to manage Irish affairs,
and he has contrived to make himself so personally unpopular
that with the best intentions he could not give satisfaction.
Under these circumstances his remaining there is impossible,
but what is to be done with him? He is of such importance
in the House of Commons that they cannot part with him.
I asked John Russell why they did not send Hobhouse to
Ireland and make Stanley Secretary of War. He said would
he consent to exchange? that he was tired of office, and
would be glad to be out. I said I could not suppose in such
an emergency that he would allow any personal considerations
to influence him, and that he would consent to whatever
arrangement would be most beneficial to the Government
and conducive to the settlement of Irish affairs. The truth
is (as I told him) that they are, with respect to Ireland, in
the situation of a man who has got an old house in which
he can no longer live, not tenable; various architects propose
this and that alteration, to build a room here and pull down
one there, but at last they find that all these alterations will
only serve to make the house habitable a little while longer,
that the dry rot is in it, and that they had better begin, as
they will be obliged to end, by pulling it down and building
up a new one. He owned this was true, but said that here
another difficulty presented itself with regard to Stanley—whether
he would, as a leading member of the Cabinet, consent
to any measures which might go so much further than
he would be disposed to do. I said that I could not imagine
(whatever might be his predilections) that his mind was not
awakened to the necessity of giving way to the state of things,
and that he might consent to measures which he felt he was
not a fit person to introduce and recommend. He assented
to this. He then talked of the views of the Protestants, of
the Lefroys, &c., that they began to admit the necessity of
IRISH TITHES.
a change, but by no means would consent to the alienation
of Church property from Protestant uses, that they were
willing where there was a large parish consisting entirely
of Catholics that the tithes should be taken from the rector
of such parish and given to one who had a large Protestant
flock—an arrangement which would disgust the Catholics as
much as or more than any other, and be considered a perfect
mockery. The fact is we may shift and change and wriggle
about as much as we will, we may examine and report and
make laws, but tithe, the tithe system is at an end. The
people will not pay them, and there are no means of compelling
them. The march of events is just as certain as that
of the seasons. The question which is said to be beset with
difficulties is in fact very easy—that is, its difficulties arise
from conflicting interests and passions, and not from the
uncertainty of its operation and end. Those conflicting
passions are certainly very great and very embarrassing,
and it is no easy matter to deal with them, but it seems to
me that the wisest policy is to keep our eyes steadfastly fixed
on the end, and, admitting the inevitable conclusion, labour
to bring it about with the smallest amount of individual loss,
the greatest general benefit, and the best chance of permanence
and stability. By casting lingering looks at the old
system, and endeavouring to save something here and there,
by allowing the Church to remain in the rags and tatters
of its old supremacy, we shall foster those hostile feelings
which it is essential to put down for ever, and leave the
seeds of grievance and hatred to spring up in a future harvest
of agitation and confusion.
Nothing of moment has occurred lately; the
dread of cholera absorbs everybody. Mrs. Smith, young and
beautiful, was dressed to go to church on Sunday morning,
when she was seized with the disorder, never had a chance of
rallying, and died at eleven at night. This event, shocking
enough in itself from its suddenness and the youth and beauty
of the person, has created a terrible alarm; many people have
taken flight, and others are suspended between their hopes of
safety in country air and their dread of being removed from
metropolitan aid. The disease spreads gradually in all directions
in town and country, but without appearing like an
epidemic; it is scattered and uncertain; it brings to light
horrible distress. We, who live on the smooth and plausible
surface, know little of the frightful appearance of the bowels
of society.
Don Pedro has never been heard of since he landed, and
nobody seems much to care whether he or Miguel succeed.
The Tories are for the latter and the Whigs for the former.
In a fourth debate on the Russian Dutch Loan Ministers
got a good finale, a large division, and a brilliant speech
from Stanley, totally unprepared and prodigiously successful.
Nothing could be worse in point of tactics than renewing this
contest, neither party having, in fact, a good case. Parliament
is going to separate soon, and the cholera will accelerate
the prorogation; not a step has been made towards an approximation
between the rival parties, who appear to be
animated against each other with unabated virulence. The
moderate Tories talk of their desire to see the Government
discard their Radical friends, but the great body give them no
encouragement to do so by evincing any diminished hostility
to them as a party. Opinions are so different as to the
probable composition of the next Parliament, that it is
difficult to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion about it. The
Tories evidently expect that they shall reappear in very
formidable strength, though in particular places the Tory
party is entirely crushed; the sooner it is so altogether the
better, for no good can be expected from it, and it would be
far better to erect a Conservative party upon a new and
broader basis than to try and bolster up this worn-out,
prejudiced, obstinate faction. But the times are difficult
and men are wanting; the middle classes are pressing on,
and there are men enough there of fortune, energy, activity,
zeal, and ambition—no Cannings perhaps or Broughams, but
a host of fellows of the calibre of the actors in the old French
Constituent Assembly.
There has been a great breeze between the
Chancellor and Sugden, abusing and retorting upon each
QUARREL BETWEEN BROUGHAM AND SUGDEN.
other from their respective Houses of Parliament. As all
personal matters excite greater interest than any others, so
has this. Scott, Lord Eldon’s son, died, and his places became
vacant. Brougham had recommended their abolition
long ago in his evidence before the House of Commons, and
both publicly and privately. Some days ago Sugden gave
notice to Horne (Solicitor-General) that he meant to put a
question to him in the House of Commons as to whether
these appointments were to be filled up or not, but before he
did so (at four o’clock in the morning) the writ was moved
for James Brougham, who had been put by the Chancellor in
Scott’s place. Accordingly the next day Sugden attacked
the appointment in the House of Commons, and though he
was by way of only asking a question, he in fact made a long
vituperative speech. Nobody was there to reply. Althorp
said he knew nothing of the matter, and various speeches
were made, all expressive of a desire that the appointment
should only be temporary. Horne (it seems) had never told
the Chancellor what Sugden said, and Denman, who had no
authority from him, did not dare get up and say that it was
not to be permanent. Later in the day, having received instructions
from the Chancellor, he did get up and say so.
The next day Brougham introduced the subject in the
House of Lords, and attacked Sugden with all the sarcasm
and contumely which he could heap upon him, comparing
him to ‘a crawling reptile,’ &c. Not one of his Tory friends
said a word, and, what is curious, the Duke of Wellington
praised Brougham for his disinterestedness, and old Eldon
defended the place. The following day (Friday) Sugden
again brought the matter before the House of Commons,
complained bitterly of the Chancellor’s speech, was called to
order by Stanley, when the Speaker interfered, and, dexterously
turning Sugden’s attack upon the newspaper report,
enabled him to go on. A violent discussion followed, rather
awkward for the Chancellor, whose friends endeavoured to
soften the thing down by denying the accuracy of the report.
After much acrimonious debate the matter ended. Yesterday
the ‘Times,’ throwing over Brougham and Sugden, asserted
the accuracy of its own reporter, and declared that whether
the Chancellor was right or wrong to have uttered them, the
words were spoken by him exactly as they had been reported.
Both parties are furious, but on the whole the Chancellor
seems at present to have the worst of it, for it is worse for a
man in his station to be in the wrong, and more indecent to
be scurrilous, than for an individual who is nothing. Sugden
now declares he will bring on a motion he has long meditated
on the subject of the Court of Chancery, in which he will
exhibit to the world the whole conduct of Brougham since he
has held the Great Seal, his early haste and precipitation, his
recent carelessness and delay, his ignorance, inattention, and
incompetence for the office he holds. In this he expects to
be supported by Wetherell, Knight, and Pemberton, three of
the most eminent Chancery lawyers, while Brougham has
nobody but Horne (of the profession) to defend him. If this
should occur he may thank himself, for he would put Horne
there.
Sir Charles Bagot called on me yesterday; told me that
he thought the Belgian question was at last on the point of
being settled, that the King of Holland had made ‘the great
concession,’ and that the rest must soon follow, that he had
never passed two such years amidst such difficulties, the King
so obstinate. His view was that by holding out and maintaining
a large army events would produce war, and that he
would be able to sell himself to some one of the contending
parties, getting back Belgium as the price of his aid, that
he now only gave in because not a hope was left, that the
difficulties were so great that it was not the fault of this
Government that matters were not settled before. I asked
him how the Dutch had contrived to make such an exertion.
He said it was very creditable to them, but that they were
very rich and very frugal, and had lugged out their hoards.
They had saddled themselves with a debt the interest of which
amounts to about 700,000ℓ. a year—a good deal for two
millions of people.
Here is an anecdote exhibiting the character
of Brougham, hot, passionate, and precipitate. He is preparing
BROUGHAM’S RESENTMENT.
his Bill for the amendment of the Court of Chancery,
by which the patronage is to be done away with. Compensation
was to be given to the present interests, but upon this
recent affair between Sugden and him, to revenge himself
upon men who are all or mostly of Sugden’s party, he
ordered the compensation clauses to be struck out. Sefton
(who is a sort of Sancho to him) came up to dinner quite
elated at having heard the order given. ‘I wish,’ said he,
‘you had heard a man treated as I did in the Chancellor’s
room. He came in to ask him about the Bill he was drawing
up. “I suppose the compensation clauses are to be put in?”
“Compensation?” said Brougham. “No, by God; no compensation.
Leave them out, if you please. They chose to
attack me, and they shall have enough of it.”’ And what will
be the end of all this—that the Chancellor shows his spite
and commits himself, shows that he is influenced in legislation
by personal feelings, and incurs the suspicion that because
he cannot get a compensation for his brother he is resolved
nobody else shall have any? Althorp’s speech about the
pensions on Monday set at rest the question of compensation,
and if these offices are abolished the Chancellor cannot prevent
their getting it. In the House of Lords the eternal
Russian Dutch Loan came on again. The Duke made a
speech and Wynford made a speech, and they were opposed
to each other; the Duke hit the right nail on the head, and
took that course which he frequently does, and which is such
a redeeming quality in his political character—addressed
himself to the question itself, to the real merits of it, without
making it a mere vehicle for annoying the Government.
Aberdeen sneered, but when the Duke throws over his people
they can do nothing.
Pedro’s expedition, which always has
hobbled along, and never exhibited any of that dash which
is essential to the success of such efforts, may be considered
hopeless; Palmella arrived here a day or two ago, very low,
and the Regency scrip has fallen four per cent. Nobody
joins them, and it seems pretty clear that, one coquin for
another, the Portuguese think they may as well have Miguel.
The Dutch affair is not yet settled, but on the point of it;
for the fiftieth time a ‘little hitch’ has again arisen. Last
night, in the House of Lords, the Chancellor, in one of his
most bungling ways, made what he meant to be a sort of
amende to Sugden, making the matter rather worse than it
was before, at least for his own credit, for he said that ‘he
had never intended to give pain, which he of all things
abhorred,’ and that he had not been at all in a passion—both
false, and the latter being in fact his only excuse. I sat next
to Melbourne at dinner, who concurred in the judgment of
the world on the whole transaction, and said, ‘The real truth
is, he was in a great rage, for he had forgotten all his own
evidence and his own speeches, and he meant to have kept
the place.’ This evidence from his own colleague and friend
is conclusive, and will be a nice morsel for the future biographer
of Brougham.
I dined at Holland House yesterday; a good many people,
and the Chancellor came in after dinner, looking like an old
clothes man and dirty as the ground. We had a true Holland
House dinner, two more people arriving (Melbourne and Tom
Duncombe) than there was room for, so that Lady Holland
had the pleasure of a couple of general squeezes, and of
seeing our arms prettily pinioned. Lord Holland sits at
table, but does not dine. He proposed to retire (not from the
room), but was not allowed, for that would have given us all
space and ease. Lord Holland told some stories of Johnson
and Garrick which he had heard from Kemble. Johnson
loved to bully Garrick, from a recollection of Garrick’s former
impertinence. When Garrick was in the zenith of his popularity,
and grown rich, and lived with the great, and while
Johnson was yet obscure, the Doctor used to drink tea with
him, and he would say, ‘Davy, I do not envy you your
money nor your fine acquaintance, but I envy you your
power of drinking such tea as this.’ ‘Yes,’ said Garrick, ‘it
is very good tea, but it is not my best, nor that which I give
to my Lord this and Sir somebody t’other.’
Johnson liked Fox because he defended his pension, and
said it was only to blame in not being large enough.
CHARACTER OF MACAULAY.
‘Fox,’ he said, ‘is a liberal man; he would always be “aut
Cæsar aut nullus;” whenever I have seen him he has been
nullus.’ Lord Holland said Fox made it a rule never to talk
in Johnson’s presence, because he knew all his conversations
were recorded for publication, and he did not choose to figure
in them.
The House of Commons has finished (or
nearly) its business. Althorp ended with a blunder. He
brought in a Bill to extend the time for payment of rates
and for voters under the new Bill, and because it was opposed
he abandoned it suddenly; his friends are disgusted. Robarts
told me that the Bank Committee had executed their laborious
duties in a spirit of great cordiality, and with a general
disposition to lay aside all political differences and concur in
accomplishing the best results; a good thing, for it is in such
transactions as these, which afford an opportunity for laying
aside the bitterness of party and the rancorous feelings
which animate men against each other, that the only chance
can be found of a future amalgamation of public men. He
told me that the evidence all went to prove that little
improvement could be made in the management of the
Bank.
Dined yesterday at Holland House; the Chancellor, Lord
Grey, Luttrell, Palmerston, and Macaulay. The Chancellor
was sleepy and would not talk; he uttered nothing but
yawns and grunts. Macaulay and Allen disputed history,
particularly the character of the Emperor Frederick II., and
Allen declared himself a Guelph and Macaulay a Ghibelline.
Macaulay is a most extraordinary man, and his astonishing
knowledge is every moment exhibited, but (as far as I have yet
seen of him, which is not sufficient to judge) he is not agreeable.
His propositions and his allusions are rather too abrupt;
he starts topics not altogether naturally; then he has none
of the graces of conversation, none of that exquisite tact and
refinement which are the result of a felicitous intuition or a
long acquaintance with good society, or more probably a
mixture of both. The mighty mass of his knowledge is not
animated by that subtle spirit of taste and discretion which
alone can give it the qualities of lightness and elasticity, and
without which, though he may have the power of instructing
and astonishing, he never will attain that of delighting
and captivating his hearers. The dinner was agreeable, and
enlivened by a squabble between Lady Holland and Allen,
at which we were all ready to die of laughing. He jeered
at something she said as brutal, and chuckled at his own
wit.
I came here last Sunday to
see my father, who (my mother wrote me word) had been
unwell for a day or two. I got here at four o’clock (having
called on Madame de Lieven at Richmond on the way),
and when I arrived I found my father at the point of
death. He was attacked as he had often been before; medicines
afforded him no relief, and nothing would stay on his
stomach. On Saturday violent spasms came on, which
occasioned him dreadful pain; they continued intermittingly
till Sunday afternoon, when as they took him out of bed to
put him in a warm bath, he fainted. From this state of insensibility
he never recovered, and at half-past twelve o’clock
he expired. My brothers were both here. I sent an express
for my sister, who was at Malvern, and she arrived on Tuesday
morning. Dr. Dowdeswell was in the house, and he
stayed on with us and did all that was required. This
morning he was buried in the church of this village, close to
the house, in the simplest manner, and was followed to the
grave by my brothers and brother-in-law, Dowdeswell, Ives,
the doctor who attended him, and the servants. He had long
been ailing, and at his age (nearly 70 years) this event was
not extraordinary, but it was shocking, because so sudden
and unexpected, and no idea of danger was entertained by
himself or those about him. My father had some faults and
many foibles, but he was exposed to great disadvantages in
early youth; his education was neglected and his disposition
was spoilt. His father was useless, and worse than useless,
as a parent, and his mother (a woman of extraordinary
capacity and merit) died while he was a young man, having
been previously separated from her husband, and having
ANECDOTES OF PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.
retired from the
world.[11]
The circumstances of his marriage,
and the incidents of his life, would be interesting to none
but his own family, and need not be recorded by me. He
was a man of a kind, amiable, and liberal disposition, and
what is remarkable, as he advanced in years his temper
grew less irritable and more indulgent; he was cheerful,
hospitable, and unselfish. He had at all times been a lively
companion, and without much instruction, extensive information,
or a vigorous understanding, his knowledge of the
world in the midst of which he had passed his life, his taste
and turn for humour, and his good-nature made him a very
agreeable man. He had a few intimate friends to whom he
was warmly attached, a host of acquaintance, and I do not
know that he had a single enemy. He was an affectionate
father, and ready to make any sacrifices for the happiness
and welfare of his children—in short, he was amiable and
blameless in the various relations of life, and he deserved
that his memory should be cherished as it is by us with sincere
and affectionate regret.
I have been in London, at Shepperton,
and twice at Brighton to see Henry de Ros; came back yesterday.
The world is half asleep. Lord Howe returns to the Queen
as her Chamberlain, and that makes a sensation. I met at
Brighton Lady Keith [Madame de Flahaut], who told us a
great deal about French politics, which, as she is a partisan,
was not worth much, but she also gave us rather an amusing
account of the early days of the Princess Charlotte, at the time
of her escape from Warwick House in a hackney coach and
taking refuge with her mother, and of the earlier affair of
Captain Hess. The former escapade arose from her determination
to break off her marriage with the Prince of Orange,
and that from her falling suddenly in love with Prince
Augustus of Prussia, and her resolving to marry him and
nobody else, not knowing that he was already married de la
main gauche in Prussia. It seems that she speedily made
known her sentiments to the Prince, and he (notwithstanding
his marriage) followed the thing up, and had two interviews
with her at her own house, which were contrived by Miss
Knight, her governess. During one of these Miss Mercer
arrived, and Miss Knight told her that Prince Augustus was
with the Princess in her room, and what a fright she (Miss
Knight) was in. Miss Mercer, who evidently had no mind
anybody should conduct such an affair for the Princess but
herself, pressed Miss Knight to go and interrupt them, which
on her declining she did herself. The King (Regent as he
was then) somehow heard of these meetings, and measures
of coercion were threatened, and it was just when an approaching
visit from him had been announced to the Princess
that she went off. Miss Mercer was in the house at the time,
and the Regent, when he came, found her there. He accused
her of being a party to the Princess’s flight, but afterwards
either did or pretended to believe her denial, and sent her
to fetch the Princess back, which after many pourparlers
and the intervention of the Dukes of York and Sussex,
Brougham, and the Bishop of Salisbury, her preceptor, was
accomplished at two in the morning.
Hess’s affair was an atrocity of the Princess of Wales.
She employed him to convey letters to her daughter while
she used to ride in Windsor Park, which he contrived to
deliver, and occasionally to converse with her; and on one
occasion, at Kensington, the Princess of Wales brought them
together in her own room. The Princess afterwards wrote
him some letters, not containing much harm, but idle and
improper. When the Duke of York’s affair with Mrs. Clark
came out, and all the correspondence, she became very much
alarmed, told Miss Mercer the whole story, and employed her
to get back her letters to Hess. She accordingly wrote to
Hess (who was then in Spain), but he evinced a disinclination
to give them up. On his return to England she saw
him, and on his still demurring she threatened to put the
affair into the Duke of York’s hands, which frightened him,
and then he surrendered them, and signed a paper declaring
BELGIUM, SPAIN, FRANCE.
he had given up everything. The King afterwards heard of
this affair, and questioning the Princess, she told him everything.
He sent for Miss Mercer, and desired to see the
letters, and then to keep them. This she refused. This
Captain Hess was a short, plump, vulgar-looking man,
afterwards lover to the Queen of Naples, mother of the
present King, an amour that was carried on under the
auspices of the Margravine at her villa in the Strada Nova
at Naples. It was, however, detected, and Hess was sent
away from Naples, and never allowed to return. I remember
finding him at Turin (married), when he was lamenting his
hard fate in being excluded from that Paradiso Naples.
At Stoke from the 22nd to the 26th,
then to the Grove, and returned yesterday; at the former
place Madame de Lieven, Alvanley, Melbourne; tolerably
pleasant; question of war again. The Dutch King makes
a stir, and threatens to bombard the town of Antwerp; the
French offered to march, and put their troops in motion, but
Leopold begged they would not, and chose rather to await
the effect of more conferences, which began with great vigour
a few days ago. What they find to say to each other for eight
or ten hours a day for several consecutive days it is hard to
guess, as the question is of the simplest kind. The King
of Holland will not give up the citadel of Antwerp, nor
consent to the free navigation of the Scheldt; the Belgians
insist on these concessions; the Conference says they shall
be granted, but Russia, Prussia, and Austria will not coerce
the Dutchman; England and France will, if the others don’t
object. A French army is in motion, and a French fleet is off
Spithead; so probably something will come of it. Nothing
has damaged this Government more than these protracted
and abortive conferences.
Four days ago there was a report that the King of Spain
was dead, accompanied with a good many particulars, and
all the world began speculating as to the succession, but
yesterday came news that he was not dead, but better. Pedro
and Miguel are fighting at Oporto with some appearance of
spirit; Miguel is the favourite. The French Government is
represented to be in a wretched state, squabbling and feeble,
and nobody is inclined to be Minister. Dupin was very near
it, but refused because Louis Philippe would not make him
President of the Council. The King is determined to be his
own Minister, and can get nobody to take office on these
terms. They think it will end in Dupin. The present
Government declares it cannot meet the Chambers until
Antwerp is evacuated by the Dutch and the Duchesse de
Berri departed out of France or taken. This heroine, much
to the annoyance of her family, is dodging about in La Vendée
and doing rather harm than good to her cause. The Dauphiness
passed through London, when our Queen very politely
went to visit her. She has not a shadow of doubt of the
restoration of her nephew, and thinks nothing questionable
but the time. She told Madame de Lieven this. I talked to
Madame de Lieven about war, and added that if any did
break out it would be the war of opinion which Canning had
predicted. She said yes, and that the monarchical principle
(as she calls the absolute principle) would then crush the
other.
I came up with Melbourne to London. He is uneasy
about the state of the country—about the desire for change
and the general restlessness that prevails. We discussed the
different members of the Government, and he agreed that
John Russell had acted unwarrantably in making the speech
he did the other day at Torquay about the Ballot, which,
though hypothetical, was nothing but an invitation to
the advocates of Ballot to agitate for it; this, too, from a
Cabinet Minister! Then comes an awkward sort of explanation,
that what he said was in his individual capacity, as if
he had any right so to speak. Melbourne spoke of Brougham,
who he said was tossed about in perpetual caprices, that he
was fanciful and sensitive, and actuated by all sorts of littlenesses,
even with regard to people so insignificant that it is
difficult to conceive how he can ever think about them; that
he is conservative, but under the influence of his old connexions,
particularly of the Saints. His friends are so often
changed that it is not easy to follow him in this respect.
CONVERSATION WITH LORD MELBOURNE.
Durham used to be one; now he hates him; he has a high
opinion of Sefton! of his judgment!! What is talent, what
are great abilities, when one sees the gigantic intellect of
Brougham so at fault? Not only does the world manage to go
on when little wisdom guides it, but how ill it may go on with a
great deal of talent, which, however, is different from wisdom.
He asked me what I thought of Richmond, and I told him that
he was ignorant and narrow-minded, but a good sort of
fellow, only appearing to me, who had known him all my life,
in an odd place as a Cabinet Minister. He said he was sharp,
quick, the King liked him, and he stood up to Durham more
than any other man in the Cabinet, and that altogether he was
not unimportant; so that the ingredients of this Cabinet seem
to be put there to neutralise one another, and to be good for
nothing else; because Durham has an overbearing temper,
and his father-in-law is weak, there must be a man without
any other merit than spirit to curb that temper. He talked of
Ireland, and the difficulty of settling the question there, that
the Archbishop of Canterbury was willing to reform the
Church, but not to alienate any of its revenues. ‘Not,’ I
asked, ‘for the payment of a Catholic clergy?’ ‘No, not
from Protestant uses.’ I told him there was nothing to be
done but to pull down the edifice and rebuild it. He said you
would have all the Protestants against you, but he did not
appear to differ. To this things must come at last. Melbourne
is exceedingly anxious to keep Lord Hill and Fitzroy
Somerset at the head of the army, from which the violent of
his party would gladly oust them, but he evidently contemplates
the possibility of having occasion for the army, and does
not wish to tamper with the service or play any tricks with
it. It is curious to see the working and counterworking of
his real opinions and principles with his false position, and
the mixture of bluntness, facility and shrewdness, discretion,
levity and seriousness, which, colouring his mind and character
by turns, make up the strange compound of his
thoughts and his actions.