Chapter 15

The Queen and Lord Melbourne--The Battersea Schools--A Council at Windsor--A Humble Hero--Lord Durham's Resignation--Duke of Wellington's Campaigns--The Grange--Lord Durham's Return--Death of Lord Sefton--Lord Durham's Arrival--His Reception in the Country--Position of the Radicals--A Visit to Windsor Castle-- Lord Brougham's 'Letter to the Queen'--Lord Durham repudiates the Radicals--A Lecture at Battersea--Dinner at Holland House-- Curran and George Ponsonby--Prospect of the New Year--The Petition of the Serjeants-at-Law--Reconciliation with Lord Durham--Murder of Lord Norbury--The Corn Laws attacked--Lord Palmerston and the 'Portfolio'--The Serjeants' Case--Brougham and Lyndhurst 'done up'--Opening of the Session--Resignation of Lord Glenelg--State of Parties--Lord Durham's Report--Lord Glenelg's Retirement--Lord Normanby, Colonial Minister--Corn Law Repeal--Sir Francis Bond Head--Gore House--Lady Blessington.

September 7th, 1838 {p.130}

Nothing to record of any sort or kind: London a desert; I went to-day to Windsor for a Council, was invited by the Queen (through Melbourne) to stay and dine, but made an excuse on the score of business, and luckily had a plausible one to make.

September 12th, 1838 {p.130}

[Page Head: THE QUEEN AND LORD MELBOURNE.]

George Villiers, who came from Windsor on Monday, told me he had been exceedingly struck with Lord Melbourne's manner to the Queen, and hers to him: his, so parental and anxious, but always so respectful and deferential; hers, indicative of such entire confidence, such pleasure in his society. She is continually talking to him; let who will be there, he always sits next her at dinner, and evidently by arrangement, because he always takes in the lady-in-waiting, which necessarily places him next her, the etiquette being that the lady-in-waiting sits next but one to the Queen. It is not unnatural, and to him it is peculiarly interesting. I have no doubt he is passionately fond of her as he might be of his daughter if he had one, and the more because he is a man with a capacity for loving without having anything in the world to love. It is become his province to educate, instruct, and form the most interesting mind and character in the world. No occupation was ever more engrossing or involved greater responsibility. I have no doubt that Melbourne is both equal to and worthy of the task, and that it is fortunate she has fallen into his hands, and that he discharges this great duty wisely, honourably, and conscientiously. There are, however, or rather may be hereafter, inconveniences in the establishment of such an intimacy, and in a connexion of so close and affectionate a nature between the young Queen and her Minister; for whenever the Government, which hangs by a thread, shall be broken up, the parting will be painful, and their subsequent relations will not be without embarrassment to themselves, nor fail to be the cause of jealousy in others. It is a great proof of the discretion and purity of his conduct and behaviour, that he is admired, respected, and liked by all the Court.

Yesterday I went to Battersea and dined with Robert Eden, the Rector,[1] and he took me before dinner to see his lions, and introduced me to scenes very different from those which I am used to see. We went to different manufactories, a saw-mill, a pottery, to the lunatic asylum, to the workhouse, and we visited several poor people at their cottages, when he enquired into the circumstances of the sick or the indigent; but what struck me most forcibly was the school (upon Bell's system) and the extraordinary acquirements of the boys. Eden examined them, and invited me to do so, in arithmetic, geography, English history, and the Bible, and their readiness and correctness were really surprising. I doubt whether many of the children of the rich, who are educated at a vast expense at private or public schools, could pass such an examination as these young paupers who are instructed at the cost of about one guinea a year. The greatest punishment that can be inflicted on one of these boys is to banish him from school, such delight do they take in acquiring knowledge. He gave me a curious account of the state of his parish: there is no middle class of tradesmen in good circumstances; they are divided between the extremes of wealth and of poverty, masters and operatives; but amongst the latter there is a considerable amount of knowledge, though their minds are ill-regulated and their principles perverted. When first he came there the place abounded in disciples of Carlile, pure atheists, and when Carlile was in prison he was supported by their contributions; but though totally without religion they were not immoral, and among these men were some of the best husbands and fathers in the place, so much so that when Carlile told them that men might indulge in polygamy and take two wives, they were scandalised and disgusted, and began immediately to abandon him. Some were reclaimed and came to church, but the greater part, who required some powerful excitement, sought it in politics, and became deeply imbued with the most pernicious principles of hatred against all institutions, against the higher orders, and against property. The fountain from which they draw their opinions is a Sunday paper called the 'Watchman,' which is universally and greedily read: it is cleverly written, accommodated to their taste, and flatters all their worst propensities. Few people know these things and are aware of the poison that is thus circulating through the veins, and corrupting the blood, of the social mass. The desire for instruction and knowledge seems very general among the lower orders. Eden, with some others, has established evening lectures upon various subjects, which are crowded by anxious and attentive listeners of all ages and callings, who frequently hurry from their daily occupations, impatient to partake of the instruction which Eden and his curates, and often some of the better informed inhabitants of the place, are in the habit of dispensing.

[1] Afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells.

September 15th, 1838 {p.132}

[Page Head: AN INVITATION TO WINDSOR.]

Yesterday again at Windsor for a Council. I had made up my mind not to stay if invited, and meant to hasten away; but before I could do so Melbourne came after me and said, 'You will stay here? the Queen desired me to ask you.' I said I had no evening dress, had come by the railroad, and walked from Slough; could not assume that I should be asked, and did not know what to do. He said, 'She meant it as a civility, and thought you would like it.' There was a sort of reproach conveyed in the tone, and that induced me to say, 'So I should if I had only known of it, but as it is I can send for my things if you like.' He ended by desiring I would do what I liked best myself, promised that he would take care the Queen was not offended, and that nobody else would know anything of the matter. I accordingly resolved to go, and went away with Lord Albemarle. My mind misgave me, and I had a great mind to stay, especially as Lord Albemarle told me they did not mean to turn me out after dinner, but that sleeping there was a matter of course. Then I was sorry I had not stayed, which I might just as well have done, for I had nothing else to do. At these Councils we meet in common morning dress, which we used not to do.

London, October 26th, 1838 {p.133}

A blank month: to Newmarket, to Buckenham, back to Newmarket, to Cromer (fine, wild, bleak coast), Buckenham again, Newmarket, London, Norman Court, and here again; heard nothing, learnt nothing, altogether unprofitable, Durham's resignation[2] the only event, the _dénouement_ of which nobody can guess. The Ministers ought never to have sent him, knowing what he was, and this has not been their only fault. Norman Court[3] is a very enjoyable place; close to it was (for it has lately been pulled down) the house from which Lady Mary eloped with Mr. Wortley. There I met the doctor who attended young Sam Day (who won the St. Leger for me on Mango) after the fall of which he died, and he gave me a striking account of the deathbed scene, the actors in which, albeit of an humble and unpolished class, displayed feelings not the less intense from the simplicity of their expression, and the total absence of that morbid or conventional sensibility which gives a sort of dramatic dignity to the grief of the great ones. The boy himself died like a hero, with a firmness, courage, and cheerfulness which would have been extolled to the skies in some conspicuous character on whom the world has been accustomed to gaze, but which in the poor jockey boy passed unheeded and unknown, and it is only the few as obscure as himself who witnessed his last moments who are aware that, wherever his bones rest--

in that neglected spot is laid A heart once pregnant with celestial fire.

[2] [Upon the receipt of the intelligence of the Declaratory Act, Lord Durham at once announced in Canada his determination to resign. The disallowance of the Ordinance and his official recall crossed this intimation on the road.]

[3] [Norman Court was at that time the seat of Mr. Baring Wall. After his death it passed to Mr. Thomas Baring.]

November 8th, 1838 {p.134}

At Newmarket, and at Euston for a day (probably for the last time), and to London on Monday. The stillness of the political atmosphere has been rudely broken in upon by Lord Durham's astounding Proclamation: for once the whole of the press has joined in a full chorus of disapprobation, and this may be considered conclusive as to public opinion. Indeed there can scarcely be two opinions on the subject, for such an appeal to the people of the Colony over whom he is placed from the acts of the Government and the legislature of the mother country is as monstrous as it is unexampled.[4] It seems incredible that he should not have been deterred by the men who are about him, who are not deficient in capacity, from taking this desperate step; but as there is little doubt that Turton advised him not to issue the Ordinances, and got into disgrace with him for so doing, it is possible that they none of them were consulted, or if consulted did not dare, or did not choose, to give him any advice whatever. The dignity of the Government now demands that his insolence and misconduct should be visited with the severest expression of disapprobation and reproof, and the harshest measures, even an impeachment, would be fully warrantable, if harsh measures did not generally defeat their own object. But if the Government mince matters with him, and evince any fear to strike, if they do not vindicate their own authority, and punish his contumacy with dignity and spirit, their characters are gone, and they will merit all the contempt with which their opponents affect to treat them.

[4] [Lord Durham's conduct was arrogant and highly injudicious. On the 9th October he issued a Proclamation in Canada, in which he censured the conduct of the Home Government. It is printed in the 'Ann. Reg.' for 1838, Chron. p. 311. In fact his vanity was wounded, and his mission, of which so much was expected, had failed. But it will be seen further on that the first impression produced by his violence was considerably mitigated. Mr. John Stuart Mill defended his policy in the _Westminster Review_, and a certain amount of reaction took place in his favour.]

November 18th, 1838, Wolbeding {p.135}

[Page Head: WELLINGTON IN BATTLE.]

Came here to-day and brought Lord Fitzroy Somerset[5] with me, who told me a great deal about the Duke and their old campaigns. He never saw a man so cool and indifferent to danger, at the same time without any personal rashness or bravado, never putting himself in unnecessary danger, never avoiding any that was necessary. He was close to the Duke, his left arm touching the Duke's right, when he was shot in the arm at Waterloo, and so was Lord Anglesey when he received his wound in the leg. When Lord Anglesey was shot he turned to the Duke and said, 'By G-- I have lost my leg.' The Duke replied, 'Have you? by G--.' The only time the Duke ever was hit was at Orthez, by a spent ball, which struck him on the side and knocked him down. He and Alava were standing together having both dismounted, and they were laughing at a Portuguese soldier who had just passed by saying he was 'offendido' ... when the Duke was struck down, but he immediately rose and laughed all the more at being 'offendido' himself. During the battles of the Pyrenees Cole proposed to the Duke and his staff to go and eat a very good dinner he had ordered for himself at his house in the village he occupied, as he could not leave his division. They went and dined, and then the Duke went into the next room and threw himself upon a bed without a mattress, on the boards of which he presently went to sleep with his despatch-box for a pillow. Fitzroy and the aides-de-camp slept in chairs or on the floor scattered about. Presently arrived, in great haste and alarm, two officers of artillery, Captain Cairne and another, who begged to see the Duke, the former saying that he had just brought up some guns from the rear, and that he had suddenly found himself close to the enemy and did not know what to do. They went and woke the Duke, who desired him to be brought in. The officer entered and told his story, when the Duke said, very composedly, 'Well, Sir, you are certainly in a very bad position, and you must get out of it in the best way you can,' turned round, and was asleep again in a moment.

[5] [Afterwards Lord Raglan. He lost his arm at Waterloo, and commanded the British army in the Crimea, where he died in 1855.]

Lord Fitzroy gave me an account of the battle of Salamanca, exactly corresponding with that which the Duke himself gave me last year at Burghley, but with some additional details. They were going to dine in a farmyard, but the shot fell so thick there that the mules carrying the dinner were ordered to go to another place. There the Duke dined, walking about the whole time munching, with his field-glass in his hand, and constantly looking through it. On a sudden, he exclaimed, 'By G--, they are extending their line; order my horses.' The horses were brought and he was off in an instant, followed only by his old German dragoon, who went with him everywhere. The aides-de-camp followed as quickly as they could. He galloped straight to Pakenham's division and desired him immediately to begin the attack. Pakenham said, 'Give me your hand, and it shall be done.' The Duke very gravely gave him his hand, Pakenham shook it warmly and then hastened off. The French were attacked directly after.

[Page Head: AN ARMY LOST.]

He also told me another anecdote I had never heard before. During the retreat from Burgos, on this very day twenty-six years ago, when the weather was dreadful and the roads were nearly impassable, the Duke _lost his army_ for several hours. They had to cross a river near a place called Rodrigo, and the Duke had ordered the army to march in three columns, of which one, composed of the Spaniards, was to cross by the only bridge there was, and the other two by fords and by another route. He had assigned the easiest line to the Spaniards because they were likely to have more stragglers than the British. Arthur Upton, the Quartermaster-General of one of the divisions, had dined at head-quarters the night before, and the Duke had sent by him written orders for the march. The next morning at two o'clock the Duke was on the high road on purpose to see the troops pass by. Cavalry came, but no infantry, and to the enquiries the Duke made, they all replied that they had not seen anything of the infantry. Presently the Duke galloped off, and Fitzroy having missed him soon after, set off to see if he could discover what was become of the infantry. It was not till several hours after that he joined the Duke, who had at last found out the cause of the non-appearance of his infantry. The three Generals commanding the divisions, Clinton, Stewart, and Lord Dalhousie, had thought fit to disobey his orders, and as a great deal of rain had fallen in the night, they had settled that it would be better to direct the whole of the infantry on the bridge instead of moving them by the roads prescribed by the Duke, and though they knew he was only seven or eight miles off, they never advised him of their having made this change in the movements he had ordered. The enemy did not discover what had occurred; if they had, the consequences might have been very serious, and a great loss have ensued. Fitzroy asked the Duke what he had said to them, and he replied, 'Oh, by G--, it was too serious to say anything.' It was too late then to restore the original order of march, and the whole army crossed by the bridge. No further allusion was made to what had occurred.

December 2nd, 1838 {p.137}

Went from Wolbeding to the Grange, last Friday week--Henry Taylor and George Cornewall Lewis there--and came to town on Sunday. The Grange is a beautiful specimen of Grecian architecture, bought by Lord Ashburton of that extraordinary man Henry Drummond, a man so able and eccentric as to be treading on the very edge of the partition which divides wit from madness.

Lord Durham arrived at Plymouth some days ago, but was not able to land (on Thursday last) owing to the violence of the storms. Great curiosity prevails to see what sort of a reception he gets from Ministers and the Queen, and what his relations are to be with Government. Nothing they say can exceed the astonishment which he and his court feel, or will feel, at the sensation excited in the country by his conduct. Gibbon Wakefield, the first who arrived, said he had never been so amazed in the course of his life, and owned that they had all expected to make a very different impression, and to be hailed with great applause. Brougham, who is sitting at the Judicial Committee, is in high spirits and looking forward with exceeding zest and eagerness to the fun he is to have in the House of Lords.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD SEFTON.]

While I was in the country, Lord Sefton's long illness came to a close, but not before he was reduced to a state of deplorable imbecility, so that his death was a release from misery to himself as well as to all about him. He was a man who filled a considerable space in society, and had been more or less conspicuous from the earliest period of his life. He was possessed of an ample fortune, which he endeavoured to convert into a continual source of enjoyment in every mode which fancy, humour, or caprice suggested. His natural parts were excessively lively, but his education had been wholly neglected, and he never attempted to repair in after-life the deficiencies occasioned by that early neglect. He had therefore not the slightest tincture of letters, his mind was barren of information, and he not only took no interest in intellectual pursuits, but he regarded with aversion, and something like contempt, those who were peculiarly devoted to them. On the other hand, he was an acute man of the world, eagerly entering into all the interests, great and small, of his own time, sufficiently acquainted with the mushroom literature of the day for all social purposes, and, partly from the authority which his wealth and position gave him, partly from his own dexterity, he contrived to turn conversation aside from those topics in the discussion of which he was incapable of mixing, and to promote that sort of half-serious, half-ludicrous talk, in which he was not only fitted to play a prominent part, but in which he exhibited a talent quite peculiar to himself. Never was there so great a master of what is called _persiflage_--of that boisterous, droll and pungent banter which, if not the most elevated species of wit, is certainly that which is most exhilarating and provocative of laughter. In this he was unrivalled, and it was heightened by the adjuncts of a voice, face, and manner irresistibly comical. As the most opposite characters owned the fascination of this exciting talent, he was enabled to gratify his inclination for every variety of social excellence, and to number among his friends and companions many of the most eminent and accomplished men of his time. From his earliest youth he had always lived in what was considered the very best society, and as he eschewed the idea of growing old and retiring from the stage, he was continually making new acquaintances, falling into fresh pursuits, and adapting himself to the prevailing tastes and habits of the day. His father had stamped upon him his hideous form, but with it his sharp and caustic wit; he found himself at the outset a member of that brilliant society of which Hatfield and Cashiobury were the temples, and Lady Salisbury, Lady Essex, and Mrs. St. John the presiding divinities. After these had flourished and decayed, Sefton struck into fresh paths of social enjoyment, and having successively sought for amusement in hunting, shooting, racing, gaming, 'besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking,' he plunged with ardour into politics, and though he had no opinions or principles but such as resulted from personal predilections, and had none of that judgement which can only be generated by the combination of knowledge with severe mental discipline, he was enabled by the force of circumstances and an energetic will to acquire political intimacies, and to a certain degree to play a political part: of this his friendship with Brougham was the primary cause. Brougham had been his counsel in some important cause at Liverpool, and that professional connexion subsequently ripened into a close alliance, Sefton being naturally delighted with his brilliant conversation, while Brougham was always highly diverted with the peculiar humour and drollery of Sefton. So intimate therefore did they become, and such influence was Sefton supposed to possess over his mind, that he was employed by Lord Grey, on the formation of the Whig Government in 1830, to settle the conditions of Brougham's accession to office, and to appease the wrath which had been stirred up in his mind by the offer of being made Attorney-General. His addiction to politics had, however, very little influence on his habits, except to extend and diversify the sphere of his occupations and amusements. His Parliamentary attendance never abridged the hours or nights which were devoted to Crockford's, and his friendships with Brougham, Lord Grey and Lord Holland, Talleyrand, and all the most distinguished people in the country, did not alienate him from the company of the idle, gay, and dissolute frequenters of clubs and race-courses, congenial spirits from whom he extracted their several contributions of entertainment. The one thing needful to him was excitement, and so fixed and rooted was his habit of seeking it, that there was a sort of regularity in the very irregularities of his existence. In regard to his moral attributes he was governed by an intense selfishness, but of that liberal and enlightened character which throws a partial veil over the vice itself and leaves the superficial observer unconscious of its existence. He was a devoted husband, a kind and affectionate father, a despot (though it was a beneficent despotism) in his own family, a courteous, cordial, and obliging host; he cared for money only as a means of enjoyment, but it formed no part of his scheme of happiness to employ it in promoting the pleasures, or relieving the necessities of others, except in so far as such pleasures were connected with his own gratification. He was absolutely devoid of religious belief or opinions, but he left to all others the unquestioned liberty of rendering that homage to religion from which he gave himself a plenary dispensation. His general conduct was stained with no gross immorality, and as he was placed far above the necessity of committing dishonourable actions, his mind was habitually imbued with principles of integrity. They sat, however, lightly and easily upon him as regarded the conduct of others, not so much from indifference as from indulgence in those particular cases where a rigid and severe application of high principle would have interfered with his own convenience or enjoyment. Such was Sefton, a man who acted too conspicuous a part on the stage of the world to be passed over without notice, whom I knew too well to delineate in more flattering terms, but to whom I must acknowledge a debt of gratitude for a long and undeviating course of kind and cordial hospitality experienced for many years.

December 6th, 1838 {p.141}

[Page Head: LORD DURHAM'S RETURN.]

If notoriety upon any terms could satisfy anybody, Lord Durham would have ample reason for contentment, as his name is in everybody's mouth, and the chief topic of every newspaper and political periodical. He was detained by the storms on board his ship for a day or two, and met on his landing by a Devonport address, to which he returned a rather mysterious answer (talking of the great disclosures he had to make), with a reference to his Glasgow speech in which in '34 he announced his Radical tendency. The most interesting question is how he and the Ministers will go on together, what they ought to do, and how he will take their usage of him whatever it may be. He has been in no hurry to come to town, and has reposed himself at Plymouth as long as it suited him; but he is expected to-day. Brougham, who is sitting every day at the Privy Council, is always growling at him sarcastically, and was much pleased when news came of the fresh outbreak in Canada, and his disappointment was equally evident when he heard it was so rapidly quelled. He was reading the newspaper in my room before the Court opened, when Denman came and announced that he had just met Charles Wood, who had told him that young Ellice was released, and the insurrection suppressed. Brougham did not take his eyes off the paper, and merely muttered, 'It will soon break out again.' He is all day long working sums in algebra, or extracting cube-roots; and while he pretends to be poring over the great book (the cases of the parties) before him, he is in reality absorbed in his own calculations. Nevertheless, he from time to time starts up, and throws in a question, a dictum, or a lecture, just as if he had been profoundly attentive.

December 10th, 1838 {p.142}

Nothing can exhibit more strikingly the farcical nature of public meetings, and the hollowness, worthlessness, and accidental character of popularity, than the circumstances of Durham's arrival here. He has done nothing in Canada, he took himself off just as the fighting was going to begin, his whole conduct has been visited with universal disapprobation, and nevertheless his progress to London has been a sort of triumph; and he has been saluted with addresses and noisy receptions at all the great towns through which he passed. His position here is extraordinary enough, and his relations with the Government stand upon a strange footing. They have made no communication to him since his arrival. Upon the receipt of his Proclamation they wrote to him and expressed their disapprobation, but those letters never reached him, as he quitted Canada before they could have arrived. They now, it seems, consider that silence is token sufficient of their displeasure at his abrupt return; but, though no doubt he fully understands them, they ought to have conveyed their sentiments openly and distinctly. There is an appearance of pusillanimity in this reserve which does them great harm, and brings them into discredit. They ought to have told him temperately, but firmly, that they were entirely dissatisfied with his proceedings, and having so done they should have called upon him to afford them all the explanations and all the information he has to give; but they have done none of this, for they have taken no notice of him, nor he of them. He has not seen one of the Ministers, not even his own brother-in-law Howick, nor any of the underlings, except Ben Stanley, who found Durham in high dudgeon, and saying, that 'as Government attacked him he must defend himself.' What he means by 'attacking him' is, that certain articles reflecting on his conduct have appeared in the 'Globe,' for in no way have Government said or done anything about him; on the contrary, they have been only too reserved and forbearing.

[Page Head: LORD DURHAM BLUNDERS.]

The conduct of Durham throughout the whole business, from his first legislative act in Canada (the Ordinance) down to his arrival in London, is perfectly inexplicable, and presents a series of blunders tricked out in plausible language, invested with the dignity of pompous phraseology, mysterious allusions, threats and promises, and the affecting complaints of injured innocence and ill-requited virtue. But still, such is the effect of notoriety, so dearly do ordinary mortals love to play a part and 'make the capable,' that in spite of his blunders and his faults he has contrived to excite a certain amount of interest, to make an impression, though not a very deep or wide one, and to raise a vague expectation as to his promised disclosures. His speeches in reply to the addresses are most extraordinary performances, unbecoming in tone, contradictory, inconsistent, and inflated; for as to disclosures he has none to make of any sort or kind. He had the finest game to play in Canada that could be placed in his hands, for the proceedings here gave him a legitimate grievance, and would have enabled him to claim double credit for success, and exemption from any blame or discredit from failure; but temper, uncontrollable and unreflecting, hurried him into the irretrievable follies he committed, and he is now without any alternative but that of renewing the Radical connexion from which a short time ago he evinced a disposition to keep aloof, and he has nothing left for it but to accept the post that is offered him of leading a party which, in its composition, principles, and objects, is as uncongenial as possible to his real character and disposition. For it is not a little curious that this levelling democratic faction, to whom the aristocracy are an abomination, are not only wild to have a lord for their leader, but must have that lord who is the especial incarnation of all those odious qualities which they ascribe most unjustly to the order of which he is a member: and he who is brimful of pride and arrogance, and of an overweening sense of his greatness and his rank, is content to associate with men whose chief recommendation is the profuseness with which they pander to his vanity, and to seek personal distinction and power by lending himself to the promotion of schemes the success of which no man would more earnestly deprecate than himself. The greatest enigma is how Durham has ever come to be considered of such importance, and what is the cause of the sort of reputation he has acquired; for whatever may be his intrinsic value, he certainly fills a considerable space, attracts a great share of public attention, and is a personage of some consequence in the political world. He is a clever man, can both write and speak well, but he has not been in the habit of _saying_ much, and he has never _done_ anything whatever. He is known to the world by no specific act, and he has taken part very rarely and occasionally in the debates in Parliament. All that is known of his embassy to Russia is, that he was completely bit by the Emperor Nicholas, and gave up the question of the 'Vixen;' still, by dint of being perpetually cried up by a particular party, and by doing well the little he has occasionally done in public, he has succeeded in making himself pass for a man of high pretensions and uncommon endowments, and in the present state of parties his arrival may be productive of important effects.

[Page Head: IRRITATION OF THE RADICALS.]

The Radicals, that is, the English ones, are extremely exasperated against the Government, and many of them are anxious to terminate the Whig reign, from which they think it vain to expect anything after John Russell's declaration, and to try their chance with the Tories: not that they expect to find the Tories squeezable, but they fancy that a Tory Government will fail, and, after its failure, that recourse must be had to them. The wiser heads of the party know that these notions are quite chimerical, and are for trusting to the chapter of accidents and letting the present Cabinet remain in. The consequence is, that there is great dissension and vast difference of opinion among them; they have no leader, and there is no individual who influences the determinations of the whole body. On the other side of the water, O'Connell has likewise threatened to insist upon ballot as the condition of his support to Government; but nobody pays any attention to his harangues or the menaces they contain, and his support may be pretty well depended on. But it would not be enough for Government that the English Radicals should abstain from going against them in a body, because so slender is the majority on which they can count, that if any considerable number were to oppose Government on some vital question, it would be sufficient to overthrow them. Of this they are aware, as well as of the probability of such defection, and the consequent precariousness of their situation, and many among them are beginning to be very tired and disgusted with such a tenure of office. It is difficult to believe that Melbourne would not be more so than anybody, if it were not that he is bound by every sentiment of duty, gratitude, and attachment to the Queen to retain the Government as long as he can with honour and safety, and to stretch a point even, to spare her the pain and mortification of changes that would be so painful to her. The Tories, who see the accumulating difficulties of the Government, and who are aware of the immense importance of letting it dissolve of itself, or be broken up by the defection and opposition of its own supporters, are disposed to be patient and moderate; that is, the more sagacious of them are; but they are always in danger of being prematurely urged on by the violence and impetuosity of their tail. Such is the state of parties at the present moment, and it would puzzle the most sagacious observer and most experienced actor in political life to predict the result of the ensuing session. There is quite enough, however, in the general aspect of affairs both at home and abroad to moderate the rancour of mere party violence.

December 15th, 1838 {p.145}

Went on Wednesday to a Council at Windsor, and after the Council was invited to stay that night; rode with the Queen, and after riding Melbourne came to me and said Her Majesty wished me to stay the next day also. This was very gracious and very considerate, because it was done for the express purpose of showing that she was not displeased at my not staying when asked on a former occasion, and as she can have no object whatever in being civil to me, it was a proof of her good-nature and thoughtfulness about other people's little vanities, even those of the most insignificant. Accordingly I remained till Friday morning, when I went with the rest of her suite to see the hounds throw off, which she herself saw for the first time. The Court is certainly not gay, but it is perhaps impossible that any Court should be gay where there is no social equality; where some ceremony, and a continual air of deference and respect must be observed, there can be no ease, and without ease there can be no real pleasure. The Queen is natural, good-humoured, and cheerful, but still she is Queen, and by her must the social habits and the tone of conversation be regulated, and for this she is too young and inexperienced. She sits at a large round table, her guests around it, and Melbourne always in a chair beside her, where two mortal hours are consumed in such conversation as can be found, which appears to be, and really is, very up-hill work. This, however, is the only bad part of the whole; the rest of the day is passed without the slightest constraint, trouble, or annoyance to anybody; each person is at liberty to employ himself or herself as best pleases them, though very little is done in common, and in this respect Windsor is totally unlike any other place. There is none of the sociability which makes the agreeableness of an English country house; there is no room in which the guests assemble, sit, lounge, and talk as they please and when they please; there is a billiard table, but in such a remote corner of the Castle that it might as well be in the town of Windsor; and there is a library well stocked with books, but hardly accessible, imperfectly warmed, and only tenanted by the librarian: it is a mere library, too, unfurnished, and offering none of the comforts and luxuries of a habitable room. There are two breakfast rooms, one for the ladies and the guests, and the other for the equerries, but when the meal is over everybody disperses, and nothing but another meal reunites the company, so that, in fact, there is no society whatever, little trouble, little etiquette, but very little resource or amusement.

[Page Head: LIFE OF THE QUEEN AT WINDSOR.]

The life which the Queen leads is this: she gets up soon after eight o'clock, breakfasts in her own room, and is employed the whole morning in transacting business; she reads all the despatches, and has every matter of interest and importance in every department laid before her. At eleven or twelve Melbourne comes to her and stays an hour, more or less, according to the business he may have to transact. At two she rides with a large suite (and she likes to have it numerous); Melbourne always rides on her left hand, and the equerry in waiting generally on her right; she rides for two hours along the road, and the greater part of the time at a full gallop; after riding she amuses herself for the rest of the afternoon with music and singing, playing, romping with children, if there are any in the Castle (and she is so fond of them that she generally contrives to have some there), or in any other way she fancies. The hour of dinner is nominally half-past seven o'clock, soon after which time the guests assemble, but she seldom appears till near eight. The lord in waiting comes into the drawing-room and instructs each gentleman which lady he is to take in to dinner. When the guests are all assembled the Queen comes in, preceded by the gentlemen of her household, and followed by the Duchess of Kent and all her ladies; she speaks to each lady, bows to the men, and goes immediately into the dining-room. She generally takes the arm of the man of the highest rank, but on this occasion she went with Mr. Stephenson, the American Minister (though he has no rank), which was very wisely done. Melbourne invariably sits on her left, no matter who may be there; she remains at table the usual time, but does not suffer the men to sit long after her, and we were summoned to coffee in less than a quarter of an hour. In the drawing-room she never sits down till the men make their appearance. Coffee is served to them in the adjoining room, and then they go into the drawing-room, when she goes round and says a few words to each, of the most trivial nature, all however very civil and cordial in manner and expression. When this little ceremony is over the Duchess of Kent's whist table is arranged, and then the round table is marshalled, Melbourne invariably sitting on the left hand of the Queen and remaining there without moving till the evening is at an end. At about half-past eleven she goes to bed, or whenever the Duchess has played her usual number of rubbers, and the band have performed all the pieces on their list for the night. This is the whole history of her day: she orders and regulates every detail herself, she knows where everybody is lodged in the Castle, settles about the riding or driving, and enters into every particular with minute attention. But while she personally gives her orders to her various attendants, and does everything that is civil to all the inmates of the Castle, she really has nothing to do with anybody but Melbourne, and with him she passes (if not in _tête-à-tête_ yet in intimate communication) more hours than any two people, in any relation of life, perhaps ever do pass together besides.[6] He is at her side for at least six hours every day--an hour in the morning, two on horseback, one at dinner, and two in the evening. This monopoly is certainly not judicious; it is not altogether consistent with social usage, and it leads to an infraction of those rules of etiquette which it is better to observe with regularity at Court. But it is more peculiarly inexpedient with reference to her own future enjoyment, for if Melbourne should be compelled to resign, her privation will be the more bitter on account of the exclusiveness of her intimacy with him. Accordingly, her terror when any danger menaces the Government, her nervous apprehension at any appearance of change, affect her health, and upon one occasion during the last session she actually fretted herself into an illness at the notion of their going out. It must be owned that her feelings are not unnatural, any more than those which Melbourne entertains towards her. His manner to her is perfect, always respectful, and never presuming upon the extraordinary distinction he enjoys; hers to him is simple and natural, indicative of the confidence she reposes in him, and of her lively taste for his society, but not marked by any unbecoming familiarity. Interesting as his position is, and flattered, gratified, and touched as he must be by the confiding devotion with which she places herself in his hands, it is still marvellous that he should be able to overcome the force of habit so completely as to endure the life he leads. Month after month he remains at the Castle, submitting to this daily routine: of all men he appeared to be the last to be broken in to the trammels of a Court, and never was such a revolution seen in anybody's occupations and habits. Instead of indolently sprawling in all the attitudes of luxurious ease, he is always sitting bolt upright; his free and easy language interlarded with 'damns' is carefully guarded and regulated with the strictest propriety, and he has exchanged the good talk of Holland House for the trivial, laboured, and wearisome inanities of the Royal circle.

[6] The Duke of Wellington says that Melbourne is quite right to go and stay at the Castle as much he does, and that it is very fit he should instruct the young Queen in the business of government, but he disapproves of his being always at her side, even contrary to the rules of etiquette; for as a Prime Minister has no precedence, he ought not to be placed in the post of honour to the exclusion of those of higher rank than himself.

December 19th, 1838 {p.149}

[Page Head: BROUGHAM'S LETTER TO THE QUEEN.]

Dined with Brougham the day before yesterday, with whom I am on mighty intimate terms just now. Sat next to Bellenden Ker (who drew up his Privy Council Bill), who told me that Brougham said he was writing sixteen hours a day, and about to bring out two more volumes of his Paley,[7] and I found the explanation of his calculations at the Council Board in the fact that he was working out some problems for the purpose of proving the form of the structure of honeycombs. In the meantime he has put forth a pamphlet in the shape of a letter to the Queen, which he half acknowledges, and of which nobody doubts that he is the author, as in fact nobody can who is acquainted with the man or his writings. It makes a prodigious noise in the world and is read with avidity, but, though marked with all his cleverness, it is a discreditable production. The tone of it is detestable, the object mischievous, though by no means definite or clear. After stripping it of all its invectives and ribaldry, there is no proposition which can be extracted from it except that of giving universal suffrage, for, although he does not say so, his argument cannot be arrested short of such a consummation. It is a bitter, brilliant, wayward satire and philippic, and, as Johnson said of Junius, 'if you extract from its wit the vivacity of impudence, and withdraw from its efficacy the sympathetic favour of plebeian malignity, if you leave it only its merit, I know not what will be its praise.' It is, however, marvellously characteristic of the man, and illustrative of the state of his mind. His present political conduct, if political it can be called, is curious enough, for he is doing all he can to keep up his connexion with the Radicals, and at the same time courting the Tories, his only fixed idea being to worry the Government. It is clear to me that he was jealous and displeased at the notion of Durham's being put at the head of the Radical party, and it was with evident glee that he told me on Monday how grievously Durham had offended them by his reply to the Westminster Association, which they very correctly took to themselves. Brougham called on Leader on Sunday, where he found Trelawny, and one or two more Radicals whose names I have forgotten, when Leader expressed these sentiments to him: he said there was no sort of necessity for Durham's writing them such a letter, and that he had evidently seized the opportunity of addressing _them_ in that shape, and of course there was an end of any possibility of a connexion between him and them. This is very true, for the fact is that Durham--who since his arrival has had time and opportunity to find out in what a miserable position he has placed himself, how feeble and inefficient the Radical party is as a party, and how entirely he would destroy himself by becoming their leader, and who moreover has been exceedingly disgusted at the way in which he was taken up by Molesworth, and provoked to death at being taken under his protection at Devonport--desires earnestly to retrace his steps and to disavow the alliance they have offered him, and which they have so prematurely and ostentatiously proclaimed. He now wants to put himself in a neutral and, if he can, a dignified position. Yesterday he had an interview with Lord Wellesley, whom he asked leave to call upon, and it is not at all unlikely that it will end in his meeting Brougham at Lord Wellesley's as their common friend. Brougham told me that their quarrel was at an end, and that it was now only a question which should first speak to the other, and that Durham had said he was not at all angry at the part he had taken in the House of Lords, and owned he could not, consistently with the conduct he had pursued with respect to Canada, have acted differently. All this proves that he is ready enough to make it up with Durham; in fact he will ally himself with anybody who is likely to join him in attacking the Government. What Brougham told me about the Radicals was confirmed last night by Fonblanque, who said that Durham's return had been positively serviceable to Government, for if he had remained in Canada there were fourteen or fifteen of that party who would most certainly have gone into Opposition; but his return having led to the expectation of his joining them, and that having been frustrated, there was every probability of their doing what they had done before and supporting the Government, however sulkily and reluctantly, rather than throw open the door for the return of the Tories. He said the slightest concession to them from the Government would secure them, but I told him none would be made, and he was aware of it.

[7] Paley's _Natural Theology_, illustrated by Lord Brougham, was published soon afterwards.

I met Sheil at dinner yesterday at Poulett Thomson's, who, to my surprise, is a candidate for the office of Judge Advocate, and he expects, if Macaulay refuses it, to be appointed. He begged of me to let him know as soon as Macaulay's answer came, and he said, Normanby had strongly urged it, and Melbourne was well disposed towards him.

December 24th, 1838 {p.151}

[Page Head: A LECTURE AT BATTERSEA.]

Went on Friday to Battersea to hear Robert Eden deliver a lecture in the school-room--one of a course he is delivering upon anatomy, or rather upon different parts of the human body--and demonstrating the utility of cleanliness, the danger of drunkenness, and mixing precept with information for the benefit of as mixed an audience as ever was assembled, but who seemed much interested and very attentive. There were many of the gentry of Battersea, male and female, the tradespeople, workmen, the boys of the school, and a rough, ragged set of urchins, labourers on the railroad--in all about 300 people. The lecture, which was upon the arm, was very fluently given; the lecturer is not sufficiently master of his subject to make his explanations very lucid and perfectly intelligible, but he conveys good general notions, and introduces such a mixture of anecdote and illustration as makes it sufficiently entertaining. The undertaking is highly laudable; it is carried on with great zeal and spirit, very considerable ability, and, as far as it has gone, with complete success.

Dined yesterday at the Hollands': Normanby, Melbourne, and Luttrell; pretty good talk. Melbourne, rather paradoxical, asserted that 'men with quick feelings were always the worst men; that he could not work out the proposition metaphysically then, but that he should do.' It was the assertion of Brougham's having quick feelings which elicited the saying, though certainly Brougham is not the _worst_ of men: far from it, nor did he mean to say so. Brougham denies this pamphlet, and says he cannot be the author for this reason: the pamphlet reasserts something about Melbourne which he had asserted in one of his articles in the 'Edinburgh Review.' Melbourne, when he read that article, wrote to Brougham, and told him that as he was sure he did not wish to misrepresent him, he informed him that he had never entertained the opinions nor given the vote there ascribed to him. Brougham replied, admitting his error, and promising to correct it, offering to do so at Melbourne's option in another number of the 'Edinburgh Review,' or _in some other work_ (I forget what). Melbourne wrote back, in rather a jocular strain, that he thought it would be preferable to have the correction in the same publication as the statement, to which Brougham sent a good-humoured answer, and there it ended. After this, he says that he could not by possibility repeat the very same thing in another work that he had already engaged to recall, and this is certainly strong. At the same time there are things in it which no other man could have written. Just before it came out he was preparing something for the printer, for he came into my room with a parcel of proof-sheets in his hand, which I fancied were for me to frank to Macvey Napier, and I said so; when he replied, 'Oh no, they are going to the printer here.' It is after all not improbable that it was a joint production--his and Roebuck's-- Roebuck making the pudding, and Brougham putting in the plums. Melbourne was talking of Brougham's indignation and mortification at being deprived of his pre-eminence in the House of Lords, and of a letter he wrote in great bitterness of spirit, in which he said, 'Do you mean to deprive me of my lead in the House of Lords? Why don't you say as you did when you took the Great Seal from me, 'God damn you, I tell you I can't give you the Great Seal, and there's an end of it'?'

[Page Head: ANECDOTES OF CURRAN.]

They spoke of Curran, his wit, and of his quarrel with Ponsonby. When the Whigs came in in 1806, Ponsonby was made Irish Chancellor.[8] There had been some previous communication with Curran, who had assented to Ponsonby's being promoted to the highest place; but he expressed his expectation that he should have the next, and he wanted to be Attorney-General. Fox was very desirous of making him Attorney, but Lord Grenville would not hear of it; he had been so concerned with the rebels that it was thought impossible, besides that it led directly to the Bench, for which he was disqualified by temper and character. When Ponsonby became Chancellor, Curran wrote to him to know if he was to be Attorney; and Ponsonby sent him a pompous answer, that 'his lips were sealed with the seals of office;' which affronted Curran. Eventually, they determined to buy out the Master of the Rolls and put Curran in his place, and they arranged with the Master that he should have £600 a year out of the place (a monstrous job). Accordingly Curran was informed that he was to be the Master of the Rolls, but _after_ this notification (as he asserted), it was intimated to him that he was to have this rider upon his place. He said, he had been no party to such an agreement and he would not pay it, nor did he. Ponsonby was highly indignant, said Curran was a great rogue, and never would speak to him again; and he paid the £600 a year out of his own pocket as long as Curran lived. As a specimen of Curran's wit, one day when Lord Moira had been making a speech in his usual style full of sounding phrases and long words, Curran said, 'Upon my word his lordship has been airing his vocabulary in a very pretty style to-day.'

[8] [Right Hon. George Ponsonby, who resigned the office in the following year. Curran held the office of Master of the Rolls in Ireland from 1806 to 1814, when he retired on a pension of £3,000 a year. He died in 1817.]

Lord Holland gave me an account of Fox's death, with all the details of the operations (he was thrice tapped), and his behaviour; and till then I was not entirely aware that Fox was no believer in religion. Mrs. Fox was very anxious to have prayers read, to which he consented, but paid little attention to the ceremony, remaining quiescent merely, not liking, as Lord Holland said, to refuse any wish of hers, nor to pretend any sentiments he did not entertain.

January 1st, 1839 {p.154}

[Page Head: DISTURBED STATE OF THE COUNTRY.]

Another year gone, taking along with it some particles of health, strength, and spirits, but it is to be hoped making us something wiser and better, and giving an increased power of passive resistance to bear up against the accumulating ills or sorrows of life. But I will not--here at least--plunge into a moralising strain. As to public matters the year opens in no small gloom and uncertainty. On the surface all is bright and smooth enough: the country is powerful, peaceful, and prosperous, and all the elements of wealth and power are increasing; but the mind of the mass is disturbed and discontented, and there is a continual fermentation going on, and separate and unconnected causes of agitation and disquiet are in incessant operation, which create great alarm, but which there seems to exist no power of checking or subduing. The Government is in a wretched state of weakness, utterly ignorant whether it can scramble through the session, unable to assume a dignified attitude, to investigate with calm deliberation the moral and political condition of the country, and to act upon its convictions with firmness and resolution, tottering and staggering between one great party and one fierce faction, and just able to keep on its legs because both are, for different reasons, willing to wound but afraid to strike. It does not fulfil the purpose of a Government, and brings the function itself into contempt by accustoming men to look at it without any feeling of attachment or respect. Wild notions of political grievances and political rights have been widely disseminated among the masses, and these are not engendered or fostered by the prevalence of distress or that want of employment which not unnaturally turns the thoughts of the idle and unoccupied to the most desperate expedients for bettering their condition, but they are the mere aspirings of a fierce democracy who have been gradually but deeply impregnated with sentiments of hatred and jealousy of the upper classes, and with a determination to 'level' all political distinctions and privileges, and when this is accomplished to proceed to a more equal distribution of property, to an agrarian experiment; for it is idle to suppose that men of this stamp care anything for abstract political theories, or have any definite object but that of procuring the means of working less, and eating and drinking more. The accounts of the Chartists (as they are called), at and about Manchester, represent them to be collected in vast bodies, associations of prodigious numbers, meeting in all the public-houses, collecting arms universally, and constantly practising by firing at a mark, openly threatening, if their demands are not complied with, to enforce them by violence. In the mean time there is no military force in the country at all adequate to meet these menacing demonstrations; the yeomanry have been reduced, and the magistracy are worse than useless, without consideration, resolution, or judgement. There is every reason to suppose that they have got into a scrape with their arrest of Stephens, the great Chartist orator, and that there is no case against him sufficient for a conviction.[9] The magistrates completely lost their heads, and between their fears and their folly have blundered and bothered their proceedings miserably, and so as to afford an ultimate triumph to this mischievous fellow and his followers.

[9] [One Stephens, formerly a Wesleyan preacher, and one of the most violent agitators against the New Poor Law, was apprehended near Manchester on December 27. He had used most incendiary language, but was liberated on bail, and soon afterwards addressed a meeting of 5,000 people at Ashton-under-Lyne. There seems to have been no case against him.]

January 11, 1839 {p.156}

A great field-day at the Council Office yesterday to hear the Petition of the Serjeants against the order of the late King opening the Court of Common Pleas to all barristers. It was Brougham's order.[10] The Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Master of the Rolls, three Chiefs, all the Puisne Judges who are Privy Councillors, Lushington, Wynford, and Brougham sat. Follett and Charles Austin were counsel for the Serjeants, and the Attorney and Solicitor-Generals ordered to attend, and seated at a table in court. Follett spoke for four hours, and Austin for two, and did not finish. A vast deal of historical research was displayed, but it was not amusing nor particularly well done. The Serjeants were present (the five petitioners), and Wilde prompting Follett all the time. There seemed no difference of opinion among the Judges, at least with those I talked to, and the King's mandate (for such it was to the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and under the sign manual, though countersigned by nobody) will be declared waste paper, and matters be replaced on their ancient footing till Parliament may otherwise determine. Brougham appeared considerably disconcerted, and though he tilted occasionally with the counsel, he was on the whole quieter than usual and than I expected he would have been. This order was one of those things he blurted out in that 'sic volo sic jubeo' style which he had assumed, and without consideration, probably without consultation with anybody, or he might easily have avoided the commission of such a blunder.

[10] [The Serjeants-at-Law had enjoyed from time immemorial the exclusive right of practising in the Court of Common Pleas. Upon the advice of Lord Brougham, then Chancellor, King William IV. had issued a written mandate to the court to open their bar to the whole profession. No doubt the act was quite illegal and a nullity. The Serjeants now petitioned the Queen in Council to set it aside. But the court was subsequently opened by Act of Parliament.]

January 18th, 1839 {p.156}

Durham has come down from his high horse, and has at last condescended to see Howick and Duncannon, the latter through the mediation of John Ponsonby, who hopes by bringing them together to pave the way, if not to a reconciliation, to a state of things less hostile and bitter in feeling and intention between him and the Government. They are both anxious to avoid blows if possible, but it is so difficult to avoid mutual inculpation and accusation, although only professing exculpation, that it will be very strange if the matter does (as many think it will) blow over lightly. The personal question between Melbourne and Durham about Turton appears the most difficult to settle; but if there is a will there will be a way, and it is easy enough to imagine the sort of civil, complimentary assurances from one to the other, that though there had been a great misunderstanding, it was no doubt unintentional, and all that sort of palaver which is so familiar to old stagers and parliamentary squabblers.

[Page Head: THE MURDER OF LORD NORBURY.]

The murder of Lord Norbury[11] has made a great sensation because the man is so conspicuous; for there seems no reason for believing that he was murdered from any religious or political motive, but that it was only another of the many praedial enormities that are from time to time committed in Ireland. At present this event only serves to exasperate angry passions, to call forth loud blasts of the never silent trumpet against Romanism and the Irish population, and it does not lead men's minds _immediately_ to a conviction of the necessity of calmly investigating, and if possible applying a remedy to, a social condition so full of crime and misery, and so revolting to every feeling of humanity, as that of Ireland. But the death of this poor man will conduce to this end, for it is only through long processes of evil and after much suffering that good is accomplished.

[11] [The Earl of Norbury was shot near his own house at Kilbeggan, in the county of Meath. The assassin was never discovered.]

The case of the Canadian prisoners has been argued before the Court of Queen's Bench,[12] but it has not excited much interest. They give judgement on Monday. Roebuck is said to have spoken very moderately.

[12] [Twelve Canadian prisoners having landed at Liverpool were brought up on _habeas corpus_ before Lord Denman and the Court of Queen's Bench. The court upheld the committal of the prisoners.]

January 24th, 1839 {p.157}

Duncannon found Durham in a very complacent mood, and he entered with him fully into the subject of Canada and their quarrels. With respect to Turton's affairs, Durham denies he ever said, or authorised anybody else to say, that the appointment had Melbourne's consent, and he admits that Melbourne did put his veto upon Turton's appointment to office, but says he considered this veto applicable only to offices _under Government_, and that the place to which he appointed him was not _under Government_, but one at his own disposal, and for which he was wholly and solely responsible. This is his excuse, and a very bad one it is. It won't go down in the House of Lords, I imagine.

As the time draws near for the meeting of Parliament the probability of ousting the Government grows fainter; we hear no more of disunion and Radical hostility, and things promise to continue pretty much as they have heretofore been. The question of absorbing interest is now the repeal or alteration of the Corn Laws, and the declaration of war against them on the part of the 'Times' has produced a great effect, and is taken as conclusive evidence that they cannot be maintained, from the rare sagacity with which this journal watches the turn of public affairs; besides that, its advocacy will be of the greatest use in advancing the cause which it already had perceived was likely to prevail. The rest of the Conservative press, the 'Morning Herald,' 'Post,' and 'Standard,' support the Corn Laws, and the latter has engaged in a single combat with the 'Times,' conducted with a kind of chivalrous courtesy, owing to the concurrence of their general politics, very unusual in newspaper warfare, and with great ability on both sides.

January 30th, 1839 {p.158}

[Page Head: THE 'PORTFOLIO'.]

After four months or more from the time when he threatened further disclosures, and when, it appeared as if the whole matter had blown over, how or why nobody could tell, Urquhart has published a fresh set of letters which passed between himself and Backhouse,[13] for the purpose of proving that the latter was a party to the publication of the 'Portfolio.' Backhouse, who was at Liverpool when these came out, wrote to desire judgement might be suspended till certain notes omitted by Urquhart had been also published, and to-day they appeared; but instead of making the case better, they have made it rather worse. It is altogether a dirty transaction, and mortifying to those who care about the character of public men, and who have some feeling of national pride and vanity in the super-eminence of English statesmen for integrity and high-mindedness. It is not very difficult to extract the truth from the mass of verbiage and contradictory assertions in which it is involved, and it appears that Urquhart, having got hold of the papers, communicated them to Palmerston, offered to publish them, and was encouraged by him to do so. Urquhart, who was appointed secretary of embassy at Constantinople while this publication was going on, took every opportunity of consulting the Foreign Office, and of trying to make Palmerston and his under-secretaries _participes criminis_, in order that they might share the responsibility and stand committed with him. Against this they fought, and while they took good care that Urquhart should understand that they wished the publication of the 'Portfolio' to be continued, they kept shifting and shirking in hopes of not committing themselves materially. It is pretty clear that Backhouse really disliked the whole thing, had no mind to meddle with the 'Portfolio,' or mix himself up with Urquhart, and it was only the official obligation that was imposed upon him by Palmerston's wishes which induced him very reluctantly to engage in the business even so far as he did, and it is very painful to see his early struggles to keep clear of it, and his present abortive attempts to wriggle out of his concern with the publication. It is Palmerston on whom the blame ought to rest, and on whom it will rest, only nobody seems to take the least interest in the dispute, and he brazens it out in a very unblushing manner. I am more particularly struck with the meanness here exhibited, from having just been reading Lord Chatham's correspondence, in which his noble and lofty character, so abhorrent of everything like trickery, shabbiness, and underhand dealing, shines forth with peculiar lustre. It is animating and refreshing to turn to the contemplation of this really great and noble mind, even more remarkable I think for dignity of sentiment and purity of motive, than for eloquence and capacity.

[13] [Mr. Backhouse was at this time permanent Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He filled this office from 1827 till 1842.]

February 6th, 1839 {p.160}

Last Friday the Serjeants' case came on again before the Privy Council. The Attorney and Solicitor made a sort of reply to Austin, but acknowledged that the mandate was not binding on the Court of Common Pleas; in fact, that it was illegal. Brougham was very angry, and kept battling with counsel or with Wynford, Abinger, or others of the Lords, though not violently. They were anxious to get rid of the question if possible, and to avoid making a report to the Queen. The conclusion (pretty nearly unanimous) to which they came was, that the order was illegal, but that it was neither expedient that matters should return to their former, nor remain in their present state; and they agreed to adjourn the consideration of the question. They then separated with an understanding that a Bill should be brought in directly to settle the dispute, and they don't intend to meet again upon it till this Bill has been passed. Thus they will avoid making any report at all.

Brougham and Lyndhurst came to a Patent case the day before, both in high spirits. After it was over Lyndhurst came into my room, when I said, 'You look in high force.' 'Oh no,' said he, 'I am quite _passé_, entirely done up.' Just then Brougham came in, when I said to him, pointing to Lyndhurst, 'He says he is quite _passé_ and done up.' 'Just like me,' he said; 'I am quite _passé_ too.' 'Then,' I said, 'there can be no use in two such poor worn-out creatures as you two going to the House of Lords.' 'Do you hear him?' cried out Brougham: 'A capital suggestion of the Clerk of the Council: we won't go to the House of Lords at all; let us go together to _Hamble_.'[14] And then he seized Lyndhurst's arm, and off they went together chuckling and laughing and brimful of mischief.

[14] Hamble is the country seat of Sir Arthur Paget, who was present with Brougham.

He came out the night of the Address with a very brilliant speech, and with a fierce and bitter philippic against O'Connell for having insinuated that Lord Norbury had been shot by his own son. Last night, O'Connell retaliated in the House of Commons, and denying that he had even thought of, or insinuated any such thing, he hurled back an invective still fiercer, bitterer, more insulting, and very powerful too. Very little discussion grew out of the Queen's Speech, all parties being agreed to defer the consideration of great questions till brought regularly on. There was a pretty strong demonstration in the House of Commons in favour of the Corn Laws, so as to render it improbable that anything will be done. The only thing which seems to threaten the Government at present is, the hatred that has sprung up between the English Radicals and the Irish, and the animosity which prevails among the former against O'Connell. If this is carried to the length of inducing the English Radicals to keep aloof on some important question, Ministers may find themselves in a minority, and resign thereon; and this is what the Tories are looking to as their best chance.

February 10th, Sunday, 1839 {p.161}

[Page Head: RESIGNATION OF LORD GLENELG.]

On Friday, Lord Glenelg announced in the House of Lords that he had resigned,[15] though it would have been more correct to have stated that he had been turned out. He said very little, but that little conveyed a sense of ill-usage and a mortified spirit; none of the Ministers uttered a word. Many wonder that they ventured to make any changes in such a rickety concern, and that, if they were resolved to do so, they did not have everything settled before Parliament met. However, the Cabinet appears to have been unanimous in determining that Glenelg could not remain Colonial Minister, and they gave him a sort of hint some time ago, by offering him Sir John Newport's place (for whom an arrangement was to be made), which he refused; so on Tuesday last the blow was struck, and they proposed to him to be Privy Seal, which he declined in some dudgeon. It certainly was difficult so to gild the pill he was asked to swallow as to disguise its bitterness and make it tolerably palatable, for in whatever polite periphrasis it might be involved, the plain English of the communication was, that he was incompetent to administer Colonial affairs.

[15] [Lord Glenelg had held the office of Secretary of State for the Colonies since the formation of Lord Melbourne's second Administration in 1835. He was succeeded in the Colonial Office by the Marquis of Normanby, who had filled up to this time the office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.]

By venturing upon these changes the Government evidently think they can scramble on, and on the whole it is probable that they may, though never did a Government hold office by so frail and uncertain a tenure, and upon such strange terms. A pretty correct analysis of the House of Commons presents the following result: 267 Government people, including the Irish tail; 66 Radicals, 5 doubtful, and 315 Conservatives; 4 vacant seats, and the Speaker. If, therefore, at any time, one half the Radicals should stay away (they need not vote against), when danger threatens the Government, it would be at an end; and if they do not do so, it is because most of them are still unconvinced that it would be better and more conducive to the ultimate success of their objects to let the Tories in, and not from any love to the present Ministers, whom, on the contrary, they hate a good deal and despise a little. The Irish band appear to be dependable, but there is no knowing what might be the consequence of a change, and the withdrawal of all the personal influence which Normanby had obtained over them. It has often happened that a coalition of very opposite parties has turned a Government out; but never before, that I remember, kept one in, and for such a length of time. The Conservatives are completely united, ably led, and count in their ranks the most powerful men in the House of Commons; they are by far the most numerous of any of the parties, one-third more than the Whigs (without the Irish), nearly five times more than the Radicals, and within twenty of all combined; and yet they are as effectually excluded as they were just after the passing of the Reform Bill, for all that appears to the contrary.

[Page Head: LORD DURHAM'S REPORT.]

Lord Durham's enormously long Report[16] appeared in the 'Times' on Friday last, before being laid on the tables of the two Houses, whereat he rose in his place and expressed much surprise and displeasure, all of which was very ridiculous and superfluous, for he had two thousand copies of it printed, and distributed them to the right and left, to anybody who came to see him, to Foreign Ministers and others, so no wonder that the document found its way into the 'Times.'[17] He sent a copy to Easthope, proprietor of the 'Morning Chronicle,' but with an injunction not to publish it, and Easthope told him he wished he had kept his copy to himself, for he could have obtained one elsewhere which he should have been at liberty to publish if he had not accepted his with the prohibition.

[16] [This was the celebrated Report on the Administration of Canada, which bore the name of Lord Durham, but was in fact written by Mr. Charles Buller, and embodied the opinions of Mr. Gibbon Wakefield and Sir William Molesworth on Colonial policy. It is not too much to say that in the course of the next twenty years this Report changed the Colonial policy of the Empire, and the principles laid down in it certainly converted Canada from a revolted colony into one of the most loyal dependencies of the British Crown. What would have been the result if the Ministers of George III. had treated the complaints of the American colonies in 1774 with equal wisdom?]

[17] [The copy which appeared in the _Times_ was sent to that journal by Mr. Hanson, who was one of the persons attached to Lord Durham's mission. He afterwards became Sir Richard Davies Hanson, Chief Justice of South Australia. This gentleman gave the following account of the transaction. The whole report was written by Charles Buller, with the exception of two paragraphs on Church or Crown lands, which were composed by Gibbon Wakefield and Mr. Hanson. After the Report was presented to the Colonial Office, the Government wished these last two paragraphs to be modified. This Lord Durham was inclined to do. Wakefield resented this and, in order to prevent any change, he got Hanson to send a copy of the Report to the _Times_, where it appeared the next day. These particulars have been communicated to me by a gentleman to whom Sir Richard Hanson related them.]

February 14th, 1839 {p.163}

Lord Normanby was not acquainted with the intention of dismissing Glenelg, nor was the thing settled when he was here; on the contrary, he had made every preparation for the Dublin season, and is put to serious inconvenience by being thus suddenly sent for. Glenelg continues to discharge the official duties, but he is deeply hurt at the treatment he has experienced. It is the more remarkable because at this moment his official correspondence with Durham is published, in which he displays firmness, dignity, and sense, so that the world can discern no good cause why he should be so unceremoniously turned off. Melbourne urged him to retire when his brother (Sir Robert Grant) died; but Glenelg thought this was from kindness and consideration, and was so touched, that he deemed it the more incumbent on him to remain at his post. Normanby will probably do much better, for though he has nothing like the natural abilities of his predecessor, he has the knack of succeeding in whatever he undertakes; he has application, courage, and sense, and all this in spite of a frivolous exterior. In Ireland, however obnoxious to the Orangemen, his government has been successful, and I know of no error that he has committed, except that of too often releasing prisoners and commuting punishments without the sanction and concurrence of the Judges. Nothing is so dangerous and imprudent as to tamper with justice, and John Russell himself has upon several occasions been rash and flippant in this respect. It is not long ago that a man was tried and found guilty, at the Sessions, of destroying a will with a fraudulent intent. I forget what the punishment was, but a petition for mercy was handed up to the Secretary of State's office--got up by the clergyman of the parish, and signed by many names. Without consulting the magistrates who had convicted the man, he reduced the punishment to two months' imprisonment, and it turned out that the clergyman was himself a man of indifferent character, who had been promoted at the instance of Lord Fitzwilliam, and the rest of the subscribers to the petition were ignorant people who had signed it at his instigation: the object was unworthy of the indulgence which was carelessly and improperly extended. These things exasperate the magistracy, whom Lord John is apt to regard with aversion and suspicion; but the Judges are deeply offended when their sentences are arbitrarily set aside, as they have sometimes been.

[Page Head: THE CORN LAW QUESTION.]

The Corn Law question, which appeared so formidable before Parliament met, has lost much of its terrors; and an error committed by one of its champions, Mr. Wood of Preston, greatly assisted to damage it. Peel turned against him certain admissions which he made of the prosperity of trade, with extraordinary dexterity and effect. The Anti-Corn-Lawites were so enraged and mortified that they punished their blundering advocate by dismissing him from his post of President of the Manchester Chamber of Commerce; and his constituents invited him to resign. This, and the strong demonstration in favour of the existing system the first night, the divided opinions and indifference of the Government, and the diversion made by the Chartists, have placed the Corn Laws in perfect security for this session at least. It is curious to see the conduct of the 'Times': just before Parliament met it thought the time was come when something must be done, and it accordingly took up the cudgels against the Corn Laws; but now that it finds the time is not come, it has dropped the subject altogether, and relapsed into silence.

There seems very little probability of any discussion about Canadian affairs till Government introduces some legislative measure, and the expected personalities and recriminations will silently pass away. Brougham and Durham are reconciled after a fashion; Ministers and Durham mutually desire to sheathe their swords. The correspondence which has just appeared at the tail of the Report exhibits a grand specimen of arrogance and vanity on Durham's part, not unmixed with talent, albeit his letters are intolerably prolix. Glenelg has, however, much the best of the controversy as soon as they begin to cross their weapons, and his despatch conveying the Queen's disapprobation of his Proclamation is very dignified and becomingly severe. It is impossible to conceive anything more galling to a man so puffed up with pride and vanity, and who fancied himself to be placed upon a pinnacle far above the sphere of official obligation and responsibility.

It is curious to see the different measure that was dealt out to Durham and to Head,[18] the latter an able, though not always a prudent man, who really did good service in his government, and extricated himself boldly and successfully from a very difficult situation. He had dismissed a Judge for certain reasons, part of which he explained to the Colonial Office, and for the rest he told them that he must, in the difficult position he was in, draw upon their confidence to support and confirm his act. They said this was not enough, and insisted on his restoring the Judge. Upon this he tendered his resignation, which they instantly accepted; and when he came home they took no notice of him whatever, and at the same time they were flattering and lauding and trying to cajole Durham, and begging and praying him to stay, in the midst of his blundering acts and insolent language, and while he was addressing the Government in the most contumelious terms. Head has behaved very well about the publication of his despatches; for when he asked Melbourne's leave to publish, and the latter refused, he promised that nothing should appear, and that he would discourage any Parliamentary attempt to elicit them. Now that Durham's Report has come forth, containing strictures on Head's conduct, he assumes a right to publish, for his own vindication, and he has asserted this in a pettish letter to Melbourne; whereas, if he had again asked for permission on this express ground, it would not have been refused. The motto of this Government, however, seems to be,--

parcere superbis et debellare subjectos,

and their besetting sins are pusillanimity, indifference, and _insouciance_. On a discussion the other night about speaking on petitions, when the Speaker laid down the practice, which Lord John Russell supported with great earnestness, and which was opposed on Radical grounds by the Radicals, Stewart of the Treasury, and Vernon Smith, marched off and would not vote; and, instead of being reprimanded, Vernon Smith will probably be made Under Secretary of State.

[18] [Right Hon. Sir Francis Bond Head, who was Governor of Upper Canada at the time of the outbreak of the insurrection.]

February 17th, 1839 {p.166}

[Page Head: GORE HOUSE.]

I dined at Lady Blessington's yesterday, to meet Durham and Brougham; but, after all, the latter did not come, and the excuse he made was, that it was better not; and as he was taking, or going to take (we shall see), a moderate course about Canada, it would impair his efficacy if the press were to trumpet forth, and comment on, his meeting with Durham. There was that sort of strange _omnium gatherum_ party which is to be met with nowhere else, and which for that reason alone is curious. We had Prince Louis Napoleon and his A.D.C.[19] He is a short, thickish, vulgar-looking man, without the slightest resemblance to his Imperial uncle, or any intelligence in his countenance. Then we had the ex-Governor of Canada, Captain Marriott, the Count Alfred de Vigny (author of 'Cinq Mars' &c.), Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, and a proper sprinkling of ordinary persons to mix up with these celebrities. In the evening, Forster, sub-editor of the 'Examiner;' Chorley, editor of the 'Athenaeum;' Macready, and Charles Buller. Lady Blessington's existence is a curiosity, and her house and society have at least the merit of being singular, though the latter is not so agreeable as from its composition it ought to be. There is no end to the men of consequence and distinction in the world who go there occasionally--Brougham, Lyndhurst, Abinger, Canterbury, Durham, and many others; all the _minor_ poets, _literati_, and journalists, without exception, together with some of the highest pretensions. Moore is a sort of friend of hers; she _has been_ very intimate with Byron, and _is_ with Walter Savage Landor. Her house is furnished with a luxury and splendour not to be surpassed; her dinners are frequent and good; and D'Orsay does the honours with a frankness and cordiality which are very successful; but all this does not make society, in the real meaning of the term. There is a vast deal of coming and going, and eating and drinking, and a corresponding amount of noise, but little or no conversation, discussion, easy quiet interchange of ideas and opinions, no regular social foundation of men of intellectual or literary calibre ensuring a perennial flow of conversation, and which, if it existed, would derive strength and assistance from the light superstructure of occasional visitors, with the much or the little they might individually contribute. The reason of this is that the woman herself, who must give the tone to her own society, and influence its character, is ignorant, vulgar, and commonplace.[20] Nothing can be more dull and uninteresting than her conversation, which is never enriched by a particle of knowledge, or enlivened by a ray of genius or imagination. The fact of her existence as an authoress is an enigma, poor as her pretensions are; for while it is very difficult to write good books, it is not easy to compose even bad ones, and volumes have come forth under her name for which hundreds of pounds have been paid, because (Heaven only can tell how) thousands are found who will read them. Her 'Works' have been published in America, in one huge folio, where it seems they meet with peculiar success; and this trash goes down, because it is written by a Countess, in a country where rank is eschewed, and equality is the universal passion. They have (or some of them) been likewise translated into German; and if all this is not proof of literary merit, or at least of success, what is? It would be not uninteresting to trace this current of success to its source, and to lay bare all the springs of the machinery which sustains her artificial character as an authoress. The details of course form the mystery of her craft, but the general causes are apparent enough. First and foremost, her magnificent house and luxurious dinners; then the alliance offensive and defensive which she has contrived (principally through the means of said house and dinners) to establish with a host of authors, booksellers, and publishers, and above all with journalists. The first lend her their assistance in composition, correction, or addition; with the second she manages to establish an interest and an interchange of services; and the last everlastingly puff her performances. Her name is eternally before the public; she produces those gorgeous inanities, called 'Books of Beauty,' and other trashy things of the same description, to get up which all the fashion and beauty, the taste and talent, of London are laid under contribution. The most distinguished artists and the best engravers supply the portraits of the prettiest women in London; and these are illustrated with poetical effusions of the smallest possible merit, but exciting interest and curiosity from the notoriety of their authors; and so, by all this puffing and stuffing, and untiring industry, and practising on the vanity of some, and the good-nature of others, the end is attained; and though I never met with any individual who had read any of her books, except the 'Conversations with Byron,' which are too good to be hers, they are unquestionably a source of considerable profit, and she takes her place confidently and complacently as one of the literary celebrities of her day.

[19] [The first mention of His Imperial Majesty Napoleon III., who was an _habitué_ of Gore House, and well known to all who frequented it. The A.D.C. was M. de Persigny, who accompanied the Prince everywhere.]

[20] [Lady Blessington had a good deal more talent and reading than Mr. Greville gives her credit for. Several years of her agitated life were spent in the country in complete retirement, where she had no resources to fall back upon but a good library. She was well read in the best English authors, and even in translations of the classics; but the talent to which she owed her success in society was her incomparable tact and skill in drawing out the best qualities of her guests. What Mr. Greville terms her vulgarity might be more charitably described as her Irish cordiality and _bonhomie_. I have no doubt that her 'Conversations with Lord Byron' were entirely written by herself. It is true that, writing, as she did, to make money, many of her other books were exceedingly worthless.]