[13] She sent in the evening to inquire after Lord Rolle.

July 1st, 1838 {p.109}

[Page Head: COLERIDGE AND JOHN STERLING.]

This morning hit upon this stanza in Coleridge's 'Ode to Tranquillity':—

'Who late and lingering seeks thy shrine On him but seldom, power divine, Thy spirit rests! Satiety And sloth, poor counterfeits of thee, Mock the tired worldling. Idle hope And dire remembrance interlope To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind: The bubble floats before, the spectre stalks behind.'

My own thoughts about myself. Mr. Sterling, whom I met at dinner the other day (son of Sterling, of the 'Times'[14]), said that Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats were all greater poets than Dryden, that they had all finer imaginations. He compared 'The Vision of Kubla Khan' to 'Lycidas' for harmony of versification!!

[14] [This was Mr. John Sterling, whose life has been written by Thomas Carlyle, and again by Julius Hare, though it was a short and uneventful one. Few men left a deeper mark upon his own contemporaries, not less by the grace and purity of his character than by the vigour of his intellect. It is hard to think that of so bright a promise of life and thought so little remains after him. Sterling was sometimes paradoxical, and he worshipped Coleridge, which may account for the incident related in the text.]

July 3rd, 1838 {p.109}

I was at the ball at Court last night to which hundreds would have given hundreds to go, and from which I would have gladly stayed away: all was very brilliant and very tiresome.

July 4th, 1838 {p.109}

A great exposure of Durham in the House of Lords on Monday night,[15] Brougham chuckling over it yesterday morning. The impression left by Melbourne's speech was, that Durham had actually assured him he had no intention of appointing Turton, and it was either so, or Melbourne had desired him not to do so, and he went off without sending any answer. The former discussion about Turton took place while Durham was at Portsmouth. Everything blows over, so probably this will, but it is calculated to produce a very bad effect both here and in Canada, and to deprive Durham of all the weight which would attach to him from the notion of his being trusted and trustworthy; besides, the bitter mortification to his pride (by receiving this rap on the knuckles at the outset of his career) will sour his temper and impair his judgement. Brougham says that if he finds his difficulties great and his position disagreeable, he will avail himself of Melbourne's speech and resign. It is universally thought that he must send Turton home whatever he may do himself.

[15] [Lord Durham took with him to Canada, on his staff, besides Mr. Charles Buller (an unexceptionable appointment), Mr. Turton, of the Calcutta Bar, and Mr. Edward Gibbon Wakefield, gentlemen against whose private character much had been not unjustly said. Some of these appointments were strongly objected to in Parliament.]

July 8th, 1838 {p.110}

Lord Duncannon told me yesterday that Melbourne went to Lord Durham when he heard he was going to take out Turton, and told him that the odium of such an appointment would be so great that it was impossible he could consent to it, and it must not take place. Durham sulked over it for two days, but finally acquiesced, and engaged that Turton should only go out as his private friend. Duncannon added that Durham was much mistaken if he thought Melbourne would endure this disobedience and breach of engagement. Durham had made his entry into Quebec on a white long-tailed charger, in a full general's uniform, surrounded by his staff, and the first thing he did was to appoint Sir John Doratt (his doctor, whom he had got knighted before he went) Inspector-General of Hospitals, superseding all the people there.

July 14th, 1838 {p.110}

[Page Head: THE NAVAL INSTRUCTIONS.]

At Newmarket all this past week. Nothing of consequence occurred here except the debate in the House of Lords upon Brougham's motion for the production of naval instructions about Sardinian ships, which was only lost by the numbers being equal. The Duke of Wellington, according to his custom, refused to be factious, and when Melbourne said that it would be highly inconvenient to produce any instructions, he declared against the motion and left the House. Brougham was furious, and many of the high Tories greatly provoked. Brougham said, 'Westminster Abbey is yawning for him.' Ellenborough, Mansfield, and Harewood stayed and voted, Aberdeen went away. After all their fury, however, the Tories are beginning (as I was told last night) to come to their senses. The Duke was quite in the right; there is no doubt that some very unwise and improper instructions have issued from the Admiralty, and their purport has got abroad by the indiscretion of somebody, but we only know, or rather suspect from public rumour, that such is the case; they have never been acted upon if they do exist; no overt act has been done, and the production of this document might be attended with very seriously inconvenient consequences. Brougham cares for nothing but the pleasure of worrying and embarrassing the Ministers, whom he detests with an intense hatred; and the Tories, who are bitter and spiteful, and hate them merely as Ministers and as occupants of the places they covet, and not as men, are provoked to death at being baulked in the occasion that seemed to present itself of putting them into a difficulty. The Duke, whose thoughts are steadily directed to the public good, and to that alone, will lend himself to no such vexatious purposes; he looks at the position of the Government in relation with foreign powers, and deals with it as a national and not as a party question. It is in this spirit that he constantly and inflexibly acts, though not failing to give Ministers a pretty sharp lecture every now and then. His forbearance has annoyed his own supporters to such a degree that they keep up a continual under-growl, and are always lamenting the decay of his faculties, and if they dared and knew how, they would gladly substitute some other leader for him. The 'ardor prava jubentium' has, however, no effect whatever on him: it neither ruffles his serenity nor shakes his purpose. The Whigs laud him to the skies, which provokes the Tories all the more, nor does their praise spring in all probability from a purer or more unselfish source than the complaints of their adversaries, for they are more rejoiced at finding so often this plank of safety than struck with admiration at his magnanimity. Wise, moderate, and impartial men of all parties view the Duke's conduct in its true light, and render him that justice the full measure of which it is reserved for history and posterity to pay. No greater contrast can be displayed than between the minds of the Duke of Wellington and Brougham. It is a curious and an interesting study to examine and compare their powers, faculties, attainments, the moral and intellectual constitutions of the men, their respective careers, their results, and the judgement of the world upon them.

Yesterday morning I met Macaulay,[16] and walked with him for some time. He talked of the necessity of a coalition between the Parliamentary leaders, which might be effected, provided they would lay aside personal feelings and jealousies; that Lyndhurst might be the greatest obstacle; he thought a strong Government ought to be formed, one that should not live as this does from hand to mouth, and by no means but by a coalition could this be effected. The Radicals, he said, were clearly extinct, being reduced, as far as he could learn, 'to Grote and his wife;' that he had not been prepared for the tranquillity and contentment that he found on his return to England; that he was as great a Radical as anybody, that is, that if ever the voice of the nation should be as clearly and universally pronounced for reform of the House of Lords, or any other great change, as it had been for the Reform Bill, he should be for it too, but that now he did not think it worth while to give such projects a thought, and it no more occurred to him to entertain them in this country than it would to advocate the establishment of a representative government in Turkey, or a monarchy and hereditary peerage in America. I told him that I did not see how a coalition was feasible, or how conflicting pretensions could be adjusted. He said it seemed to be a matter of course that Peel must lead the House of Commons. I said that the other alternative the Government had was to get rid of some of its lumber, and take in him, Morpeth, and Sir George Grey, and so present a more respectable front—to which he said nothing.

[16] [Mr. Macaulay returned to England from his official residence in India, in June 1838.]

[Page Head: THE RECEPTION OF MARSHAL SOULT.]

It is really curious to see the manner in which Soult has been received here, not only with every sort of attention and respect by persons in the most respectable ranks in life, members of all the great trading and commercial bodies, but with enthusiasm by the common people; they flock about him, cheer him vociferously, and at the review in the park he was obliged to abandon both his hands to be shaken by those around him. The old soldier is touched to the quick at this generous reception, and has given utterance to his gratitude and his sensibility on several occasions in very apt terms. It is creditable to John Bull, but I am at a loss to understand why he is so desperately fond of Soult; but Johnny is a gentleman who generally does things in excess, and seldom anything by halves. In the present instance it is a very good thing, and must be taken as a national compliment and as evidence of national goodwill towards France, which cannot fail to make a corresponding impression in that country. But the French will not meet us cordially and frankly and with an equally amicable spirit; they are not such good fellows as the English; they have more vanity and jealousy, and are not so hearty; still it will not be without effect.

July 18th, 1838 {p.113}

[Page Head: CLAIM OF THE DUKE OF SUSSEX.]

The Duke of Sussex has quarrelled with the Government on account of their refusal to apply to Parliament for an increased allowance, and his partisans are very angry with Melbourne, and talk of withdrawing their support. The Duke began by requesting Melbourne to bring the matter before the Cabinet, which he did, and the result was that they informed his Royal Highness it could not be done. He was very angry, and the rest of the Royal family (glad to make bad blood between him and the Whigs) fomented his discontent. The Duke of Cambridge went to Melbourne and begged that he might not stand in the way of his brother's wishes, from its being supposed that if they were complied with, his own claims could likewise be urged. The Duke, finding he could do nothing with the Government, determined to do what he could for himself, and began to canvass and exert all the influence he possessed among Members of Parliament, and (as he thought) with such success, that he counted upon 250 votes in his favour. He then employed Mr. Gillon to move the matter in the House of Commons, having previously conveyed to Melbourne his intention to do what he could for himself, but not making any communication to Lord John Russell, and directing his confidants to conceal from him what it was intended to do. Accordingly John Russell paid very little attention to the motion of Mr. Gillon, which he saw entered on the Order Book, and when it came on, he opposed it. Peel pronounced a very warm eulogium upon John Russell's conduct, and the motion was rejected by ninety to forty, the Duke's anticipated supporters having dwindled away to that paltry number. Bitter was his mortification and violent his resentment at this result. He wrote an angry letter to John Russell, to which John sent a temperate and respectful reply, but his Royal Highness has since informed Melbourne that he shall withdraw his support from the Government, and the Duke of Cleveland has likewise given notice that the conduct of Government to the Duke 'makes the whole difference' in his disposition to support them. The Duke's friends generally have expressed so much dissatisfaction, that it is matter of considerable embarrassment and annoyance to the Government, and if this was to be carried to the length of opposition, or even neutrality, it might be productive of serious consequences, weak as they are. But as this session is about to close, means will probably be found of pacifying them before the opening of the next. Much of the mischief has arisen from the want of communication and understanding between the parties. It seems strange that Lord John Russell should have been ignorant of the Duke's intentions when Melbourne had been apprised of them, and the latter ought to have imparted to the former all he had learnt with regard to them. Lord John Russell says that they seldom communicate except with regard to matters which come before the Cabinet, and that if he had learnt that Lord Radnor or any other peer was going to make some such motion in the House of Lords, he should not have thought of speaking to Melbourne about it, each managing his matters in his own way in the House to which he belongs. But though he makes this excuse for Melbourne, it was great laches in the latter, after what had passed, not to tell Lord John what was in preparation, when some communication with the Duke's friends might have prevented the discussion. On the other hand, it was very bad policy in the Duke not to be more open with the leader of the House of Commons and to attempt to carry his object by force. But he had buoyed himself up with the notion that his popularity was so great that there would be a Parliamentary demonstration in his favour sufficient to compel the Ministers to yield, and he now sees how much he overrated it, and miscalculated the support he fancied he had secured. What he complains of with the greatest bitterness is the conduct of Lord Howick in having asked Mr. Hawes to oppose this grant: 'that the son of the man whose administration I made only a few years ago should have canvassed others to oppose me is the deepest wound that ever was inflicted on me.' He fancies (it seems) that he made Lord Grey's administration!

The Duke has some sort of claim, under all the circumstances. When King William came to the throne, he told him he was anxious to do what he could for him, and would therefore give him the best thing at his disposal, the Rangership of Windsor Park, L4,000 a year; but immediately after came Lord Grey's economical reforms, which swept this away. The King then gave him Bushey; but it was found necessary to settle a jointure house on the Queen Dowager and Bushey was taken from him for this purpose. At last they gave him the Rangership of Hyde Park, and he had actually drawn for the first quarter's salary, when the salary was done away with, so that he has been three times disappointed, and he really is over head and ears in debt. It is now more difficult than ever to do anything for him, because all parties are committed, and there is a vote of the House of Commons recorded against the grant. In his dudgeon, he talks of withdrawing from politics, and of selling by public auction all his personal property, library included.

July 23rd, 1838 {p.116}

I went the other night (Friday) to Burghersh's[17] opera at Braham's theatre. A vast deal of fine company, and prodigious applause; tolerable music, moderately sung, but a favourable audience. When it was over they insisted upon his appearing, and, after some delay, he thrust his head out from an obscure pit-box in which he had been sitting and bowed and smiled; but this was not enough, and they would have him on the stage; so a great clapping and shouting went on, among the most vociferous being the Duke of Wellington, who enjoyed the fun like a boy, laughing and beckoning to Burghersh, and bawling 'Maestro! Maestro!' till at last, vanquished by the enthusiasm of the audience and the encouragement of his friends, he appeared at a corner of the stage; then came a shower of bouquets, which were picked up by Mrs. Bishop and the other women and presented to him, and so ended the triumphant night.

[17] [John, Lord Burghersh, afterwards eleventh Earl of Westmoreland, served in the army with distinction, and afterwards in the diplomatic service of the Crown. He was devotedly fond of music, and composed both for the orchestra and the stage, not without success. He died in 1859.]

July 24th, 1838 {p.116}

[Page Head: MR. HOOK'S SERMON.]

High Church has been recently reading lectures to Her Majesty the Queen in the shape of two sermons preached at the Chapel Royal by Mr. Perceval and Mr. Hook.[18] The Bishop of London was cognizant of Mr. Perceval's intention, and he preached himself for several Sundays, probably for the purpose of keeping him out of the pulpit; but, the Bishop having had a fall from his horse and broken his collar-bone, Mr. Perceval found his opportunity. The Bishop, however, previously warned the Queen that she must expect a very strong sermon, which naturally excited her curiosity, and when she heard it it did not appear to her so strong as she had expected. The Bishop's advice or his own reflexion may have induced Mr. Perceval to soften it. He made an attack upon Peel (that is, upon somebody whom they concluded to be Peel), reproaching him with sacrificing his conscience to political objects in consenting to Catholic emancipation, not totidem verbis, but in words to this effect. Hook's sermon appears to have been the stronger of the two. He told the Queen that the Church would endure let what would happen to the throne. On her return to Buckingham House, Normanby, who had been at the chapel, said to her, 'Did not your Majesty find it very hot?' She said, 'Yes, and the sermon was very hot too.'

[18] [Afterwards Dean of Chichester, and author of the 'Lives of the Archbishops.']

July 28th, 1838 {p.117}

The letters between Lord Palmerston and Mr. Urquhart which appeared two days ago in the 'Times,' have made a very great sensation, and thrown the friends of the former into great alarm. Urquhart's letter is so enormously long, so overlaid with matter, and so stuffed with acrimonious abuse, that it is difficult to seize the points of it; but that to which general attention is directed is the positive assertion of Lord Palmerston that he had nothing to do with the 'Portfolio,' and the announcement of Urquhart that in consequence of such denegation he will demonstrate that Palmerston had everything to do with it. He is said to make exceedingly light of it, and asserts that he can clear himself of all the imputations Mr. Urquhart seeks to cast upon him. He has, however, committed a great blunder in entering into a paper war at all. In his letter he correctly lays down the principle of the irresponsibility and omnipotence of a Secretary of State in relation to his agents, and there he ought to have stopped, and, acting on that principle, have declined any controversy; but he entered into it, and descended from his pedestal; and, though his letter is clever and well written, there are some very weak points in it, and some things which incline one to doubt his veracity. Who, for example, can believe that when Strangways[19] gave him a letter from Urquhart containing (as he informed him) a statement of his conduct, which conduct he thought so reprehensible that he had desired Strangways to admonish and caution him, he should have put this letter in his pocket, and not even have broken the seal till a long time after? The Government people are evidently in great consternation, and it is very remarkable that not a line of contradiction has appeared in any of Palmerston's papers. No less than three men (Labouchere, Morpeth, and Le Marchant) spoke to me about it yesterday, full of doubt and anxiety, and very curious to know 'what people said.'

[19] [The Hon. William Strangways, afterwards Earl of Ilchester, was at this time Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Mr. Strangways was an old and intimate friend of Prince Adam Czartoryski, by whom the papers were brought to England which afterwards appeared in the 'Portfolio,' and it was through this Polish connexion that Mr. Urquhart was introduced to the notice of the Under-Secretary. Lord Palmerston was at that time (about 1834) strongly anti-Russian, and was perfectly cognizant of several undertakings which originated with Prince Adam Czartoryski, and his more energetic nephew, Count Ladislas Zamoyski, who had very much the ear of the English Government at that time. These undertakings were the publication of the 'Portfolio,' Mr. George Bell's expedition to the coast of Circassia in the 'Vixen,' which was seized there, and the attempt to establish a Consulate in the then Free-Town of Cracow. But after having encouraged and promoted these objects for some time in conjunction with Mr. Strangways, Lord Palmerston suddenly became violently opposed to them, and disclaimed all knowledge of those whom he had employed. See infra, January 30th, 1839.]

[Page Head: MR. URQUHART AND LORD PALMERSTON.]

Le Marchant told me that Palmerston was a strange mixture of caution and imprudence; that as long as he did not commit himself on paper he thought himself safe; that he would see any newspaper editor who called on him, and often communicate to such persons matters of great delicacy; yet, at the very time he would do this, he demurred to a request that was made to him to communicate freely with him (Le Marchant) and Drummond, who were managing the press on the part of Government; and this reserve was exercised towards him when he was Brougham's private secretary, cognisant of all that Brougham knew (which, of course, was everything), and frequently employed to communicate verbally between the Chancellor and his colleagues on the most confidential matters.

The history of Urquhart is this: William IV. was nearly mad upon the subject of Russia, and Sir Herbert Taylor[20] either partook of his opinions or ministered to his prejudices. Urquhart, who had been in the East, published a violent anti-Russian pamphlet, which made some noise and which recommended him to the notice of Taylor, and through him to that of the King. His Majesty took up Urquhart, and recommended him to Palmerston. Palmerston was not sorry to have an opportunity of gratifying the King, with whom the Ministers were never on cordial terms, and probably he was not then disinclined to act (as far as he dared) upon Urquhart's views. Accordingly he appointed him—a very extraordinary appointment it was thought at the time—Secretary of Embassy at Constantinople. There can be no doubt that Urquhart considered himself appointed to that station on account of the opinions he professed, and for the express purpose of giving them effect. He was very likely told so by the King, and left to infer as much by Palmerston. The letter of Strangways, which has appeared in the course of the correspondence, shows that the communications from the Foreign Office were in this spirit. At the same time Palmerston took care not to commit himself in writing. When the death of the King was approaching, Palmerston foresaw that he would have to change his tone with regard to Eastern politics, and consequently that it would be convenient to throw over Urquhart, which he proceeded to do. This man, first his tool and then his victim, turned out to be bold, unprincipled, and clever, and finding his prospects ruined and his reputation damaged, he turned fiercely upon him whom he considered as his persecutor and betrayer. It is fortunate for Palmerston that the matter has broken out at the end of the Session when people are all on the wing and there is not time to sift anything to the bottom, but still the charges are so grave, and they involve such serious consequences and considerations, that it is absolutely necessary the truth should be manifested one way or another.[21] The Foreign Ministers all believe that Palmerston is guilty. Dedel told me last night that Pozzo had said to him, 'Quant a moi, je ne dirai pas un mot; mais si tout cela est vrai, il faut aller aux galeres pour trouver un pareil forfait.' Graham said to me that he was sincerely sorry for it, inasmuch as he had personally a regard for Palmerston; that no man was ever a better, more honourable, or kinder colleague, more anxious to smooth differences and adjust disputes; that he could not attack him in the House of Commons, neither would Stanley; that Peel, who hated him, would not dislike doing so, but that he was too cautious to trust implicitly to Urquhart's assertions, and to commit himself by acting on them; that there was nobody else capable of dealing with the subject well, and that Canning[22] ought not, for the same reasons (only much stronger in his case) that restrained himself and Stanley.

[20] [King William's Private Secretary.]

[21] The truth never was manifested, the matter blew over, very little ever was said about it in the newspapers, Urquhart's revelations never appeared, the public forgot it, and the whole affair died a natural death.— January 6th, 1839.

[22] [Sir Stratford Canning, afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, was at this time a Member of the House of Commons.]

The bishops were at loggerheads in the House of Lords the other night on the Ecclesiastical Discipline Bill. Exeter (Phillpotts), in a most venomous speech, attacked the Archbishop, whose mildness was stimulated into an angry reply; but Exeter gained his point, for both Brougham and the Duke were for postponing the Bill. Phillpotts would have made a great bishop in the days of Bonner and Gardiner, or he would have been a Becket, or, still better, a Pope either in the palmy days of papal power or during the important period of reaction which succeeded the Reformation. He seems cast in the mould of a Sixtus.

August 3rd, 1838 {p.120}

The following panegyric on the sixth volume of the Duke's Despatches, evidently written by no common hand, was given by Dr. Ferguson to Edward Villiers,[23] the Doctor not knowing the author:—

'The sixth volume appears to me among the most extraordinary of human productions, ancient or modern. It is not the mere power of sagacity, vigilance, acute and comprehensive reasoning, or, in short, the intellectual perfection of the book, various and wonderful as it is, which affects my mind most deeply: it is the love of justice, the love of truth, the love of humanity, the love of country, the fine temper, the tolerance of error, the mildness of reproof, the superb morality of the great and masculine spirit displayed throughout it, which it is impossible for an honest man to observe without affection and admiration.'

[23] [The Hon. Edward Ernest Villiers, a younger brother of Lord Clarendon, filled at this time the office of Clerk of the Clergy Returns to the Privy Council.]

August 8th, 1838 {p.121}

[Page Head: MACAULAY'S LIFE IN INDIA.]

James Stephen yesterday was talking to me about Macaulay. He came to him soon after his return from India, and told him that when there he used to get up at five every morning (as everybody else did), and till nine or ten he read Greek and Latin, and went through the whole range of classical literature of every sort and kind; that one day in the Government library he had met with the works of Chrysostom, fourteen Greek folios, and that he had taken home first one volume and then another, till he had read the whole through, that is, he had not read every word, because he had found that it contained a great deal of stuff not worth reading, but he had carefully looked at every page, and had actually read the greater part. His object now is to devote himself to literature, and his present project, to write a History of England for the last 150 years, in which Stephen says he would give scope to his fine imagination in the delineation of character, and bring his vast stores of knowledge to the composition of the narrative, and would, without doubt, produce a work of astonishing power and interest. Macaulay says if he had the power of recalling everything he has ever written and published and of destroying it all, he would do so, for he thinks that his time has been thrown away upon opuscula unworthy of his talents. This is, however, a very preposterous squeamishness and piece of pride or humility, whichever it may be called, for no man need be ashamed of producing anything perfect in its kind, however the kind may not be the highest, and his reviews are perfect in their way. I asked Stephen by what mental process Macaulay had contrived to accumulate such boundless stores of information, and how it was all so sorted and arranged in his head that it was always producible at will. He said that he had first of all the power of abstraction, of giving his undivided attention to the book and the subject on which he was occupied; then, as other men read by syllables or by words, he had the faculty, acquired by use, of reading by whole sentences, of swallowing, as it were, whole paragraphs at once, and thus he infinitely abbreviated the mere mechanical part of study; that as an educated man would read any number of pages much more quickly than an uneducated man, so much more quickly would Macaulay read than any ordinary man. Therefore it is first and foremost the power of abstraction, that faculty of attention and of rendering up his mind to the matter before him, which makes all his reading profitable, and leaves nothing to be wasted and frittered away. Then the acquired habit of devouring at a glance a vast surface of print, so that, like the dragon of Wantley, to whom

Houses and churches Were like geese and turkeys,

he can discuss a Greek folio while an ordinary man is dawdling or boggling over a pamphlet or a newspaper.

Nature has certainly cast the mind of Macaulay in a different mould from that of common men. There is no more comparison between his brain and such a one as mine than between a hurdy- gurdy in the street and the great organ at Haarlem; but it is probably not true that nature has made all the difference or the greatest part of it. If the hurdy-gurdy was kept in constant tune and the great instrument was never played upon, and its barrels and tubes allowed to grow rusty, the former would at length discourse the more eloquent music of the two. No care or cultivation indeed could have made me what Macaulay is, but if he had wasted his time and frittered away his intellects as I have done mine, he would only have been an ordinary man; while if I had been carefully trained and subjected to moral discipline, I might have acted a creditable and useful part.

August 10th, 1838 {p.123}

[Page Head: LORD DURHAM'S ORDINANCE.]

Lord Durham[24] has got into a fine scrape with his Ordinance, which is clearly illegal. Brougham brought it forward on Tuesday night in an exulting speech, or rather in many exulting speeches, one of which contained some eloquent passages. He was transported with joy at having, as he said, 'got them at last.' The Duke supported Brougham, but with more temper and dignity; the Ministers made but a poor defence, if defence it could be called. Durham's appointments cancelled and his proclamations declared illegal will neither sweeten his temper nor exalt his character in Canada.

[24] [Lord Durham had passed an Ordinance enacting that Papineau and the leaders of the Canadian rebellion should be transported to Bermuda, and that if any of them returned to Canada they should suffer death. This was done before trial and without authority or law. It was consequently attacked with great vehemence by Lord Brougham in the House of Lords, on the 30th of July, and again on the 5th of August, and he brought in a Bill declaring the true meaning and intent of the Canada Act. The second reading was carried against the Government by a majority of eighteen, and Ministers were compelled to disallow the Ordinance, the legality of which could not, indeed, be defended.]

August 11th, 1838 {p.123}

Brougham introduced his Bill of Indemnity (a Declaratory Bill) in an admirable speech, dignified, calm, and ably reasoned. Melbourne was imprudent enough to talk of 'a trap having been laid for Durham,' at which the Duke was very angry, and made a strong speech. Last night they announced that they mean to let this Bill pass, for that there is a necessity for some such Bill. It certainly admits of a doubt whether Durham's Ordinance is illegal, except as relates to transporting people to Bermuda, but it is inexcusable that he should not have been better advised and more cautious than to make any such blunder. We were told that Turton's indifferent moral character was to be overlooked in favour of his great legal capacity, and now it appears that his law is not a jot better than his morals.

Yesterday I met Mr. Barnes at dinner for the purpose of being introduced to him: an agreeable man enough, with evidently a vast deal of information, but his conversation bears no marks of that extraordinary vigour and pungency for which the articles in the 'Times' are so distinguished.[25]

[25] [Mr. Barnes was then chief editor of the 'Times.' Mr. Greville had long been in correspondence with him, but this was the first time they met.]

August 12th, 1838 {p.124}

[Page Head: THE ORDINANCE DISALLOWED.]

Lord Melbourne agreed to the Indemnity Bill, but with many complaints of the bad effect the discussion would have in Canada. Brougham was triumphant, the Duke moderate and conciliatory. No doubt Brougham, in hitting this blot, was animated with nothing but the delight of firing a double shot into Durham there and the Ministry here, and as to the consequences he cared not a straw; but I am unable to perceive how it would have been possible to pass the Ordinance sub silentio, its illegality being clear, and so far from its being dangerous to discuss the matter in Parliament, it is fortunate that the case occurred before Parliament broke up, so that the necessary Acts may pass to secure Durham and all others acting under his authority from the consequences which might have arisen from a later discovery of the irregularity of his proceedings; for what might not have happened if this Ordinance had been published during the recess and pronounced illegal by high legal authority and taken up by the press? The Government must have confirmed it on their own responsibility, or disallowed it by their own authority; they would not have dared do the first, and their disallowance would have been fraught with as serious consequences as a parliamentary condemnation. By Melbourne's own showing, and for the reasons which he says induced him to agree to the Bill—namely, that one part of the Ordinance is clearly illegal, and that it is impossible to take one part and to reject another—he ought himself to have come to Parliament for an Indemnity Bill and a Declaratory Act. The question resolves itself into this: what power would the Colonial Legislature have had if the Act had not passed by which the constitution was suspended? and would it have been competent to do what Durham has done? Upon this point authorities differ, but everybody agrees that, whatever the Colonial Legislature could have done, Durham (with his Council) can do. If, however, Parliament did not think fit to define his power, and great doubts exist as to its extent, the reasonable, indeed the indispensable course seems to be that those doubts should be as speedily as possible removed, and the amount of his authority clearly and expressly ascertained.

August 13th, 1838 {p.125}

At a Council to-day to disallow Durham's Ordinance. Nothing was sent from the Colonial Office, and I did not know what it was for till I saw Lord Lansdowne. He told me, and then I wrote the Order for the Queen to approve, and he took it in to her. Presently Glenelg arrived, and announced that nothing could be done, for the authenticated copy under the Great Seal of the Colony was not arrived. Then a consultation was held: Lord Lansdowne was for not minding about the Great Seal, and Melbourne chuckled and grunted, and said, 'Why, you knock over his Ordinances, and he won't care about the form, will he?' I said, 'If there is no precedent, make one,' and accordingly the Order passed. They are very angry with the House of Lords, and Lord John said they had behaved very ill, and ought to have waited till the whole case was before them: but I think it was all before them.

August 20th, 1838 {p.125}

At Stoke on Saturday, where Lord Sefton is sinking to the grave in a miserable state of depression and mental debility. Up by the railroad and dined at Holland House for the first time for above a year; sat next to Lord FitzGerald at dinner, who lamented to me the loss of the Corporation Bill; he said he would not have consented to the lesser qualification, but would have agreed to all the other clauses if he had had his own way. The continuance of the trusts in the hands of the old Corporation he thought unwise, calculated to offend feelings and prejudices, and inconsistent with their own opinion of the corporators themselves. Wharncliffe, on the other hand, told me some time ago that he did not care about the qualification, but he defended, though feebly, the trusts. This shows how dissatisfied the moderate and sensible of the party are with their own proceedings.

August 23rd, 1838 {p.126}

[Page Head: REVIEW OF THE SESSION.]

In looking back at the past Session, unexampled in duration, the first thing that occurs to one is how uneventful it has been, and how precisely the political state of affairs has ended as it began. The characters of certain conspicuous men have manifested themselves in a very striking manner, but that is all; the Government are still in their places, not a jot stronger than they were, and the Opposition maintain their undiminished phalanx without being at all nearer coming into power. The House of Commons uniformly supports the Government, the House of Lords frequently opposes it, but the difference between the two Houses seldom swells to a dispute; it is languidly carried on and carelessly regarded, the country at large not seeming to mind who are in or who are out. The great meteor of the year has been Brougham, who, by common consent, has given proofs of the undiminished force of his wonderful capacity, and who has spoken with as much, if not with greater eloquence than at any previous period of his life. But while he has excited no small degree of wonder and admiration, he has not raised his reputation for wisdom or honesty. He has exhibited such an unbridled rage against the Government, he has appeared to be animated with so much spite and malice, without a particle of public spirit, but only with a vindictive determination to punish them for having rejected him, that the world has only regarded him and his performances as they would look at a great actor on the stage. So bent has he been upon worrying the Ministers, so determined his enmity to them, that he has sought to ally himself with the most extreme sections of opposition, congregating with the Roebucks, Wakleys, and Leaders in the morning, contriving and concocting with them measures of ultra-Radicalism, then hugging Lyndhurst, bowing down to the Duke, courting the Tory lords, and figuring, flirting, and palavering at night at the routs of the Tory ladies. In the House of Lords, Lyndhurst was well content to hunt in couples with him; but the Duke has kept him at arm's length, and though always on civil, would never be on intimate terms with him. Far different has been the Duke's own career, for he has, throughout the Session, displayed a dignity, candour, and moderation, without any tameness or indifference or inactivity, which raise him to the highest rank as a statesman and a patriot, and show him equally mindful of his own honour and his country's good. He alone has moderated the rancour of Lyndhurst, kept in check the violence of Brougham, and restrained the impetuosity and impatience of his party. His abstinence from opposition exceedingly provoked his followers, for, with the exception of the question of the appointment of magistrates by the Chancellor, upon which he treated the latter with considerable asperity, and blamed his conduct severely, he displayed uniform leniency and forbearance; at the end of the session, indeed, he supported Brougham in his attack upon Durham, though not by any means joining in it with the same animus. Melbourne, very soon after the commencement of the session, openly, avowedly, and intentionally quarrelled with Brougham and set him at defiance. However unequal to him on the whole, he came off tolerably well in the little skirmishes which constantly took place between them, and he derived a strength and security from the Duke's forbearance or support, which enabled him to jog on without sustaining any material damage from Brougham's terrible assaults. None of his colleagues were of much use to him, and Glenelg got so cruelly mauled at first, that he had afterwards no mind to mingle more than he could help in the fray.

[Page Head: OPPOSITION IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS.]

In the House of Commons the debates have been much less interesting and exciting than in the House of Lords. John Russell has continued steadily to advance in public estimation as a speaker and political leader, and Morpeth and Sir George Grey have taken higher places, while Rice and Thomson have lost ground, and Hobhouse has sunk into utter insignificance. Peel has, throughout the Session, acted a moderate, cautious part, and Stanley and Graham have said and done little or nothing, both parties, as if by common consent, keeping each other at bay, and alike conscious that their relative strength is too equal to admit of any great triumph on either side. This balance of parties keeps the Ministers in place, but keeps them weak and nearly powerless either for good or for evil. It has not, however, had the effect of exalting the third party (the Radical), which has, on the contrary, sunk in numbers, reputation, and influence. The conduct of the ultra-Radicals in the House of Commons, on the outbreak of the Canadian insurrection, revealed their real disposition and disgusted the country, and, for the present, nothing can be lower than the Radical interest, or more feeble and innocuous than the revolutionary principle. The great mass of the Tories are always fretting and fuming at the Whigs retaining possession of office, and are impatient to assault them in front, and indignant that they do not of their own accord resign, but the wiser and the cooler know that however weak the Whigs may be as a Government, and however insufficient their power to execute all they would like to do, they are fortified in their places by certain barriers which their adversaries are still more powerless to break through; for they have the cordial, undoubted support of the Queen, they are the Ministers of her choice, and they have a majority (a small but a clear and a certain majority) in the House of Commons. A great Tory principle therefore coalesces with a great Whig principle to maintain them in office; for the Tories,—who were indignant at what they considered an invasion of the King's prerogative in 1835, when the House of Commons would not let him choose his own Ministers, or, which is the same thing, so continually thwarted the Ministers of his choice as to compel them to resign, and left him no alternative but that of taking back those whom he had dismissed—the Tories could not with any consistency deny to the Queen the exercise of the same authority sanctioned by the support of the House of Commons, which they claimed for King William even against the declared opinion of the House. Nothing is left for them, therefore, but a sulky acquiescence in the present state of things; but they indemnify themselves by placing the House of Lords in the new position of an assailant of the Queen's Government, and the Peers, without daring to assert any co-ordinate authority with the House of Commons as to the choice of Ministers, evince their disapprobation of that choice by frequently thwarting their most important measures. It is curious that none of them—not even Lyndhurst himself, perhaps not the Duke of Wellington—seems to perceive that in the midst of their horror of innovation and dread of great constitutional changes, they have themselves made a great practical change in the constitutional functions of the House of Lords; that it is a departure from the character and proper province of that House to array itself in permanent and often bitter hostility to the Government, and to persist in continually rejecting measures recommended by the Crown and passed by the Commons. When the House of Lords opposed and thwarted the Ministers during the last two years of King William's reign, they may have justified themselves on their own Tory principle, and (assuming as a fact that the King was in the hands of a faction, from whose bondage he could not release himself), that they were only supporting the Crown when they opposed the Ministers whom the House of Commons had forced upon him, and therefore, both as Tories and as Conservatives, they were taking a consistent, constitutional, and prudent course; but even if this was true then, it is certainly not true now, and it is, I believe, the first time that there is no party in the House of Lords supporting the Crown, nor any individual acting upon that principle, but all are either Whigs or Tories arrayed against each other and battling for power.



CHAPTER IV.

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 denouement 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 tete-a-tete 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'?'