[Page Head: POULETT THOMSON SENT TO CANADA.]

Nothing strikes one more forcibly in the contemplation of these things, than the manner in which the public interests are complimented away for the sake of individual pretensions, and even in this there is an apparent caprice which is inexplicable. Glenelg, an honourable and accomplished man, is thrust out under very humiliating circumstances. Poulett Thomson, we are told, 'must have been' Chancellor of the Exchequer, if not Governor of Canada (a post he is by way of taking as a favour to his colleagues), 'he could not be passed over.' Why he could not, and in what his right consisted, it is difficult to say, nor why he is entitled to such amazing deference, while poor Glenelg was so unceremoniously treated. Poulett Thomson is clever and industrious, but his elevation, when compared with that of others, and with his own merit, as well as original means of raising himself, exhibits a very remarkable phenomenon, and as Lord Spencer, his early patron, has pretty well withdrawn from public affairs, it is not very obvious how or why Poulett Thomson is enabled to render his small pretensions so largely available. The Duke would not believe they meant to send him to Canada, and said they had much better leave Colborne there; but this is what they fancy they can't do, and that they must send out somebody who is to solve the political problem of settling the future form of government, and so Poulett goes to finish what Durham began.

September 4th, 1839 {p.235}

The changes in the Government have been received with considerable indifference, nobody much caring, and the generality of people finding fault with some or all of them. Normanby told me yesterday that he was fully sensible of the inconvenience of such changes, and of the bad effect they are calculated to produce, but that the appointment of Poulett Thomson was John Russell's doing, that he had been bent upon it, and had carried it, and as he (Normanby) could not consent to it, and would not be immediately responsible for it, nothing was left but to change offices, and let the appointment of Poulett Thomson to Canada be Lord John's own doing, who would thus administer the affairs of the Colony with a Governor of his own choice. He added, that it had been originally intended (when he left Ireland) that he should take his present office, but other circumstances had obliged him at that time to go to the Colonies. While Normanby quits the Colonies, because Thomson goes to Canada (as he says), Howick (as he says) resigns, because Normanby goes to the Home Office. But the world believes that the change of the one takes place, because Normanby is unequal to the work of the Colonies, and the resignation of the other, because Howick was not himself appointed Colonial Secretary. The ostensible ground for the change is, that the Minister who brings forward the Canada question in the House of Commons may be well versed in all the official details, and have immediate personal control over the local administration; and the excuse for sending out Thomson, and accepting Colborne's resignation, is the necessity of appointing a Governor thoroughly acquainted with all that has passed both abroad and at home, cognisant of the intentions, and possessed of the confidence of the Cabinet. All this will appear to furnish inadequate grounds for recalling Colborne, who has acted with sense and vigour, albeit not pretending to be a statesman or a legislator. A story is told, which shows the levity of the Government people, and how they make game of what might be thought matter of anything but pleasantry to them. At the end of the season there is always a fish dinner at Greenwich, the whipper-in (Secretary of Treasury), Ben Stanley, in the chair; and this is on the plan of the Beefsteak Club, everybody saying what he pleases, and dealing out gibes and jests upon his friends and colleagues according to the measure of his humour and capacity. Normanby, still smarting from the attacks of Brougham, was made the mark for these jocularities, after his health being drunk thus: 'Lord Normanby and the liberation of the Prisoners.' At a subsequent period, Rutherford, the Lord Advocate, attacked the Attorney-General, and said he had long known his learned friend as the advocate of liberty, but he had lately seen him in quite a new capacity, prosecuting in the Tory fashion, and having people shut up in jail in all parts of the country. Campbell said it was very true that he had lately had a very unpleasant duty to perform, and that he had been the unwilling instrument of incarcerating many of Her Majesty's subjects, but that he had all along been consoled by the reflexion that there was every probability of his noble friend Lord Normanby making a progress, during the recess, and letting them all out again. Normanby, however, did not like the witticism, and complained afterwards that the dinner was very dull, and the jokes exceedingly heavy.

[Page Head: A GREENWICH DINNER.]

The Dover dinner to the Duke of Wellington,[1] which took place the other day, did not present an agreeable spectacle. Brougham, who had thrust himself in among the party, was pitched upon, as having the best gift of the gab, to propose the Duke's health, which he did in a very tawdry speech, stuffed with claptraps and commonplaces. It was a piece of bad taste to select Brougham (who had nothing to do with Dover) for the performance of this office, which would have been more appropriately discharged by the local authority in the chair, although he might not have been able to make such a flourish as the practised orator favoured the company with. The Duke himself hates to be thus bepraised, and it is painful to see Brougham and him in any way connected, though for so ephemeral a purpose. The Duke's health might be proposed in three lines of Ovid, which express the position he fills more, and probably better, than the most studied oration could do:—

Si titulos, annosque tuos numerare velimus, Facta premant annos. Pro te, fortissime, vota Publica suscipimus, Bacchi tibi sumimus haustus.

It turned out a complete Tory celebration. There was an almost unmixed array of Tory names at the banquet, and one Whig lord (Poltimore), who happened to be at Dover declined attending.

[1] [A great entertainment was given to the Duke of Wellington as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports on the 30th August. Lord Brougham attended it, and delivered an oration of the most hyperbolical panegyric.]

September 5th, 1839 {p.238}

Among other bad signs of these times, one is the decay of loyalty in the Tory party; the Tory principle is completely destroyed by party rage. No Opposition was ever more rabid than this is, no people ever treated or spoke of the Sovereign with such marked disrespect. They seem not to care one straw for the Crown, its dignity, or its authority, because the head on which it is placed does not nod with benignity to them. An example of this took place the other day, when at a dinner at Shrewsbury the company refused to drink the health of the new Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Sutherland (a man not personally obnoxious), because the Duchess of Sutherland is at the head of the Queen's female household. This reproach does not apply to the leaders of the party, who are too wise and too decorous to hold such language or to approve of such conduct;[2] but is the animus which distinguishes the tail and the body, and they take no pains to conceal it.

[2] This was before the Bradshaw and Roby exhibitions.

September 7th, 1839 {p.238}

The result of the Cambridge and Manchester elections proves (if any proof was wanting), how utterly the cause of Government is lost in the country, and fully confirms the report of their universal unpopularity: Cambridge lost by one hundred, and Manchester barely won. Poulett Thomson told me just before that the Liberals had a certain majority (for any candidate) of several hundreds.

September 14th, 1839 {p.238}

[Page Head: BROUGHAM'S LETTER ON EDUCATION.]

Brougham has sent to the press a letter to the Duke of Bedford on Education, of which he thus speaks in a letter to Lord Tavistock:... 'I have sent my letter to the Duke to the press at Edinburgh. I wrote it in eight and a half hours the day I came here; but if I am to judge, who should not, it is by far the best thing I ever did, and the only eloquent. My whole heart was in it, both from affection to your excellent father, and to the subject. I hope it will do good, for the time is going away under me, and I shall be called to my great account before I have done any good on earth. Therefore I must make a new attempt at having something to show.' The production will be probably very good in its way and very eloquent, but the note is characteristic—a mixture of pride and humility, humbugging and self-deceitful. What cares he for the Duke of Bedford, whom he scarcely sees from one end of the year to the other, and why should he care? They have very little in common—neither the idem velle nor idem nolle; and a more uninteresting, weak-minded, selfish character does not exist than the Duke of Bedford.[3] He is a good-natured, plausible man, without enemies, and really (though he does not think so) without friends; and naturally enough he does not think so, because there are many who pretend, like Brougham, a strong affection for him, and some who imagine they feel it. Vast property, rank, influence, and station always attract a sentiment which is dignified with the name of friendship, which assumes all its outward appearance, complies with its conditions, but which is really hollow and unsubstantial. The Duke of Bedford thinks of nothing but his own personal enjoyments, and it has long been a part of his system not to allow himself to be disturbed by the necessities of others, or be ruffled by the slightest self- denial. He is affable, bland, and of easy intercourse, making rather a favourable impression on superficial observers; caring little, if at all, for the wants or wishes of others, but grudging nobody anything that does not interfere with his own pursuits, and seeing with complacency those who surround him lap up the superfluities which may chance to bubble over from his cup of pleasure and happiness. It is a farce to talk of friendship with such a man, on whom, if he were not Duke of Bedford, Brougham would never waste a thought.

[3] [These remarks relate to John, sixth Duke of Bedford, born 6th July, 1766, died 29th October, 1839. He was the father of the Lord Tavistock often mentioned in these Journals, and of Lord William and Lord John Russell.]

September 17th, 1839 {p.240}

Finding the Duke of Wellington was in town yesterday, I called on him. He talked to me a great deal about Brougham and the Dover dinner, and told me a comical anecdote with reference to his giving the toast of the Duke's health at the dinner. The Committee invited him and, as the chairman was a man who could not speak at all, they, thinking it a catch to get so great an orator to do the office, proposed to Brougham to give the toast of the night. He accepted, and then they found that Lord Guilford, a man of the first rank and consequence in the county, and therefore entitled to this distinction, was highly affronted at the preference of Brougham to him. They got embarrassed, and desired to take the toast from Brougham and give it to Lord Guilford, and when he got down there this was suggested to him; but he said 'it could not be, for he had not only written his speech beforehand, but had already sent it to be published, so that no alteration was then possible.' The consequence was, Lord Guilford would not come to the dinner, and he was only pacified afterwards by the Duke himself, who went to call upon him for the purpose of soothing down his ruffled plumage; this he succeeded in doing by telling him this story, and nothing the Duke said reconciled him so much to what had passed, as the fact of Brougham's having written his speech beforehand.

He told me what Brougham had said of Macaulay (whom he hates with much cordiality), when somebody asked if he was to be Secretary at War. 'No, Melbourne would not consent to it: he would not have him in the Cabinet, and could not endure to sit with ten parrots, a chime of bells, and Lady W——.'

The more I see of the Duke, the more am I struck with the impression that he is declining; that he is not what he was a year or two ago. He is vigorous and hearty, cheerful, lively; his memory does not seem to be impaired; he talks with sense and energy. If anybody asserted that they saw symptoms of mental decay, it would be easy to deny the fact, and to support the denial by ready and numerous examples of his force and sagacity in discussion, or in the transaction of business; but nevertheless I am persuaded that a change has come over him, that it is gradually spreading more and sinking deeper, and that we must begin to make up our minds to the deprivation of his noble spirit, full of honesty, wisdom, and patriotism as it is.[4]

[4] [The Duke, however, lived and flourished for thirteen years after this prediction.]

September 21st, 1839 {p.241}

[Page Head: THE AFGHAN EXPEDITION.]

I dined at Holland House last night, where, among others, were General Alava, and Sir John Hobhouse, the first in high glee at the termination of the war in Spain, and the last at the success of the Indian expedition.[5] Hobhouse told me that Auckland had displayed extraordinary qualities, and was the ablest Governor India had seen for a great length of time. Alava said that the last transactions in Spain and the mediation of Lord John Hay had reflected the highest honour on our Government, and that we had acted with a discretion, a delicacy, and a disinterestedness beyond all praise. But both Alava and Hobhouse told me what is very remarkable as showing the great reliance which even his political opponents place in the wisdom and patriotism of the Duke. Hobhouse said that he had had some time ago a very long conversation with the Duke, in which he had made him acquainted with all the means employed for the accomplishment of their Indian objects, and that the Duke, who had previously anticipated their failure, had, after hearing all these details, expressed himself perfectly satisfied, and admitted that they had every assurance of success. He did not go into the policy of the measure, which it would not have been proper or advisable to do, but merely treated the question of military resources and their employment.

[5] [This was the expedition to replace Shah Sooja on the throne of Afghanistan, which was so auspiciously commenced and so deplorably terminated. Sir John Hobhouse was greatly elated at the enterprise and very confident of the result. He said to me soon afterwards that we must encounter the policy of Russia, and that the theatre of the struggle was Central Asia. I replied that I should have preferred the Baltic.—H.R.]

So, too, Alava, as soon as intelligence reached him and Palmerston of the overtures of Maroto, asked leave to communicate it to the Duke, which was immediately conceded. He was therefore informed of all that was going on, and it met with his fullest approbation; and yet all this time the great organ of the Tories is raving against the Government in the most frantic manner, for having been instrumental to this happy termination of the most frightful and revolting civil war that ever afflicted any country.[6]

[6] [The active support given to Espartero by the British Government under the Quadruple Treaty, and the operations of Lord John Hay on the northern coast of Spain, which stopped the supplies of the Carlists, contributed to bring the contest for the Crown of Spain to an end, and on the 15th August Don Carlos surrendered himself to the French Government at Bayonne.]

September 23rd, 1839 {p.242}

Lady Holland asked me the other night what I thought of their prospects, and I told her I thought them very bad. She said, 'The fact is, we have nothing to rely upon but the Queen and Paddy.' This has since struck me as being an epigrammatic but very correct description of their position.

Last night there came to Holland House after dinner Brunnow and Nesselrode's son, the first (not unlike Brougham, and would be very like if his nose moved about), a very able man, and said to be 'la pensee intime de l'Empereur,' sent over to see what can be done about the Eastern Question, which I take to be a very difficult matter.[7] I had much talk with Dedel (who told me this) about Palmerston. I said it was well known he was very able with his pen, but I did not know how he was in Conference. He replied: 'Palmerston comes to any Conference so fully and completely master of the subject of it in all the minutest details, that this capacity is a peculiar talent with him; it is so great, that he is apt sometimes to lose himself in the details.'

[7] [Baron Brunnow was sent to England at this time by the Emperor Nicholas to make the first overtures for the intervention of the Great Powers in the quarrel between the Sultan and the Pasha of Egypt. This overture was rejected by the Cabinet in 1839, but accepted on the Baron's return to England in the following year, and it led to the celebrated treaty of the 15th July, 1840, and the quarrel with France, the true object of Nicholas having been the severance of the Western Powers. M. de Brunnow remained in England as Minister or Ambassador for nearly thirty-five years.]

London, November 8th, 1839 {p.243}

Six weeks nearly of an absolute blank. Left town October 1, Newmarket, then Cromer for ten days, Newmarket, London, Riddlesworth, Newmarket again, Euston, and back on Monday last. Nothing very remarkable has happened in this interval. Lord Clarendon[8] accepted the Privy Seal, not very willingly, but feeling that he could not, with decency, refuse it. They consider his accession to the Government a matter of great importance, and the Tories own it to be so, such a reputation has he acquired by the brilliant manner in which he conducted the mission in Spain, and by his popular and engaging qualities.

[8] [George William Frederic Villiers, fourth Earl of Clarendon, succeeded his uncle in the title in December, 1838. He had filled for some years with distinguished ability the office of British Minister at Madrid. He now returned to England; married Lady Katharine Barham, eldest daughter of the Earl of Verulam and widow of John Forster-Barham, Esq., in June 1839, and entered the Cabinet for the first time as Lord Privy Seal.]

[Page Head: LORD BROUGHAM'S PRETENDED DEATH.]

Nothing has excited so much interest as the hoax of Brougham's pretended death,[9] which was generally believed for twenty-four hours, and the report elicited a host of criticisms and panegyrics on his life and character, for the most part flattering, except that in the 'Times,' which was very able but very severe, and not less severe than true. As soon as it was discovered that he was not dead, the liveliest indignation was testified at the joke that had been played off, and the utmost anxiety to discover its origin. General suspicion immediately fixed itself on Brougham himself, who, finding the bad impression produced, hastened to remove it by a vehement but indirect denial of having had any share in, or knowledge of, the hoax. But so little reliance is placed upon his word, that everybody laughs at his denials, and hardly anybody has a shadow of a doubt that he was himself at the bottom of it. He has taken the trouble to write to all sorts of people, old friends and new, to exonerate himself from the charge; but never was trouble more thrown away. D'Orsay says that he carefully compared the (supposed) letter of Shafto with one of Brougham's to him, and that they were evidently written by the same hand. The paper, with all its marks, was the same, together with various other minute resemblances, leaving no doubt of the fact.

[9] [A letter from Brougham purporting to be from Mr. Shafto was received by Mr. Alfred Montgomery, which contained the particulars of Lord Brougham's death by a carriage accident. Mr. Montgomery brought the letter to Lady Blessington's at Gore House, where I happened to be, and I confess we were all taken in by the hoax. Montgomery went off in a post-chaise to break the news to Lord Wellesley at Fernhill; and meeting Lord Alfred Paget in Windsor Park, he sent the news to the Castle. The trick was kept up for twenty-four hours, but the next day I received a note from Brougham himself, full of his usual spirits and vitality.—H.R.]

[Page Head: VIOLENCE OF THE TORIES.]

Next to this episode, Jemmy Bradshaw's speech at Canterbury has attracted the greatest attention, and he has been for many days the hero of newspaper discussion. This speech, which was a tissue of folly and impertinence, but principally remarkable for a personal attack of the most violent and indecent kind upon the Queen, was received with shouts of applause at a Conservative dinner, and reported with many compliments, and some gentle reprehension by the Tory press. His example has since been followed in a less offensive style by two others calling themselves Tories—a Mr. Roby and a Mr. Escott. Of these rabid and disloyal effusions, the Government papers have not failed to make the most, by pointing out the disaffected and almost treasonable character of modern Toryism when embittered by exclusion from office; and there is no doubt that, contemptible as the authors are, their senseless and disgusting exhibitions are calculated to do great mischief; for, if no other evil ensued, it is one of no small consequence to sour the mind of the Queen still more against the whole Tory party, and fasten upon her an impression which it will be difficult to efface, that she is odious and her authority contemptible in their eyes, so long as she is unfavourable to them, and commits herself to other hands than theirs. Peel is to be pitied for having to lead such an unruly and unprincipled faction. Everything seems disjointed, all is confusion; moderate men, desirous of good government, stability, security, and safe amendment of political evils or errors, can find no resting-place. The Tories, the professors and protectors of Conservative principles, the abhorrers of changes, who would not have so much as a finger laid upon the integrity of the Constitution, are ready to roll the Crown in the dirt, and trample it under their feet; and the Government, to whom the maintenance of the Constitution is entrusted, whose especial duty it is to uphold the authority of the laws, are openly allied with, and continually truckling to, those factions, or sections of factions, which make no secret of their desire and determination to effect changes which nobody denies to be equivalent to revolution; and then we have the weight of the Crown thrown into the scale of this unholy alliance, from the mere influence of personal predilections and antipathies. To such a degree is principle dormant, or so entirely is it thrust into the background by passion, prejudice, or the interest of the passing hour.

November 13th, 1839 {p.245}

At Holland House for three days last week. Lord Holland told many stories of Lord Chatham, some of which I had heard before, and some not. His stories are always excellent, and excellently told, and those who have heard them before can very well bear to hear them again. I think I have somewhere inserted the 'Sugar' story, which Lord Harrowby told me many years ago, but without the vivacity and good acting of Lord Holland. Another of his sayings was in the House of Lords, when, on I forget what question, he was unsupported: 'My Lords, I stand like our First Parents— alone, naked, but not ashamed.' This was fine. Lord Holland said there was nothing like real oratory in Parliament before the American war.

He had received several letters from Brougham in a most strange, incoherent style, avowedly for the purpose of thanking Lady Holland for the interest he heard she had shown about him when his death was reported, and at the same time to explain that he had no hand in the report, which he did with the utmost solemnity of asseveration;[10] but he took this opportunity to descant on the conduct of the party towards him, of the press, of the people, and of the leading Whigs, talked of the flags of truce he had held out, and how they had been fired on, and that he must again arm himself for another fight. All this in a curious, disjointed style. As these letters were considered flags of truce, Lady Holland fired upon them an invitation to dinner, but he would not come. I met him on Sunday, and asked him why he did not come, but he would not give any answer whatever. On that occasion he talked for two hours without stopping, abusing one person after another, particularly Fonblanque, and then telling the whole history of the Reform Bill and of the famous dissolution, and of all his own exploits on that occasion. It was amusing enough, but he talks too much, and his talk has the grand fault of not impressing his hearers with an idea of its truth; it is lively, energetic, vivacious, abundant, but it is artificial and unsatisfactory, because liable to suspicion and doubt.

[10] It was well known, eventually, that the hoax was entirely his own, and the letter dictated by himself.

Windsor Castle, November 15th, 1839 {p.246}

Here for a Council. I sat next to Baroness Lehzen at dinner—a clever, agreeable woman. She complained of Peel's having said in the House of Commons that he did not mean to turn her out, and says he ought to have said he could not, and that he had nothing to do with her, as she is not in the public service. I defended Peel. In the evening, Lord Melbourne told me to search the Council books and see what was the form of declaration of the Sovereign's marriage, so that matter is pretty clearly settled.

November 23rd, 1839 {p.246}

[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S BETROTHAL.]

At Wolbeding for three days. Then news came of the Duke's illness, which, though it turned out to be exaggerated, will, I fear, prove to have given him a shake. The Council being summoned to declare the Queen's marriage to-day, I have come up to town for it, and am just returned from the declaration, which took place in the lower apartments of the palace. About eighty Privy Councillors present, all who were within call having attended. Peel, Lyndhurst, and the Duke. The Duke arrived last night for the purpose; he looked very old, very feeble, and decrepit. I thought a great change was observable in him, but he was cheerful as usual, and evidently tried to make the best of it. The Queen had sent in the morning to enquire after him, and the answer was, 'He had had a restless night.' All the Privy Councillors seated themselves, when the folding-doors were thrown open, and the Queen came in, attired in a plain morning-gown, but wearing a bracelet containing Prince Albert's picture. She read the declaration in a clear, sonorous, sweet-toned voice, but her hands trembled so excessively that I wonder she was able to read the paper which she held. Lord Lansdowne made a little speech, asking her permission to have the declaration made public. She bowed assent, placed the paper in his hands, and then retired.

November 26th, 1839 {p.247}

The Queen wrote to all her family and announced her marriage to them. When she saw the Duchess of Gloucester in town, and told her she was to make her declaration the next day, the Duchess asked her if it was not a nervous thing to do. She said, 'Yes; but I did a much more nervous thing a little while ago.' 'What was that?' 'I proposed to Prince Albert.'

The Duke of Cambridge hunted Brougham round the room, saying, 'Oh, by God, you wrote the letter; by God, you did it yourself.'[11] Brougham is in a state of prodigious excitement. He has had a reconciliation with Normanby, and another with Durham—the first at Lady Clanricarde's, the other at Lady Tankerville's, where they casually met. He was overflowing with sentiment and eagerness to be friends with both.

[11] [Meaning the letter to Alfred Montgomery which announced Lord Brougham's death.]

November 27th, 1839 {p.247}

The Queen settled everything about her marriage herself, and without consulting Melbourne at all on the subject, not even communicating to him her intentions. The reports were already rife, while he was in ignorance; and at last he spoke to her, told her that he could not be ignorant of the reports, nor could she; that he did not presume to enquire what her intentions were, but that it was his duty to tell her, that if she had any, it was necessary that her Ministers should be apprised of them. She said she had nothing to tell him, and about a fortnight afterwards she informed him that the whole thing was settled. A curious exhibition of her independence, and explains the apprehensions which Lady Cowper has recently expressed to me of the serious consequences which her determined character is likely to produce. If she has already shaken off her dependence on Melbourne, and begins to fly with her own wings, what will she not do when she is older, and has to deal with Ministers whom she does not care for, or whom she dislikes?

December 14th, 1839 {p.248}

I was at Oatlands a fortnight ago, where I met Croker—not overbearing, and rather agreeable, though without having said much that was peculiarly interesting. Two things struck me. He said he dined and passed the evening tete-a-tete with the Duke of Wellington (then Sir Arthur Wellesley) before his departure for Portugal to take the command of the army. He was then Irish Secretary, and had committed to Croker's management the bills he had to carry through Parliament. After dinner he was very thoughtful, and did not speak. Croker said, 'Sir Arthur, you don't talk; what is it you are thinking about?' He said, 'Of the French. I have never seen them; they have beaten all Europe. I think I shall beat them, but I can't help thinking about them.'

Another tete-a-tete he had with the Duke was at the time of the Reform Bill, when he went down with him for a week to Strathfieldsaye, during which time he was more low-spirited and silent than Croker said he ever saw him before or since. He reproached himself for what he had done, particularly about Catholic Emancipation, the repeal of the Test Act, and his resignation in '30. Very curious this, not alluding among the topics of self-reproach to his persevering and mischievous opposition to the Emancipation, which he at length conceded in a manner so fraught with future evil, however inevitable; nor to his famous Anti-reform declaration, which, though containing little if anything that was untrue, was so imprudent that its effects were enormous and irretrievable. Such is the blindness, the obstinate reluctance to the admission of error, which besets even the wisest and the best men; for if the Duke of Wellington could have divested his mind of prejudice, and reflected calmly on the past, or looked over the political map of bygone events with the practical sagacity he usually displayed, he never could have failed to perceive the true causes of them. People often take to themselves unmerited blame, to screen themselves from that which they are conscious they deserve.

[Page Head: THE MAYOR OF NEWPORT AT COURT.]

On Monday last I went to Windsor for a Council. There we had Sir Thomas Phillips, the Mayor of Newport, who came to be knighted. They were going to knight him, and then dismiss him, but I persuaded Normanby that it would be a wise and popular thing to keep him there and load him with civilities—do good to the Queen, encourage others to do their duty—and send him back rejoicing to his province, to spread far and wide the fame of his gracious reception. He said, that etiquette would not permit one of his rank in life to be invited to the Royal table. I said, that this was all nonsense: if he was good enough to come and be knighted, he was good enough to dine there, and that it was a little outlay for a large return. He was convinced; spoke to Melbourne, who settled it, and Phillips stayed. Nothing could answer better, everybody approved of it, and the man behaved as if his whole life had been spent in Courts, perfectly at his ease without rudeness or forwardness, quiet, unobtrusive, but with complete self-possession, and a nil admirari manner which had something distinguished in it. The Queen was very civil to him, and he was delighted. The next morning he went to Normanby, and expressed his apprehension that he might not have conducted himself as he ought, together with his grateful sense of his reception; but the apology was quite needless.[12]

[12] [On the 4th November a Chartist riot occurred at Newport in Monmouthshire. The leaders were John Frost and Zephaniah Williams. The Mayor, Mr. T. Phillips, behaved with great gallantry, and ordered the troops to load. The mob, said to be 20,000 strong, first fired on the troops, who then returned the fire with effect and dispersed the assemblage. John Frost, the leader of this disturbance, had unluckily been made a magistrate by Lord John Russell some time before. His trial is subsequently adverted to.]

December 25th, 1839 {p.250}

At Ampthill (Baron Parke's) last Friday. Took down with me David Dundas, a Whig lawyer, and a very agreeable accomplished man, plenty of pleasant talk. Went over to Wrest, Lord de Grey's new house—built, decorated, and furnished by himself—and very perfect in all ways. Heard on Sunday a Mr. Howorth preach—an admirable preacher, who ought to be promoted in the Church, just as Dundas ought in the State.[13]

[13] [Sir David Dundas afterwards became Solicitor-General and declined a judgeship.]

December 31st, 1839 {p.250}

We are arrived at the end of the year, and the next will begin with the Chartist trials. Parliament is about to meet. Parties are violent, Government weak, everybody wondering what will happen, nobody seeing their way clearly before them. The general opinion is, that the Opposition mean to take the Government if they can by storm, and will assault every weak point. The weakest, to my mind, is John Russell's appointment of Frost to the magistracy, which, if skilfully handled, may be brought against him with great effect. Frost was appointed in pursuance of a system Lord John chose to establish, for the purpose of defeating the intentions of Parliament; and he did it upon his own responsibility in spite of warnings against it, and now we see some of the fruits of this policy. I told Normanby this, and he owned the truth of it, and moreover he told me that the system he found established by Lord John had proved very embarrassing to him, as it was very difficult for him to throw it over, and unless he did so he should be compelled to make, or sanction, objectionable appointments. Such have been the consequences of Lord John's unstatesmanlike and perhaps unconstitutional conduct, adopted under the influence of resentment.

[Page Head: LORD CLARENDON TAKES OFFICE.]

Lord Clarendon, who has just joined the Government with a lively sense of the tottering character of the concern he has entered, is resolved, as far as his influence may avail, to urge them to cast aside all attempts to catch votes, and cajole supporters, by partial concessions and half-and-half measures, to look the condition of affairs steadily in the face, and act in all things according to the best of their minds and consciences, as if they were as strong a Government as Pitt's, and without any regard to consequences, so that they may either live usefully or die honourably. This is the true course, and that which I have urged him to enforce with all his credit. We had some talk about foreign affairs. He thinks there is danger of Palmerston's getting too closely connected with Russia, while keeping France in check upon the complicated Eastern Question. He also spoke of a curious pamphlet, just published by Marliani, a Spaniard, who went in 1838 with Zea Bermudez on a mission to Berlin and Vienna, stating that a proposal had been made to Austria for a marriage between the young Queen of Spain and a son of the Archduke Charles, by which the Austrian alliance and influence would again be substituted for the French, and the object of the Family Compact defeated; and that Metternich would have listened eagerly to this if he had dared, and was only prevented and induced to entreat the Spaniards to go away by his overwhelming dread of Russian indignation.

January 14th, 1840 {p.251}

At Wrest for the last week. It is a new house built by Lord de Grey, without architects or any professional aid, and a great work for an amateur to have accomplished. Returned yesterday, and found London beginning to fill for Parliament. Everybody asks his neighbour, will the Government be able to go on—a question which nobody pretends to answer on any good grounds of probability. Electioneering casualties during the recess have brought the two parties (supposing all the Whig alliance to cohere) nearer to an equality than they were before, and they are so bitter against each other, that the Tories will certainly drive the Ministry out if they can, and take the chance of being themselves able to govern. But with reference to the state of public affairs and the composition of the Government, the Ministry presents a much more respectable appearance than it has heretofore done; the Cabinet contains men of character, of experience, and of great acquirements, and Clarendon, who has just taken his seat among them and has added to it a good diplomatic reputation, tells me that they are not only very united, agreed in general principles, and only differing to an extent that any thirteen men must occasionally differ on particular points; but that they are as Conservative a Cabinet as possible. And so, no doubt, they are in their hearts and wishes, and so they would be, if the Conservatives would allow them to keep their places, and give them strength enough to maintain Conservative interests. It is impossible to doubt that the best thing that could happen in the present situation of the country would be the continuance in office of the present Government, with the consent and acquiescence of the Tories, so long as they administered the government on just, moderate, and constitutional principles, and with a full understanding that any departure therefrom would be followed by their unrelenting hostility. But this would require a large amount of patriotism and self-denial from a great party, who, besides a consciousness of strength, have their minds full of bitter animosity, and an impatience for party victory, and the acquisition of official power; and in their eager desire for revenge and triumph, they overlook all considerations, and are ready to incur any risk and take all consequences.

As far as the state of public affairs is concerned, Ministers have not at all a bad case to bring before the country. The great interests, on which the eyes of the world have been fixed, are prosperous and ably administered. Ebrington in Ireland, Auckland in India, and now Poulett Thomson in Canada, have contributed in their different ways to the favourable expose of the Government, nor is there any point on which they are particularly vulnerable, or any grave reproach to which they have rendered themselves obnoxious. But all this will not avail to make them strong, or render their tenure of office secure and permanent. They are not popular, all parties distrust them, none believe that they have any fixed principles from which no considerations would induce them to swerve, and the unfortunate circumstances under which they so improperly took office again in March last, and their apparent wavering between antagonist principles, and readiness to yield to pressure when they could not escape it, have given a worse opinion of their character than they really deserve.

January 17th, 1840 {p.253}

[Page Head: OPENING OF PARLIAMENT.]

Parliament met yesterday. The Queen was well enough received— much better than usual—as she went to the House. The Speech was harmless. Some had wished to have something about the Corn Laws in it, but this was overruled by the majority. They said nothing about Prince Albert's Protestantism, and very properly, for though they might as well have done so in the Speech to the Privy Council (merely not to give a handle to their opponents for cavilling and clamouring), it would have been an acknowledgement of error, and a knocking under to clamour, to do so now. The Duke, however, moved an amendment, and foisted in the word Protestant,—a sop to the silly. I was grieved to see him descend to such miserable humbug, and was in hopes he was superior to it, and would have rather put down the nonsense than have lent his sanction to it. He is said to be very well, strong in body and clear in mind, but I fully expect that he will give, in the course of this Session, evident proofs of the falling-off of his mind.

In the House of Commons they are bent upon mischief, and speedy mischief; for Sir J. Yarde Buller gave notice directly of a motion of want of confidence, so that the strength of the two parties will be tested forthwith. This was a regular concerted party move, and took their opponents completely by surprise. It proceeds from the boiling impatience of the party, indoors and out. The Tory masses complain that nothing is done; and so, to gratify them, an immediate assault is resolved upon. Lord Wharncliffe said to me yesterday morning that the real obstacle to the Tories coming into office was the Queen. This was the only difficulty; but her antipathy to Peel rendered him exceedingly reluctant to take office, and there were many among the party who felt scruples in forcing an obnoxious Ministry upon her. This is, in fact, the real Tory principle, but I doubt many of the Tories being influenced by it.

Bradshaw[14] and Horsman went out yesterday morning. The former called out the latter on account of a speech at Cockermouth, in which, in allusion to the famous Canterbury Victorippick, he had said that Bradshaw had the tongue of a traitor and the heart of a coward. Though six weeks had elapsed between the speech and the challenge, Horsman did go out, and they exchanged shots; after which Bradshaw made a sort of stingy apology for his insults to the Queen, and the other an apology for his offensive expressions. Gurwood went out with Bradshaw, which he had better not have done.[15] He said, 'he had never read Bradshaw's speech, and was ignorant what he had said.' As Gurwood is a man of honour and veracity, this must be true; but it is passing strange that he alone should not have read what everybody else has been talking about for the last two months, and that he should go out with a man as his second on account of words spoken, and not enquire what they were.

[14] [Mr. Bradshaw had used very unbecoming and disloyal language in speaking of the Queen at a public dinner or meeting at Canterbury some weeks before. Mr. Horsman, a strong Whig, and Member for Cockermouth, had censured Bradshaw for his disloyalty—hence this strange duel.]

[15] [Colonel Gurwood, the Duke of Wellington's confidential friend, and editor of his Despatches, had just been appointed to the Governorship of the Tower.]

January 18th, 1840 {p.254}

[Page Head: HORSMAN AND BRADSHAW DUEL.]

Everybody talks of this duel, and the Whigs abuse Gurwood, and accuse him of ingratitude, for having acted for Bradshaw in such a quarrel, when he has just been loaded with favours—a pension and a place; for, though the latter was given by the Duke of Wellington, it was with the concurrence of Government, who might either have reduced his salary or taken away his pension, and did neither. Gurwood has acquired a title to public gratitude by being instrumental to the publication of the Wellington Despatches; but he is a silly fellow; his conduct in this duel shows it. He certainly ought to have declined to meddle; but he told George Anson (who was Horsman's second) he never did decline when asked; and he not only said he had never read Bradshaw's speech, but when George Anson offered to show it to him he refused to read it. I should have declined discussing the matter with him unless he did read it. Bradshaw behaved very well. After the shots, Gurwood asked if Horsman would retract. Anson said, 'No, not till Bradshaw did, or apologised.' Gurwood then said to Anson, 'Will you propose to him to do so? I cannot.' So he did. Bradshaw was deeply affected; owned he had been miserable ever since; said he could not live without honour, but would say anything that Anson and Gurwood (and he felt his honour as safe with the former as the latter) would agree that he could and ought to say; and George Anson drew up his apology, and did not make it stronger, because he would not press him hard. The fact is, he is much indebted to Horsman for getting him out, in some measure, of a very bad scrape.

The Queen has been attacked for going down in person to Parliament, just after the news arriving of the Landgravine's death; but she consulted her relations, the Princess Augusta particularly, who advised her to go, said it was a public duty, and that they had all been brought up in the doctrine that the discharge of the duties of their station was to supersede everything. So she went.

I met Burge[16] this morning, who is very much disgusted at no mention being made of Jamaica in the Speech, and at the speech of John Russell; who, in alluding to the omission, spoke very disparagingly of the Assembly, or at least, what will there appear so. But he admits, nevertheless, that Lord John Russell is by far the best Secretary of State he ever had to deal with, and that in his general conduct towards the island they have ample cause for satisfaction.

[16] [William Burge, Esq., Q.C., for many years agent for the island of Jamaica, and author of a valuable work entitled 'Commentaries on Colonial Law.']

January 22nd, 1840 {p.255}

Dined at Lady Blessington's the day before yesterday: a queer omnium gatherum party—Prince Louis Napoleon, General Montholon, Lord Lyndhurst, Brougham, Sir Robert Wilson, Leader, and Roebuck. Droll to see Lyndhurst, the most execrated of the Tories, hand-and-glove, and cracking his jokes, with the two Radicals. After dinner I had a talk with him. He said the Duke had been all against the motion on the 28th, but that unless they had agreed to it, the party would have been broken up; said he did not care about coming in. If they did, a dissolution would give them a majority of sixty, but that this would not enable them to stand against the Queen's hostility and determination to trip up their heels whenever she could;[17] that the Opposition would become more Radical, the Queen herself Radical; they should be driven out, and the country ruined. He thought the Duke strong in body and clear in mind, but more excitable. I said I thought that to those who knew him a change was perceptible; that it was impossible to cite any particular thing in proof of it; but that conversation with him left such an impression. Lyndhurst replied that this was exactly his own opinion, but that the Duke's authority with the party was undiminished, and indispensably necessary to keep them together. The Tories are very angry with Peel for taking such a strong part as he has done on the Privilege question, which nothing but his influence prevents their turning into a regular party debate. The House has gone floundering on upon it, wasting a great deal of time and ingenious speaking, and having got into a difficulty from which there is no convenient extrication.

[17] [A very erroneous prediction. They did come in in the following year, and the Queen gave her entire confidence and support to Sir Robert Peel's Government.]

The Judges are much censured for their behaviour at Newport:[18] first, for not themselves deciding the point that was raised; next, for not asking the jury for the reasons of their recommending the criminals to mercy; and the Chief Justice's charge to the jury was thought a very weak and poor performance.

[18] [This relates to the trial of Frost and others by a Special Commission at Newport for the riots of the preceding year.]

Yesterday morning[19] the Duke of Bedford came to me, to beg I would suggest some Lord for the situation of Chief of Prince Albert's establishment, for they can get none who is eligible. They want a Peer, a Whig, and a man of good sense, character and education, something rather better than common, and such an one willing to put on Court trappings they find not easily to be had. We made out a list, to be shown to Melbourne, who had consulted the Duke of Bedford, and asked him for a man. We talked over the bitter hostility between the Queen and the Tories, and he said, that Melbourne did everything he could to mitigate her feelings, and to make her understand that she must not involve the whole party in the reproach which justly attaches to a few foolish or mischievous zealots, so much so that lately when the Queen was inveighing against the Tories to somebody (he would not say to whom), and complaining of their behaviour to her, she added, 'It is very odd, but I cannot get Lord Melbourne to see it in that light.'

[19] John, sixth Duke of Bedford, had died on the 20th October, 1839, and my friend Tavistock had become Duke of Bedford.

January 24th, 1840

[Page Head: THE PRIVILEGE QUESTION.]

The Privilege question[20] occupies everybody's thoughts, and there is much interest and curiosity to see the sequel of it. The state of the House of Commons upon it is curious: all the Whigs for Privilege, and the chiefs of the Tories with them; with some of the lawyers (except Sugden) the same way; but Follett, who at first was heartily with Peel, has latterly taken no part, though he has voted with the majority. On the other side are the great bulk of the Tories and all the second-rate lawyers—the only eminent ones that way being Sugden, Pemberton, and Kelly. The debates have elicited some admirable speeches on both sides, of which Peel's three nights ago, when he explained the law better than the lawyers could, has been the most remarkable. The Tories are very angry with him for taking it up so warmly, and they will not be the more pleased at the complimentary speech of John Russell, in which he told him that nothing but his taking the course he had done had enabled the House to assert its privilege at all, as it could not have been made a mere party question. The Government are getting into better spirits about their prospects, and so many of the Tories acknowledge that there would be danger and difficulty in changes just now, that there will probably be none. Mr. Walter was beaten hollow in Southwark in spite of an Anti-Poor Law cry, by the help of which his friends were very sanguine about his success.

[20] [The Privilege question arose out of a prosecution of Messrs. Hansard by one Stockdale, for the publication of a libel on himself in the Parliamentary Debates. Hansard pleaded the authority of Parliament, but the Court of Queen's Bench rejected the plea and gave judgement against Hansard. The House of Commons, on the motion of Lord John Russell, who was supported by Sir R. Peel, defended their printers, and committed the Sheriffs of London for levying damages on Hansard. Peel afterwards acknowledged that he had been misled by the advice of Sir F. Pollock and had gone too far; in fact, it appears from the text that the weight of legal authority was against him. The dispute was settled at last by legislation. See infra, February 21st, 1840.]

January 26th, 1840 {p.258}

The Government are triumphant at all their elections, and raised to the skies by their success, which they construe into an indication of reaction in their favour. It is certainly a great thing for them, for it produces a good moral effect, besides the influence it will have on the division next week, and it tends to show that if a dissolution were to take place, the Conservatives would not be in so much better, nor the Whigs in so much worse a position, as the former have been for some time boasting of, and the latter apprehending. Everybody (except those who have an interest in defending it) thinks the allowance proposed for Prince Albert very exorbitant: L50,000 a year given for pocket money is quite monstrous, and it would have been prudent to propose a more moderate grant for the sake of his popularity. Prince George of Denmark had L50,000 a year (as it is said), but the Queen gave it him, and he had a household four times more numerous than is intended for Prince Albert.

January 29th, 1840 {p.258}

On Monday night Government were beaten by 104 on the question of reducing the Prince's allowance from L50,000 to L30,000 a year. They knew they should be beaten, but nevertheless John Russell would go doggedly on and encounter this mortifying defeat, instead of giving way with the best grace he could. He lost his temper, and flung dirt at Peel, like a sulky boy flinging rotten eggs; in short, exposed himself sadly. His friends were much annoyed that he did not give way, as soon as he found that there was no chance of carrying it, and that many Government supporters would vote against it; besides the mortification to the Prince, there was something mean and sordid in squabbling for all the money they could get, and the sum given him is satis superque for all his wants.

[Page Head: NATURALISATION OF PRINCE ALBERT.]

In the Lords, they introduced the Naturalisation Bill in such a slovenly and objectionable form, that the Duke desired it might be put off, which (although he pledged and committed himself in no manner) they immediately construed into a resolution to oppose the Precedence part of it. The Queen is bent upon giving him precedence of the whole Royal Family. The Dukes of Sussex and Cambridge, who each want some additions to their incomes, have signified their consent; the King of Hanover (whom it does not immediately concern) has refused his. On this they brought in their Bill. Her Majesty was, however, more provoked at what passed in the House of Lords, than at the defeat in the Commons.

I asked Charles Gore why John Russell did not avail himself of the momentary connexion he had with Peel on the Privilege question, to ask him what his views were about the allowance, and tell him that it was so desirable to avoid any division on such a question that he wished to propose nothing that was likely to be objected to. Gore said that upon a former occasion, when Lord John had spoken in such a spirit to Peel, he had been met by him in such an ungracious manner that it was impossible for him ever to do so again. This was about the Speakership, when he wrote a private note to Peel, beginning 'My dear Sir,' and asking him to tell him what the intentions of his party were about opposing the Government Speaker, because he was anxious if possible not to bring people up to town without necessity; to which he replied in the coldest and driest terms, 'Sir Robert Peel presents his compliments to Lord John Russell,' expressing his surprise at his letter, saying he had no right to call upon him for any explanation of his intentions, and refusing to give any information whatever. I do not think John Russell had any right to make such a communication to him, and it was, I fancy, very unusual, but Peel might as well have answered it good-humouredly.

The judges have given their decision upon the two points raised for the Newport prisoners,[21] and their fate now rests with the Government. They decided, by a majority of nine to six, that the objection was valid, and by nine to six that it was not taken in time. Upon such accidents do the lives of men depend. It is well known that the law can have no certainty, because so much must always be left to the discretion of those who administer it; but such striking illustrations of its uncertainty, and of the extent to which the chapter of accidents is concerned in it, seldom occur, and make one shudder when they do.[22] No doubt, however, is cast over the guilt of the men, and the Government may very properly leave them to their fate, if they are not afraid of shocking public opinion by doing so. The world at large does not distinguish accurately or reason justly, swallows facts in gross, and jumps to conclusions. Many will say it is hard to put men to death when the judges are nearly equally divided on their case, the majority admitting that the law would save them if it had been urged soon enough in their favour. It rather seems to turn the tables on the prosecution; and whereas the prisoners are availing themselves of a mere quibble, of a technical objection, strained to its extremest point, the effect may be that of exhibiting the Government as availing itself of the technicality in point of time to overthrow the more important legal objection. The case appears to have been very ably argued, especially by Kelly.

[21] [The ringleaders in the Newport riots were convicted and might have been hanged; but two technical objections to the sentence having been taken, though not allowed by the judges, the Government remitted the capital sentence. They had a narrow escape.]

[22] Parke said, that if the objection had been decided on the spot they would have escaped, as he and Williams were for it, while the Chief Justice was against it.

January 30th, 1840 {p.260}

The great debate in the House of Commons has now lasted two nights,[23] without being very interesting. Sir George Grey made a brisk, dashing speech quite at the beginning, which was very effective, but when read, disappoints, as there does not seem a great deal in it. Last night Macaulay failed. He delivered an essay, not without merit, but inapplicable, and not the sort of thing that is wanted in such a debate. He had said he should not be of use to them, and he appears to have judged correctly. The Tories affected to treat his speech with contempt, and to talk and laugh, which was a rudeness worthy of the noisy and ignorant knot that constitutes the tail of that party. Howick attacked everybody all round, and explained his own motive for leaving office, not alluding to the Secretary of State's office; and Graham made one of his usual speeches.

[23] [Sir John Yarde Buller moved a resolution that 'Her Majesty's Government, as at present constituted, does not possess the confidence of this House,' which was defeated after a long debate by 308 votes to 287.]

January 31st, 1840 {p.261}

Macaulay's speech, which was said to be a failure, reads better than Sir George Grey's, which met with the greatest success—the one fell flat upon the audience, while the other was singularly effective. So great is the difference between good manner and bad, and between the effect produced by a dashing, vivacious, light, and active style, and a ponderous didactic eloquence, full of matter, but not suited in arrangement or delivery, and in all its accessory parts, to the taste of the House.

[Page Head: THE MONMOUTH CONVICTS.]

The question of sparing the lives of the Monmouth prisoners or not is everywhere discussed, with an almost general opinion that, under all the circumstances, the Government cannot let the law take its course. It is impossible for any reasoning to be more fallacious, because, if pushed to its just conclusion, it must result that they ought to escape altogether, which nobody expects or desires. The case has been very curious from the beginning; and end how it may, no criminals ever had so many chances afforded them of escape; never were there nicer points for the decision of different people or different stages of the business, or more blunders committed by almost all concerned. In the first place, Maule, the Crown solicitor, failed to comply with the letter of the Act, and did not furnish the prisoners with lists of the jury and the witnesses at the same time ten days before the trial. He gave them one list ten days before, and the other fifteen days before. The Attorney-General was aware of the fact, and aware that a question would arise upon it; the judges appointed to the special Commission were apprised of it by their Associates, and they communicated with each other upon it. They considered whether they should convey the expression of their doubts upon this point to the Government, so that the difficulty might be rectified; but they agreed that their duty was to try the cause, and not to interfere in any way whatever, and they accordingly held their peace. It was in the power of the Attorney-General to postpone the trial for ten days, which would have removed every difficulty and objection, but he was so certain that the objection could not be maintained, that he would not do so, and chose to run the risk, unwisely, as it has turned out. The trial came on, and the counsel for the prisoners, instead of urging the objection in limine, suffered them to plead; whereas, if they had refused to plead, they would have escaped altogether.[24] The trial proceeded; they were found guilty, and recommended to mercy, but the Chief Justice never asked the jury upon what grounds, leaving it doubtful whether the jury thought that there were any extenuating circumstances, or whether they were actuated by terror, or mere repugnance to the infliction of capital punishment. It was probably the great importance of the case, and the fact of the Chief of the Commission being against the objection, which induced the other two who were in its favour to agree to refer it to the other judges; for if it had been settled on the spot the trials would have ended at once. Moreover it was believed that the judges thought very lightly of the objection, and Brougham told me they were unanimous, so ill-informed was he of their real opinions.

[24] This is not so. If they had raised the objection before the prisoners pleaded, the Attorney-General could have put the trial off, and of course if the judges thought the objection valid, he would have done so.

[Page Head: THE PRECEDENCE OF PRINCE ALBERT.]

Yesterday morning I met Lord FitzGerald, when we walked together, and I begged him to find some expedient for settling a l'amiable the question of Precedence, so as to pacify the Queen if possible, who was much excited about it. He spoke very despondingly of the general state of affairs, but said that he was as anxious as anybody to avoid unpleasant discussions upon it, and to satisfy her if possible, but that the House of Lords were running breast high upon it. I begged him to see the Duke of Wellington, to tell him what her feeling was, and entreat him to take measures to settle it quietly. He said he would see him, and that he was convinced if the Duke had his own way, he would be disposed to do this; but that if it was left to Lyndhurst and Ellenborough, it was impossible to answer for what they might do. His own impression was, that they might and ought to give him precedence for her life over the rest of the Royal Family (though it was very awkward with regard to the King of Hanover, when he refused his consent), but not over a Prince of Wales, to which, he thought, they never would consent. We talked the matter over in all its bearings, and the result was, that he undertook to go to the Duke and tell him what I had said. I had (not an hour ago) a confirmation of what he said as to Ellenborough, for I met him at his own door (next mine), when I said to him, 'What are you going to do about the precedence?' To which he said, 'Oh, give him the same which Prince George of Denmark had: place him next before the Archbishop of Canterbury.' I said, 'That will by no means satisfy the Queen;' at which he tossed up his head, and said, 'What does that signify?'

FitzGerald afterwards talked to me of Peel and his party, of their violent language on account of his conduct in the Privilege question, and of his annoyance at their separation from him—not the lawyers, or those really competent to form an opinion, but the great mass destitute of the knowledge or understanding necessary to form an opinion—and only opposing him because he supported John Russell. Amongst other things, when we were talking of the event of May last, and of the Queen's antipathy to Peel, he said that it was altogether unaccountable, for even from his last interview he had come away not dissatisfied with her manner, and he owned that he had no doubt Melbourne did his best honestly to drive out of her mind the prejudices which have so great an influence upon her; and at that very crisis, he told me as a proof of it, that at the ball at Court, Melbourne went up to Peel and whispered to him with the greatest earnestness, 'For God's sake, go and speak to the Queen.' Peel did not go, but the entreaty and the refusal were both characteristic. FitzGerald said, that nothing would induce Peel to continue (after this fight) a worrying war with the Government; and added, what is very true, that though a weak Opposition was a very bad thing, there was no small danger and difficulty in leading a strong one.

February 4th, 1840 {p.264}

After four nights' debate and division, at five in the morning, Government got a majority of twenty-one, just what was (at last) expected. Peel spoke for three hours, and so elaborately as to fatigue the House, so that his speech probably seems much better to the reader than to the hearer of it. The Opposition all along abstained from attacking the Government upon their measures, and Peel directed his artillery against their compromise of principle in making Ballot an open question, and the general laxity of their political morality. But the most important part of his speech was his declaration of the principles by which he meant to be governed in office or out; and his manly and distinct announcement to his followers, that they must support him on his own terms, and that if they did not like them, he was sorry for it, and they might look elsewhere for a leader if they chose it. There can be no doubt that it was wise and bold thus to cast himself on public opinion, and to put forth a manifesto, which leaves no doubt of his future conduct, and from which there is no retreat for him, and by which all his adherents must be equally bound. On the other hand, Lord John, considering he rose at three in the morning, when he and the House must have been pretty well exhausted, made a very good and honourable speech, and ended with a declaration quite as Conservative as Peel's was on the other hand Liberal, so much so that it is really difficult to say what difference there now is between them, nor does there appear any reason why (circumstances permitting) they should not act together to-morrow. As far as the two parties are concerned, taking debate and division, perhaps no great advantage has been gained by either, but I think the discussion has been beneficial by eliciting the above declaration from the respective leaders.

[Page Head: ROYAL PRECEDENCE REFUSED.]

The Precedence Question has fallen to the ground, and is left unsettled, in a manner much to be regretted. After my interview with FitzGerald, I went to Clarendon and told him what had passed. He went to the Cabinet, and prevailed on Duncannon to speak to Melbourne and get him to communicate with the Duke, for the purpose of settling the question if possible amicably. Melbourne said he would, but did not. On Friday the Cabinet agreed to give up the precedence over the Prince of Wales; but to a question of Brougham's the Chancellor said, he had no other concession to offer. It was then agreed that the discussion should be taken on Monday. On Saturday Clarendon spoke to Melbourne himself, and urged him to consider seriously the inconvenience of a battle on this point, and prevailed upon him to go to the Duke of Wellington and talk it over with him. He wrote to the Duke, who immediately agreed to receive him; when he went to Apsley House, and they had an hour's conversation. Melbourne found him with one of his very stiffest crotchets in his head, determined only to give the Prince precedence after the Royal Family; and all he could get from him was, that it would be unjust to do more. All argument was unavailing, and he left him on Saturday evening without having been able to make any impression on him, or to move him by a representation of the Queen's feelings to make concessions to meet those the Government were prepared to make; for the Queen would have been content to accept precedence for her life, and saving the rights of the Prince of Wales. This, however, they would not consent to; and so determined were they to carry their point, that they made a grand whip up, and brought Lord Clare all the way from Grimsthorpe, to vote upon it. Under these circumstances the Government resolved to withdraw the clause, and they did so, thus leaving the Prince without any specific place assigned by Parliament, and it remains with the Queen to do what she can for him, or for courtesy, tacit consent, and deference for her Consort to give him the precedence virtually which the House of Lords refuses to bestow formally. I think the Duke has acted strangely in this matter, and the Conservatives generally very unwisely. Volentibus non fit injuria, and the Dukes of Sussex and Cambridge, who alone were concerned, had consented to the Prince's precedence. The King of Hanover, it seems, was never applied to because they knew he would have refused; and they did not deem his consent necessary. There is no great sympathy for the lucky Coburgs in this country, but there is still less for King Ernest, and it will have all the effect of being a slight to the Queen out of a desire to gratify him. There certainly was not room for much more dislike in her mind of the Tories; but it was useless to give the Prince so ungracious and uncordial a reception, and to render him as inimical to them as she already is. As an abstract question, I think his precedence unnecessary; but under all the circumstances it would have been expedient and not at all unjust to grant it.

February 13th, 1840 {p.266}

The discussion about the Precedence question induced me to look into the authorities and the ancient practice, and to give the subject some consideration. I came to the conclusion that she has the power to give him precedence everywhere but in Parliament and in Council, and on the whole that her husband ought to have precedence. So I wrote a pamphlet upon it, setting forth the result of my enquiry and my opinion. I have been in many minds about publishing it, and I believe I shall, though it is certainly not worth much.

[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S MARRIAGE.]

The wedding on Monday went off tolerably well.[25] The week before was fine, and Albert drove about the town with a mob shouting at his heels. Tuesday, Wednesday, and to-day, all beautiful days; but Monday, as if by a malignant influence, was a dreadful day—torrents of rain, and violent gusts of wind. Nevertheless a countless multitude thronged the park, and was scattered over the town. I never beheld such a congregation as there was, in spite of the weather. The Queen proceeded in state from Buckingham House to St. James's without any cheering, but then it was raining enough to damp warmer loyalty than that of a London mob. The procession in the Palace was pretty enough by all accounts, and she went through the ceremony with much grace and propriety, not without emotion, though sufficiently subdued, and her manner to her family was very pretty and becoming. Upon leaving the Palace for Windsor she and her young husband were pretty well received; but they went off in a very poor and shabby style. Instead of the new chariot in which most married people are accustomed to dash along, they were in one of the old travelling coaches, the postilions in undress liveries, and with a small escort, three other coaches with post-horses following. The crowds on the road were so great that they did not reach the Castle till eight o'clock.

[25] [Queen Victoria was married to Prince Albert of Saxe- Coburg-Gotha on the 10th February, 1840.]

February 15th (Saturday), 1840 {p.267}

The Duke of Wellington had a serious seizure on Thursday.[26] He dines early, and he rode out after dinner. The first symptom of something wrong was, that he could not make out the numbers on the doors of the houses he wanted to call at. He went to Lady Burghersh, and when he came away, the footman told his groom he was sure his Grace was not well, and advised him to be very attentive to him. Many people were struck with the odd way he sat on his horse. As he went home this got more apparent. When not far from Apsley House he dropped the reins out of his left hand, but took them up with the other, and when he got to his own door, he found he could not get off his horse. He felt his hand chilled. This has been the first symptom in each of his three attacks. He was helped off. Hume was sent for, came directly, and got him to bed. He had a succession of violent convulsions, was speechless, and his arm was affected. They thought he would have died in the night. The doctors came, physicked but did not bleed him, and yesterday morning he was better. He has continued to mend ever since, but it was a desperate blow, and offers a sad prospect. He will probably again rally, but these things must be always impending, and his mind must be affected, and will be thought to be so. Lyndhurst asked me last night what could be done. He said, 'The Duke ought now to retire from public life, and not expose himself to any appearance of an enfeebled understanding. Above all things to be deprecated is, that he should ever become a dotard like Marlborough, or a driveller like Swift.' 'How,' he said, 'would Aberdeen do?' He owned that nobody could replace the Duke or keep the party in order, and he said that the consequence would be it would break up, that 'there are many who would be glad of an opportunity to leave it.' This I told him I did not believe, but it certainly is impossible to calculate on the consequences of the Duke's death, or, what is nearly the same thing, his withdrawal from the lead of the party.

[26] [The Duke was seventy when he had this seizure, supposed at the time to be fatal, at least to his faculties. But he lived for twelve years after it and continued during the greater part of that time to render great public services and to lead the Tory party.]

February 16th, 1840 {p.268}

The Duke of Wellington, although his life was in such danger on Thursday night, that the chances were he would die, has thrown off his attack in a marvellous manner, and is now rapidly approaching to convalescence, all dangerous symptoms subsiding. The doctors, both Astley Cooper and Chambers, declare that they have never seen such an extraordinary power of rallying in anybody before in the whole course of their practice, and they expect that he will be quite as well again as he was before. It is remarkable that he has an accurate recollection of all the steps of his illness from the first perception of uneasy sensations to the moment of being seized with convulsions. He first felt a chillness in his hand, and he was surprised to find himself passing and repassing Lady Burghersh's house without knowing which it was. He called, however, and went up; and to her enquiry—for she was struck with his manner—he replied that he was quite well. Going home he dropped the rein, but caught it up with the other hand. When he arrived at his door, the servants saw he could not get off his horse, and helped him, and one of them ran off instantly for Hume. The Duke walked into his sitting-room, where Hume found him groaning, and standing by the chimney-piece. He got him to bed directly, and soon after the convulsions came on.

[Page Head: PAMPHLET ON ROYAL PRECEDENCE.]

I have sent forth my pamphlet, and there seems a chance of its being read. Lord Melbourne said to me, 'What is to be done about this Precedence?' I said, 'I have told you[27] what I think is to be done. Have you sent my pamphlet to the Queen?' 'I have sent it her, and desired her to show it to Prince Albert; and I have sent it to the Chancellor, and desired him to give me his opinion on the law, as it requires great consideration and great care.'[28] I asked him, 'if he had any doubt about the law, that is, about my law.' He said, 'he had doubts whether the Act of Henry VIII. was not more stringent.' I told him I had consulted Parke, Bosanquet, and Erskine, that we had read the Act together, and they were all clear that the Prerogative was not limited except as to Parliament and the Council. At all events, I said, he ought not to be made a Privy Councillor till after this matter was settled, and to that he agreed; and it was settled that he should not be sworn at the Council to-morrow. So thus it stands, and if the Chancellor sees no objection, my plan will be adopted, and I shall have settled for them, having no earthly thing to do with it, what they ought to have settled for themselves long ago, and have avoided all the squabbling and bad blood which have been the result of their unlucky Bill. In the meantime the Duke read my pamphlet yesterday, and to-day I went there to hear what he said to it, and found that he agreed with me entirely, and that he is all for the adoption of my suggestion. This I forthwith despatched to Clarendon, who was gone to the Levee, and desired him to tell Melbourne of it.

[27] I had already sent my pamphlet to Melbourne and to a few other people.

[28] [Mr. Greville contended in his pamphlet that the Act of Henry VIII. for 'Placing the Lords' applied only to their precedence in the House of Lords and in the Privy Council, which being statutory could not be changed; but that it was competent to the Crown to confer any precedence elsewhere. Prince Albert was not a Peer, and he was not at this time a Privy Councillor; therefore, the provisions of the statutes of Henry VIII. did not apply to him. He was subsequently introduced into the Privy Council, where by courtesy rank was given him next the Queen when no other member of the Royal Family was present. As this pamphlet has some legal and historical interest, it is reprinted in the Appendix to this volume.]

February 21st, 1840 {p.270}

On Thursday morning I got a note from Arbuthnot, desiring I would call at Apsley House. When I got there, he told me that the Duke of Cambridge had sent for Lord Lyndhurst to consult him; that they were invited to meet the Queen on Friday at the Queen Dowager's, and he wanted to know what he was to do about giving precedence to Prince Albert. Lord Lyndhurst came to Apsley House and saw the Duke about it, and they agreed to report to the Duke of Cambridge their joint opinion that the Queen had an unquestionable right to give him any precedence she pleased, and that he had better concede it without making any difficulty. The Duke acquiesced, and accepted the invitation. Melbourne told me the Queen was well satisfied with my pamphlet, but 'she remarked that there was a very high compliment to the Duke of Wellington at the end of it.' I asked if she had said it was a just one. He said, 'No, she did not say that.'

[Page Head: BILL ON THE PRIVILEGE QUESTION.]

I heard from Arbuthnot this morning that the Duke has set his face resolutely against any Bill in the House of Lords to settle the Privilege question; and that Lyndhurst, though not so strong in his opinion as the Duke, is resolved to abide by his determination, and to go with him. The Duke, in fact, goes as far as any of the opponents of the Privilege, for he not only thinks that the dicta of the Judges are not to be questioned, but that the House of Commons ought not to have the Privilege at all—that is, that their papers ought not to be sold, and that they ought not to be circulated without anything being previously weeded out of them which the law would consider libellous. This strong opinion of his renders the question exceedingly difficult and embarrassing, for it was become very clear that nothing but the intervention of the House of Lords could untie so ravelled a knot. All the Tories are in a state of mingled rage and despair at the impetuosity with which Peel has plunged into this matter, and at the irretrievable manner in which he has identified himself with Lord John Russell upon it. Stanley and Graham have always voted with him, but have never once opened their lips, from which it is sufficiently clear that they don't go nearly so far as he does, and now Graham is acting as a sort of mediator and negotiator, to try and effect some compromise or arrangement, but the case seems nearly hopeless. Peel, on the other hand, is evidently as much annoyed and provoked with his party as his party with him. The other day, Arbuthnot, Peel, and Graham met at Apsley House, and talked upon every subject, Arbuthnot told me, but that of Privilege, on which none of them touched—a pretty clear proof how tender the ground is become. The Tory press has grown very violent, and treats Peel with no more forbearance for his conduct on this question than the Whig and Radical did John Russell for his speech about Church rates; so rabid and unscrupulous are all Ultras of whatever opinion. I told Melbourne how matters stood, at which he seemed mightily disconcerted.

February 25th, 1840 {p.271}

Yesterday I saw the Duke of Wellington, whom I had not seen for above six months, except for a moment at the Council just after his first illness. He looked better than I expected—very thin, and his clothes hanging about him, but strong on his legs, and his head erect. The great alteration I remarked was in his voice, which was hollow, though loud, and his utterance, which, though not indistinct, was very slow. He is certainly now only a ruin. He is gone to receive the Judges at Strathfieldsaye, and he will go on again when he comes back to town, and hold on while he can. It is his desire to die with the harness on his back, and he cannot endure the notion of retirement and care of his life, which is only valuable to him while he can exert it in active pursuits. I doubt if he could live in retirement and inactivity— the life of a valetudinarian.

Besides the Precedence question, another is now raised about the Liturgy. The Queen wants to insert the Prince's name in it; they sent to me to know if Prince George's (of Denmark) had been inserted, and I found it had not. There was a division of opinion, but the majority of the Cabinet were disposed to put in Prince Albert's. Before deciding anything they consulted the Archbishop of Canterbury. Yesterday, however, on looking into the Act of Uniformity, I satisfied myself that the Queen has not the power to insert his name; and I believe that the insertion, on former occasions, of Princesses of Wales was illegal, and could not have been sustained if it ever had been questioned. This I imparted to Lords Lansdowne and Clarendon, to deal with the fact as they pleased; and I asked the opinions of Parke, Bosanquet, and Lushington, who were sitting at the Judicial Committee, and they all agreed that she had not the power, under the 25th sec. of the Act of Uniformity.

March 5th, 1840 {p.272}

The Duke of Wellington returned to town; went up with the Oxford address, and dines at the Palace on Monday. So he is again in harness; but he is a broken man, and I fear we shall see him show himself in eclipse, which will be a sorry sight. He has consented to waive his objections to the settlement by Bill of the Privilege question, so it probably will be settled; and high time it is that it should be. It is curious to see how little interest the public takes in it, not caring a straw for the House of Commons, or the sheriffs, and regarding the squabble with extreme apathy. There has been a great delay in getting ready the patent of precedence for Prince Albert, because the law officers can't make up their minds as to the terms of it, and whether exceptional words should be introduced or not. My pamphlet has succeeded far beyond my hopes or expectations, and got me many compliments, which I never looked for from such a trifle. Peel said civil things to FitzGerald about it; only the Royal Family and the Cambridges don't like it, on account of my having explained the status of Prince George (of Cambridge); and they fancy, in the event of his going to Germany, it might be injurious to him, which seems very fanciful; but their pride is hurt.

March 6th, 1840 {p.273}

[Page Head: JUDICIAL COMMITTEE BILL.]

The Chancellor spoke to me at the Council on Thursday about his Judicial Committee[29] Amendment Bill, and begged to have any information about practice, and any suggestions, I could give him. Some of the provisions of his Bill appeared objectionable, and I consulted Dr. Lushington about it. He agreed, particularly as to the plan of making the Master of the Rolls (as Vice- President) the organ of the court, and making it imperative on him to give judgement in all cases. Yesterday I went to the Chancellor and told him the objections to which I thought his plan was liable, which he received very candidly and thankfully, and seemed only anxious to hear and consider anything that could be suggested. He is very different from Brougham, who, when he framed the original Bill, was full of tricks and mystery, and tried to make a job of it and create patronage for himself, besides being very obstinate about the details which were then objected to. The Chancellor said he would send me the Bill, which he wished me to examine, and return with any observations I thought fit.

[29] [This Bill with reference to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council did not pass. It would have made the Master of the Rolls head of the Court, and its chief organ.]

Prince Albert was gazetted last night. His precedence is not fixed by patent under the Great Seal, but by Warrant (I suppose, under the Sign Manual).

Copleston has got L1,000 for the little volume of Dudley's letters[30] which he has just published. They are very well in their way—clever, neatly written, not very amusing, rather artificial, such as everybody reads because they were Dudley's, but which nobody would think worth reading if they were anonymous. A mighty proof of the value of a name.

[30] [Copleston, Bishop of Llandaff and Dean of St. Paul's, was an intimate friend of the late Lord Dudley, and published part of their correspondence; but the executors of Lord Dudley, who were the Bishop of Exeter and Lord Hatherton, caused part of it to be suppressed.]

March 12th, 1840 {p.274}

The Chancellor sent me his Bill, after which I called on him, and told him all my objections, and made several suggestions, which he received very well, and begged me to put in writing what I had said to him. This I did, and sent the paper to him, which he said he would send to Lushington, whom I had begged him to consult. I met Lyndhurst at Lady Glengall's, and had some talk with him about it, and found he agreed pretty well with me, and that he is strongly in favour of appointing a permanent Chief of our court, for ministerial purposes. The Chancellor has himself been very unwillingly compelled to propose this scheme of reform, for he hates all alterations, and does not like to begin cleansing the Augean stable of the Court of Chancery.

When I was with the Chancellor the other day, he said a difficulty had been started about making Prince Albert a Privy Councillor before he was of age, and asked me if there was anything in it. I found, on looking into the books, that the Royal Dukes had not been brought into Council till they were of age, but probably that was because they could not take their seats in the House of Lords before; but I also found very clear proofs that George III.'s sons had not been sworn but introduced in his reign, and this puzzled me, for I remembered to have sworn several of them at different times, during the present and two last reigns. I therefore wrote to the Duke of Sussex, and asked him what had occurred in his case. His reply cleared the matter up. He said the King's sons are born Privy Councillors, and that they are declared sworn by the King whenever he pleases; that accordingly he was merely introduced into Council in 1807; but after the death of George III., when he stood in a different relation to the reigning Sovereign, he was sworn; and again at the accessions of King William IV. and Queen Victoria. I found an account in the Council Books of the form with which the Prince of Wales was introduced into Council in 1784, and this I sent to Melbourne to show to the Queen, suggesting that Prince Albert should be introduced upon the same terms as Prince George of Denmark had been, and with the same ceremonies as the Prince of Wales in 1784.

The Duke of Wellington has reappeared in the House of Lords, goes about, and works as usual, but everybody is shocked and grieved at his appearance. Lyndhurst expressed his alarm to me, lest he should go on until it became desirable that he should retire, and his regret that his friends could not prevail upon him to do so while he still can with dignity. He dined at the Palace on Monday, and was treated with the greatest civility by the Queen. Indeed, she has endeavoured to repair her former coldness by every sort of attention and graciousness, to which he is by no means insensible.

[Page Head: CREEVEY'S JOURNAL.]

Her Majesty went last night to the Ancient Concert (which she particularly dislikes), so I got Melbourne to dine with me, and he stayed talking till twelve o'clock. He told us, among other things, that he had seen Dudley's Diary (now said to be destroyed), which contained very little that was interesting upon public matters, but the most ample and detailed disclosures about women in society, with their names at full length. Melbourne expressed his surprise that anybody should write a journal, and said that he had never written anything, except for a short time when he was very young, and that he had soon put in the fire all that he had written. He talked of Creevey's Journal, and of that which Dover is supposed to have left behind him; both of whom, at different times and in different ways, knew a good deal of what was going on. Melbourne said Creevey had been very shrewd, but exceedingly bitter and malignant; and I was rather surprised to hear him talk of Lord Dover as having been very bitter also, an underhand dealer and restless intriguer. I knew very well that he had ambition and vanity, which were constantly urging him to play a part more than commensurate with his capacity, and that he delighted in that sort of political commerage which gave him importance (and this was the great cause of his friendship with Brougham, who was just the man for him, and he for Brougham), but I did not think it was his nature to be bitter, or that he ever intended to be mischievous—only busy and bustling, within the bounds of honour and fairness.



CHAPTER VIII.

The ex-King of Westphalia—The Duke of Wellington at Court— Failure of the Duke's Memory—Dinner at Devonshire House to Royalties—Government defeated on Irish Registration Bill—The King of Hanover's Apartments—Rank of Foreign Ministers—The Duchess of Inverness—War with China—Murder of Lord William Russell—Duke of Wellington on the China War—Weakness of Government—Duke of Wellington's Conduct towards the Government—The Queen shot at—Examination of the Culprit— Retrospect of Affairs—Conciliatory Policy—Advantages of a Weak Government—The Eastern Question—Lord Palmerston's Daring and Confidence—M. Guizot and Mr. Greville—Pacific Views of Louis Philippe—M. Guizot's Statement of the Policy of France— Growing Alarm of Ministers—Alarm of Prince Metternich—Lord John Russell disposed to resist Palmerston—History of the Eastern Negotiation—A Blunder of M. Guizot—Important Conversation with Guizot—Conflict between Lord John Russell and Lord Palmerston—Energetic Resolution of Lord John—Lord Palmerston holds out—Conciliatory Proposals of France— Interview of Lord Palmerston and Lord John.

March 13th, 1840 {p.277}

[Page Head: JEROME BONAPARTE.]

I met Jerome Bonaparte yesterday at dinner at Lady Blessington's, Count de Montfort, as he is called. He is a polite, urbane gentleman, not giving himself any airs, and said nothing royal except that he was going to Stuttgard, 'pour passer quelques jours avec mon beau-frere le Roi de Wuertemberg.' But these brothers of Napoleon were nothing remarkable in their palmy days, and one's sympathies are not much excited for them now. They rose and fell with him, and, besides their brief enjoyment of a wonderful prosperity, they have retired upon far better conditions than they were born to. They are free and rich, and are treated with no inconsiderable respect.

March 14th, 1840 {p.277}

Went to the House of Lords, and saw the Chancellor, who told me he had forwarded the paper I sent him to Dr. Lushington, who concurred in my suggestions, and he had ordered the Privy Council Bill to be altered accordingly. Fell in with the Duke of Wellington, who took my arm, told his cabriolet to follow, and walked the whole way back to Apsley House, quite firm and strong. He looks very old and worn, and speaks very slowly, but quite distinctly; talked about the China question and other things, and seemed clear enough. He was pleased with his reception at Court, and told me particularly how civil Prince Albert had been to him, and indeed to everybody else; said he never saw better manners, or anybody more generally attentive. The Duchess of Kent talked to him, and in a strain of satisfaction, so that there is something like sunshine in the Palace just now.

March 18th, 1840 {p.278}

The first symptom of a failure in the Duke of Wellington's memory came under my notice the day before yesterday. I had been employed by Gurwood to negotiate with Dr. Lushington about some papers written by the Duke when in Spain, which had fallen into the Doctor's hands, and I spoke twice to the Duke on the subject, the last time on Friday last, when I walked home with him from the House of Lords. It was settled that the Doctor should write to the Duke about them, who was to write an answer, after which they were to be given up. But when the Doctor's letter arrived, the Duke had forgotten the whole thing, and could not remember what Lushington it was, and actually wrote a reply (which was not sent, because my brother set him right) to Stephen Lushington, the ex-Secretary to the Treasury. This is so remarkable in a man so accurate, and whose memory is generally so retentive, that I can't help noticing it, as the first clear and undoubted proof of his failure in a particular faculty.

[Page Head: DINNER AT DEVONSHIRE HOUSE.]

I dined yesterday at Devonshire House, a dinner of forty people to feast the Royalties of Sussex and Capua with their quasi- Consorts, for I know not whether the Princess of Capua is according to Neapolitan law a real Princess any more than our Cecilia is a real Duchess,[1] which she certainly is not, nor takes the title, though every now and then somebody gives it her. However, there they were yesterday in full possession of all the dignities of their husbands. The Duke made a mystery of the order in which he meant them to go out to dinner, and would let nobody know how it was all to be till the moment came. He then made the Duke of Sussex go out first with the Princess of Capua, next the Prince with Lady Cecilia, and he himself followed with the Duchess of Somerset, and so on. After dinner the Duke of Sussex discoursed to me about the oath and other matters. He is dissatisfied on account of the banners of the Knights of the Garter having been moved in St. George's Chapel, to make room for Prince Albert's, I suppose; but I could not quite make out what it was he complained of, only he said when such a disposition had been shown in all quarters to meet Her Majesty's wishes, and render to the Prince all honour, they ought not to push matters farther than they can properly do, &c. ... something to this effect. He is not altogether pleased with the Court; that is evident.

[1] [The Duke of Sussex was married to Lady Cecilia Underwood, though not according to the provisions of the Royal Marriage Act. But the marriage was recognised, and his lady was shortly afterwards created by the Queen Duchess of Inverness.]

March 26th, 1840 {p.279}

Ministers were defeated by sixteen on Stanley's motion about Irish Registration.[2] O'Connell made a most blackguard speech, alluding with wretched ribaldry to the deathbed of Stanley's mother-in-law, from which he had come to urge his motion, out of deference to those whom he had brought up for it. One of the worst of those disgraceful and stupid brutalities, which will obliterate (if possible) the fame of the great things O'Connell has done in the course of his career. What will Government do upon this? It is impossible for anything to be more embarrassing. It is humiliating to go on, after another great defeat, and it is a bad question for them to dissolve upon. Weak in itself, and with all the moral deformity of its O'Connellism, it will produce no sympathy in this country, and not even a cry to stand upon at a general election.

[2] [Lord Stanley's Irish Registration Bill, providing for an annual revision of the lists by revising barristers, was carried against the Government by 250 to 234 votes. The Bill made considerable progress, and was warmly supported by the Opposition, but eventually Lord Stanley saw reason to abandon it. See infra, August 13, 1840.]

March 29th, 1840 {p.280}

They did not care about this division, but made very light of it. However, it adds an item to the account against them, and is (say what they will) a bad thing. It is bad too, to establish as a principle that no defeats, nor any number of them, signify, as long as they are not upon vital questions; it produces not only a laxity of opinion and feeling upon public matters, but an indifference and insouciance on the part of their supporters, which may some day prove very mischievous; for if they once are permitted to assume that defeats do not signify, they will not be at the trouble of attending when inconvenient, nor will they encounter unpopularity for the sake of Government, and they will very soon begin to judge for themselves, or to mistake what are and what are not vital questions. Upon this occasion, Lord Charles Russell went away the morning of the division without a pair.