The Greville Memoirs, Part 2 (of 3), Volume 1 (of 3) / A Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria from 1837 to 1852

Macaulay is gone to Edinburgh to be elected in the room of Abercromby, so he is again about to descend into the arena of politics. He made a very eloquent and, to my surprise, a very Radical speech, declaring himself for Ballot and short Parliaments. I was the more astonished at this, because I knew he had held very moderate language, and I remembered his telling me that he considered the Radical party to be reduced to ‘Grote and his wife,’ after which I did not expect to see him declare himself the advocate of Grote’s favourite measure and the darling object of the Radicals.

June 7th, 1839

Macaulay’s was a very able speech and a good apology for the Whig Government, and as he has always been for Ballot, he is not inconsistent. On Sir H. Fleetwood’s motion the other night (for giving votes for counties to ten-pound householders), John Russell spoke out, though in a reforming tone, and threw the Radicals into a paroxysm of chagrin and disappointment. The Tories had heard he was going to give way, and Peel, who is naturally suspicious and distrustful, believed it; but when he found he would not give way, nor held out any hopes for the future, Peel nailed him to that point and spoke with great force and effect. This debate was considered very damaging to Whigs and Radicals, and likely to lead to a dissolution—first, of Parliament, and then of Government. But the Radicals are now adopting a whining, fawning tone, have dropt that of bluster and menace, and, having before rudely insisted on a mighty slice of the loaf, are now content to put their tails between their legs and swallow such crumbs as they can get. Peel has written and published a very stout letter, in reply to a Shrewsbury declaration presented to him, in which he defends his recent conduct, and declares he will never take office on any other terms.

Notwithstanding Lord John Russell’s speech on Fleetwood’s motion, and Melbourne’s anti-movement declaration in the other House, they have to their eternal disgrace succumbed to the Radicals, and been squeezed into making Ballot an open question. For John Russell I am sorry. I thought he would have been stouter. The Radicals are full of exultation, and the Government underlings, who care not on what terms they can retain their places, are very joyful. I rode with Howick yesterday for a long time and talked it over with him. He pretended it was no concession after Vivian’s being allowed to vote last year, and he owned that he considered the question as virtually carried; he is himself moderate and means still to vote against it, sees all the danger—not so much from Ballot itself as from its inevitable train of consequences—and still consents to abandon the contest. I asked him, if he was not conscious that it was only like buying off the Picts and Scots, and that fresh demands would speedily follow with redoubled confidence; and he owned he was. It may prolong for a brief period the sickly existence of the Government, and if a dissolution comes THE WHIGS SUCCUMB TO THE RADICALS. speedily, Whigs and Radicals may act in concert at the elections; but if they attempt to go on with the present Parliament fresh demands will rapidly ensue, and then there must be fresh concessions or another breach. It is a base and disgusting truckling to allies between whom and themselves there is nothing but mutual hatred and contempt.

June 14th, 1839

At Holland House from Tuesday till Thursday—not particularly agreeable. Melbourne came one day, but was not in spirits. Lord Holland told me some stories of George Selwyn, whom he had known in his younger days, and many of whose good sayings he remembers. He describes him as a man of great gravity and deliberation in speaking, and, after exciting extraordinary mirth by his wit and drollery, gently smiling and saying, ‘I am glad you are pleased.’ The old Lord Foley (father of the last) was much discontented with his father’s will, who, knowing that he was in debt and a spendthrift, had strictly tied up the property: he tried to set aside the will by Act of Parliament, and had a Bill brought into the House of Lords for the purpose. George Selwyn said, ‘Our old friend Foley has worked a miracle, for he has converted the Jews from the Old to the New Testament.’

June 24th, 1839, Ludlow

I left London on Friday last by railroad, went to Wolverhampton (the vilest-looking town I ever saw), and posted in my carriage from thence to this place, where I only arrived at a quarter-past nine. This journey takes (losing no time) about eleven and a half hours—one hundred and fifty miles—of which thirty-four by road. The road from Bridgenorth to Ludlow is very striking and commands exceedingly fine views.

The day before I left town I saw Lord Tavistock, who told me divers things. I asked him what could induce Lord John to consent to making Ballot an open question, and he replied, that nothing else could have prevented the dissolution of the Government, and that three of the Ministers—he did not say which—threatened to resign instanter if this concession was not made. Here then, as I said to him, was another example of the evils of that catastrophe which broke up the embryo Government of Peel and brought them back again: unable to go on independently and as they desire to do, they are obliged to truckle, and are squeezed into compliances they abhor, and all this degradation they think themselves bound to submit to because the principle on which their Government stands, and which predominates over all others, is that of supporting the Queen. No Tory Government ever ventured to dissociate its support of the Queen from its measures and principles as a party, in the way these men do. Macaulay made his first re-appearance in the Ballot debate in a speech of unequal merit, but Peel and Graham complimented him on his return amongst them.

I am greatly delighted with this country, which is of surpassing beauty, and the old Castle of Ludlow, a noble ruin, and in ‘ruinous perfection.’ On Saturday I explored the Castle and walked to Oakley Park, Robert Clive’s, who is also the owner of the Castle, which he bought of the Crown for 1,500ℓ. The gardens at Oakley Park are very pretty and admirably laid out and kept, and the park is full of fine oaks. Yesterday I walked and rode over the hills above Ludlow, commanding a panoramic prospect of the country round, and anything more grand and picturesque I never beheld. But above all, the hills and woods of Downton Castle, with the mountains of Radnorshire in the distance, present a scene of matchless beauty well worth coming from London to see.

June 26th, 1839, Delbury

I rode to Downton Castle on Monday, a gimcrack castle and bad house, built by Payne Knight, an epicurean philosopher, who after building the castle went and lived in a lodge or cottage in the park: there he died, not without suspicion of having put an end to himself, which would have been fully conformable to his notions. He was a sensualist in all ways, but a great and self-educated scholar. His property is now in Chancery, because he chose to make his own will. The prospect from the windows is beautiful, and the walk through the wood, overhanging the river Teme, surpasses anything I have ever seen of the kind. It is as wild as the walk over the hill at Chatsworth, and much LUDLOW, MALVERN, ROSS. more beautiful, because the distant prospect resembles the cheerful hills of Sussex instead of the brown and sombre Derbyshire moors. The path now creeps along the margin, and now rises above the bed of a clear and murmuring stream, and immediately opposite is another hill as lofty and wild, both covered with the finest trees—oaks, ash, and chestnut—which push out their gnarled roots in a thousand fantastic shapes, and grow out of vast masses of rock in the most luxuriant and picturesque manner. Yesterday I came here, a tolerable place with no pretension, but very well kept, not without handsome trees, and surrounded by a very pretty country.

June 28th, 1839, Malvern

Returned to Ludlow yesterday; came here to-day: the road from Ledbury to Malvern wonderfully fine, and nothing grander than the view of Eastnor Castle.

July 3rd, 1839, Troy House

Stayed at Malvern two days, clambering to the top of the hills which overhang the place (for town it is not), from which the views are very fine over a rich but generally flat country; the prospect is grand from its great extent. There is a curious and interesting church there, formerly of some priory, with a handsome gateway. I came through Eastnor Park in the way to Ledbury, exceedingly fine, and the castle something like Belvoir apparently, but I was not permitted to approach it. Nothing particular in the road till Ross, a very pretty town, where I first met the Wye, but, alas, in its muddiest state: this was the abode of ‘The Man of Ross.’ Very pretty road from Ross to Monmouth, through which latter place I walked, and passed by a very old house, which, as I afterwards heard, is said to have been the abode of Geoffrey of Monmouth, and they show his study. Troy, a plain, good-looking house, imperfectly kept up and poorly furnished, as a house is likely to be whose owners never inhabit it. It was built by the Duke of Beaufort in 1689, who came to sulk here on the expulsion of the last of the Stuarts, having a deeply-rooted sentiment of hereditary loyalty. Multa fecerunt and multa tulerunt, certainly, for that unhappy race. Here they show a chair in which a plot was contrived against Charles I.—that is, ‘in which the president of the conspirators is said to have sat.’ The story was obscure, but I did not think it advisable to press the narrator for explanations. Likewise a cradle, which tradition assigns to Henry V. (Harry of Monmouth), which is evidently old enough and was splendid enough in a rude style to justify any such tradition; the only unfortunate thing is, that there is a rival cradle somewhere else with the same claim. Mr. Wyatt, the Duke’s agent, received me with great civility and hospitality, having been enjoined by the Duke to make me his guest and himself my cicerone. Accordingly we set forth on Monday morning and went to Usk Castle, a ruin of which not much is left besides a picturesque round tower; neither the Castle nor the country is very remarkable, but we brought home a crimped salmon, for which Usk is famous (and where the crimping is said to be a secret unattainable even to the vendors of Wye and Severn salmon), which was, without exception, the most dainty fish I ever ate. From Usk we returned to Raglan Castle, a most noble and beautiful ruin; there has often been a notion of restoring it, and an estimate was made of the probable expense, which was calculated at 30,000ℓ.; but the idea and the estimate are equally preposterous: it would be reconstructing a very unmanageable house and destroying the finest ruin in England, and the cost would infallibly be three times 30,000ℓ. As there had been a question of its restoration, I expected to find greater and more perfect remains, but, though some of the apartments may be made out, it is a vast wreck. The strange thing is that the second Marquis of Worcester, when his possessions were restored to him, and when the damage done to the castle might easily have been repaired, should not have done it nor any of his immediate descendants. Great pains are now taken to preserve the beauties of this majestic fabric and to arrest the further progress of decay. Yesterday I rode to Goodrich Castle, stopping to see some remarkable views of the Wye, particularly one called Simmons Yat or Rock, which is very beautiful (and must be GOODRICH CASTLE, TINTERN ABBEY. much more so when the river is clear and transparent); and a curious rock called the Buck-stone, which was probably a Druidical place of worship, but of which nothing is positively known, though conjecture is busy. Goodrich Castle, which was partly battered down by the Cromwellians like Raglan, is more ancient, and was much stronger than the latter; but, though not so beautiful and splendid, it is an equally curious and interesting ruin, with many of its parts still more perfect than anything at Raglan. I was exceedingly delighted with Goodrich, and there was a female custos, zealous and intelligent, whose husband, she told us, was continually occupied in clearing away rubbish and exposing the remains of the old Castle. We then went to Goodrich Court, a strange kind of bastard castle built by Blore, and which the possessor, Sir Samuel Meyrick, has devoted to the exhibition of his collection of armour. There are only a few acres of ground belonging to him, on which he has built this house, but it is admirably situated, overhanging the Wye and facing the Castle, of which it commands a charming view. After being hurried through the armoury, which was all we were invited to inspect, we embarked in a boat we had sent up, and returned to Monmouth down the Wye through some beautiful scenery, but which it was too cold to enjoy.

July 4th, 1839, Clifton

I came here last night, the wind having changed to S.W., and summer having come with it. I left Troy in the morning and went to Tintern Abbey: most glorious, which I could not describe if I would, but which produced on me an impression similar in kind and equal in amount to that which I felt at the sight of St. Peter’s. No description nor any representation of it can do justice, or anything like justice, to this majestic and beautiful ruin, such is its wonderful perfection viewed in every direction, from every spot, and in the minutest detail. That the remains should be so extensive and so uninjured is marvellous, for there can be no doubt that this Abbey might be restored to its former grandeur. Much has been done by Mr. Wyatt, the Duke’s agent, both to preserve the Abbey and to develope its beauties by cutting away the trees and ivy, and clearing away the accumulation of earth; by the latter means several tombs and many detached fragments of beautiful design and workmanship have been found, and I did my best to encourage him to pursue his researches.

Casting many lingering looks behind, I left Tintern and went to Windcliffe, from the summit of which there is a very fine view; but the Wye, instead of being an embellishment, is an eyesore in the midst of such scenery: it looks like a long, slimy snake dragging its foul length through the hills and woods which environ its muddy stream. We dined in a moss-cottage at the foot of Windcliffe, and then proceeded to Chepstow, a very curious and striking ruin, and which I should have seen with much greater interest and admiration if Tintern had not so occupied my thoughts and filled my mind that I had not eyes to do justice to Chepstow. I went all over the ruins, however, and examined them very accurately; for it is one of the great merits of these different castles, Raglan, Goodrich, and Chepstow, that they are wholly dissimilar, and each is therefore a fresh object of curiosity. I crossed the old passage, as it is called, in a ferry, and came on to Clifton.

Bath.—After taking a cursory view of Clifton from the Roman Camp and part of Bristol, I came to Bath, where I have not been these thirty years and more. I walked about the town, and was greatly struck with its handsomeness; thought of all the vicissitudes of custom and fashion which it has seen and undergone, and of the various characters, great and small, who have figured here. Here the great Lord Chatham used to repair devoured by gout, resentment, and disappointment, and leave the Government to its fate, while his colleagues waited his pleasure submissively or caballed against his power, according as circumstances obliged them to do the first or enabled them to do the second. Here my uncle, Harry Greville, the handsomest man of his day, used to dance minuets while all the company got on chairs and benches to look at him, and a few years since he died in poverty at the Mauritius, where he had BATH, SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. gone to end his days, after many unfortunate speculations, in an office obtained from the compassion of Lord Bathurst. Sic transit gloria mundi, and thus its frivolities flourish for their brief hour, and then decay and are forgotten. An old woman showed me the Pump-room and the baths, all unchanged except in the habits and characters of their frequenters; and my mind’s eye peopled them with Tabitha Bramble, Win Jenkins, and Lismahago, and with all the inimitable family of Anstey’s creation, the Ringbones, Cormorants, and Bumfidgets—Tabby and Roger.[4]

July 5th, 1839, Salisbury

I saw the Abbey Church at Bath this morning, which is handsome enough, but not very remarkable, unless for the vast crowds of its tombstones in every part; it has been completely repaired by the corporation at a great expense. I went to Stonehenge, of which no description is necessary; thence to Wilton; very fine place; hurried through the gallery of marbles, but looked longer at the pictures, which I understand and taste better; saw the gardens and the stud, and then came here; went directly to the Cathedral, with which I was exceedingly delighted, having seen nothing like it for extent, lightness, and elegance. There is one modern tomb by Chantrey which is very fine, that of Lord Malmesbury, erected by his sister; but, however skilfully executed or admirably designed, I do not like such monuments so well, nor think them so appropriate to our cathedrals, as the rude effigies of knights and warriors in complete armour, with their feet on couchant hounds, or those stately though sometimes gaudy and fantastic monuments, in which, among crowds of emblematical devices and armorial bearings, the husband and the wife lie side by side in the richest costume of the day, while their children are kneeling around them; these, with the venerable figures of abbots and bishops, however rudely sculptured, give me greater pleasure to look upon than the choicest productions of Roubillac, Nollekens, or Chantrey, which, however fine they may be, seem to have no business there, and to intrude irreverently among the mighty dead of olden time. This cathedral is in perfect repair within and without; the colour of the stone is singularly beautiful, and it is not blocked up with buildings, Bishop Barrington having caused all that were adjacent to be removed. The chapter house and cloisters are exceedingly fine, but the effect is spoilt in the former by great bars of iron which radiate in all directions from a ring attached to the supporting pillar, and which have been put there (probably without any necessity) to relieve it of a portion of the superincumbent weight. It is remarkable that wherever I have gone in my travels, I have found the same complaints of the mischievous propensities of that silly, vulgar, vicious animal, called the public. Amongst the beauties of nature or of art, rocks, caves, or mountains, in ruined castles and abbeys, or ancient but still flourishing cathedrals, the same invariable love of pilfering and mutilating is to be found: some knock off a nose or a finger, others deface a frieze or a mullion from sheer love of havoc, others chip off some unmeaning fragment as a relique or object of curiosity; but the most general taste seems to be that of carving names or initials, and some of the ancient figures are completely tattooed with these barbarous engravings: this propensity I believe to be peculiar to our nation, and not to be found in any part of the Continent, where, indeed, it would probably not be permitted, and where detection and punishment would speedily overtake the offender. It is quite disgusting to see the venerable form of a knight templar or a mitred abbot scarred all over with the base patronymics of Jones and Tomkins, or with a whole alphabet of their initials.

July 7th, 1839

I came to town yesterday from Basingstoke by railroad; found that Lady Flora Hastings was dead, and a great majority in the House of Lords in favour of an Address to the Crown against the proposed Committee of Council on Education, the Bishop of London having made an extraordinarily fine speech.

July 14th, 1839

Nothing new; proceedings in Parliament very languid. The Queen has appointed Lady Sandwich very dexterously, for she gets one of the favoured Paget DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S ANGRY VEIN. race and the wife of a Tory peer, thereby putting an end to the exclusively Whig composition of the Household. This is a concession with regard to the principle.

July 19th, 1839

There have been angry debates in the Lords about the Birmingham riots, chiefly remarkable for the excitement, so unlike his usual manner, exhibited by the Duke of Wellington, who assailed the Government with a fierceness which betrayed him into much exaggeration and some injustice. Lord Tavistock, who, although a partisan, is a fair one, and who has a great esteem and respect for the Duke, told me that he had seen and heard him with great pain, and that his whole tone was alarmingly indicative of a decay of mental power. This is not the first time that such a suspicion has been excited: George Villiers told me, soon after he came over, how much struck he had been with the change he observed in him, and from whatever cause, he is become in speaking much more indistinct and embarrassed, continually repeating and not always intelligible, but his speeches, when reported, present much the same appearance, and the sense and soundness (when the reporters have lopped off the redundancies and trimmed them according to their fashion) seem to be unimpaired. It is, however, a serious and melancholy thing to contemplate the possibly approaching decay of that great mind, and I find he always contemplates it himself, his mother’s mind having failed some years before her death. It will be sad if, after exploits as brilliant as Marlborough’s, and a career far more important, useful, and honourable, he should be destined for an end like Marlborough’s, and it is devoutly to be hoped that his eyes may be closed in death before ‘streams of dotage’ shall begin to flow from them. The Tories, with whom nothing goes down but violence, were delighted with his angry vein, and see proofs of vigour in what his opponents consider as evidence of decay; his bodily health is wonderfully good, which is perhaps rather alarming than reassuring as to the safety of his mind.

July 22nd, 1839

I met the Duke yesterday at dinner and had much talk with him. He is very desponding about the state of the country and the condition in which the Government have placed it. He complains of its defenceless situation from their carrying on a war (Canada) with a peace establishment; consequently that the few troops we have are harassed to death with duty, and in case of a serious outbreak that there is no disposable force to quell it; that the Government are ruled by factions, political and religious. On Saturday they had been beaten on a question relating to the Poor Laws[5] of great importance; and he said that they must be supported in this, and extricated from the difficulty. I was glad to meet him and see (for it is some time since I have talked to him) whether there was any perceptible change in his manner or any symptom indicative of decay. Without there being anything tangible or very remarkable, I received the impression that there was not exactly the same vigour of mind which I have been used to admire in him, and what he said did not appear to me indicative of the strong sense and acuteness which characterise him. If he has no attack, I dare say he will be able to continue to act his part with efficacy for a long time to come. I asked him in what manner Government would prosecute the inquiry they had promised into the conduct of the Birmingham magistrates? He said what they ought to do was to order the Attorney-General to prosecute them for a corrupt neglect of their duty, a thing they would as soon put their hands in the fire as do. Such is their position, so dependent upon bad men, that they are compelled to treat with the utmost tenderness all the enemies of the Constitution. There can be no doubt that the appointments to the magistracy have been fraught with danger, and made on a very monstrous principle. When Lord John Russell resolved and avowed his resolution to neutralise the provision of the Act which gave the appointment of magistrates to the Crown instead of to the Town Council (as they had proposed) by taking the recommendations of the Council, he incurred the deepest RADICAL MAGISTRATES. responsibility that any Minister ever did, for he took on himself to adopt a course practically inconsistent with the law, for the express purpose of placing political power in particular hands, to which the law intended it should not be confided; and on him, therefore, rested all the responsibility of such power being wisely and safely exercised by the hands to which he determined to entrust it; and when he appoints such a man as Muntz,[6] ex-Chartist and ex-Delegate, what must be the impression produced on all denominations of men as to his bias, and of what use is it to make professions, and deliver speeches condemnatory of the principles and conduct of Chartists and associators, if his acts and appointments are not in conformity with those professions? Mr. Muntz, he says, has abandoned Chartism, and is no longer the man he was: but who knows that? For one man who knows what Muntz is, a hundred know what he was, and in the insertion of his name in the list the bulk of the world will and can only see, if not approbation of, at least indifference to the doctrines such men have professed, and the conduct they have exhibited to the world. It is the frightful anomaly of being a Government divesting itself of all conservative character, which constitutes the danger of our day. As the ‘Times,’ in one of its spirited articles, says, this very morning, ‘that it cares not to see the Monarchy broken in pieces so that they may hurl its fragments at the heads of their opponents.’

July 25th, 1839

Lord Clarendon made his first appearance in the House of Lords the night before last in reply to Lord Londonderry on Spanish affairs, with great success and excellent effect, and has completely landed himself as a Parliamentary speaker, in which, as he is certain to improve with time and practice, he will eventually acquire considerable eminence; and nothing can prevent his arriving at the highest posts. He is already marked out by the public voice for the Foreign Office, for which he is peculiarly well fitted, and there is no reason why he should not look forward to being Prime Minister in some future combination of parties, a post which he would fill better than any of the statesmen who now play the principal parts in the political drama. The Government have at last taken fright, and have proposed troops and police to afford the country some sort of security during the recess and the winter. They have sent down Maule (the Solicitor to the Treasury) to Birmingham to investigate the evidence adducible against the magistrates, but I do not much expect that they will proceed to any extremities against them. It is too probable that ‘silebitur toto judicio de maximis et notissimis injuriis,’ for ‘non potest in accusando socios verè defendere is, qui cum reo criminum societate conjunctus est.’

August 9th, 1839

Brougham brought on his motion on Tuesday,[7] in spite of various attempts to dissuade him; but he could not resist the temptation of making a speech, which he said he expected would be the best he had ever delivered. He spoke for three hours in opening, and an hour and a quarter in reply, and a great performance by all accounts it was. The Duke of Wellington said it was the finest speech he had ever heard in Parliament. Normanby was miserably feeble in reply, and exhibited, by common consent, a sad failure, both on this occasion and on that of the Canada Bill. He is quite unequal to the office which has been thrust upon him, and he cannot speak upon great subjects, having no oratorical art or power of dealing skilfully and forcibly with a question. It was a very damaging night to the Government as far as reputation[8] is concerned, but in no other FREAKS OF LORD BROUGHAM. way, for they are perfectly callous, and the public entirely apathetic. Melbourne was very smart in reply to Brougham, but did not attempt to deal with the question. The case, after all, is not a very strong one, and, though Normanby was much to blame in releasing prisoners and commuting sentences in the manner and to the extent he did, the principle on which he acted was sound, and it has proved beneficial. Had he known how, and been equal to the task, he might have made a fine defence by taking a high instead of a deprecatory line, and by a confident appeal to results; but it required more of an orator and a statesman than he is to handle his case with sufficient effect, and to stand up against such a master of his art as Brougham, backed by a favourable audience. This curious and versatile creature is in the highest spirits, and finds in the admiration which his eloquence, and the delight which his mischievousness excite on the Tory benches and in Tory society, a compensation for old mortifications and disappointments. After acting Jupiter one day in the House of Lords, he is ready to act Scapin anywhere else the next; and the day after this great display he went to dine at Greenwich with the Duchess of Cambridge and a great party, where he danced with Lady Jersey, while Lyndhurst capered also with the Dowager Lady Cowper. After dinner they drank, among other toasts, Lady Jersey’s health, and when she said she could not return thanks, Brougham undertook to do it for her, speaking in her person. He said, that ‘She was very sorry to return thanks in such a dress, but unfortunately she had quarrelled in the morning with her maid, who was a very cross, crabbed person, and consequently had not been able to put on the attire she would have wished, and in the difficulty she had had recourse to her old friend Lord Brougham, who had kindly lent her his best wig and the coat which he wore upon state occasions.’ After more nonsense of this kind, that ‘she was very sorry she could not say more, but that in the peculiar situation she then was in, she could not venture to remain any longer on her legs.’

August 10th, 1839

I went to Norwood yesterday to see Dr. Kay’s[9] Poor Law School, supposed to be very well managed, and very successful. As I looked at the class to whom a lesson was then being read, all the urchins from eight to eleven or twelve years old, I thought I had never seen a congregation of more unpromising and ungainly heads, and accordingly they are the worst and lowest specimens of humanity; starved, ill-used children of poor and vicious parents, generally arriving at the school weak and squalid, with a tendency to every vice, and without having received any moral or intellectual cultivation whatever; but the system, under able and zealous teachers, acts with rapid and beneficial effect on these rude materials, and soon elicits manifestations of intelligence, and improves and developes the moral faculties. When one sees what is done by such small means, it is impossible not to reflect with shame and sorrow upon the little, or rather the nothingness, that is accomplished when the material is of the best description, and the means are unlimited,—upon the total absence of any system throughout places of education, either public or private, and consequently at the imperfect and defective education which is given to the highest and richest class of society, who are brought up thus stupidly at an enormous expense, acquiring little knowledge, and what they do acquire, so loosely and incompletely as to be of the smallest possible use. When one sees what is done here, it makes one think what ought to be done elsewhere, and then contrast the possible with the actual state of the case.

CHAPTER VII.

Review of the Session — Ministerial Changes — Effect of Changes in the Government — A Greenwich Dinner — Dover Dinner to the Duke of Wellington — A Toast from Ovid — Decay of Tory Loyalty — Unpopularity of Government — Brougham’s Letter to the Duke of Bedford — Character of John, Duke of Bedford — Brougham at the Dover Dinner — Brougham and Macaulay — The Duke’s Decline — Duke of Wellington consulted on Indian and Spanish Affairs — Baron Brunnow arrives in England — False Reports of Lord Brougham’s Death — Insulting Speeches of the Tories — Holland House — Lord Brougham and Lord Holland — The Queen’s Marriage is announced — Remarkable Anecdote of the Duke of Wellington — The Mayor of Newport at Windsor — Ampthill — Lord John Russell’s Borough Magistrates — Lord Clarendon’s Advice to his Colleagues — Prospects of the Government — Opening of the Session — Duel of Mr. Bradshaw and Mr. Horsman — Lord Lyndhurst’s View of Affairs — Prince Albert’s Household — The Privilege Question — Prince Albert’s Allowance — Precedence of Prince Albert — Lord John Russell and Sir Robert Peel — Judgement on the Newport Prisoners — A Vote of Want of Confidence moved — The Newport Prisoners — Prince Albert’s Precedency — Sir Robert Peel and his Party — Sir Robert Peel’s Speech and Declaration — Precedence Question — The Queen’s Marriage — Illness of the Duke of Wellington — The Precedence Question settled — The Duke opposed to Peel on the Privilege Question — Change in the Health of the Duke — Prince Albert’s Name in the Liturgy — Success of Pamphlet on Precedence — Judicial Committee Bill — Lord Dudley’s Letters — Amendment of Judicial Committee — King’s Sons born Privy Councillors, other Princes sworn — The Duke returns to London — Lord Melbourne’s Opinion on Journals.

August 15th, 1839

This eventful Session and season has at length closed, Lyndhurst having wound up by a résumé of the acts of the Government, in one of those ‘exercitations,’ as Melbourne calls them, which are equally pungent for their severity, and admirable for their lucidity. Melbourne made a bitter reply, full of personalities, against Lyndhurst, but offering a meagre defence for himself and his colleagues. Those who watch the course of events, and who occasionally peep behind the curtain, have but a sorry spectacle to contemplate:—a Government miserably weak, dragging on a sickly existence, now endeavouring to curry a little favour with one party, now with another; so unused to stand, and so incapable of standing, on any great principles, that at last they have, or appear to have, none to stand on. Buffeted by their antagonists, and often by their supporters in Parliament, despised by the country at large, clinging to office merely to gratify the Queen, while they are just sufficiently supported in the House of Commons to keep their places, and not enough to carry their measures; for so meagre are their majorities, and so little do the public care for those majorities, or for the Ministers or their measures, that the Lords do not scruple to treat the Ministerial Bills with undisguised contempt. At the beginning of this Session, the weakness of the Government, and the impossibility of their going on, were so obvious, that the more wise and moderate of them began to prepare for their retirement, and Lord John Russell, by the publication of his Stroud letter, and the expression of those opinions which I was the means of conveying to Peel, evinced his determination to make the dissolution of the Government ancillary to the ascendency of true Conservative principles. The break-up came sooner than had been expected, and when Ministers resigned, on the majority of five on the Jamaica Bill (which they need not have done), they acted wisely, for they were enabled to retire with dignity, Peel and the Opposition having been clearly and flagrantly in the wrong upon this particular measure—so wrong, that it has been, and still is, matter of astonishment to me why they gave battle upon it, and I suspect that Peel was by no means elated at his own success on that occasion. However, out they went upon the Jamaica question, and though they fancy Peel did not really wish to form a Government, and that the difficulties he made were only a pretext for escaping from his position, this is not the case; he had no misgivings or fears, and was quite ready to undertake the task. However, Diis aliter visum: the Queen kept Lord Melbourne, and they came back to accumulated difficulties, and without any augmentation of parliamentary A SINKING MINISTRY. strength or popular sympathy to sustain them. They made one miserable effort, and tossed a sop to the Radicals, by making the Ballot an open question, the grace and utility of which were entirely marred by Lord Howick’s speech, so that they got all the discredit of this concession without any compensatory advantage. They had begun the campaign by the abrupt expulsion of Glenelg (nobody has ever made out exactly why) and by bringing over Normanby in breathless haste to supersede him, without any reasonable probability of his giving such an accession of vigour and capacity to the Government as would justify this operation, and accordingly as more than ordinary success was requisite for a man promoted under such circumstances, the deeper were the mortification and disappointment at his failure. The Irish Committee, which put him on the defence of his administration there, distracted his attention and disturbed his mind, and he turned out to be unequal to his situation. His defence of himself upon Ireland was very weak, and his whole parliamentary conduct of colonial affairs lamentably inefficient. Then Mr. Spring Rice kept falling into continual discredit by his financial incompetence, so that day after day, from one cause or another, the Ministry sank in estimation, and got more weak and ridiculous. Of this they were not at all unconscious, and it was settled that something was to be done, though the difficulty both as to the manner and the matter was exceedingly great. Rice himself was eager to escape, and tried hard to be Speaker; but though the Cabinet had resolved he should be the Government candidate, it was found that no adequate support could be depended upon for him, and he was obliged, and they were obliged, to let Lefevre stand instead; at which Rice himself was so sulky that he showed his spite by contriving to arrive too late from Tunbridge for the division. They scrambled on till the end of the Session, when the changes which had long been discussed and battled were to take place, and then, naturally, came into play all the vanity, selfishness, and rival pretensions, which a sense of common danger could not silence. In the arrangement of all these things, Melbourne is said to have severely suffered, so repugnant is it to his nature and habits to be the arbiter and adjuster of rival claims and pretensions.

It seems to have been arranged long ago that Normanby and John Russell should change places, ostensibly that the Colonial Minister might be in the House of Commons, and really because Normanby broke down, so that it was necessary to harness Lord John to the Colonial machine. Then they determined to send Poulett Thomson to Canada, without any consideration of the effect such an appointment would produce, either here or there, and his vacancy opened a fresh embarrassment about the Board of Trade. Labouchere having quitted the Vice-Presidency, and gone to the Colonial Office to work for them when they were in difficulty, was considered to have made a sacrifice, and he demanded as its reward that he should step into Poulett Thomson’s place, and his seat in the Cabinet. Melbourne wanted to offer the Board of Trade to Clarendon, and wrote to him to beg he would not go abroad without seeing him, and intimated that he had something to propose to him. On the other hand, Howick put in a claim for Charles Wood, and argued that as he had long taken a labouring oar in the boat, and in this Session, when they had got into a scrape about the Navy, Wood had successfully defended the Government in the House of Commons in a very good speech,—this eminent service, together with a long career of usefulness, gave him a superior claim to promotion. The details of the contest between these various candidates I do not know, but the result was that Labouchere got the place, Howick and Charles Wood both resigned, and Clarendon had a conversation with Melbourne, in which the latter informed him, not without embarrassment, that he had been in hopes he should have had the Board of Trade to offer him, but that Labouchere’s claim had been deemed not postponable, and all he had to offer him was the Mint without the Cabinet. Clarendon refused this with perfect good humour, though certainly not much flattered at the offer, and he took the opportunity of putting Melbourne in possession of his thoughts, POULETT THOMSON SENT TO CANADA. both as to his own position and intentions, and the condition and prospects of the Government, with respect to which he did not mince matters, or fail to paint them in their true colours. He explained his own desire to try himself more in debate than he had been yet enabled to do, to see what he was fit for, and in the meantime owned that he had no particular desire to associate himself with such a rickety concern. The conversation was frank and characteristic, and must have been amusing. Melbourne acknowledged that he was quite right, and that the position of his Government was such as Clarendon described it.

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

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 A GREENWICH DINNER. 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.

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:—