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

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.

September 5th, 1839

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.

September 7th, 1839

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

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 BROUGHAM’S LETTER ON EDUCATION. 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.

September 17th, 1839

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 THE AFGHAN EXPEDITION. 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]

September 21st, 1839

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.

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]

September 23rd, 1839

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 pensée 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 LORD BROUGHAM’S PRETENDED DEATH. 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.’

London, November 8th, 1839

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.

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.

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. VIOLENCE OF THE TORIES. 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

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.

Windsor Castle, November 15th, 1839

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

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 THE QUEEN’S BETROTHAL. 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

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.

November 27th, 1839

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

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 tête-à-tête 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 tête-à-tête 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, THE MAYOR OF NEWPORT AT COURT. 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.

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]

December 25th, 1839

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]

December 31st, 1839

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.

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, LORD CLARENDON TAKES OFFICE. 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

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 exposé 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 OPENING OF PARLIAMENT. 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

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.

January 18th, 1840

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 HORSMAN AND BRADSHAW DUEL. 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.

January 22nd, 1840

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.