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

March 26th, 1840

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.

March 29th, 1840

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.

Yesterday, at dinner at Normanby’s, I met Lord Duncannon,[3] who showed me the correspondence between him and the King of Hanover about the apartments at St. James’s. The case is this: When the Queen was going to be married, the Duchess of Kent told Duncannon that she must have a house,[4] and that she could not afford to pay for one (the greater part of her income being appropriated to the payment of her debts). Duncannon told her that there were no royal apartments unoccupied, except the King of Hanover’s at St. James’s; and it was settled that he should be apprised that the Queen had occasion for them, and be requested to give them up. Duncannon accordingly wrote a note to Sir F. Watson, who manages the King’s affairs here, and told him that he had such a communication to make to his Majesty, which he was desirous of bringing before him in the most respectful manner, and that the arrangement THE KING OF HANOVER’S APARTMENTS. should be made in whatever way would be most convenient to him. Watson informed him that he had forwarded his note to the King, and shortly after Duncannon received an answer from the King himself, which was neither more nor less than a flat refusal to give up the apartments. Another communication then took place between Duncannon and Watson, when the latter said that it would be very inconvenient to the King to remove his things from the apartments without coming over in person, as the library particularly was full of papers of importance. Duncannon then proposed that the library and the adjoining room, in which it was said that his papers were deposited, should not be touched, but remain in his possession; that they should be walled off and separated from the rest of the suite, which might be given up to the Duchess for her occupation. This proposal was sent to the King, who refused to agree to it, or to give up the apartments at all. Accordingly the Queen was obliged to hire a house for her mother at a rent of 2,000ℓ. a year. I told Duncannon that they were all very much to blame for submitting to the domineering insolence of the King, and that when they thought it right to require the apartments, they ought to have gone through with it, and have taken no denial. It was a gross insult to the Queen to refuse to give up to her an apartment in her own palace, which she desired to dispose of; and they were very wrong in permitting such an affront to be offered to her. So Duncannon was himself of opinion; but Melbourne, who is all for quietness, would not allow matters to proceed to extremities, and preferred knocking under—a mode of proceeding which is always as contemptible as it is useless. The first thing is to be in the right, to do nothing unbecoming or unjust, but with right and propriety clearly on your side, to be as firm as a rock, and, above all things, never to succumb to insolence and presumption.

We had M. Guizot at dinner.[5] They all say he is agreeable, but I have not been in the way of his talk. He is enchanted and elated with his position, and it is amusing to see his apprehension lest anybody should, either by design or inadvertence, rob him of his precedence; and the alacrity with which he seizes on the arm of the lady of the house on going out to dinner, so demonstrative of the uneasy grandeur of a man who has not yet learnt to be familiar with his own position. With reference to diplomatic rank, I only heard last night, for the first time, that the Duke of Sutherland had, some time ago, addressed a formal remonstrance to Palmerston, against Foreign Ministers (not Ambassadors) having place given them at the Palace (which means going first out to dinner over himself et suos pares), a most extraordinary thing for a sensible man to have done, especially in such high favour as his wife and her whole family are. He got for answer, that Her Majesty exercised her own pleasure in this respect in her own palace. The rule always has been that Ambassadors (who represent the persons of their Sovereigns) have precedence of everybody; Ministers (who are only agents) have not; but the Queen, it appears, has given the pas to Ministers Plenipotentiaries, as well as to Ambassadors, and ordered them to go out at her dinners before her own subjects of the highest rank.[6]

April 3rd, 1840

They have made Lady Cecilia Underwood a duchess. Everybody considers it a very ridiculous affair, but she and the Duke are, or affect to be, enchanted, though nobody can tell why. She is Duchess of Inverness, though there would have been more meaning in her being Countess of Inverness, since Earl of Inverness is his second title. However, there she was last night at the ball at Lansdowne House, tucked under the Duke’s arm, all smiles, and shaking hands vehemently in all directions in acknowledgement of congratulations. I was curious (as others were) to see what it would all come to, and what, in fact, she was to take (in the way of royalty) by her motion, and, as I thought, this was just nothing. The Queen sat at the end of the room, WAR WITH CHINA. with the Duchess of Cambridge on one side of her, and a chair (for Prince Albert) on the other. The Duke of Sussex took the Duchess of Inverness half way up the room, deposited her amidst a cluster of people, and then went alone to pay his respects to the Queen. Lady Lansdowne wrote to the Queen to ask her pleasure whether the Duchess of Inverness should be asked to sup at her table. Her Majesty replied that she could not object to the Duchess of Inverness supping there, provided care was taken that she did not go out or take place before any other duchess. I saw Prince Albert for the first time. He is exactly like the drawing of him: a handsome face without much expression; but without speaking to him and hearing him speak, it is difficult to judge of his looks. Everybody speaks well of him.

April 13th, 1840

The China debate[7] went off on the whole well enough for the Government, though they only got a majority of ten, owing in great measure to the number of casualties on their side. Poyntz died the night before the division, and the breath was hardly out of his body before an express was despatched by the Tory whipper-in, to desire that nobody would on any account pair with Captain Spencer (his son-in-law). In this nice balance of parties, human life seemed only to be of interest as votes are influenced by it. Macaulay recovered his reputation on this occasion, and made a good speech. Palmerston closed the debate with a capital speech, but neither side appears to me to have really hit the right nail on the head, or to have worked out the strong parts of the case. Follett did more than anybody. Thesiger made his first appearance, but not with any great success. We had on the Friday a Council for the Order to seize Chinese ships, &c., and on the Saturday another for completing the forms. There was a considerable discussion as to whether the Order (being of a warlike nature) should be signed by the Privy Councillors, and there was no case exactly in point. However, they decided, after much enquiry and examination into precedent, that it should not be.[8]

May 15th, 1840

A month, and nothing written here, or written, read, or done, elsewhere. Went to Newmarket for the Craven meeting, then to Bretby for a week, then Newmarket again, and back to London on Friday.

Just after I got back to Newmarket, the intelligence arrived of the extraordinary murder of Lord William Russell, which has excited a prodigious interest, and frightened all London out of its wits. Visionary servants and air-drawn razors or carving-knives dance before everybody’s imagination, and half the world go to sleep expecting to have their throats cut before morning. The circumstances of the case are certainly most extraordinary, and though every day produces some fresh cause for suspecting the man Courvoisier, both the fact and the motives are still enveloped in great mystery. People are always ready to jump to a conclusion, and having made up their minds, as most have, that he must have done the deed, they would willingly hang him up at once. I had the curiosity to go the day before yesterday to Tothill Fields Prison to see the man, who had just been sent there. He is rather ill-looking, a baddish countenance, but his manner was calm though dejected, and he was civil and respectful, and not sulky. The people there said he was very restless, and had not slept, and that he was a man of great bodily strength. I did not converse with him.

May 17th, 1840

Just after writing the above, I went to the house in Norfolk Street, to look at the premises, and the places where the watch and other things were found hidden. It was impossible not to be morally convinced that the house had not been broken into, that the indications of such violence were fabricated, and that the goods must have been secreted by Courvoisier, consequently, that by him the murder was committed; but there is as yet no evidence to convict him of the actual commission of the deed, and though NARROW ESCAPE OF A CULPRIT. I believe him to be guilty, I could not, on such a case as there is as yet, find him so if placed on a jury. I am very sceptical about evidence, and know how strangely circumstances sometimes combine to produce appearances of guilt where there may be none. There is a curious case of this mentioned in Romilly’s Memoirs, of a man hanged for mutiny upon the evidence of a witness who swore to his person, and upon his own confession after conviction, and yet it was satisfactorily proved afterwards that he had been mistaken for another man, and was really innocent. He had been induced to confess at the instigation of a fellow-prisoner, who told him it was his best chance of escaping.

Lord Ashburton, when we were talking of this, told me an anecdote of General Maitland (Sir Thomas), which happened at some place in the West Indies or South America. He had taken some town, and the soldiers were restrained from committing violence on the inhabitants, when a shot was fired from a window, and one of his men killed. They entered the house, went to the room from the window of which the shot had been fired, and found a number of men playing at billiards. They insisted on the culprit being given up, when a man was pointed out as the one who had fired the shot. They all agreed as to the culprit, and he was carried off. Sir Thomas considering that a severe example was necessary, ordered the man to be tied to the mouth of a cannon, and shot away. He was present, but turned his head away when the signal was given for blowing this wretch’s body to atoms. The explosion took place, when to his amazement the man appeared alive, but with his hair literally standing ‘like quills upon the fretful porcupine,’ with terror. In the agony of the moment he had contrived to squeeze himself through the ropes, which were loosely tied, and get on one side of the cannon’s mouth, so that the ball missed him. He approached Maitland and said, ‘You see, General, that it was the will of Heaven my life should be spared; and I solemnly assure you that I am innocent.’ Maitland would not allow him to be executed after this miraculous escape, and it turned out, upon further enquiry, that he was innocent, and it was some other man who had fired the shot.

For the last month there has been something like a cessation of political warfare, not from any diminished desire on the part of the Opposition to harass the Government, but from want of means to do so. In the House of Lords the other night, Lord Stanhope brought on the China Question; when the Duke of Wellington got up, and to the delight of the Government, and the dismay and vexation of the Tories, threw over Stanhope (in a very good speech), asserted the justice of our quarrel with China, refused to discuss the question of policy at all, warmly defended and eulogised Elliot, moved the previous question, and then quitted the House, without waiting to hear Stanhope’s reply. It was gratifying to see his energy and vigour, and to see them exerted on one of those occasions when his great mind and patriotic spirit never fail to show themselves. Whenever a question has, in his view, assumed a national character, he scatters to the wind all party considerations; such he now considers the Chinese war to be. We are involved with China, nation against nation, and he will not by word or deed put in jeopardy the smallest of the mighty interests at stake, for the sake of advancing some party purpose, and damaging the Government. In like manner, he thinks that Elliot has bravely, faithfully, and to the best of his ability, done his duty; that if he has committed errors of judgement they should be overlooked, and that he should be supported, encouraged, and defended. This is the real greatness which raises him so far above all the ordinary politicians of his day, and which will confer on his memory imperishable renown. It is rendered the more striking by his conduct on Friday on the Irish Municipal Bill, which is a mere party question, where he showed that he could be as violent as any Tory could desire. I called on Barnes[9] on Saturday, and found him much disgusted at the Duke’s China speech, and anxious to know how it could have happened. When I told him that it was always so with him, and that he never would be DUKE OF WELLINGTON SUPPORTS GOVERNMENT. merely factious, Barnes said (which, is true enough) that it is extraordinary, if he had intended to adopt such a tone in the House of Lords, that he should have allowed Graham to bring forward his motion in the House of Commons, and it certainly does place Graham in a mortifying position, for the Duke’s speech is a complete answer to Graham’s motion.

May 26th, 1840

At Newmarket last week. While there the debate took place on the Registration Bill, carried by a majority of only three, by the defection of Howick and Charles Wood, which was caused, as is said, entirely by the influence of Lord Grey, who is always out of humour with the Government, glad to give them a knock, though ostensibly their friend. However this may be, there was nothing inconsistent in their conduct, and Wood accounted for his vote very fairly. The Tories were triumphant for a moment, but these defeats are now so common and so unproductive of any consequences, that after the first shouting was over nobody seemed to attach much importance to it. The Cambridge and Ludlow elections having gone against them is of greater consequence, because they show that the tide is running that way, and that a dissolution must in all probability be ruinous to them. The Chancellor of the Exchequer’s budget seems to have been very successful, and all agree that he did his part exceedingly well.

Yesterday I met the Duke of Wellington. He was walking in the garden of the park adjoining his own, promenading two young ladies—Lord Salisbury’s daughters—arm in arm. He left them and took me to walk with him to Lansdowne House. He began discoursing about the state of affairs, and lamenting that there was, and could be, no strong Government, and that there never would be till people were convinced by experience of the necessity of having one. He then said, ‘If other people would do as I do, support the Government when they can, and when the Government ought to be supported, it would be much better.’ I said I agreed with him, and that it had given me the greatest pleasure to read his speech on China. He said, ‘All I know is, that it is absolutely necessary that question should be settled, and the justice of our cause be made manifest.’ I said, I was sure it was what he would feel, and that he had done just what I expected, but that he must be aware there were many of his own people who were by no means so well pleased, but, on the contrary, to the last degree annoyed and provoked at his speech. He replied, ‘I know that well enough, and I don’t care one damn. I was afraid Lord Stanhope would have a majority, and I have not time not to do what is right.’

June 12th, 1840

On Wednesday afternoon, as the Queen and Prince Albert were driving in a low carriage up Constitution Hill, about four or five in the afternoon, they were shot at by a lad of eighteen years old, who fired two pistols at them successively, neither shots taking effect. He was in the Green Park without the rails, and as he was only a few yards from the carriage, and, moreover, very cool and collected, it is marvellous he should have missed his aim. In a few moments the young man was seized, without any attempt on his part to escape or to deny the deed, and was carried off to prison. The Queen, who appeared perfectly cool, and not the least alarmed, instantly drove to the Duchess of Kent’s, to anticipate any report that might reach her mother, and, having done so, she continued her drive and went to the Park. By this time the attempt upon her life had become generally known, and she was received with the utmost enthusiasm by the immense crowd that was congregated in carriages, on horseback, and on foot. All the equestrians formed themselves into an escort, and attended her back to the Palace, cheering vehemently, while she acknowledged, with great appearance of feeling, these loyal manifestations. She behaved on this occasion with perfect courage and self-possession, and exceeding propriety; and the assembled multitude, being a high-class mob, evinced a lively and spontaneous feeling for her—a depth of interest which, however natural under such circumstances, must be very gratifying to her, and was satisfactory to witness.

Yesterday morning the culprit was brought to the Home Office, when Normanby examined him, and a Council was THE QUEEN SHOT AT. summoned for a more personal examination at two o’clock. A question then arose as to the nature of the proceeding, and the conduct of the examination, whether it should be before the Privy Council or the Secretary of State. We searched for precedents, and the result was this: The three last cases of high treason were those of Margaret Nicholson, in 1786; of Hatfield, in 1800 (both for attempts on the life of the Sovereign); and of Watson (the Cato Street affair), for an attempt on the Ministers in 1820. Margaret Nicholson was brought before the Privy Council, and the whole proceeding was set forth at great length in the Council Register. There appeared no entry of any sort or kind in the case of Hatfield; and in that of Watson there was a minute in the Home Office, setting forth that the examination had taken place there by Lord Sidmouth, assisted by certain Lords and others of the Privy Council. There was, therefore, no uniform course of precedents, and Ministers had to determine whether the culprit should be brought before the Privy Council, or whether he should be examined by the Cabinet only—that is, by Normanby as Secretary of State, assisted by his colleagues, as had been done in Watson’s case. After some discussion, they determined that the examination should be before the Cabinet only, and consequently I was not present at it, much to my disappointment, as I wished to hear what passed, and see the manner and bearing of the perpetrator of so strange and unaccountable an act. Up to the present time there is no appearance of insanity in the youth’s behaviour, and he is said to have conducted himself during the examination with acuteness, and cross-examined the witnesses (a good many of whom were produced) with some talent. All this, however, is not incompatible with a lurking insanity. His answers to the questions put to him were mysterious, and calculated to produce the impression that he was instigated or employed by a society, with which the crime had originated, but I expect that it will turn out that he had no accomplices, and is only a crackbrained enthusiast, whose madness has taken the turn of vanity and desire for notoriety. No other conjecture presents any tolerable probability. However it may turn out—here is the strange fact—that a half-crazy potboy was on the point of influencing the destiny of the Empire, and of producing effects the magnitude and importance of which no human mind can guess at. It is remarkable how seldom attempts like these are successful, and yet the life of any individual is at the mercy of any other, provided this other is prepared to sacrifice his own life, which, in the present instance, the culprit evidently was.

August 13th, 1840

Two months have elapsed since I have written anything in this book, owing to an unaccountable repugnance, which daily grew stronger, to take up my pen for that purpose. It is true that I had nothing of great interest to note down, but I could frequently have found something worth recollecting if I had not been too idle, too occupied with other things, or paralysed by the disgust I had taken to the task of journalising. It is now too late to record things as I was told them, or events as they occurred, and all is confusion in my recollections. If I were now to begin to describe the transactions of the late two months, I should be writing history, for which I am in no way qualified. However, as I must make up my mind to begin again, and write something, or give up the practice altogether, and as I don’t choose (just yet, at least) to do the latter, I will scribble what occurs to me, and take a short survey of the Parliamentary campaign that is just over. The danger, whether real or supposed, which the Queen ran from the attempt of the half-witted coxcomb who fired at her, elicited whatever there was of dormant loyalty in her lieges, and made her extremely popular. Nothing could be more enthusiastic than her reception at Ascot, where dense multitudes testified their attachment to her person, and their joy at her recent escape by more than usual demonstrations. Partly, perhaps, from the universality of the interest evinced, and partly from a judicious influence or more impartial reflection, she began about this time to make her Court much less exclusive, and all these circumstances produced a better state of feeling between the REVIEW OF THE SESSION. Court and the Tories, and helped to soften the acrimony of political warfare.

Throughout the Session the Ministerial majorities continued to be small and uncertain; but it was all along evident that the Government would not be turned out, that the leaders of the Opposition did not wish to turn them out, and that the differences which prevailed in the Tory party rendered it anything but desirable a change should take place. Consequently, for one reason or other, the Government were never pressed hard upon any points on which defeat would have compelled them to resign. The greatest, most hard-fought, and lengthened contest was upon Stanley’s Irish Registration Bill, which was admirably devised as a party measure, very ably worked, and in support of which the whole body of the Tories came down, night after night, with a constancy, zeal, and unanimity, really remarkable. Their repeated majorities elated them to such a pitch that they were ready, one and all, to relinquish everything else, to come and vote on these questions. It was evident, however, that all their exertions would be foiled by the determination of their opponents to interpose such delays and obstacles as must prove fatal to the measure; and it was not the least judicious part of Stanley’s management when he came down to the House, and, after his long series of victories, announced that he had abandoned his Bill for this year. It was an extremely embarrassing question to Government, and one upon which they could not appear in a favourable point of view. On one hand they were compelled to aid and abet their Irish allies in their opposition to this Bill, so fatal as it would have been to their influence in all the vexatious and unfair modes which they adopted; and on the other hand it showed how little this self-called Reform Ministry cared for any measure of Reform, or rather how heartily they were opposed to any of which the tendency would be injurious to their own political influence. There never was a simpler question of Reform than this, a clearer case of wrong, or one which more loudly demanded a remedy; but the wrong was one by which they largely benefited, and the correction of it would have the effect of augmenting the power of their opponents. Accordingly, by every species of sophistry, by falsehoods of all kinds, by vehement denunciations and endeavours to arouse the passions of the Irish people, they moved Heaven and earth to thwart and defeat the measure. There was, however, only one moment at which the Government were in any jeopardy, for they very early resolved not to let the majorities against them shake them out of their seats. But when Stanley, complaining of the unfair means which had been employed to prevent his bringing on his measure in its different stages, announced that he would invade the days reserved for Government business, Lord John Russell began darkly to hint at the impossibility of the Government conducting the public business if the House sanctioned such an encroachment, and much irritation was exhibited for a short time. Both parties, however, got calm, and a compromise was the result. The Government offered Stanley certain days, which he immediately accepted, acknowledging that nothing but an extreme provocation would justify the course he had threatened to adopt, and so the storm blew over; and this question was nearly the only one which produced any violent debates and close divisions. Besides the usual light skirmishing and the taunts, accusations, and reproaches, here and there thrown out against the Government, there were no serious attacks upon their policy and measures, either domestic or foreign; and upon the whole, setting apart the smallest of their dependable majority, they got through the Session with remarkable success, and have closed it apparently stronger, and with more of public confidence and approbation by many degrees than they enjoyed at the opening. And I believe this to be the truth, notwithstanding the fact that almost all the elections occurring during the Session (in which there have been contests) have been carried by the Tories.

August 18th, 1840 (continued at the Grove)

This improved condition of the Ministry is attributable partly to the success of their measures and the efficient manner in which the LORD JOHN RUSSELL AS LEADER. most important offices have been filled, and partly to the dissensions which prevailed among their adversaries, some striking symptoms of which were exhibited to the public. At the end of the Session, Sir Robert Inglis said to one of the Government people: ‘Well, you have managed to get through the Session very successfully.’ ‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘thanks to your dissensions among yourselves.’ ‘No,’ said Sir Robert, ‘it is not that, but it is the conduct of your leader, his honesty, courage, and ability, which has enabled you to do so.’ Ley, the Clerk of the House of Commons, and a man of great experience, said he had never seen the business so well conducted as by John Russell. Besides this, his reputation in his office is immense, where all his subordinates admit that Colonial affairs never were so well administered. But there can be no doubt that the ill-humour, which on several occasions broke out, sometimes between the leaders and sometimes among the masses of the party—‘The Tory Democracy,’ as the ‘Standard’ calls them—was of essential service to the Government. This first began at the end of last year upon the Privilege question, which Peel took up vehemently, and at once identified himself with John Russell in support of the privileges of the House of Commons. The moment Parliament opened, this matter came under discussion, and for some time exclusively occupied the attention of the House of Commons. There could be no doubt that if Peel had changed his mind and taken the adverse side, he would have thrown the Government into great difficulty and embarrassment, but instead of doing so he took the Privilege side still more warmly than before, threw himself into the van of the contest, and was the most strenuous and the ablest advocate in the cause. Nothing could exceed the disappointment and annoyance of the great body of the Tories at his conduct. Many of them opposed him, and though Graham, Stanley, and others of the principal men voted with him, they did so very reluctantly, and maintained an invincible silence throughout all the discussions. When at last it was settled that a Bill should be introduced, and that Bill had passed the House of Commons, considerable doubt existed whether it would pass the Lords, the Duke of Wellington’s opinion being decidedly at variance with Peel’s on the question. Nothing could have gratified his party more than the rejection of this Bill by the Lords, but however well inclined the Duke was to reject it, he knew that this would be too desperate a game to play, and while it might lead to the dissolution of the Government, it would entail that of the Tory party also. Many conferences took place between Graham and Arbuthnot and Lyndhurst, the result of which was, that the Duke was persuaded to let the Bill pass, but this was not accomplished without much murmuring against the obstinacy of Peel.

Soon afterwards the China question was brought forward by Graham, but whatever benefit they expected to derive from this attack on the Government was entirely marred by the Duke’s speech in the House of Lords, in which he completely threw over Graham, as well as all who supported him; and while this vexed and offended the Tory leaders in the Commons, the ‘Democracy’ were as indignant with the Duke as they had lately been with Peel. After this, a sort of running fight went on (Stanley’s battles presenting the only important results) up to the period of the introduction of the Canada Bill.[10] To this Peel offered no opposition whatever, and it passed the House of Commons with his concurrence, and consequently without difficulties or even divisions. But as soon as it got into the Lords, the Duke broke out in fierce hostility against it, denounced its provisions in the most unmeasured terms, and for a considerable time nobody knew whether they would throw it out or not. Peel (it appeared) had taken his line and supported the Bill, without any previous concert with the Duke, and the latter, as well as all the Tory Lords, were exceedingly indignant at finding themselves so far committed by his conduct that it became absolutely impossible for them to throw it out. Why Peel did not communicate with the Duke, I cannot divine, THE DUKE CONTROLS THE TORIES. or why it was not made a great party measure, and a resolution taken to act in concert. Lyndhurst spoke to me (one day that I met him) with great bitterness against Peel. I asked him, ‘What do you mean to do?’ ‘Oh, God knows; pass the Bill, I suppose, there’s nothing else left for us to do.’ Wharncliffe, while bewailing the schism, and the bad effect of its manifestation, attributed Peel’s reserve to temper, and some remains of pique at what had previously passed about the Privilege and China questions. But whatever was the cause, Peel was quite right not to oppose this Bill, unless he was prepared with a better measure, and to take office with the intention of acting upon a different principle, and he distinctly said that he had nothing better to suggest. The subsequent conduct of the Duke throughout the whole proceeding in the House of Lords was curiously indicative of the actual state of his mind, of his disposition, and his faculties. His disposition is become excessively excitable and irritable, his faculties sometimes apparently weakened, and at others giving signs of all their accustomed vigour. He came down to the House and attacked this Bill with an asperity quite inconsistent with his abstaining from throwing it out. He loaded it with every sort of abuse, but allowed it to pass almost without any alteration. In thus doing to the measure all the moral damage he could, he gave way to his passion, and acted a part which I am convinced he would not have done in his better days, and which was quite at variance with the patriotic spirit by which he is usually animated. His violence not unnaturally encouraged his equally ardent but less prudent followers, to a more practical attack, and Hardwicke gave notice of his motion. The Duke, however, was fully alive to all the consequences that would result from the rejection of a Bill to which Peel had given an unqualified support in the House of Commons, and he resolved to exert all his great authority to restrain the zeal that his own speeches had so highly inflamed. He accordingly summoned the Lords to Apsley House, and made them a speech in which he stated all the reasons for which it was desirable not to throw out the Bill; and Aberdeen told Clarendon that in his life he had never heard a more admirable statement. It required, however, all his great influence to restrain them, and though they acquiesced (as they always do at his bidding) with surprising docility, they did so with the greatest reluctance.

London, August 19th, 1840

In the conversation at which Aberdeen told Clarendon this, he dilated upon the marvellous influence of the Duke, and the manner in which he treated his followers, and the language they endured from him. Clarendon asked him whether, when the Duke retired, he had any hopes of being able to govern them as well; to which he replied that he had not the slightest idea of it; on the contrary, that it would be impossible, that nobody else could govern them, and when his influence was withdrawn, they would split into every variety of opinion according to their several biases and dispositions. He said he did not think the Duke of Wellington had ever rendered greater service in his whole life than he had done this session in moderating violence and keeping his own party together and in order, and that he could still do the most essential service in the same way, and much more than by active leading in Parliament.

Out of this state of things a practical consequence has ensued of no slight importance, and one which has shown that if there are evils and disadvantages incident to a weak Government, these are not without some counterbalancing good. Both parties began to feel the necessity of dealing with certain questions of pressing importance in a spirit of compromise and mutual concession. Neither were strong enough to go on insisting upon having everything their own way, and each was conscious that the other had a fair right to require some sacrifice, so far as it could be made without compromising on either side any vital principle. Accordingly several questions were amicably and quietly settled, in all probability in a more just, expedient, and satisfactory way than they would have been by either party uncontrolled and unrestrained. The Irish Corporation Bill, which for years has been a topic of bitter contention, has at last been carried ADVANTAGES OF A WEAK GOVERNMENT. with very little difficulty and discussion. The alterations of the Lords were quietly accepted by the Commons, and the ultras on both sides were alone dissatisfied at the consummation. Then the Education Question, which last year raised a regular storm, both in Parliament and out, has been arranged between the Government and the heads of the Church, and the system is permanently established in such a manner as to allay all fears and jealousies. In the same spirit, I expect that next year some mode will be found of conciliating Stanley’s Bill with the Government Bill of Irish Registration, and that some measure not quite but tolerably satisfactory to all parties will be devised, and the evil complained of, to a certain degree, be checked. These are advantages of no small moment, and it is very questionable whether the work of government and legislation is not more wisely and beneficially done by this concurrence of antagonistic parties, and compromise and fusion of antagonistic opinions, than it could be in any other way. All strong Governments become to a certain degree careless and insolent in the confidence of their strength, but their weakness renders them circumspect and conscientious. Governments with great majorities at their back can afford to do gross jobs, or take strong party measures; but when their opponents are as strong as themselves, and their majorities are never secure, they can venture upon nothing of the kind. All oppositions must affect a prodigious show of political virtue, and must be vigilant and economical, no matter how lax may have been their political morality when in power. But no politician, or party man, has any tenderness for an abuse the profit of which is to accrue to his adversary, and in this way good government may happen to be the result of a weak Ministry and a strong Opposition.

August 24th, 1840

Passed the greatest part of last week at the Grove, where Clarendon talked to me a great deal about the Eastern Question, and Palmerston’s policy in that quarter. Palmerston, it seems, has had for many years as his fixed idea the project of humbling the Pasha of Egypt.[11] In the Cabinet he has carried everything his own way; all his colleagues either really concurring with him, or being too ignorant and too indifferent to fight the battle against his strong determination, except Lord Holland and Clarendon, who did oppose with all their strength Palmerston’s recent treaty; but quite ineffectually. They had for their only ally, Lord Granville at Paris, and nothing can exceed the contempt with which the Palmerstonians treat this little knot of dissentients, at least the two elder ones, who (they say) are become quite imbecile, and they wonder Lord Granville does not resign. Palmerston, in fact, appears to exercise an absolute despotism at the Foreign Office, and deals with all our vast and complicated questions of diplomacy according to his own views and opinions, without the slightest control, and scarcely any interference on the part of his colleagues. This apathy is mainly attributable to that which appears in Parliament and in the country upon all foreign questions. Nobody understands and nobody cares for them, and when any rare and occasional notice is taken of a particular point, or of some question on which a slight and evanescent interest is manifested, Palmerston has little difficulty in dealing with the matter, which he always meets with a consummate impudence and, it must be allowed, a skill and resolution, which invariably carry him through. Whether the policy which he has adopted upon the Eastern Question be the soundest and most judicious, events must determine; but I never was more amazed than at reading his letters, so dashing, bold, and confident in their tone. Considering the immensity of the stake for which he is playing, that he may be about to plunge all Europe into a war, and that if war does ensue it will be entirely his doing, it is utterly astonishing he should not be more seriously affected than he appears to be with the gravity of the circumstances, and should not THE TREATY OF JULY. look with more anxiety (if not apprehension) to the possible results; but he talks in the most off-hand way of the clamour that broke out at Paris, of his entire conviction that the French Cabinet have no thoughts of going to war, and that if they were to do so, their fleets would be instantly swept from the sea, and their armies everywhere defeated. That if they were to try and make it a war of opinion and stir up the elements of revolution in other countries, a more fatal retaliation could and would be effected in France, where Carlist or Napoleonist interest, aided by foreign intervention, would shake the throne of Louis Philippe, while taxation and conscription would very soon disgust the French with a war in which he did not anticipate the possibility of their gaining any military successes. Everything may possibly turn out according to his expectations. He is a man blessed with extraordinary good fortune, and his motto seems to be that of Danton, ‘De l’audace, encore de l’audace, et toujours de l’audace.’ But there is a flippancy in his tone, an undoubting self-sufficiency, and a levity in discussing interests of such tremendous magnitude, which satisfies me that he is a very dangerous man to be entrusted with the uncontrolled management of our foreign relations. But our Cabinet is a complete republic, and Melbourne, their ostensible head, has no overruling authority, and is too indolent and too averse to energetic measures to think of having any, or to desire it. Any man of resolution and obstinacy does what he will with Melbourne. Nothing was ever so peremptory and determined as John Russell about Poulett Thomson’s peerage, which the others did not at all like, but which he not only insisted upon, but actually threatened to resign unless it was done by a given day. It was with the greatest difficulty they could prevail on him to defer its being gazetted till Parliament was up, Duncannon and others dreading that it would excite the choler of the Duke of Wellington, and very likely provoke him to fall foul of some of their Bills.