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

January 13th, 1841

THE DUCHESS OF CANNIZZARO. Notwithstanding the comparative tranquillity which now prevails in France, the madness of that people having taken another turn, and venting itself upon a reckless expenditure, and the extravagant project of fortifying Paris, Guizot is evidently aware of, and alarmed at, certain intrigues now at work, for the purpose of his ejection. Of these Molé is the object or the agent, or both. Guizot sent over the other day to Reeve a paper, cleverly done, in which Molé’s position was discussed, and the morality as well as possibility of his coming into office with the aid of a coalition.

The other day died the Duchess of Cannizzaro, a woman of rather amusing notoriety, whom the world laughed with and laughed at, while she was alive, and will regret a little because she contributed in some degree to their entertainment. She was a Miss Johnstone, and got from her brother a large fortune; she was very short and fat, with rather a handsome face, totally uneducated, but full of humour, vivacity, and natural drollery, at the same time passionate and capricious. Her all-absorbing interest and taste was music, to which all her faculties and time were devoted. She was eternally surrounded with musical artists, was their great patroness, and at her house the world was regaled with the best music that art could supply. Soon after her brother’s death, she married the Count St. Antonio (who was afterwards made Duke of Cannizzaro), a good-looking, intelligent, but penniless Sicilian of high birth, who was pretty successful in all ways in society here. He became disgusted with her, however, and went off to Italy, on a separate allowance which she made him. After a few years he returned to England, and they lived together again; he not only became more disgusted than before, but he had in the meantime formed a liaison at Milan with a very distinguished woman there, once a magnificent beauty, but now as old and as large as his own wife, and to her he was very anxious to return. This was Madame Visconti (mother of the notorious Princess Belgioso), who, though no longer young, had fine remains of good looks, and was eminently pleasing and attractive. Accordingly, St. Antonio took occasion to elope (by himself) from some party of pleasure at which he was present with his spouse, and when she found that he had gone off without notice or warning, she first fell into violent fits of grief, which were rather ludicrous than affecting, and then set off in pursuit of her faithless lord. She got to Dover, where the sight of the rolling billows terrified her so much, that, after three days of doubt whether she should cross the water or not, she resolved to return, and weep away her vexation in London. Not long afterwards, however, she plucked up courage, and taking advantage of a smooth sea she ventured over the Straits, and set off for Milan, if not to recover her fugitive better half, at all events to terrify her rival and disturb their joys. The advent of the Cannizzaro woman was to the Visconti like the irruption of the Huns of old. She fled to a villa near Milan, which she proceeded to garrison and fortify, but finding that the other was not provided with any implements for a siege, and did not stir from Milan, she ventured to return to the city, and for some time these ancient heroines drove about the town glaring defiance and hate at each other, which was the whole amount of the hostilities that took place between them. Finding her husband was irrecoverable, she at length got tired of the hopeless pursuit, and resolved to return home, and console herself with her music and whatever other gratifications she could command. Not long after, she fell in love with a fiddler at a second-rate theatre in Milan, and carried him off to England, which he found, if not the most agreeable, the most profitable business he could engage in. The affair was singular and curious, as showing what society may be induced to put up with. There was not the slightest attempt to conceal this connexion; on the contrary it was most ostentatiously exhibited to the world, but the world agreed to treat it as a joke, and do nothing but laugh at it. The only difference ‘the Duchesse’ ever found was, that her Sunday parties were less well attended; but this was because the world (which often grows religious, but never grows moral) had begun to take it into its head that MACAULAY’S CONVERSATION. it would keep holy the Sabbath night. The worst part of the story was, that this profligate blackguard bullied and plundered her without mercy or shame, and she had managed very nearly to ruin herself before her death. What she had left, she bequeathed to her husband, notwithstanding his infidelities and his absence.

January 21st, 1841

I dined with Lady Holland yesterday. Everything there is exactly the same as it used to be, excepting only the person of Lord Holland, who seems to be pretty well forgotten.[3] The same talk went merrily round, the laugh rang loudly and frequently, and, but for the black and the mob-cap of the lady, one might have fancied he had never lived or had died half a century ago. Such are, however, affections and friendships, and such is the world. Macaulay dined there, and I never was more struck than upon this occasion by the inexhaustible variety and extent of his information. He is not so agreeable as such powers and resources ought to make any man, because the vessel out of which it is all poured forth is so ungraceful and uncouth; his voice unmusical and monotonous, his face not merely inexpressive but positively heavy and dull, no fire in his eye, no intelligence playing round his mouth, nothing which bespeaks the genius and learning stored within and which burst out with such extraordinary force. It is impossible to mention any book in any language with which he is not familiar; to touch upon any subject, whether relating to persons or things, on which he does not know everything that is to be known. And if he could tread less heavily on the ground, if he could touch the subjects he handles with a lighter hand, if he knew when to stop as well as he knows what to say, his talk would be as attractive as it is wonderful. What Henry Taylor said of him is epigrammatic and true, ‘that his memory has swamped his mind;’ and though I do not think, as some people say, that his own opinions are completely suppressed by the load of his learning so that you know nothing of his mind, it appears to me true that there is less of originality in him, less exhibition of his own character, than there probably would be if he was less abundantly stored with the riches of the minds of others. We had yesterday a party well composed for talk, for there were listeners of intelligence and a good specimen of the sort of society of this house—Macaulay, Melbourne, Morpeth, Duncannon, Baron Rolfe, Allen and Lady Holland, and John Russell came in the evening. I wish that a shorthand writer could have been there to take down all the conversation, or that I could have carried it away in my head; because it was curious in itself, and curiously illustrative of the characters of the performers. Before dinner some mention was made of the portraits of the Speakers in the Speaker’s House, and I asked how far they went back. Macaulay said he was not sure, but certainly as far as Sir Thomas More. ‘Sir Thomas More,’ said Lady Holland, ‘I did not know he had been Speaker.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said Macaulay, ‘don’t you remember when Cardinal Wolsey came down to the House of Commons and More was in the chair?’ and then he told the whole of that well-known transaction, and all More had said. At dinner, amongst a variety of persons and subjects, principally ecclesiastical, which were discussed—for Melbourne loves all sorts of theological talk—we got upon India and Indian men of eminence, proceeding from Gleig’s ‘Life of Warren Hastings,’ which Macaulay said was the worst book that ever was written; and then the name of Sir Thomas Munro came uppermost. Lady Holland did not know why Sir Thomas Munro was so distinguished; when Macaulay explained all that he had ever said, done, written, or thought, and vindicated his claim to the title of a great man, till Lady Holland got bored with Sir Thomas, told Macaulay she had had enough of him, and would have no more. This would have dashed and silenced an ordinary talker, but to Macaulay it was no more than replacing a book on its shelf, and he was as ready as ever to open on any other topic. It would be impossible to follow and describe the various mazes of conversation, all of which he threaded with an ease that was always astonishing and instructive, and generally interesting and amusing. When we went upstairs we got upon MACAULAY’S MEMORY. the Fathers of the Church. Allen asked Macaulay if he had read much of the Fathers. He said, not a great deal. He had read Chrysostom when he was in India; that is, he had turned over the leaves and for a few months had read him for two or three hours every morning before breakfast; and he had read some of Athanasius. ‘I remember a sermon,’ he said, ‘of Chrysostom’s in praise of the Bishop of Antioch;’ and then he proceeded to give us the substance of this sermon till Lady Holland got tired of the Fathers, again put her extinguisher on Chrysostom as she had done on Munro, and with a sort of derision, and as if to have the pleasure of puzzling Macaulay, she turned to him and said, ‘Pray, Macaulay, what was the origin of a doll? when were dolls first mentioned in history?’ Macaulay was, however, just as much up to the dolls as he was to the Fathers, and instantly replied that the Roman children had their dolls, which they offered up to Venus when they grew older; and quoted Persius for

and I have not the least doubt, if he had been allowed to proceed, he would have told us who was the Chenevix of ancient Rome, and the name of the first baby that ever handled a doll.

The conversation then ran upon Milman’s ‘History of Christianity,’ which Melbourne praised, the religious opinions of Locke, of Milman himself, the opinion of the world thereupon, and so on to Strauss’s book and his mythical system, and what he meant by mythical. Macaulay began illustrating and explaining the meaning of a myth by examples from remote antiquity, when I observed that in order to explain the meaning of ‘mythical’ it was not necessary to go so far back; that, for instance, we might take the case of Wm. Huntington, S.S.: that the account of his life was historical, but the story of his praying to God for a new pair of leather breeches and finding them under a hedge was mythical. Now, I had just a general superficial recollection of this story in Huntington’s ‘Life,’ but my farthing rushlight was instantly extinguished by the blaze of Macaulay’s all-grasping and all-retaining memory, for he at once came in with the whole minute account of this transaction: how Huntington had prayed, what he had found, and where, and all he had said to the tailor by whom this miraculous nether garment was made.

January 30th, 1841

Parliament opened on Tuesday last with a very meagre speech, on which no amendment could be hung. The Duke spoke extremely well in the House of Lords, and Peel the same in the House of Commons. Both approved (the Duke without any qualification, Peel more guardedly) of the foreign policy of the Government, and both said everything that was conciliatory, nattering, and cordial to France. John Russell and Palmerston both spoke in the same tone, the latter especially, and his speech was totally free from anything like triumph or exultation; in short, nothing could be more favourable for Government than what passed, and nothing more creditable to the country. It was temperate and dignified, and exhibited a strong contrast to the fury and bluster of the French debates and the Press, and consequently displayed the superiority in every respect of our national character over theirs. At present everything promises a very easy session, and the Conservatives are confessedly reduced to look to the chapter of accidents for some event which may help them to turn out the Government and get hold of their places.[4] Lord John said something about Lord Holland in the House of Commons, but Melbourne could not be prevailed upon to say anything in the House of Lords. Lady Holland was satisfied with Lord John’s speech, but though it was a prettily turned compliment, it was of no great service in relieving him from the charges which have been levelled at him in some of the newspapers.[5]

February 1st, 1841

M. GUIZOT’S ESTIMATE OF LORD HOLLAND. The Sheriffs’ dinner at the Lord President’s on Saturday.[6] It must be owned they decide very conscientiously. One man asked for exemption because he had, by keeping away Conservative votes, decided an election in favour of a Whig candidate, and, though otherwise disposed to let him off, they made him Sheriff directly on reading this excuse. I sat next to Palmerston. It was amusing to see how everything is blown over, and how success and the necessity of making common cause has reconciled all jarring sentiments; and it was amusing to hear Melbourne in one house and John Russell in the other vigorously defending and praising Palmerston’s policy. It must be owned that Palmerston has conducted himself well under the circumstances, without any air of triumph or boasting either over his colleagues or his opponents or the French. He has deserved his success by the moderation with which he has taken it. I saw Bourqueney last night, delighted with all that was said in Parliament, especially, of course, by the Duke and Peel, but well satisfied with John Russell and Palmerston, and he owned the tone of the latter was unexceptionable.

February 4th, 1841

Went the night before last to Exeter Hall, to hear Mr. Hullah[7] give a lecture on the teaching of vocal music in the Poor Law schools (and elsewhere). Very interesting, well done, and the illustration of his plan by the boys of Dr. Kay’s school and other (adult) pupils of Hullah’s was excellent. The plan has been tried with great success in France, Germany, and Switzerland, and the Education Committee are disposed to assist in giving it a trial here. These plans, which are founded in benevolence and a sincere desire for the diffusion of good among the people, merit every encouragement, and will in the end get it, for there is, in the midst of much indifference and prejudice, a growing disposition to ameliorate the condition of the masses, both morally and physically.

Yesterday all the Tories were in high glee at their success at the Canterbury and Walsall elections, the former not having been expected by either party, and nevertheless they had a majority of 165 votes. It is certainly curious, for the Government have a right to be popular, or, at least, to expect that no tide of unpopularity should rise against them; and after all their successes, and the declared inability of their opponents to find fault with them, it is strange that they should lose ground to the extent that they have. The Government see all the danger of their position, and how very probable it is that they may be reduced to the necessity of resignation or dissolution, and, though they have no hopes of bettering themselves by the latter, they have made up their minds to try the experiment, in order that they may give the Queen no reason to accuse them of unnecessarily deserting her, and not exhausting every expedient to retain IRISH REGISTRATION BILL. their places before they give them up. They are, however, very much divided upon the question of what to dissolve upon, some being for so doing on Stanley’s Irish Registration Bill, if then defeated, while others (more judiciously, meâ sententiâ) are against going to the country on any Irish question.[8]

February 9th, 1841

The Duke of Wellington had an attack the other night in the House of Lords, and was taken home speechless, but not senseless. It was severe, but short, and after the stomach was relieved, he rapidly recovered, and in a day or two pronounced himself as well as ever. Of course the alarm was very great. He is very eager about politics, and the Tory language is that of exceeding gloom about the general aspect of affairs, while their own affairs, as far as elections are concerned, flourish. In Monmouthshire the Whig has resigned without a contest; the Tories affect to consider Morpeth’s Registration Bill as a revolution, while the Whigs pretend that Stanley’s will make every county in Ireland a close Orange borough. Perhaps the debates may strike out something approaching to the truth. Great disquietude at the French armaments, considerable uneasiness at the dispute with America, and much disgust at our having been apparently bamboozled by the Chinese, form the principal topics of political grievance and complaint.

February 12th, 1841

The other day I met Lord Howick, and had a talk with him about the Irish questions now pending. The Government are much pleased with his support of Morpeth’s Bill. As he stands, as it were, midway between the two Bills, I asked him to explain to me the merits of the question, which he did, as it seemed to me, fairly enough. He approves of the machinery of Stanley’s registration, and of Morpeth’s definition of the franchise, not binding himself to amount, but not objecting to that proposed. He showed me a letter he wrote to Stanley, in a very amicable strain, setting forth the danger which he thought would attend any settlement of the question which did not embrace a definition of the franchise, and entreating him to reconsider the question, for the purpose of coming to some arrangement. The answer was not encouraging, for it consisted of a note from Lady Stanley to Lady Howick, in which she said that Stanley had got the gout in his hand, and could not write, but desired her to say that he entirely disagreed with Howick. Howick talked sensibly enough about it, and asked me if I could not do anything to bring about a compromise, his notion being that there should be a committee above stairs to take evidence as to the effect of the 5ℓ. franchise, and that only the principle of definition should be admitted. I told him I had no means whatever, had no access to any of the leaders, that the only men to whom I could talk were Graham or Fitzgerald, and that if I fell in with either, I would see if any possibility presented itself.

February 14th, 1841

The day before yesterday I met Graham by accident at Boodle’s, so I took the opportunity of talking to him about these Bills, and I soon found that there is no possibility of any compromise. He expressed the greatest alarm and disgust at Morpeth’s measure; said that he had never seen Stanley so determined, and that he and Peel both entirely agreed with him; that he could not understand how John Russell, or indeed any member of Lord Grey’s Government, could consent to such a violation of the principle of the Reform Bill, and to the formation of a new franchise, which, if granted, must entail similar concessions in England and Scotland; that the intention of the framers of the SIR JAMES GRAHAM ON IRISH AFFAIRS. Reform Bill was that, in the counties, property and not numbers should have influence, and the effect of this Bill would be to transfer influence from property to numbers. He spoke much of the unpopularity of the Government, which he attributed to the Irish connexion, and thought that this Bill would do them great harm in England. When I urged the importance of settling affairs in Ireland, and not leaving such a question as this to unite all the country against them, if they came in again, and to revive the great power of O’Connell, which had for some time been waning, and I pointed out the great danger that might arise from Ireland in the present unsettled state of Europe, he said, rather than consent to such a measure as this, he was prepared to encounter every difficulty and danger; he would never consent to transfer power from the landed interest to the multitude; and as long as the priests interfered in Irish elections, it could not be expected that landlords would not counteract that influence by diminishing as much as they could the numbers of those who were made to act under it; that the old saying that Cromwell had confiscated too much, or exterminated too little, was the truth; he saw no way of pacifying that country, and as to concessions they must have a limit, every concession had been made that could be reasonably desired, and he would do no more. If they came into power, he would be prepared to govern equitably, without fear or favour, encouraging, without reference to political or religious opinions, all those who supported the British connexion, and with a determination to uphold without flinching the national institutions. I asked him if he thought no transaction could be effected with the Irish priests, so as to reconcile them to Government; but he said that none was, he thought, now feasible. He had been for the measure, but now England would not grant an establishment to the Catholic clergy, and if she would, they would not accept it, for they never would abandon the advantages they enjoyed under the present system of voluntary contributions, which was in most cases more profitable than any provision which could possibly be held out to them.

The result of all this presents very serious matter for reflexion, for this Irish question will probably draw a broad line of separation between parties, afford respective rallying-points, and secure a formidable and united opposition if the Tories come in; and one cannot regard without the greatest apprehension the prospect of a systematic determined hostility on the part of the Irish masses towards this country with the certainty almost that the ground on which the battle will be fought will be that of maintaining the Irish Church. This is in point of fact the interest which the Tory or English party regard. Ireland is denied her share in representation, hers is made an exceptional case, because she is under Catholic influence, and because that Catholic influence will, they suspect, if ever it is strong enough, exert its strength in overturning the English Church. I do not think anybody of sense and information believes that the Irish Catholic clergy or laity have any disinclination to British connexion, except so far as they are in their own eyes degraded or injured by it. There exists, and there ever will exist, that one deep feeling, constantly kept burning in the minds of the laity by the undying zeal of the clergy, that Catholic Ireland is insulted and impoverished by the vast Protestant ecclesiastical establishment, that in the most important, the most heart-stirring of all interests, an interest at once temporal and spiritual, they are stripped of those equal and essential rights which are possessed by England and Scotland. I have never doubted that sooner or later this contest would arise, and that the end of it will be, however long in coming, the downfall of the Church of England in Ireland, as fall it ought.[9]

February 27th, 1841

The debate lasted four nights on Morpeth’s Bill, and Ministers got a majority of five, both sides bringing down the sick and the dying without remorse. A close division and parties nicely balanced, extinguish all feelings of humanity. The best speeches were Charles Buller’s, SETTLEMENT OF THE EASTERN QUESTION. Sheil’s, Follett’s, Peel’s, and John Russell’s. It is supposed this will bolster them up for the Session, but something still depends on Stanley’s Bill.

Foreign affairs have assumed a better aspect. A negotiation is going on here for the purpose of inviting France to join the alliance, and take part in the final settlement of the Eastern Question, which she desires no better than to accept, and then to disarm; indeed, she has already begun to do so. The delay is occasioned by some difficulty as to the forms to be adopted. The French want some phrases, which don’t seem unreasonable in themselves, but about which the Russian makes a difficulty. There is to be a Note, and in this Note Bourqueney wishes it to be expressly stated that the integrity of the Ottoman Empire is now secured, but Brunnow makes this strange objection, that they should thereby be admitting the de jure occupation of Algiers by the French. This seems such a frivolous objection that it is difficult to conceive it can be the real one. The wonder is that Palmerston, who carries everything with so high a hand, does not overrule it auctoritate suâ. He has been showing off his flippancy lately not only to France, but to Austria, writing despatches to Lord Granville, which are in such a tone that he complains bitterly of being instructed to read them to Guizot; and, with regard to Austria, this occurred: Metternich wrote some letter complaining of delay in settling the question of Mehemet Ali’s hereditary possession of Egypt, which, it seems, nettled Palmerston, and he wrote a remarkably clever but very insolent answer, in which he reviewed the vacillations and inconsistencies of the Austrian Cabinet in a very offensive style. This despatch was read by the Cabinet; and I fancy generally disapproved, very much so by Melbourne, who however did not interfere, and let it go. But Frederick Lamb, who has all the confidence and courage which Melbourne wants, very quietly put it in his drawer, and wrote word to Palmerston that circumstances were changed and he should not give it to Metternich. Melbourne was very much pleased at this, and said it was very judicious; but he forgot that it was his business to stop it in the first instance, and that, thinking it imprudent, as Prime Minister he ought to have put his veto on it. But he is only Prime Minister in name, and has no authority. He is all in all at Buckingham Palace, but very little in Downing Street.

March 2nd, 1841, Tuesday

On Sunday I met Bourqueney at dinner. He was very gloomy, talked of the debate in the Chamber and the declarations in favour of keeping up the isolement as ‘très-grave,’ and then complained bitterly, but obscurely, of the difficulties he encountered here, and how hard it was, after the unanimous expressions in both Houses of Parliament, that such obstacles should be cast in the way of a settlement, hinting at Palmerston as the cause, but without being explicit; indeed, it was in the carriage going to Lady Holland’s, and there was not time for more. To-day, however, I have heard more; and it seems that Palmerston has been at his tricks again, though I don’t yet know precisely what he has done. My brother keeps writing me word that his tone in his communications to the French Government, through Lord Granville, is very offensive; but here he appeared to be really anxious to conciliate. It is, however, quite impossible to make out what he is at. He has contributed more than anybody to give this Government a federal character; for in the Foreign Office he has resolved to be, and he is, wholly independent of his colleagues. He tells them as much or as little of his proceedings as it suits his purpose or his fancy to do; and they are now so well aware of this, and have so little confidence in him, that when he does tell the Cabinet anything they feel no security that they are acquainted with the truth or, at least, the whole truth. In the pending matter, Esterhazy and Bülow have been vehemently urging the completion of an arrangement, but the Cabinet settled that no overture should be made to France without previously ascertaining that she would accept it when made. All very proper! It was settled that the other Powers should beg Palmerston to invite France in all their names to join in a Convention for securing the free navigation of the Bosphorus; and this Convention was THE PROTOCOL DELAYED. arranged at a Conference some day last week, and at the same time a Protocol—which was to precede it—stating that, the objects of the July alliance being completed, the alliance was at an end. All this was agreed to, and on Saturday at the Cabinet the Convention was read and approved of; but objections were made to the Protocol on the ground that questions might still arise requiring the intervention of the alliance, that no certain intelligence had yet arrived either of the evacuation of Syria by Ibrahim or the publication of the firman by the Sultan, and, therefore, it would be imprudent to break up the alliance just at this moment, and this operation might as well be deferred for a brief space. Such was the general sentiment. Melbourne said, ‘Are you sure France will take the Convention?’ to which Palmerston replied, he had no doubt she would, as it had been put into his hands by Esterhazy, who had probably already communicated it to Bourqueney. But he did not tell the Cabinet that he had agreed at the Conference to the Protocol likewise, and had left his foreign colleagues under the impression that it would be agreed to by the Cabinet.

On Sunday night Bülow and Bourqueney met Normanby at Lady Holland’s, when they both spoke to him in the strongest terms, more especially Bülow; who said it was very painful to him to complain to Normanby of the conduct of Palmerston, and he would not repeat what had passed at the Conference, but he must tell him if Palmerston continued to conduct himself as he did, the most fatal consequences would ensue, and the affairs of Europe would become more embroiled and be in a more perilous state than they had ever been yet. He frightened Normanby so much that the next morning he went off to Melbourne, told him what had passed, and entreated him to interfere. Melbourne promised he would, but of course he will not; and Palmerston will probably not care a straw what he says, or be in the slightest degree biassed by any opinion he may express. As far as I can guess, Bourqueney’s excessive discontent arises from this: He very naturally wants this Protocol, and Bülow and Esterhazy, no doubt, told him that Palmerston had consented to it and would propose it to him; whereas, in their conference on Sunday, Palmerston probably offered him the Convention but did not say a word about the Protocol, and this both he and Bülow consider a great breach of faith. Notwithstanding the good reason which there really is for not formally dissolving the alliance till all the arrangements concerning Egypt and Syria are completed, it is easy to understand that in the present temper of France it would be impossible for Guizot to enter into any relations with the other Powers till their separate and exclusive alliance is at an end. It is no wonder, therefore, that Bourqueney looks upon the Protocol as an essential condition of his acceptance of the Convention; and if he has been first given to understand that the Protocol was admitted, and then told by Palmerston that it could not be, he might naturally be indignant. One never knows what else Palmerston may have said nor what tone he may have taken.

While these difficulties are obstructing a pacific arrangement here, they are rendered much more serious by the discussions in the French Chamber on the Secret Service money, when the insolent and extravagant speeches in favour of keeping up the isolement and the state of armed observation were hailed with vociferous applause; and this frantic violence is the Parliamentary response to the calm and dignified expression of peace and goodwill to France which marked our first Parliamentary night, and in which the leaders of all parties joined with equal cordiality. If this goes on, and if Guizot is not strong enough to give effect to his pacific disposition and to venture upon a reconciliation, all amicable feelings towards France will be swallowed up in a general sentiment of indignation at her insolence; and instead of wasting any more time in fruitless endeavours to bring her back into the councils of Europe, we shall begin to think of the means of securing ourselves against any possible effects of her ill-will and obstinate resentment. Those who have most strongly advocated the French alliance will be soon ready to cement that of the four great Powers, to curb the extravagant pretensions and mischievous designs A MISREPORTED SPEECH. of France, if the latter does not come to her senses and descend from her high horse very soon.

March 4th, 1841

Yesterday morning Dedel, who was pretty accurately acquainted with all that has lately passed, called on me. His account confirmed my notions. The other Ministers of the Conference had told Bourqueney what he was to expect at his conference with Palmerston. When, therefore, the latter tendered him the draft of the Convention, he said, ‘This is very well, but have you nothing else to give me?’ ‘No,’ said Palmerston; ‘what do you mean? I know of nothing else.’ ‘Have you not also a Protocol, announcing the clôture to propose to me?’ ‘Oh no; that is impossible. There has been a question of such a Protocol, but great difficulties have arisen. Chekib says he cannot agree to such a Protocol without previous application to his Court and receiving a specific authority.’ On this, Bourqueney very indignantly said, ‘he must know it was quite useless to offer him the one without the other, as the formal termination of the alliance of July was an indispensable preliminary of any convention to which France could be a party.’ A warm conversation followed, in the course of which (as Dedel says), Bourqueney saying, ‘Nous ne sommes pas pressés,’ Palmerston replied in his most insolent tone, ‘Et nous ne sommes pas pressés non plus; si vous ne craignez pas les bâtiments anglais, vous sentez bien que nous ne craignons pas les bâtiments français....’[10]

March 5th, 1841

At the Cabinet dinner the day before yesterday, Palmerston announced that ‘everything was going on well, everybody satisfied,’ and as this rose-coloured aspect of affairs was so inconsistent with the gloom and discontent of Bourqueney and Bülow, and the account given me by Dedel, I resolved to call on Bourqueney, and find out from him in what position the affair stood. I did so, and the result proved with what caution one ought to listen to the reports of persons the best informed, and who relate what they have heard with the most veracious intentions. Instead of correcting or expunging what I have said above, I shall put down the substance of what Bourqueney said to me, which agrees with much of Dedel’s account, but differs in some very important particulars. I told him that I had (as he would be sure) no desire to fourrer myself into his affairs, but that I thought a little conversation between us might be useful in promoting the object we had in common—that of restoring amicable relations between the two countries; and having seen how annoyed he was on Sunday last, and knowing what had passed, I wished to know if he was not now better satisfied than he was then; and that as I, and those with whom I communicated, only knew what passed between him and Palmerston, or at the conferences, from Palmerston’s own reports, when he told his colleagues just what he pleased and no more, and as I had heard from other quarters an account of his interview on Sunday with Palmerston, I wished to know what had really passed. He had, he said, been extremely annoyed and disappointed, after being told that he was to have the Protocol (by Bülow and Esterhazy, of course), when Palmerston told him this was out of the question, as Chekib refused to sign it without orders. He then gave me the conversation between himself and Palmerston, which does not appear to have been acrimonious, and instead of Palmerston’s having made that insolent speech which was put in his mouth when Bourqueney said, ‘Mais nous ne sommes pas pressés,’ he only said, ‘Ni nous non plus, c’est l’Autriche et la Prusse qui sont pressées;’ so that all the offensive part was a fabricated addition, and I have no doubt of this by Bourqueney’s way of speaking of it. He said, moreover, ‘Il faut rendre justice à Lord Palmerston, son ton a été excellent, et jamais il n’a prononcé le mot de désarmement;’ that if he had, or had attempted to impose any condition, he should at once have rejected all overtures; but nothing of the kind had been attempted, and he admitted that every respect had been shown to France, and a sincere desire evinced to renew relations with her. He said, ‘Enfin vous êtes triomphants, et nous sommes humiliés,’ and you can well afford to treat us ‘avec des égards;’ but he seemed to think that in point PROTOCOL AND CONVENTION SIGNED. of fact the Conference was already practically dissolved, for both Bülow and Esterhazy had declared (in their anxiety for the clôture, as an indispensable preliminary to the Convention, for which their eagerness is intense), that, happen what might, they would take no farther part in Eastern affairs. On the whole, the prospect is good, and it is but just to Palmerston to say that he does not seem to have acted unfairly or insolently, or to be obnoxious to any reproach in his relations with Bourqueney.

March 12th, 1841

The Protocols were duly signed and the Convention sent to Paris. They were well received by Guizot, who returned them for some verbal alterations which have been agreed to, and if no new difficulties arise in the East to prevent a settlement, our relations with France will be restored. But within these few days a whole budget of bad news has poured in—from China, where the admiral has resigned on the plea of ill-health, having done nothing but lose half the troops he took out, and leaving affairs in a very uncertain and unsatisfactory state. I had a letter from Emily Eden[11] yesterday, in great disgust at the waste of time, money, and life, and the failure hitherto of all the objects we had in view. The Chinese have bamboozled and baffled us, that is the plain truth.

Then the violence and bad spirit displayed in America have produced no small consternation here, though everybody goes on saying that a war between the two countries, and for so little cause, is impossible.[12] It does seem impossible, and the manifest interest of both nations is opposed to it; but when a country is so mob-governed as America, and the Executive is so destitute of power, there must be great danger. However, the general conviction is, that the present exhibition of violence is attributable to the malignity of the outgoing party, which is desirous of embarrassing their successors, and casting on them the perils of a war or the odium of a reconciliation with this country, and strong hopes are entertained that the new Government will be too wise to fall into the snare that is laid for them, and strong enough to check and master the bad spirit which is rife in the Northern States. The real difficulty arises from the conviction here, that in the case of M’Leod we are in the right, and the equally strong conviction there, that we are not, and the actual doubt on which side the truth lies. Senior, whom I met the other day, expressed great uncertainty, and he proposes, and has written to Government on the subject, that the question of International Law shall be submitted to the decision of a German University—that of Berlin, he thinks, would be the best. This idea he submitted to Stevenson, who approved of it, but the great difficulty would be to agree upon a statement of facts. Yesterday Lord Lyndhurst was at the Council Office, talking over the matter with Sir Herbert Jenner and Justice Littledale, and he said it was very questionable if the Americans had not right on their side; and that he thought, in a similar case here, we should be obliged to try the man, and if convicted, nothing but a pardon could save him. These opinions casting such serious doubts on the question of right, are at least enough to restrain indignation and beget caution.