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

April 8th, 1838

It would have been well for Durham if he had started for Canada the day after he made his speech in the House of Lords, for he made upon that occasion a very favourable impression, and the world was disposed to praise the appointment. Since this his manifestation of a desire for pomp and grandeur and an expensive display has drawn ridicule and odium upon him. His temper has been soured by the attacks both in Parliament and in the press; he has been stung, goaded, and tormented by the diurnal articles in the ‘Times,’ and he has now made himself obnoxious to universal reproach and ridicule by an act which, trifling in itself, exhibits an animus the very reverse of that which is required in the pacificator and legislator of Canada. He was engaged to dine with Bingham Baring on Friday last, but in consequence of his having voted in the minority the other night, on Chandos’s motion, Durham chose to construe this vote into a personal offence towards himself, and sent an excuse saying that ‘he had no alternative.’ He wrote to Lady Harriet Baring a very civil note, and conveyed his motive by implication, but quite clearly. The note was, of course, handed about for the amusement of the company, and the story, subsequently, for that of the town.

April 12th, 1838

Dined with Lord Anglesey yesterday, to meet Wolff, the missionary. I had figured to myself a tall, gaunt, severe, uncouth man; but I found a short, plump, WOLFF THE MISSIONARY. cheerful person, with a considerable resemblance to the Bonaparte family, and with some to old Denon, with one of the most expressive countenances I ever saw, and so agreeable as to compensate for very plain features; eyes that become suddenly illuminated when he is warmed by his subject, and a voice of peculiar sweetness and power of intonation. He came prepared to hold forth, with his Bible in his pocket, and accordingly after dinner we gathered round him in a circle, and he held forth. It would be no easy matter to describe a discourse which lasted a couple of hours, or indeed to say very precisely what it was about. It was a rambling, desultory reference to his travels and adventures in fluent and sometimes eloquent language, and not without an occasional dash of humour and drollery. He illustrated the truth of the Scriptures by examples drawn from his personal observation and the habits, expressions, and belief of the present inhabitants of Palestine, and he spoke with evident sincerity and enthusiasm. He sang two or three hymns as specimens of the psalmody now in use at Jerusalem. The great fault of his discourse was its length and desultory character, leaving no strong and permanent impression on the mind. He subsequently gave us a second lecture upon the Millennium, avowing his belief that it is near at hand; he ‘hoped and believed that it would take place in 1847,’ and he proceeded to show that this was to be inferred from the prophecies of Daniel, and that the numbers in that book, rightly explained, bore this meaning. He told us that he had learnt fourteen languages, and had preached in nine.

May 7th, 1838

For three weeks past entirely engrossed by Newmarket, with the same mixed feelings of disgust at the nature of the occupation, and satisfaction at the success attending it. I won 2,000ℓ. by the two weeks, and if I meet with no reverse am rapidly acquiring the means of paying off my debts. Then I propose to live not for myself alone (as I earnestly hope), but that I may feel the desire of contributing to the enjoyments of others. I hope as I become rich (and if I get out of debt I shall be rich) I may not become grasping and avaricious, and acquire a taste for hoarding money merely for hoarding’s sake. When I see how insensibly, and under what plausible pretexts, this passion steals upon others, I tremble lest I should become a victim to it myself.

I know of nothing, in the world of politics. There has been much foolish chatter about the Coronation, and whether there should be a banquet or no; the Tories calling out for one because the Whig Government have settled that there should not be any. The Duke of Wellington, as usual, sensible, and above such nonsense; says it will all do very well, and that the Palace of Westminster having been destroyed by fire, a banquet and procession would not be feasible, as there exist no apartments in which the arrangements could be made. He rebuked his Tory Lords the other night when they made a foolish attack on Melbourne about M’Hale signing himself John Tuam. Every day he appears a greater man.

I have read hardly anything all this time but two reviews in the ‘Edinburgh’—Brougham’s most remarkable paper upon Lady Charlotte Bury’s book, the composition of which I saw with my own eyes; the other is Stephen’s review of Wilberforce’s Life. Nothing can be more admirable than the characters which Brougham has given of the celebrated people of that day—George III., George IV., Eldon, Perceval, and others; and when I think of the manner in which they were written, with what inconceivable rapidity, and in the midst of what occupation—for his attention was perpetually divided between what he was writing and what the counsel was saying—it is an astonishing exhibition of facility and fertility. Stephen’s review is as good as possible in a very different style, and his description of the end of Wilberforce’s life strikes me as singularly eloquent and pathetic.

CHAPTER III.

A Ball at the Palace — Aspect of Foreign Affairs — Irish Tithe Bill — Debate on Sir T. Acland’s Motion — Death of Prince Talleyrand — Death and Character of Lady Harrowby — Government defeated on Emancipation of Slaves — Dispute of Mr. Handley and Lord Brougham — Dinner at Lambeth — Arrangement of Irish Questions — Settlement of Irish Questions — O’Connell declines the Rolls — Naval Intervention in Spain — Duke of Wellington’s Moderation — Marshal Soult arrives — Preparations for the Coronation of Queen Victoria — The Wellington Statue — The Coronation — Coleridge and John Sterling — Lord Durham’s Mission to Canada — Lord Brougham contrasted with the Duke — Macaulay on his return from India — Soult in London — Duke of Sussex quarrels with Ministers — Lord Burghersh’s Opera — High Church Sermons — Lord Palmerston and Mr. Urquhart — The Ecclesiastical Discipline Bill — The Duke’s Despatches — Macaulay’s Plan of Life — Lord Durham’s Canada Ordinance — Mr. Barnes — Canada Indemnity Bill — Lord Durham’s Ordinance disallowed — Irish Corporation Bill — Review of the Session.

May 11th, 1838

Last night I was at the ball at the Palace—a poor affair in comparison with the Tuileries. Gallery ill-lit; rest of the rooms tolerable. The Queen’s manner and bearing perfect. She danced, first with Prince George, then young Esterhazy, then Lord FitzAlan. Before supper, and after dancing, she sat on a sofa somewhat elevated in the drawing-room, looking at the waltzing; she did not waltz herself. Her mother sat on one side of her, and the Princess Augusta on the other; then the Duchesses of Gloucester and Cambridge and the Princess of Cambridge; her household, with their wands, standing all round; her manners exceedingly graceful, and, blended with dignity and cordiality, a simplicity and good humour, when she talks to people, which are mighty captivating. When supper was announced she moved from her seat, all her officers going before her—she, first, alone, and the Royal Family following; her exceeding youth strikingly contrasted with their mature ages, but she did it well. I was struck last night for the first time with the great change in the Duke of Wellington’s looks; others have noted it before. He is no longer so straight and upright, and old age is taking possession of his features in a way that is distressing to see. He has lived long enough for his own renown, but he cannot live long enough for the good of his country, let what will happen and when it may. It is a fine sight to regard the noble manner in which he is playing the last act of his glorious life.

My brother writes me word from Paris that Leopold is deadly sick of his Belgian crown, and impatient to abdicate, thinking that it is a better thing to be an English Prince, uncle to the Queen, with 50,000ℓ. a year, than to be monarch of a troublesome vulgar little kingdom which all its neighbours regard with an evil or a covetous eye. Louis Philippe is in a mighty fright about it, and he is right, for Leopold’s abdication would be almost sure to disturb the peace of Europe. Stanley thinks the peace of Europe will be disturbed, and that speedily, by the great antagonistic forces of religion growing out of the Prussian disputes between the Court of Berlin and the Archbishop of Cologne; this he told me the other day, and said people were little aware of what a religious storm was brewing; but his opinions are not to be trusted very confidently, especially when religion is concerned in them.

May 13th, 1838

The world was astonished by Sir Thomas Acland giving notice of a motion, which comes on to-morrow, for expunging from the Journals the famous Appropriation Resolution which turned out Peel’s Government.[1] It was doubted at first whether this was a spurt of his own or a concerted project, but it turns out to have been the latter. The Government think it a good thing for them, as they count THE APPROPRIATION CLAUSE MAINTAINED. upon a certain majority, and I am quite unable to see the use of such a motion as this, even as a party move. The Duke of Wellington said, at the end of last Session, that he wished to meet the Government half way, and settle the Tithe question, and nothing can be less likely to promote an adjustment than this attack; but I understand now they do not wish to settle it, and that they prefer trusting to the operation of Stanley’s Bill, and say there is no reason for accepting 75 per cent. for the clergy when they can eventually get the whole. But they had better settle the question if they possibly can, for experience might have shown them that if the spirit of resistance and hostility to the Church is again roused into action, the means of vexing and impoverishing the clergy will not be wanting, and the provisions of Stanley’s Bill will only have the effect of making the landlords parties to the contest, who, if they find their own interests at variance with the interests of the Church, will not hesitate for a moment in sacrificing the latter. It is very surprising that Peel should consent to this motion, and the more so because his speech at the dinner yesterday is said to have been extremely moderate in all respects.

May 18th, 1838

At Newmarket all the week past. Since I have been away there was the debate and division on Acland’s motion. The Government talked of 23, and the Opposition of 15 majority, and it turned just between the two. It was a very ill-advised measure, and I have no doubt was forced on Peel against his judgement, and that it was not approved by the Duke; but the fact is, they cannot manage their party. Peel’s speech was anything but good, and smacked of unwillingness; Stanley’s was very poor; John Russell’s was very good in facts, but ill-judged in some respects, and it is neither wise nor dignified, nor in good taste, to keep flinging at the Bishop of Exeter as he does; Morpeth’s was the best, brilliant and effective. Peel said to him, when they were going out to divide, ‘I can appreciate a good speech when made against me as well as when it is for me, and I must tell you that yours was the best speech of the debate.’ This was becoming and judicious, and such courtesies soften the asperities of Parliamentary warfare. The Government had much the best of the argument, and the Tories contrived to afford them a triumph upon the Appropriation Clause, and at the same time enabled them to shake it off (onerous and inconvenient as it was) without further difficulty. There was some ingenuity in doing this. I cannot help thinking Peel likes to see his party defeated in this way. The Government think it has been a very great thing for them, and no doubt it has done them service. Peel’s speech at the banquet was somewhat didactic, and too much in the style of a political sermon; but it was very good, full of excellent sense, couched in excellent language, but it may be doubted if his moderation was palatable to the majority of his hearers.[2]

May 23rd, 1838

Talleyrand is dead. He died after a short illness some day last week. It would require a nice discrimination of character and intimate knowledge of the man to delineate his, a great deal more of both than I possess, therefore I shall not attempt it. During the period of his embassy in England I lived a good deal with him, his house being always open to me, and I dined there en famille whenever I pleased. Nothing could be more hospitable, nothing more urbane and kind than he was; and it was fine to see, after his stormy youth and middle age, after a life spent in the very tempest and whirlwind of political agitation, how tranquilly and honourably his declining years ebbed away. Still retaining his faculties unimpaired, and his memory stored with the recollections of his extraordinary and eventful career, and an inexhaustible mine of anecdotes, his delight was to narrate, which he used to do with an abundance, a vivacity, and a finesse peculiar to himself, and to the highest degree interesting and attractive. No name was once held in greater detestation in England than that of Talleyrand. He was looked upon universally as a sink of moral and political profligacy. Born at the end of Louis XV.’s reign, and bred up in the social pleasures and corruptions of DEATH OF TALLEYRAND. that polite but vicious aristocracy, he was distinguished in his early youth for his successful gallantries, for the influence he obtained over women, and the dexterity with which he converted it to his advancement. A debauched abbé and bishop, one of the champions and then one of the victims of the Revolution, afterwards (having scrambled through the perilous period of Terrorism) discarding his clerical character, he became the Minister of the Consulate and the Empire, and was looked upon all over Europe as a man of consummate ability, but totally destitute of principle in public or in private life. Disgraced by Napoleon, he reappeared after his fall, and was greatly concerned in the restoration of the Bourbons. For a short time only employed, but always treated by them with consideration and respect, the Revolution of July again brought Talleyrand prominently on the stage, and, to the surprise of all men, he accepted the embassy to London. The years he passed here were probably the most peaceful of his life, and they served to create for him a reputation altogether new, and such as to cancel all former recollections. His age was venerable, his society was delightful, and there was an exhibition of conservative wisdom, ‘of moderate and healing counsels,’ in all his thoughts, words, and actions very becoming to his age and station, vastly influential from his sagacity and experience, and which presented him to the eyes of men as a statesman like Burleigh or Clarendon for prudence, temperance, and discretion. Here therefore he acquired golden opinions, and was regarded by all ranks and all parties with respect, and by many with sincere regard. When he was attacked in the House of Lords the Duke of Wellington rose in his defence, and rebuked the acrimony of his own friends. Talleyrand was deeply affected at this behaviour of the Duke. I regret much not having availed myself of the opportunities I might have had to listen to and record the talk of Talleyrand, but the fact is, he was so inarticulate, and I so deaf, that the labour would have been greater than I could go through for the object. The account which my brother has sent me of the circumstances which preceded his death, and of his reconciliation with the Church, are very curious.[3] He had always desired to die at Valençay, in order to avoid the scandal which he apprehended there might be in Paris from the severity of the Archbishop, but it was contrived to get everything quietly and decently settled, and he died in peace with the Church, and with all the absolutions and benedictions that she could have bestowed upon the most faithful of her sons.

May 27th, 1838

Yesterday, at two o’clock, died, after a week’s illness, of a low bilious fever, Lady Harrowby,[4] the oldest and most intimate of my friends, and the woman in the world for whom I had the greatest respect and regard. My intercourse with her had been much diminished for many years past; such changes take place in our social habits without any cause except those which the lapse of time, different pursuits, ties, and habits, bring about. There is a melancholy satisfaction in dwelling upon the noble qualities which death has extinguished, and the excellence of Lady Harrowby demands a brief tribute of affection and admiration from those who, having best known her virtues, have the greatest reason to deplore, and are best able to appreciate, her loss. She had a mind of masculine strength united with a heart of feminine softness; for while she was resolute and determined, and had firmness and courage to bear up against the heaviest afflictions, she had no coldness or insensibility in her temperament, but was endowed with the tenderest and warmest affections. She was not by nature imaginative, but her understanding was excellent and utterly devoid of lumber and affectation. She had the sound practical sense of a vigorous and healthy mind, without a particle of vanity or conceit; she never attempted to plunge out of her depth, or to soar beyond the level of her comprehension and her knowledge. Her conversation therefore was CHARACTER OF LADY HARROWBY. happily described by an old and attached friend and very competent judge, when he said of it that ‘her talk was so crisp.’[5] She had an even flow of animal spirits, was never capricious or uncertain, full of vivacity, with a constant but temperate enjoyment of society; never fastidious or exclusive, tasting and appreciating excellence without despising or slighting mediocrity; attentive, affable, and obliging to all, and equally delighting all, because her agreeableness was inseparable from her character, and was an habitual and unceasing emanation from it, rather than the exertion of a latent power only drawn forth by the attraction of corresponding intellectual energies; perfectly natural both in manner and character, honest, straightforward, sincere, and true, but with a genuine benevolence which made her sensitively shrink from the infliction of pain. Delivered altogether from ‘envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,’ she was ever inclined to extenuate the faults, to pardon the errors, and to put the best construction on the motives of others; no mean jealousy ever entered her mind, no repining at the prosperity, however unmerited, of other people. She drew pleasure from the purest of all sources, from the contemplation of the success, the happiness, and the welfare of her friends and acquaintance. With an exquisite tact, without the slightest appearance of art, frank without severity, open without imprudence, always negligent of self and considerate of others, all her thoughts, impulses, and actions were regulated by the united influence of the highest principles, the clearest judgement, and the kindliest feelings. Thus blessed in her own happy disposition, she was a blessing to all around her. She was the ornament and delight of society, the comfort, support, and joy of her own family. The numerous friends who admired and esteemed her will sincerely deplore her loss; the world, in which she never made an enemy, will render its tribute of justice to her merit in a transient but general expression of regret; but to the grief of her children, the bitterness of which time alone can assuage, time itself can afford but an imperfect consolation, for so entirely was she associated with the interests, the habits, and the pursuits of their existence, that every passing day and hour will bring something to remind them of the loss they have sustained. But although it has not been permitted to them to see her days extended to the ordinary term of human life, and to be engaged in the tender office of ‘rocking the cradle of her declining age,’ for herself it is no unhappy or unenviable lot to have closed a useful, an honourable, and a prosperous career in the unimpaired possession of her faculties, without mental disquietude or bodily pain, and surrounded by all the dearest objects of her interest and her love.

June 1st, 1838

Nothing has happened of any importance during the last week but the defeat of Government upon the Slave question (Sir E. Wilmot’s motion for immediate emancipation), on Tuesday last, and this happened by an accident. Nobody expected an early division, and people were scattered all over the town. Ben Stanley[6] was dining at the Hollands’. In the meantime Lord Stanley persuaded Rice that it was better to have no debate, and that it was neither necessary nor desirable that they should speak. Rice acquiesced, and so they went to a division, but unfortunately before a sufficient number of their people had arrived. It was embarrassing, but Lord John Russell has taken measures to set the matter right before the West Indian mail goes out. The Abolitionists, however, are determined to do as much mischief as they can, and though they know perfectly well that Government (and Parliament, for the Tories are in the same intention) are resolved not to consent to alter the law, and that the Bill for protecting the apprentices is gone out, they are resolved to agitate as violently as they can, and, if possible, to stir up the negroes to insurrection. These men of peace would prefer a violent commotion in the West Indies, attended with every sort of mischief to the slaves as well as LORD BROUGHAM AND MR. HANDLEY. to the planters, rather than abandon their own schemes and notions, in which there is much more of vanity and the love of meddling than of benevolence and charity. The whole conduct of Sir Eardley Wilmot, who is only the organ of a party, proves this; for, though well aware he could take no advantage of his resolution, and that if nothing was done to correct the effect of it, a great deal of excitement would be produced in the colony, he nevertheless tried to shirk the question when asked by John Russell to say distinctly what he meant to do, and showed that his only object was to create a difficulty, whatever might be the consequences, and to exhibit himself to the country as the successful asserter of a principle.

On Friday, at Exeter Hall, while engaged in the same cause, Brougham got a severe rap on the knuckles from Mr. Handley—one of those rebuffs to which, with all his talents, he exposes himself, from his tricks and his violence, and, above all, his want of truth. Brougham made a speech, in which he belaboured the Ministry generally, and many of them by name, with his usual acrimony. Handley, who had a resolution to move, said he regretted to see the chairman prostitute the cause for which they were assembled by making it the vehicle of abuse of the Government, and thus venting his spite, disappointed ambition, and mortified vanity; on which Brougham rose in a great rage, and said he did not know who the gentleman was who, coming at the eleventh hour, attacked him, who had been a labourer in the cause for thirty years; to which the other retorted that he did not know what he meant by his coming at the eleventh hour, that he had been for many years in Parliament, and had voted against the grant of twenty millions, and for immediate emancipation, in opposition to the apprenticeship system, both of which Brougham had been a party to proposing.

I dined yesterday at Lambeth, at the Archbishop’s public dinner, the handsomest entertainment I ever saw. There were nearly a hundred people present, all full-dressed or in uniform. Nothing can be more dignified and splendid than the whole arrangement, and the dinner was well served and very good. The Archbishop is a very meek and quiet man, not dignified, but very civil and attentive. It is excessively well worth seeing.[7]

On Friday night the Bishop of Norwich (Stanley) stood up and fought the Bishop of Exeter, in the House of Lords, with great success, upon the Irish education question.

June 3rd, 1838

On Tuesday last all was harmony in the House of Commons. Peel made a speech, in which he announced his disposition to come to a compromise, and settle all the Irish questions. Lord John answered in a corresponding strain of conciliation, and it was generally understood that everything should be quietly settled, not, however, to the satisfaction of the Tory tail, much growling being heard, both in the newspapers and among the low retainers of the party. (Stanley told somebody, who told me, that he thought this the best speech he ever heard Peel make.) But on Friday night this serene sky was overcast with clouds, and all is thrown into doubt and difficulty again. They are quarrelling about the qualification, and angry words were bandied about.[8] O’Connell and Sheil were abusive, though Peel and Lord John both kept their tempers. It is supposed that the Tory party have been so urgent, that Peel is obliged to take up this ground. When they have gone so far towards a settlement, it is probable that some mode will be hit upon for arranging the difficulty. The mob of Tories would be rejoiced to see everything fall to the ground. ‘Thank God,’ said one the other night, after the renewal of hostilities, ‘there is an end of compromise.’ I am disposed on the whole (but very imperfectly informed) to think that John Russell is right and Peel wrong, and that the former has made all the concessions that ought to be required of him and that he can afford to make.

June 7th, 1838

IRISH CORPORATIONS. Walked with Mulgrave[9] (whom I met at Brooks’s), and asked him to tell me candidly who was in the right about the qualification, John Russell or Peel? He said, ‘talking openly to you, I don’t mind saying both are a little in the wrong; but the fact is, the other party do not know what would be the practical effect of the qualification they require, and when that is made clear to them, in Dublin particularly’ (and he mentioned some numbers and details I don’t exactly recollect), ‘I think they will see the necessity of altering their opinions.’ He then talked of the political effect of settling these questions as clearing away the obstacles which now stand in Peel’s way, and said he thought it would eventually end in some sort of amalgamation of parties. This I was surprised to hear from him, and told him that it appeared to me quite impossible. But it is clear enough that it is the intention of the Government, at all events, to settle the questions, and if the Opposition will not give way, they will. They are quite right, for it is a great thing to get the principle admitted and to have corporations established; and if upon trial it is found that there is an undue preponderance cast into either scale, it will be good ground for proposing an alteration of the law.

June 16th, 1838

At Hillingdon, for Ascot races, from Tuesday to Friday. A great concourse of people on Thursday; the Queen tolerably received; some shouting, not a great deal, and few hats taken off. This mark of respect has quite gone out of use, and neither her station nor her sex procures it; we are not the nearer a revolution for this, but it is ugly. All the world went on to the Royal Stand, and Her Majesty was very gracious and civil, speaking to everybody.

June 21st, 1838

O’Connell has declined the Irish Rolls (Mastership of the Rolls). He says that it has been the object of his ambition all his life, but that at this moment he cannot accept it; that the moderate course which the Government is pursuing (the abandonment of the Appropriation Clauses &c.) and his support of that course have already given great umbrage to the violent party in Ireland, and his acceptance of office would be considered as the result of a bargain by which he had bartered the principles he has always maintained in order to obtain this place; that his influence would be entirely lost; a ferment produced in Ireland which he would be unable to suppress, and the Government would be placed in great difficulty. He therefore thinks himself bound to refuse the Rolls, and to continue to exert his influence to keep matters quiet, and enable the Government to accomplish the settlement of the pending questions, hoping that at some future time an opportunity may occur of raising him to the Bench, of which he may be able to avail himself. Lord Tavistock, who told me this, says no one could behave better than he has done about it, and he gives him credit (as the whole party do) for sincerity and purity of motive. Taking his recent conduct generally in connexion, with this refusal, I am disposed to believe that his motives are good, and that he is really desirous of aiding in the compromise which is about to take place, and promoting the great work of Irish pacification, not probably without some personal views and objects; and if the present Government remains in, his present act of self-denial will be ‘reculer pour mieux sauter,’ and find its reward in the Chief Justiceship whenever Lord Chief Justice Bush retires, of which there is already a question.

The debate in the House of Lords the night before last, on Londonderry’s Spanish motion, elicited from Lord Minto a curious fact (that is, the fact was asserted and not denied) that orders had been sent from hence to our ships of war to prevent by force any aid being given to Don Carlos by the ships of other nations, and that a Sardinian frigate had actually been forcibly prevented. It has made a great sensation here among the diplomatists.

Another thing much talked of is the speech which Lord Anglesey made at the Waterloo dinner when he gave the Duke’s health. He said that

‘it was superfluous to talk of his military achievements, but that he must express his admiration of his conduct in civil matters, especially in the MARSHAL SOULT IN LONDON. House of Lords during the present session, when he had shown how superior he was to all party considerations and purposes, and when he had given his support to a Government in which it was well known he placed no confidence, because he thought that the national honour and interest required that they should be supported.’

Of course, a speech reported at second or third hand is not very correctly given, but this was the gist of it, extremely well done by all accounts, not perhaps palatable to all who heard him, but which gave great pleasure to the Duke himself. Anglesey said that the Duke, when he sat down, squeezed his hand hard and long, and said to him, ‘I cannot tell you what pleasure you have given me.’ The Queen sent the Duke a gracious message, desiring he would bring the whole of his party to her ball, which gratified him very much, and he wrote a very grateful and respectful answer. The French were exceedingly annoyed at the ball being given on that particular night (the 18th), and begged to be excused from attending, not angrily however. It was unfortunate that this day was chosen for the ball, but it was accidental, and not intended as a celebration.

Soult arrived yesterday.[10] Croker meets him with an offensive article in the ‘Quarterly,’ brought out on purpose, and emanating from his spiteful and malignant temper, just the reverse of the Duke, who has made Gurwood keep back the eleventh volume of the Despatches, in which the battle of Toulouse appears, because some of the details are calculated to be annoying to Soult—a piece of delicacy which is very becoming. It is a sad thing to see how the Duke is altered in appearance, and what a stride old age has made upon him. He is much deafer than he was, he is whiter, his head is bent, his shoulders are raised, and there are muscular twitches in his face, not altogether new, but of a more marked character.

June 24th, 1838

Lord Anglesey gave me his speech at the Waterloo dinner to read, and very good it is.[11] I wanted him to let me send it to the ‘Times,’ and he told me I might do as I liked. I resolved to consult Tavistock, who was (on the whole) against publishing, for fear it should be displeasing to the Duke, so I give up the idea. What he said about the Duke was this, after alluding to his military glory &c.:—

‘But there is a subject on which I wish to say a word, and it shall be only a word. I allude to the noble, the generous, the disinterested, the truly patriotic conduct of the noble Duke in his Parliamentary course. At the opening of the session the country was involved in difficulty, and under very considerable embarrassment; the spirit of faction had crossed the Atlantic; the demon of discord was abroad; one of the most favoured and interesting of our colonies was in revolt. The noble Duke saw this, and seemed at once to decide that it would require all the energies of the mother country to crush the Hydra at its birth. Accordingly, when any measure was brought forward tending to support the dignity, to uphold the honour, and to secure the integrity of the empire, the noble Duke invariably came forward and nobly supported those measures. But the noble Duke did not stop there: spurning the miserable practices of party spirit, he upon many occasions offered his sage and solid counsel to a Government which he had not been in the habit PREPARATIONS FOR THE CORONATION. of supporting. Gentlemen, I declare to you that this conduct has made a deep impression on me. It appears to me that this is the true character and conduct of a real patriot; such conduct is, in my estimation, beyond all praise.’

June 27th, 1838

There never was anything seen like the state of this town; it is as if the population had been on a sudden quintupled; the uproar, the confusion, the crowd, the noise, are indescribable. Horsemen, footmen, carriages squeezed, jammed, intermingled, the pavement blocked up with timbers, hammering and knocking, and falling fragments stunning the ears and threatening the head; not a mob here and there, but the town all mob, thronging, bustling, gaping, and gazing at everything, at anything, or at nothing; the park one vast encampment, with banners floating on the tops of the tents, and still the roads are covered, the railroads loaded with arriving multitudes. From one end of the route of the Royal procession to the other, from the top of Piccadilly to Westminster Abbey, there is a vast line of scaffolding; the noise, the movement, the restlessness are incessant and universal; in short, it is very curious, but uncommonly tiresome, and the sooner it is over the better. There has been a grand bother about the Ambassadors forming part of the Royal Procession. They all detest it, think they ought not to have been called upon to assist, and the poor representatives of the smaller Courts do not at all fancy the expense of fine equipages, or the mortification of exhibiting mean ones. This arrangement was matter of negotiation for several days, and (the Lord knows why) the Government pertinaciously insisted on it. Public opinion has declared against it, and now they begin to see that they have done a very foolish thing, odious to the Corps Diplomatique and unpleasing to the people.

The Duke and Soult have met here with great mutual civilities, and it is very generally known that the former did everything he could to stop the appearance of Croker’s article. Gurwood told me that he begged the Duke to write to Croker and request he would keep it back. The Duke said, ‘I will write because you wish it, but I tell you that he won’t do it. When a man’s vanity or his interest is concerned he minds nobody, and he thinks himself a cleverer fellow than anybody.’ The Duke knew his man, for he flatly refused, and intimated that though the Duke might be a better judge of military matters, he (Croker) was the best of literary.

A great squabble is going on about the Wellington memorial,[12] in which I have so far been concerned that Lord Tavistock got me to write the requisition to the Duke of Rutland to call another meeting of the committee, to reconsider the question of the selection of the artist. It is a gross job of Sir Frederic Trench’s, and has been so from the beginning, the Duke being a mere cat’s-paw of that impudent Irish pretender. The Duke of Wellington himself thinks it a great job, and would be very glad to see it defeated; but he said that ‘his lips were sealed, he could take no part, the Duke of Rutland had been so personally kind to him, but that it was the damnedest job from the beginning.’

June 29th, 1838

The Coronation (which, thank God, is over) went off very well. The day was fine, without heat or rain—the innumerable multitude which thronged the streets orderly and satisfied. The appearance of the Abbey was beautiful, particularly the benches of the Peeresses, who were blazing with diamonds. The entry of Soult was striking. He was saluted with a murmur of curiosity and applause as he passed through the nave, and nearly the same, as he advanced along the choir. His appearance is that of a veteran warrior, and he walked alone, with his numerous suite following at a respectful distance, preceded by heralds THE CORONATION. and ushers, who received him with marked attention, more certainly than any of the other Ambassadors. The Queen looked very diminutive, and the effect of the procession itself was spoilt by being too crowded; there was not interval enough between the Queen and the Lords and others going before her. The Bishop of London (Blomfield) preached a very good sermon. The different actors in the ceremonial were very imperfect in their parts, and had neglected to rehearse them. Lord John Thynne, who officiated for the Dean of Westminster, told me that nobody knew what was to be done except the Archbishop and himself (who had rehearsed), Lord Willoughby (who is experienced in these matters), and the Duke of Wellington, and consequently there was a continual difficulty and embarrassment, and the Queen never knew what she was to do next. They made her leave her chair and enter into St. Edward’s Chapel before the prayers were concluded, much to the discomfiture of the Archbishop. She said to John Thynne, ‘Pray tell me what I am to do, for they don’t know;’ and at the end, when the orb was put into her hand, she said to him, ‘What am I to do with it?’ ‘Your Majesty is to carry it, if you please, in your hand.’ ‘Am I?’ she said; ‘it is very heavy.’ The ruby ring was made for her little finger instead of the fourth, on which the rubric prescribes that it should be put. When the Archbishop was to put it on, she extended the former, but he said it must be on the latter. She said it was too small, and she could not get it on. He said it was right to put it there, and, as he insisted, she yielded, but had first to take off her other rings, and then this was forced on, but it hurt her very much, and as soon as the ceremony was over she was obliged to bathe her finger in iced water in order to get it off. The noise and confusion were very great when the medals were thrown about by Lord Surrey, everybody scrambling with all their might and main to get them, and none more vigorously than the Maids of Honour. There was a great demonstration of applause when the Duke of Wellington did homage. Lord Rolle, who is between eighty and ninety, fell down as he was getting up the steps of the throne. Her first impulse was to rise, and when afterwards he came again to do homage she said, ‘May I not get up and meet him?’ and then rose from the throne and advanced down one or two of the steps to prevent his coming up, an act of graciousness and kindness which made a great sensation.[13] It is, in fact, the remarkable union of naïveté, kindness, nature, good nature, with propriety and dignity, which makes her so admirable and so endearing to those about her, as she certainly is. I have been repeatedly told that they are all warmly attached to her, but that all feel the impossibility of for a moment losing sight of the respect which they owe her. She never ceases to be a Queen, but is always the most charming, cheerful, obliging, unaffected Queen in the world. The procession was very handsome, and the Extraordinary Ambassadors produced some gorgeous equipages. This sort of procession is incomparably better than the old ceremonial which so much fuss was made about, for the banquet would only have benefited the privileged few and the rich, and for one person who would have witnessed the procession on the platform five hundred enjoyed a sight of this. In fact, the thing best worth seeing was the town itself, and the countless multitudes through which the procession passed. The Chancellor of the Exchequer told me that he had been informed 200,000ℓ. had been paid for seats alone, and the number of people who have flocked into London has been estimated at five hundred thousand. It is said that a million have had a sight of the show in one way or another. These numbers are possibly exaggerated, but they really were prodigious. From Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey, by the way they took, which must be two or three miles in length, there was a dense mass of people; the seats and benches were all full, every window was occupied, the roofs of the houses were covered with spectators, for the most part well dressed, and, from the great space through which they were distributed, there was no extraordinary pressure, and consequently no room for violence or ill-humour. In the evening I met COLERIDGE AND JOHN STERLING. Prince Esterhazy, and asked him what the foreigners said. He replied that they admired it all very much: ‘Strogonoff and the others don’t like you, but they feel it, and it makes a great impression on them; in fact, nothing can be seen like it in any other country.’ I went into the park, where the fair was going on; a vast multitude, but all of the lower orders; not very amusing. The great merit of this Coronation is, that so much has been done for the people: to amuse and interest them seems to have been the principal object.