The Greville Memoirs, Part 3 (of 3), Volume 1 (of 2) / A Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria from 1852 to 1860

London, July 13th.—I left Paris on Tuesday night at 7.30, got to Calais at three; low water and steamer three miles out at sea; went out in a boat in a torrent of rain which had lasted the whole journey and all day. Train was just gone when we got to Dover, but we arrived in town about eleven. I found a precious state of affairs, all confusion and consternation, Bulwer having given notice of a motion of want of confidence on account of John Russell, whose affair has brought himself and the Government to the very brink and almost to the certainty of ruin. There is as much excitement against Palmerston's Government, all on account of Lord John, as there was a few months ago against Aberdeen. I found Brooks's in a state of insurrection, and even the Attorney-General (Cockburn) told me that the Liberal party were resolved to go no further with John Russell, and that nothing but his resignation could save the Government, even if that could; that they might be reconciled to him hereafter, but as long as the war lasted they repudiated him. Meanwhile he has not resigned. There was a long Cabinet the day before yesterday in which they discussed the state of affairs, and what measures could be taken. Lord John offered to resign, but they would not hear of it, and came to a resolution to stand or fall together. I saw Clarendon yesterday, who was fully aware of the imminence of the danger and of the probability of their being out on Monday; he said Lord John's whole conduct was inconceivable, and he knew not to what to attribute his strange speech, in which he had made for himself a much worse case than the circumstances really warrant and given to the world impressions which are not correct; for in point of fact he did not urge Buol's proposal upon the Cabinet, but when he laid it before them and found it not acceptable, he at once yielded to all the arguments against it, and instead of making any attempt to get peace made on those terms, he joined with all his colleagues in their conviction of the necessity of carrying on the war vigorously; and this conviction induced him to make the warlike speech with which he is now reproached as being inconsistent with the opinions he was entertaining (as it is said) at the time he made it. Yesterday he attempted to make something of an explanation, but he only floundered further into the mire, and was laughed at. Everybody thinks he made his case worse rather than better, but he really seems to have lost his head. His whole conduct at Vienna and here has exhibited nothing but a series of blunders and faults, and he has so contrived it, that no explanations he can possibly make will extenuate them, or place him in a tolerable light in the eyes of the public. In the morning yesterday I had occasion to call on Disraeli about some business, when he talked over the state of affairs very freely and gave me to understand that he intended and expected to turn out the Government and to come in with his party, but he owned that their materials for forming a tolerable Government were very scanty, that he would not attempt their old Government over again, but, except Lytton Bulwer, of whom he spoke in terms of high praise, he knew not where to find any fresh men worth anything.

Bath, July 19th.—I came here on Saturday night. In the course of Friday morning I met Drumlanrig, who told me the subordinate place men had caused John Russell to be informed that if he did not resign they should, and vote for Bulwer's motion on Monday. This produced his resignation, but under circumstances as mortifying as possibly could be, and which must have made him deeply regret that he did not resign at first, although he is not to be blamed for having yielded to the wishes of his colleagues, and I am satisfied he did so from the best motives. It was no sooner known that he had resigned than the excitement began to subside, and everybody thought that Bulwer would withdraw his motion, and at all events nobody doubted that it would come to nothing. The motion was withdrawn but the debate took place, and such a debate!—it was impossible to read it without indignation and disgust. Bulwer's speech was a tissue of foul abuse with the grossest and most wilful misrepresentations and endeavours to draw inferences he knew to be false and fallacious, with the hope and purpose of damaging the characters of the Ministers. In these times, when the great evil is the bad opinion which the public has been led to entertain of public men, Bulwer endeavours, for a mere party purpose, to aggravate that hostile feeling and to make the world believe that, in a great party and a Cabinet composed of men whose characters have never been impugned, there is neither truth, sincerity, nor good faith, and by producing such an impression to bring the aristocracy into greater disrepute. Disraeli, of course, spoke in the same tone, Palmerston was very bad, and his speech was quite unbecoming his position. John Russell's defence was not calculated to relieve him from the weight of obloquy and unpopularity he had brought on himself, and the whole thing was unsatisfactory, except that it denoted the end of the contest and the disappointment of the Opposition, whose hopes had been so highly raised.

After much consideration of John Russell's conduct, I think it is not obnoxious to the severe censure with which it has been visited, and though he has committed errors, they are venial ones and admit of a fair explanation. Had not Buol's publication revealed to the world what had passed between them confidentially, nothing of it would have been known, and he would have been left to the enjoyment of the popularity he had gained by his anti-Russian speech. The statement about him in Buol's Circular naturally led to questions, and then it was necessary to tell everything and lay bare the arcana of Cabinets and Conferences; and when he endeavoured to explain his own conduct it became, amidst all the complexities of the case itself, its endless variety of details and confusion of dates, next to impossible to unravel it satisfactorily, and quite impossible to protect himself from the imputations which an unscrupulous and malignant assailant could easily contrive to bring against him; and in this great difficulty he displayed no tact and ingenuity in extricating himself from the dilemma in which he was placed; on the contrary, he went blundering on, exposing himself to many charges, all plausible and some true, of inconsistency, inaccuracy, and insincerity, and he made in his speeches a case against himself which left very little for his enemies to do. It might be strange in any other man, but is perhaps only consistent in him, that he is now more indignant with the friends who refused to follow and support him on this occasion than either ashamed or angry with himself for having blundered into such a scrape. He writes, meanwhile, to his brother, who has sent me his letter, in these terms:—'I have endeavoured to stand by and support Palmerston, too much so, I fear, for my own credit, but had I resigned on my return from Vienna, I should have been abused as wishing to trip him up and get his place: in short, the situation was one of those where only errors were possible. I have acted according to my own conscience; let that suffice.' False reasoning and wounded pride are both apparent in this letter, but he is quite right when he says that 'only errors had become possible.' There is no course he could have taken that would not have exposed him to bitter attacks and reproaches, and these unavoidable errors were not confined to himself.

The first thing that strikes me is that the Cabinet ought to have accepted his resignation when he first tendered it; but there were no doubt difficulties and objections to that course, and their reluctance to let him throw himself overboard was not unnatural and was generous. The defence which his conduct really admits of may be (to state it very briefly) thus set forth. I put it loosely, and as it strikes me, taking a general view of the case; to make it more accurate and complete, the dates and the documents should be before me, which they are not. He went to Paris with instructions precisely corresponding with what was verbally arranged in London between Drouyn de Lhuys and the Cabinet, and they were conjointly to propose the conditions which the two Governments had agreed to require from Russia; but still they were not the bearers of an Ultimatum, they did not go to give law to Russia, or as judges to pronounce sentence upon her. They went to confer and to negotiate, to endeavour to obtain the precise terms which would be entirely satisfactory to their two Governments, and failing in this to see what they could obtain. If they were instructed to insist on the limitation, just as they proposed it at the Conference, and to accept nothing else, nothing either short of it or varying from it, then the very idea of a Conference and a negotiation was a mockery and a delusion. It was a mockery to invite the Russian plenipotentiary to make proposals, and the conduct of the Allies was disingenuous and deceitful. Certainly Austria never contemplated, still less would she have been a party to, such a course of proceeding; and her notion was, and, of course, that of Russia also, that there should be a bon? fide negotiation, and an attempt to bring about an understanding by the only way in which an understanding ever can be brought about—mutual concessions. We proposed the limitation scheme, and Austria backed us up in it cordially, sincerely, and forcibly, at least to all appearance. Russia rejected it on the ground of its incompatibility with her honour and dignity. Then Russia made proposals, which the Allies, Austria included, rejected as insufficient. John Russell and Drouyn de Lhuys appear to have fought vigorously in the spirit of their instructions, but when they found there was no chance of the Russians consenting to the limitation, they both became anxious to try some other plan, by which peace might possibly be obtained, and they each suggested something. At last, when the Conference was virtually at an end, as a last hope and chance Buol produced his scheme. John Russell had already committed himself to an approval of the principle of it, by the plan he had himself suggested, and, when he found that both his French and Turkish colleagues were willing to accept it, it is not surprising that he should have told Buol privately and confidentially that he acquiesced in it, and would urge it on his Government. As it has turned out, this was a great indiscretion for which he has been severely punished. As he had every reason to believe that Buol's plan would not be acceptable to his own Government, what he ought to have done was to give notice to Clarendon that such a proposal had been made, and to beg it might be considered before any final resolution was taken, and to tell Buol that he had done so; to promise that he would submit to the Cabinet all the arguments that had been used in its favour, but to abstain from any expression of his own opinion, and shelter himself from the necessity of giving any by the tenour of his own instructions. When he found the French Minister for Foreign Affairs consenting, he might very well suppose that the French Government would not reject the proposal, and that he should not be justified in putting a peremptory veto on what France was disposed to accept as sufficient. Besides, although he has never put forward such an argument in any of his speeches, he may have thought, as I do, that 'counterpoise' and 'limitation' were the same thing in principle, and the only difference between them one of mode and degree. Buol's counterpoise involved limitation, our limitation was to establish a counterpoise; therefore, even in the spirit of the instructions and arguments of the French and English Governments, their plan of limitation having failed, Buol's plan of counterpoise was entitled to consideration,[1] and the only question ought to have been whether it would have been effectual for the purpose common to all, and whether it would be an honourable mode of terminating the war.

John Russell's fault was committing himself to Buol as approving his plan before he knew how it would be viewed at home; but I see neither impossibility nor inconsistency in his having regarded it favourably at Vienna, and being biassed by all the arguments in its favour which there beset him on all sides, and when he returned to England and found the opinions of all his colleagues adverse to it, and heard their reasons for being so, that he should have been convinced by them, have subscribed to the general decision, and joined cordially with them in the vigorous prosecution of the war. Having come finally to this conclusion, his warlike speech was not unnatural, and he made it probably very much to prove to his own colleagues that he was in earnest with them. There was no necessity for his proclaiming what had passed at Vienna, as nothing had happened in consequence, and the question was not what impression had been made on his mind there in the course of the negotiations, but what was the opinion and what the resolution at which he finally arrived when all was over. But he has repeatedly in the course of his career contrived to do a vast deal of mischief by a very few words, and so it was in this instance. When he was driven to confess that he had endorsed Buol's proposal, and said that he was still of the same opinion, his opponents were able with every appearance of truth to say that he had intended to conceal what he had done at Vienna, and to deceive the country, both as to his past conduct and his present opinions; and as it was obvious from his own avowal that he still was of the same opinion as at Vienna, his war speech was hypocritical and insincere, and he was unfit to be in a Cabinet pledged to carry on the war earnestly and vigorously. Against such an attack it was very difficult to make a good defence, and I doubt whether the most lucid and circumstantial statement and the most natural explanation of his own motives and sentiments at different periods of the transaction would have received a patient hearing and dispassionate consideration. The House of Commons and the public were in that frame of mind that will not listen, and cannot be fair and just, and he became, and could hardly avoid becoming, the victim of his own want of caution and prudent reserve and the excessive complication of the circumstances and details of the case.

London, July 28th.—I returned from Bath yesterday; went to Newmarket in the evening and returned this morning. There is nothing new at home and abroad; to all outward appearance the siege standing still, but they say it is going on in a safe and judicious manner calculated to bring about success. General Simpson wants to resign, but no man fit to succeed him can be found.[1] I have read the pamphlet 'Whom shall we Hang?' and think it makes a very good case for the late Government, especially Newcastle, but it is so long that few people will read it; and though it may convince and satisfy some one here and there, it will not suffice to stem the torrent which is so swollen by ignorance and malice. At Brooks's this afternoon I met Fitzroy, who said a great deal to me about the condition of the Government, of the state and disposition of the House of Commons, and Palmerston's management there, and his conduct as a leader.

London, August 14th.—Since my last date I have been to Goodwood, and since then here, having had nothing to note beyond what has appeared in all the newspapers. Parliament was prorogued yesterday, after a session of average duration, but marked by a great many incidents of a disagreeable character, and exhibiting a downward tendency as regards the future tranquillity and prosperity of the country. The last few days were marked by an angry contest provoked by Lord Grey in the Lords, not altogether without cause: the Limited Liability Bill came up so late that, according to the Standing Order, it could not be considered. Government moved the suspension of the Order, which was carried, but there was no time to discuss properly the provisions of the bill, and it was hurried through the House by force, probably in an incomplete form. Grey was very angry, and fought it tooth and nail, declaring his opposition to a Government which had, he insisted, behaved so ill. Mr. Monsell was made a Privy Councillor, the oath having been altered to meet his scruples, in spite of all the remonstrances I could offer against such an unworthy compliance as this appears to me.

CHAPTER X.

The Queen's Visit to France—Sir George C. Lewis on the War—Inefficiency of Lord Panmure—The Queen and the Emperor—Lord John Russell's Estrangement from his Friends—The Fall of Sebastopol—The Queen on the Orleans Confiscation—The Prince Regent's Letter on the Holy Alliance—Ferment in Italy—The Failure at the Redan—Lord John's Defence—General Windham—Lord John Russell's Retirement—Death of Sir Robert Adair—Adieu to the Turf—Progress of the War—Colonial Office proposed to Lord Stanley—Lord John Russell's Position—Relations with Mr. Disraeli—Mr. Labouchere Colonial Secretary—Negotiations for Peace—The Terms proposed to Russia—The King of Sardinia and M. de Cavour at Windsor—The Demands of the King of Sardinia—Lord Palmerston presses for War—Lord Macaulay's History of England—An Ultimatum to Russia—Death of the Poet Rogers—French Ministers—The Emperor's Diplomacy—Sir George C. Lewis's Aversion to the War—Quarrels of Walewski and Persigny—Austria presents the Terms to Russia—Baron Seebach mediates—The Emperor's Difficulties and Doubts.

London, August 21st.—The Queen as usual has had magnificent weather for her Paris visit, and all has gone well there except that unluckily she arrived after her time at Boulogne and still more at Paris, consequently the Emperor was kept waiting at Boulogne, and the whole population of Paris, which turned out and waited for hours under a broiling sun, was disappointed, for they arrived when it was growing dark. However, in spite of this, the scene appears to have been very fine and animated. Clarendon, who is not apt to be enthusiastic, writes so to Palmerston, and tells him that Marshal Magnan said he had known Paris for fifty years, and had never seen such a scene as this, nor even when Napoleon returned from Austerlitz.

George Lewis called on me yesterday. I have hardly seen him during the session, and, having advised him to take his present office, I was glad to be able to congratulate him on his success. He was very natural about it, and owned that he had every reason to be satisfied with his reception both by the House of Commons and the City. I found that his sentiments about war and peace were identical with my own. He had been all along against the war, and thought it ought to have been prevented, and might have been in the outset, and that peace ought to have been made the other day; but, as he was in no way responsible for the war, he had nothing to do but to submit to the fait accompli and to do his best to raise the necessary supplies in the most advantageous manner. It is evident that, if there could have been a potential peace party in the Cabinet, he would have been one of them, but as it is he kept his real sentiments to himself and subscribed to the decision of the majority. We talked of the session and its incidents. He said history recorded nothing like the profusion with which the present House of Commons was inclined to spend money. It was impossible to ask for too much; their only fear seemed to be lest the war should not be conducted with sufficient vigour, and to accomplish this they were ready to vote any amount of money. Lewis thinks the rage for war as violent as ever, and the zeal of the country not at all diminished, he sees no symptoms of it. The wealth and resources which the crisis has developed are most curious; thus, he reduced the interest on Exchequer Bills not long ago—an operation he believes never before attempted in time of war. War has had little or no effect on trade, which is steady and flourishing; but he thinks, unless some great successes infuse fresh animation into the public mind, that before long they will begin to tire of the contest, and to reflect that it is being carried on at an enormous cost for no rational object whatever, and merely from motives of pride and vanity and a false notion of honour. Charles Villiers thinks differently, and that there is already a manifest change of opinion, and that opposition to the war has already begun. I wish I could see some symptoms of it, but, though there may be some, I think they are slight. Lewis thinks John Russell has completely done for himself by his last speech. He was recovering from the effects of his first; there was a reaction in his favour; his friends were anxious to be reconciled to him and to renew their support and confidence, when he played into the hands of his enemies and made his own position worse than it was before.

Lewis told me that he was much struck with the mediocrity of Panmure, who was one of the dullest men he ever knew, and that he was by far the least able man in the Cabinet, and as bad as possible as Minister of War—prejudiced, slow, and routinier. It is evident that Newcastle was a much abler man, and if he had happened to have come after Panmure, he would have been as much belauded as he has been abused.

September 5th.—A complete stagnation in every way; no news whatever since the battle of the Tchernaya,[1] and nobody has the least idea, Ministers included, of the state and progress of the war. I asked Granville, who is just come from Paris, if he knew anything, and he said he did not, and that the Emperor, whom he had seen a day or two ago, complained of being equally in the dark. His Majesty, Granville said, was very low about the war, and complained that none of the expeditions and diversions had been undertaken which might have advanced the cause more rapidly. P?lissier seems to be very much d?consid?r? and thought worth very little as a general.

I saw Clarendon one day last week for a short time, but had no opportunity of hearing the details of his sojourn at Paris. He said the Queen was delighted with everything and especially with the Emperor himself, who, with perfect knowledge of women, had taken the surest way to ingratiate himself with her. This it seems he began when he was in England, and followed it up at Paris. After his visit the Queen talked it all over with Clarendon, and said, 'It is very odd; but the Emperor knows everything I have done and where I have been ever since I was twelve years old; he even recollects how I was dressed, and a thousand little details it is extraordinary he should be acquainted with.' She has never before been on such a social footing with anybody, and he has approached her with the familiarity of their equal positions, and with all the experience and knowledge of womankind he has acquired during his long life, passed in the world and in mixing with every sort of society. She seemed to have played her part throughout with great propriety and success. Old J?rome did not choose to make his appearance till just at the last moment, because he insisted on being treated as a king, and having the title of Majest? given him—a pretension Clarendon would not hear of her yielding to.

September 7th.—I had a long visit from the Duke of Bedford this morning, who came to talk to me about his brother John, his position and prospects. He has seen John and heard from him in great detail all his case, and he has likewise seen Clarendon and heard his and the Government's case. He tells me that he has never in his life suffered more pain than at hearing these cases and witnessing the bitter feelings which exist and the charges which are mutually made, especially between Clarendon and Lord John. The latter thinks he has been very ill-used by most of his former colleagues, but especially by Clarendon, whose conduct he thinks both unjust and ungrateful. Clarendon wrote to him while he was at Vienna in such a tone and language that Lord John had determined to resign his embassy and return home, and had actually written a letter to Clarendon for the purpose, but he gave up doing so partly because he felt that it would make a prodigious noise all over Europe and partly because, having consulted his brother-in-law, George Elliot, he prudently advised him against such a step; but he felt deeply, and resented what he thought bad conduct towards himself. I read to the Duke all that I had written about John in the preceding pages, against which he had nothing to say. He asked his brother how he came to speak so ill for himself in the House of Commons, and he replied that he was embarrassed by the impossibility of saying everything that he knew, especially the fact, which I have mentioned, of the way in which the Emperor Napoleon determined to throw over Drouyn de Lhuys and to reject the Vienna proposals. This was told to John by Baudin; and one of the things he complains of is that the Cabinet never was informed of what had passed, and its members were allowed to suppose, like the public, that the Emperor's rejection had been spontaneous, instead of having been suggested and urged upon him by us. John bitterly feels his own position, his estrangement from his old friends, and, above all, the unkindness and ingratitude he thinks they have been guilty of towards him. He is now intent upon his own vindication, and is preparing to compose it with a view of giving it to the world, though he does not know, and it is difficult to determine, in what shape. He seems less dissatisfied with his old enemy Palmerston than with any of the others, and says he thinks Palmerston is the best man there is at present to be Prime Minister. After Clarendon he most reproaches Charles Wood.

September 17th.—Went to The Grove with Clarendon last Saturday sennight; on Monday to Doncaster, where I had no time to write anything but bets in my betting-book, all of which I lost. On the Saturday we heard from General Simpson by telegraph that the assault was to take place that day. We were kept in suspense all Sunday, but on Monday morning read in the 'Times' that the Malakoff was taken, but we had no idea then that the city with all its vast defences would fall immediately after, but I heard it the same night at the Huntingdon station.[1]

I heard a great deal from Clarendon about the royal visit to Paris, and details connected with it, and we talked over the quarrel with John Russell, at which he expressed great regret, though not without bitterness. Clarendon said nothing could exceed the delight of the Queen at her visit to Paris, at her reception, at all she saw; and that she was charmed with the Emperor. They became so intimate, and she on such friendly terms with him, that she talked to him with the utmost frankness, and even discussed with him the most delicate of all subjects, the confiscation of the Orleans' property, telling him her opinion upon it. He did not avoid the subject, and gave her the reasons why he thought himself obliged to take that course; that he knew all this wealth was employed in fomenting intrigues against his Government, which was so new that it was necessary to take all precautions to avert such dangers. She replied that, even if this were so, he might have contented himself with sequestrating the property and restoring it when he was satisfied that all danger on that score was at an end. I asked Clarendon what he thought of the Emperor himself, and he said that he liked him, and he was very pleasing, but he was struck with his being so indolent and so excessively ignorant. The Prince of Wales was put by the Queen under Clarendon's charge, who was desired to tell him what to do in public, when to bow to the people, and whom to speak to. He said that the Princess Royal was charming, with excellent manners, and full of intelligence. Both the children were delighted with their s?jour, and very sorry to come away. When the visit was drawing to a close, the Prince said to the Empress that he and his sister were both very reluctant to leave Paris, and asked her if she could not get leave for them to stay there a little longer. The Empress said she was afraid this would not be possible, as the Queen and the Prince would not be able to do without them; to which the boy replied, 'Not do without us! don't fancy that, for there are six more of us at home, and they don't want us.' The Emperor himself proposed to the Queen to go to the Chapel consecrated to the memory of the Duke of Orleans upon the spot where he met with his fatal accident and expired. It is creditable to her that she talks without g?ne or scruple to the Emperor about the Orleans family, making no secret of her continued intimacy with them, and with equal frankness to them of her relations with him. She wrote to the Queen Marie Am?lie an account of her going to the Chapel and of the Emperor taking her there, and received a very amiable reply. The first thing she did on her return was to receive the Duc and Duchesse de Montpensier.

Clarendon told me a few things besides of no great importance, and which I am not sure that I recollect: about Spain, he said that matters were going on better there and the Government had contrived to get money—the Spaniards were very anxious to take part in the war, but he had discouraged it entirely. As to Naples, that we were calling the Neapolitan Government to account for their recent impertinence to us, but that Palmerston and he had disagreed as to what should be done, Palmerston, according to his old habit, wanting to send ships of war to Naples and to proceed to violence, while he was opposed to having another Pacifico affair on our hands, and proposed to proceed with caution and quietly.

While they were in the yacht, crossing over, Prince Albert had told him that there was not a word of truth in the prevailing report and belief that the young Prince of Prussia and the Princess Royal were fianc?s, that nothing had ever passed between the parents on the subject, and that the union never would take place unless the children should become attached to each other. There would be no mere political marriage. The Prince showed Clarendon all the correspondence which had taken place between the Emperor of Russia and the Prince Regent about the Holy Alliance, which he said was very curious, and George IV.'s letter declining to be a party to it very good indeed. These documents were left in Lord Liverpool's papers, and fell into the hands of Harcourt, who married his daughter. Harcourt lent them to the Prince to read, but exacting a promise that he would not take a copy of them, and he had since repeatedly pressed the Prince to return them. I told Clarendon they ought not to be returned, or at least that Harcourt ought to be desired to give them to be preserved in the Government Archives, for they can in no way be considered as private property. Lord Liverpool's papers were for the most part destroyed, but these were preserved. This is all I can recollect of what he told me.

September 23rd.—At The Grove from Saturday to Monday; nobody there but Reeve; nothing very particular. Clarendon said Prussia was very anxious to interpose to renew negotiations, but they would not hear of her interference, and if anything was done it could only be by Austria. He showed me a paper sent by Hudson with an account, very brief, of the state of Italy, which is in fermentation though not in open disturbance. The Sicilian malcontents sent to the King of Sardinia an offer of their crown for one of his sons. He replied, 'You have need of a man, and a boy will be of no use to you.' This they took for a refusal, and they are now thinking of a Coburg; in no case will they have a Murat. I forget what the Neapolitan Liberals want, but I doubt if the country will have either the courage or the power to emancipate itself.

September 28th.—No fresh news, but a letter from Charles Windham (the hero of the Redan), in which he gives an account of that affair which corresponds very closely with the report of Russell, the 'Times' Commissioner. He gives a poor character of the generals in the Crimea, and says the troops, except some of the old soldiers, behaved by no means well. The whole thing seems to have been grievously mismanaged on our part.[1]

I have had much correspondence with the Duke of Bedford about Lord John and his case, which the Duke says, now that he has heard it all and seen the correspondence, he thinks much better than he had supposed, and that John was meditating the publication of a defence of himself, but could not determine in what shape it should be. I earnestly advised him to dissuade his brother from publishing anything, as he could not make an effectual defence of his conduct without making revelations that would be held unjustifiable and cause all sorts of ill humour and recriminations, and render his position, both personal and political, worse than it now is. Some communications in a friendly spirit have taken place between Lord John and Clarendon, but I can see that there is still existing a great deal of soreness and a not very cordial feeling between them. I have been reading Lord Grey's speech on the war, which he has published in a pamphlet, and I think it excellent and unanswerable. I long to write something on the subject and to add to Grey's argument on other parts of the case. I do not care about the unpopularity of doing so, and am only deterred from taking so much trouble by feeling that it would be unavailing, and that to attempt to make the public listen to reason and take a dispassionate view of the various questions connected with the war on which they have been so completely bamboozled and misled, would be like Mrs. Partington and her mop.

October 2nd.—I have been in correspondence for a long time with Charles Windham, and had a letter from him written a few days after his great exploit at the Redan. I showed his letter to Granville, and he to Palmerston and Clarendon. I was glad to find every disposition to reward his bravery and conduct, and Henry Grenfell told me they had made him a general and were going to give him a division, as Markham and Bentinck are both coming home. This was no more than was reasonable to expect; but great was my astonishment when I was told yesterday morning that they were thinking of making Windham Commander-in-Chief, and I was asked to give any of his letters to me, from which extracts might be made to show to the Cabinet to enable them to judge of his character and talents. I offered to get his journal and letters, from his wife and others, which I did; but at the same time I said I thought it a hazardous speculation to raise him per saltum from being a colonel and brigadier to the command of a great army. B—— said this was true, but the matter pressed and they did not know where to find a man. This morning I gave him some papers, and he then told me Simpson had resigned, and it was necessary to come to some immediate decision. Codrington would have been undoubtedly chosen if he had not apparently (for as yet we know very little) failed in what he had to do on the 8th. With regard to Windham what the Cabinet will do I know not. I suggested that it would be better to try him first in his command of a division and go on if possible for some time longer, but Simpson's resignation compels them to come to some immediate decision, and they do not like to appoint another man pro tempore. I still incline to the opinion that Windham's extraordinary promotion from so low to so high a rank, and his passing over the heads of such multitudes of officers, will occasion great jealousy, envy, heart-burning, and resentment, besides casting a slur on the whole service in the eyes of the world; for when every general in the service is passed over, and a colonel appointed who has never done any but subordinate work, and shown extraordinary bravery and coolness, but no aptitude for command, because he has had no opportunity of so doing, every general and superior colonel now on service will feel himself insulted and a stigma cast upon him. I am not at all sure Windham may do better than any other man would do, but to justify such an appointment he ought to do far better; and, though he is a sharp fellow enough, I have never seen anything in him which indicates real genius or a superior intellect.

October 7th.—At Woburn, where the Duke and I had much conversation about Lord John and his position, and he showed me a great many of John's letters to him about his quarrel with the Government and the conduct of Clarendon to him, which he cannot forgive, though they are again corresponding with ostensible amity. The Duke owns that he does not see how John can take any prominent part in public life, at least for the present, and indeed considers it probable that his career as a statesman is closed; and, what is more, John seems to consider it so himself and to acquiesce in his position, though what his secret aspirations may be none can tell. He has, however, determined to give up his house in town, which looks like retirement. I strongly advised that John should go to the House of Lords, where he might still act a dignified and useful part; his position in the House of Commons would be very anomalous and disagreeable, and it is not at all certain that he would not lose his seat in the event of an election—very doubtful whether he would be returned again for the City; and the thing most to be deprecated is that he should stand and be defeated for that or any other place. The Duke neither agreed nor dissented, but he owned what I said of John's position was true, though he still thought he would be very reluctant to quit the House of Commons for ever, and retire to the Lords.

On Tuesday last, after a few days' illness, Sir Robert Adair died at the age of 93, having preserved his faculties, and especially his remarkable memory, quite to the last. He was the last survivor of the intimate friends of Fox and of the political characters of his times. He had entertained a warm affection for Fox, and he preserved a boundless veneration for his memory; and the greatest pleasure he had was in talking of Fox and his contemporaries, and pouring forth to willing circles of auditors anecdotes and reminiscences of the political events with which he had been mixed up, or of which he had been cognisant in the course of his long life. This he did in a manner quite remarkable at so advanced an age, and he never had any difficulty in finding listeners to his old stories, which were always full of interesting matter, and related to the most conspicuous characters who flourished during the reigns of George III. and George IV.

October 29th.—All last week at Newmarket, and probably very nearly for the last time as an owner of racehorses, for I have now got rid of them all, and am almost off the turf, after being on it more or less for about forty years. I am sorry that I have never kept any memoranda of my turf life, which might have been curious and amusing; for I have known many odd characters, and lived with men of whom it would have been interesting to preserve some record. Perhaps I may one day rake together my old recollections and trace the changes that have taken place in this racing life since I first knew it and entered into it, but I cannot do so now.

Since I last wrote, the war has proceeded without any great events, but with the same progress and success on the side of the Allies which have marked the contest throughout and have excited my wonder. The most important of these successes has been the defeat of Mouravieff at Kars by the Turks under English officers, which, after what Clarendon told me, was the very last thing I expected. The death of Molesworth has made a difficulty for Palmerston; I knew so little of him that I cannot pretend to say anything about him. That of Lord Wharncliffe touches me more nearly; but this is more matter of private regret than of public concern, as the part he played in life was never important, though very honourable. The appointment of Codrington seems to be well taken, more perhaps because nobody can suggest a better choice than from any peculiar merits of the new Commander-in-Chief.[1]

London, November 7th.—The event of the last few days has been the offer of the Colonial Office to Lord Stanley and his refusal to take it. When Palmerston proposed it to him he said that he could not give an answer without consulting his father, which implied that he would accept if his father gave his consent. He posted down to Knowsley, from whence he had just come, and entered the room where Derby was playing at billiards, and much to his astonishment saw his son suddenly return. 'What on earth,' he cried out, 'has brought you back so soon? Are you going to be married, or what has happened to you?' Stanley said he wanted to speak to him, and carried him off. What passed is not known, but of course he advised his son to refuse office. He wrote to Palmerston in very becoming terms, and, I hear, a very good letter. He had, if not consulted, certainly imparted to Disraeli what passed, for Disraeli told me so. I think he judged wisely in declining, for it would have been an awkward thing to pass at once from the Opposition side of the House to the Treasury Bench, and take high office in a Cabinet without having any political or personal connexion with a single member of it, and to which he has hitherto been opposed generally, although upon many subjects his opinions have much more coincided with theirs than with those of the party to which he still nominally belongs. He is young and can afford to wait, and his position and abilities are certain before long to make him conspicuous and to enable him to play a very considerable part. He is exceedingly ambitious, of an independent turn of mind, very industrious, and has acquired a vast amount of information. Not long ago, Disraeli gave me an account of him and of his curious opinions—exceedingly curious in a man in his condition of life and with his prospects. Last night Lord Strangford (George Smythe) talked to me about him, expressed the highest opinion of his capacity and acquirements, and confirmed what Disraeli had told me of his notions and views even more, for he says that he is a real and sincere democrat, and that he would like if he could to prove his sincerity by divesting himself of his aristocratic character and even of the wealth he is heir to. How far this may be true I know not: if it be true, it may possibly be ascribed in some degree to his own consciousness that the realisation of his ideology is impossible, and at all events time will show whether these extreme theories will not be modified by circumstances and reflexions. Nothing appears to me certain but that he will play a considerable part for good or for evil, but I cannot pretend to guess what it will be. At present he seems to be more allied with Bright than with any other public man; and, as his disposition about the war and its continuance is very much that of Bright, it would have been difficult for him to take office with Palmerston, whose whole political existence, or at least his power, rests on the cry for war and its active and energetic prosecution.

London, November 12th.—I saw John Russell on Saturday morning to have a talk with him about the state of affairs and the questions of peace and war. There still exists a great deal of bitterness between him and Clarendon, he thinking that he has been very ill used by Clarendon and others of his former colleagues. He is particularly sore about their allowing so many things to be said to his disadvantage concerning the Vienna negotiations which they know to be untrue, without saying a word to contradict them and cause justice to be done to him, particularly in reference to the matter of Austria having engaged to join if Russia refused her last proposals. George Grey denied that Austria had so engaged, and none of the others ever admitted it, whereas it was perfectly true. Lord John and I do not agree as to the earlier part of the question, because he was originally a party to the war while I was always against it. He was, however, rather against it quite at first, being, as he told me, with Aberdeen, and against Clarendon and Palmerston, who were all along inclined to go to war. He had been at the Mansion House dinner the night before, where he was very ill received, though he would not allow it; he prefers to flatter himself that the signs of his unpopularity were not so strong and marked as everybody else who was present thought them.

I likewise saw Disraeli and had some talk with him. He told me that he had now nothing whatever to do with the 'Press,' and that the series of articles in that paper on the war and in favour of peace were all written by Stanley. He said he had received a letter from Stanley to this effect: 'My dear Disraeli,—I write to you in confidence to tell you that I have been offered and have refused the Colonial Office. As it is due to Lord Palmerston to keep his offer secret, I have told nobody of it but yourself and my father, and I beg you not to mention it to anybody.' On receiving this he said he began to concoct an answer in his mind of rather a sentimental kind, and conveying his approbation of the course he had taken, but before he put pen to paper he got the 'Times' with Stanley's letter to Sir ——, which was tantamount to a disclosure of the whole thing, on which he wrote instead, 'Dear Stanley,—I thank you for your letter, but I had already received your confidential communication through your letter to Sir ——.'

I have occasion to see Disraeli very often about ——'s affairs, about which he has been wonderfully kind and serviceable, and on these occasions he always enters on some political talk, and in this way we have got into a sort of intimacy such as I never thought could have taken place between us.