January 30th.—Yesterday morning Frederic Lamb, Lord Beauvale and Melbourne, with whom both titles cease, died at Brocket after a short but severe attack of influenza, fever, and gout. He was in his seventy-first year. Lady Palmerston thus becomes a rich heiress. He was not so remarkable a man in character as his brother William, less peculiar and eccentric, more like other people, with much less of literary acquirement, less caustic humour and pungent wit, but he had a vigorous understanding, great quickness, a good deal of general information, he was likewise well versed in business and public affairs, and a very sensible and intelligent converser and correspondent. He took a deep and lively interest in politics to the last moment of his life, was insatiably curious about all that was going on, and was much confided in and consulted by many people of very different parties and opinions. He never was in Parliament, but engaged all his life in a diplomatic career, for which he was very well fitted, having been extremely handsome in his youth, and always very clever, agreeable, and adroit. He consequently ran it with great success, and was in high estimation at Vienna, where his brother-in-law, Palmerston, sent him as Ambassador. He was always much addicted to gallantry, and had endless liaisons with women, most of whom continued to be his friends long after they had ceased to be his mistresses, much to the credit of all parties. After having led a very free and dissolute life, he had the good fortune at sixty years old, and with a broken and enfeebled constitution, to settle (as it is called), by marrying a charming girl of twenty, the daughter of the Prussian Minister at Vienna, Count Maltzahn. This Adine, who was content to unite her May to his December, was to him a perfect angel, devoting her youthful energies to sustain and cheer his valetudinarian existence with a cheerful unselfishness, which he repaid by a grateful and tender affection, having an air at once marital and paternal. She never cared to go anywhere, gave up all commerce with the world and all its amusements and pleasures, contenting herself with such society as it suited him to gather about them, his old friends and some new ones, to whom she did the honours with infinite grace and cordiality, and who all regarded her with great admiration and respect. In such social intercourse, in political gossip, and in her untiring attentions, his last years glided away, not without enjoyment. He and his brother William had always been on very intimate terms, and William highly prized his advice and opinions; but as Frederic was at heart a Tory, and had a horror of Radicalism in every shape, he was not seldom disgusted with the conduct of the Whig Government, and used sorely to perplex and mortify William by his free and severe strictures on him and his colleagues. He nominally belonged to the Liberal party, but in reality he was strongly Conservative, and he always dreaded the progress of democracy, though less disturbed than he would otherwise have been by reflecting that no material alteration could possibly overtake him. His most intimate friends abroad were the Metternichs and Madame de Lieven, and his notions of foreign policy were extremely congenial to theirs. Here, his connexions all lying with people of the Liberal side, he had nothing to do with the Tories, for most of whom he entertained great contempt. Brougham, Ellice, and myself were the men he was most intimate with. He was very fond of his sister, but never much liked Palmerston, and was bitterly opposed to his policy when he was at the Foreign Office, which was a very sore subject between himself and them, and for a long time, and on many occasions, embittered or interrupted their intercourse; but as he was naturally affectionate, had a very good temper, and loved an easy life, such clouds were always soon dispersed, and no permanent estrangement ever took place. He was largely endowed with social merits and virtues, without having or affecting any claim to those of a higher or moral character. I have no doubt he was much more amiable as an old man than he ever had been when he was a young one; and though the death of one so retired from the world can make little or no sensation in it, except as being the last of a remarkable family, he will be sincerely regretted, and his loss will be sensibly felt by the few who enjoyed the intimacy of his declining years.

February 8th.—Yesterday I went to see the unhappy Lady Beauvale, and, apart from the sorrow of witnessing so much bodily and mental suffering, it is really a singular and extraordinary case. Here is a woman thirty-two years old, and therefore in the prime of life, who has lost a husband of seventy-one deprived of the use of his limbs, and whom she had nursed for ten years, the period of their union, with the probable or possible fatal termination of his frequent attacks of gout constantly before her eyes, and she is not merely plunged in great grief at the loss she has sustained, but in a blank and hopeless despair, which in its moral and physical effects seriously menaces her own existence. She is calm, reasonable and docile, talks of him and his illness without any excitement, and is ready to do everything that her friends advise; but she is earnestly desirous to die, considers her sole business on earth as finished, and talks as if the prolongation of her own life could only be an unmitigated evil and intolerable burden, and that no ray of hope was left for her of any possibility of happiness or even peace and ease for the future. She is in fact brokenhearted, and that for a man old enough to be her grandfather and a martyr to disease and infirmity; but to her he was everything; she had consecrated her life to the preservation of his, and she kept his vital flame alive with the unwearied watching of a Vestal priestess. She had made him an object and an idol round which all the feelings and even passion of an affectionate heart had entwined themselves, till at last she had merged her very existence in his, and only lived in, with, and for him. She saw and felt that he enjoyed life, and she made it her object to promote and prolong this enjoyment. 'Why,' she says, 'could I not save him now, as I saved him heretofore?' and not having been able to do so, she regards her own life as utterly useless and unnecessary, and only hopes to be relieved of it that she may (as she believes and expects) be enabled to join him in some other world.[1]

February 9th.—Yesterday Clarendon told me a curious thing about the Emperor Napoleon and his marriage, which came in a roundabout way, but which no doubt is true. Madame de Montijo's most intimate friend is the Marchioness of Santa Cruz, and to her she wrote an account of what had passed about her daughter's marriage and the Emperor's proposal to her. When he offered her marriage, she expressed her sense of the greatness of the position to which he proposed to raise her. He replied, 'It is only fair that I should set before you the whole truth, and let you know that if the position is very high, it is also perhaps very dangerous and insecure.' He then represented to her in detail all the dangers with which he was environed, his unpopularity with the higher classes, the malveillance of the Great Powers, the possibility of his being any day assassinated at her side, his popularity indeed with the masses, but the fleeting character of their favour, but above all the existence of a good deal of disaffection and hostility in the army, the most serious thing of all. If this latter danger, he said, were to become more formidable, he knew very well how to avert it by a war; and though his earnest desire was to maintain peace, if no other means of self-preservation should remain, he should not shrink from that, which would at once rally the whole army to one common feeling. All this he told her with entire frankness, and without concealing the perils of his position, or his sense of them, and it is one of the most creditable traits I have ever heard of him. It was, of course, calculated to engage and attach any woman of high spirit and generosity, and it seems to have had that effect upon her. It is, however, curious in many ways; it reveals a sense of danger that is not apparently suspected, and his consciousness of it; and it shows how, in spite of a sincere wish to maintain peace, he may be driven to make war as a means of self-preservation, and therefore how entirely necessary it is that we should be on our guard, and not relax our defensive preparations. I was sure from the conversations I had with M. de Flahault at Beaudesert, that he feels the Emperor's situation to be one of insecurity and hazard. He said that it remained to be seen whether it was possible that a Government could be maintained permanently in France on the principle of the total suppression of civil and political liberty, which had the support of the masses, but which was abhorred and opposed by all the elevated and educated classes. The limbs of the body politic are with the Emperor, and the head against him.

February 11th.—Parliament met again last night. Lord Derby threw off in the Lords by asking Lord Aberdeen what the Government meant to do, which Aberdeen awkwardly and foolishly enough declined to give any answer to. The scene was rather ridiculous, and not creditable, I think, to Aberdeen. He is unfortunately a very bad speaker at all times, and, what is worse in a Prime Minister, has no readiness whatever. Lord Lansdowne would have made a very pretty and dexterous flourish, and answered the question. Lord John did announce in the House of Commons what the Government mean to do and not to do, but they say he did it ill, and it was very flat, not a brilliant throw-off at all.

February 16th.—Yesterday Cowley arrived from Paris. He called on me, and gave me an account of the state of things there and some curious details about the Emperor's marriage and his abortive matrimonial projects. He confirms the account of Louis Napoleon's position set forth in Madame de Montijo's letter. The effect of his marriage has been very damaging everywhere, and the French people were not at all pleased at his calling himself a 'parvenu,' which mortified their vanity, inasmuch as they did not like to appear as having thrown themselves at the feet of a parvenu. For some time before the marriage was declared, Cowley, from what he saw and the information he received, began to suspect it would take place, and reported it to John Russell. Just about this time Walewski went to Paris, and when Cowley saw him he told him so. Walewski expressed the greatest surprise as well as mortification, and imparted to Cowley that a negotiation had been and still was going on for the Emperor's marriage with the Princess Adelaide of Hohenlohe, the Queen's niece, at that time and still with the Queen in England. This was begun by Lord Malmesbury, and the Emperor had regularly proposed to her through her father. A very civil answer had been sent by the Prince, in which he said that he would not dispose of his daughter's hand without her consent, and that he had referred the proposal to her, and she should decide for herself. The Queen had behaved very well, and had abstained from giving any advice or expressing any opinion on the subject. They were then expecting the young Princess's decision. This being the case, Cowley advised Walewski to exert his influence to stop the demonstrations that were going on between the Emperor and Mlle. di Montijo, which might seriously interfere with this plan. The next day Walewski told Cowley that he had seen the Emperor, who took him by both hands, and said, 'Mon cher, je suis pris,' and then told him he had resolved to marry Mlle. de Montijo. However, on Walewski representing the state of the other affair, he agreed to wait for the Princess Adelaide's answer, but said, if it was unfavourable, he would conclude the other affair, but if the Princess accepted him he would marry her. The day following the answer came: very civil, but declining on the ground of her youth and inexperience, and not feeling equal to such a position. The same day the Emperor proposed to the Empress. Cowley says he is evidently much changed since his marriage, and that he is conscious of his unpopularity and the additional insecurity in which it has involved his position.

February 19th.—Lord Cowley told me something more about the marriage. He saw the Queen on Thursday (17th), who told him all about it. The first step was taken by Morny, who wrote to Malmesbury, and requested him to propose it, stating that the Emperor's principal object in it was to 'resserrer les liens entre les deux pays.' Malmesbury accordingly wrote to the Queen on the subject. She was annoyed, justly considering that the proposal, with the reason given, placed her in a very awkward situation, and that it ought not to have been mentioned to her at all. The result was what has been already stated, but with this difference, that the Queen set her face against the match, although the girl, if left to herself, would have accepted the offer. However, nobody knows this, and they are very anxious these details should not transpire. The two accounts I have given of this transaction seem to me to afford a good illustration of the uncertainty of the best authenticated historical statements. Nothing could appear more to be relied on than the accuracy of Cowley's first account to me, and if I had not seen him again, or if he had not imparted to me his conversation with the Queen, that account would have stood uncorrected, and an inaccurate version of the story would have been preserved, and might hereafter have been made public, and, unless corrected by some other contemporaneous narrative, would probably have been taken as true. The matter in itself is not very important, but such errors unquestionably are liable to occur in matters of greater moment, and actually do occur, fully justifying the apocryphal character which has been ascribed to almost every historical work.[1]

The Queen seems to be intensely curious about the Court of France and all details connected with it, and on the other hand Louis Napoleon has been equally curious about the etiquette observed in the English Court, and desirous of assimilating his to ours, which in great measure he appears to have done.

Last night there was the first field day in the House of Commons, Disraeli having made an elaborate and bitter attack on the Government, but especially on Charles Wood and Graham, under the pretence of asking questions respecting our foreign relations, and more particularly with France.[2] His speech was very long, in most parts very tiresome, but with a good deal of ability, and a liberal infusion of that sarcastic vituperation which is his great forte, and which always amuses the House of Commons more or less. It was, however, a speech of devilish malignity, quite reckless and shamelessly profligate; for the whole scope of it was, if possible, to envenom any bad feeling that may possibly exist between France and England, and, by the most exaggerated representations of the offence given by two of the Ministers to the French Government and nation, to exasperate the latter, and to make it a point of honour with them to resent it, even to the extent of a quarrel with us. Happily its factious violence was so great as to disgust even the people on his own side, and the French Government is too really desirous of peace and harmony to pay any attention to the rant of a disappointed adventurer, whose motives and object are quite transparent.

February 20th.—Disraeli's speech on Friday night was evidently a political blunder, which has injured him in the general opinion, and disgusted his own party. It is asserted that he communicated his intention to his followers, who disapproved of it, but he nevertheless persisted. The speech itself was too long; it was dull and full of useless truisms in the first part, but clever and brilliant in the last; and his personalities were very smart and well aimed; but there was not a particle of truth and sincerity in it; it was a mere vituperation and factious display, calculated to do mischief if it produced any effect at all, and quite unbecoming a man who had just been a Minister of the Crown and leader of the House of Commons, and who ought to have been animated by higher motives and more patriotic views. This was what the more sensible men of the party felt, and Tom Baring, the most sensible and respectable of the Derbyites, and the man of the greatest weight amongst them, told me himself that he was so much disgusted that he was on the point of getting up to disavow him, and it is much to be regretted, as I told him, that such a rebuke was not administered from such a quarter. It does not look as if the connexion between Disraeli and the party could go on long. Their dread and distrust of him and his contempt of them render it difficult if not impossible. Pakington is already talked of as their leader, and some think Disraeli wants to shake them off and trade on his own bottom, trusting to his great abilities to make his way to political power with somebody and on some principles, about neither of which he would be very nice. Tom Baring said to me last night, 'Can't you make room for him in this Coalition Government?' I said, 'Why, will you give him to us?' 'Oh, yes,' he said, 'you shall have him with pleasure.'

Lord John Russell has taken leave of the Foreign Office, and has had an interview with the Queen and Prince, satisfactory to both. She has been all along considerably annoyed at the arrangement made about his taking the Foreign Office only to quit it, and his leading the House of Commons without any office, which she fancies is unconstitutional, and the arrangement was announced in the newspapers without any proper communication to her. The consequence has been some little soreness on both sides, but this has now been all removed by explanations and amicable communication. The Queen attacked him on the constitutional ground, but here elle l'a pris par son fort, and he easily bowled over this objection.[1] Then she expressed her fear lest it should be drawn into a precedent, which might be inconvenient in other cases, to which he replied that he thought there was little fear of anybody wishing to follow the precedent of a man taking upon himself a vast amount of labour without any pay at all. Then she said that a man independent of office might consider himself independent of the Crown also, and postpone its interests to popular requirements; which he answered by saying that he did not think any Minister, as it was, thought very much of the Crown as contradistinguished from the people, and that he was not less likely to take such a part as she apprehended by holding an office of 5,000l. a year, from which a vote of the House of Commons could at any moment expel him. He appears to have satisfied them both, and to be satisfiedhimself, which is still more important.

February 25th.—The Jew question and the Maynooth question have been got over in the House of Commons without much debate, but by small majorities. The most remarkable incident was young Stanley[1] voting with the majority in both questions, and speaking on Maynooth, and well. As he is pretty sure to act a conspicuous part, it is good to see him taking a wise and liberal line. Disraeli voted for the Jews, but did not speak, which was very base of him. Last night I met Tomline at dinner, who is a friend of his, and told me a great deal about him. He has a good opinion of him, that is, that he has a good disposition, but his personal position perverts him in great measure. He says he dislikes and despises Derby, thinks him a good 'Saxon' speaker and nothing more, has a great contempt for his party, particularly for Pakington, whom they seem to think of setting up as leader in his place. The man in the House of Commons whom he most fears as an opponent is Gladstone. He has the highest opinion of his ability, and he respects Graham as a statesman. Tomline told me that his system of attacking the late Sir Robert Peel was settled after this manner. When the great schism took place, three of the seceders went to Disraeli (Miles, Tyrrel, and a third whom I have forgotten), and proposed to him to attack and vilify Peel regularly, but with discretion; not to fatigue and disgust the House, to make a speech against him about once a fortnight or so, and promised if he would that a constant and regular attendance of a certain number of men should be there to cheer and support him, remarking that nobody was ever efficient in the House of Commons without this support certain.[2] He desired twenty minutes to consider of this offer, and finally accepted it. We have seen the result, a curious beginning of an important political career. Now they dread and hate him, for they know in his heart he has no sympathy with them, and that he has no truth or sincerity in his conduct or speeches, and would throw them over if he thought it his interest.

March 1st.—The Government seem upon the whole to be going on prosperously. They have at present no difficulty in the House of Commons, where there is no disposition to oppose their measures, and an appearance of moderation generally, which promises an easy Session. John Russell has spoken well, and seems to have recovered a great share of the popularity he had lost. Aberdeen has done very well in the House of Lords, his answers to various 'questions' having been discreet, temperate, and judicious; in short, up to this time the horizon is tolerably clear. On the other hand the divisions have presented meagre majorities, and the Government have no power in the House of Commons, and live on the goodwill or forbearance of the several fractions of which it is composed. John Russell is in his heart not satisfied with his present position, and not animated with any spirit of zeal or cordiality, though he is sure to act honestly and fairly the part he has undertaken. There is still a good deal of lurking discontent and resentment on the part of those who were left out, and of the Whig party generally, who are only half reconciled to following the banner of a Peelite premier; of the malcontents the principal are Carlisle and Clanricarde, who are both in different ways very sore; Normanby is dissatisfied, Labouchere, Seymour, and George Grey not pleased, but except Clanricarde none have shown any disposition to withhold their support from the Government, or even to carp at them. Aberdeen seems to have no notion of being anything but a real Prime Minister. He means to exercise a large influence in the management of foreign affairs, which he considers to be the peculiar, if not exclusive, province of himself and Clarendon. Palmerston does not interfere with them at all, but he must do so, if any important questions arise for the Cabinet to decide, and then it is very likely some dissension will be the consequence. There are four ex-Secretaries for foreign affairs in this Cabinet, all of whom will naturally take part in any discussion of moment. Argyll began rather unluckily, running his head indiscreetly against Ellenborough on an Indian petition. He is burning with impatience to distinguish himself, and broke out too soon, and out of season; but he was not unconscious of his error, and it will probably be of use to him to have met with a little check at his outset, and teach him to be more discreet. He spoke again last night, and very well, on the Clergy reserves, when there was a brilliant passage of arms in the Lords, in which Lord Derby and the Bishops of Exeter and Oxford distinguished themselves.

News came by telegraph last night that the dispute between Turkey and Austria is settled, which will relieve us from a great difficulty. If it had gone on, we should have had a difficult part to play, and unluckily the good understanding that was reviving between us and Vienna has all been upset by the late attempt on the Emperor's life,[1] which has thrown the Austrians into a ferment, and renewed all their bitter resentment against us for harbouring Kossuth and Mazzini, to whom they attribute both the ?meute at Milan and the assassination at Vienna severally. They are no doubt right about Mazzini and wrong about Kossuth, but fortunately for us the first is not in England and has been abroad for some time, and it will probably be impossible to bring any evidence against Kossuth to connect him with the Hungarian assassin. But these troubles and attempts, the origin of which is attributed to men residing here, and, though neglected by the Government, more or less objects of popular favour and sympathy, render all relations of amity impossible between our Government and theirs, and the disunion is aggravated by our absurd meddling with such cases as the Madiai and Murray at Florence and at Rome, which are no concern of ours, and which our Government does in compliance with Protestant bigotry. What makes our conduct the more absurd is that we do more harm than good to the objects of our interest, for no Government can, with any regard to its own dignity and independence, yield to our dictation and impertinent interference. The Grand Duke of Tuscany said that the Madiai would have been let out of prison long ago but for our interference. John Russell's published letter on this subject, which was very palateable to the public, was as objectionable as possible, and quite as insolent and presumptuous as any Palmerston used to write.

Last night the Marquis Massimo d'Azeglio came here. He was Prime Minister in Piedmont till replaced by Count Cavour, and is come to join his nephew, who is Minister here. He is a tall, thin, dignified looking man, with very pleasing manners. He gave us a shocking account of the conduct of the Austrians at Milan in consequence of the recent outbreak. Their tyranny and cruelty have been more like the deeds in the middle ages than those in our own time; wantonly putting people to death without trial or even the slightest semblance of guilt, plundering and confiscating, and in every respect acting in a manner equally barbarous and impolitic. They have thrown away a good opportunity of improving their own moral status in Italy, and completely played the game of their enemies by increasing the national hatred against them tenfold. If ever France finds it her interest to go to war,[2] Italy will be her mark, for she will now find the whole population in her favour, and would be joined by Sardinia, who would be too happy to revenge her former reverses with French aid; nor would it be possible for this country to support Austria in a war to secure that Italian dominion which she has so monstrously abused.

March 3rd.—Lord Aberdeen has gained great credit by making Mr. Jackson, Rector of St. James's, Bishop of Lincoln. He is a man without political patronage or connexion, and with no recommendation but his extraordinary merit both as a parish priest and a preacher. Such an appointment is creditable, wise, and popular, and will strengthen the Government by conciliating the moderate and sincere friends of the Church.

The Duke of Bedford writes to me about his papers and voluminous correspondence, which he has been thinking of overhauling and arranging, but he shrinks from such a laborious task. He says: 'With respect to my political correspondence, it has been unusually interesting and remarkable. I came so early into public life, have been so mixed up with everything, have known the political chief of my own party so intimately, and of the Tory party also to a limited extent, that there is no great affair of my own time I have not been well acquainted with.' This is very true, and his correspondence, whenever it sees the light, will be more interesting, and contribute more historical information, than that of any other man who has been engaged in public life. The papers of Peel and of the Duke of Wellington may be more important, but I doubt their's being more interesting, because the Duke of Bedford's will be of a more miscellaneous and comprehensive character; and though his abilities are not of a very high order, his judgement is sound, his mind is unprejudiced and candid, and he is a sincere worshipper of truth.

For the last few days John Russell has been kept away from the House of Commons by the death of the Dowager Duchess of Bedford, when Palmerston has been acting as leader, taking that post as naturally and undoubtedly belonging to him, and his right to it being entirely acquiesced in by his colleagues of both camps. They say that he has given great satisfaction to the House, where he is regarded with the same favour and inclination as heretofore, and personally much more acceptable than Lord John. Cobden dined with John Russell the other day, and, what is more remarkable, Bessborough told me he met Roden at dinner the other day at the Castle at Dublin, St. Germans and he on very goodhumoured terms. These are striking examples of the compatibility of the strongest political difference with social amenities. Cobden, however, is not in regular opposition to the Government, but in great measure a supporter.

March 10th.—I met M. de Flahault last night, just returned from Paris. He said that he found there a rancour and violence against us amongst the Austrians, and Russians and Prussians no less, quite inconceivable. He talked to them all and represented to them the absurdity of their suppositions and exigencies, but without the slightest effect; he found the Emperor, however, in a very different frame of mind, understanding perfectly the position of the English Government, and completely determined to maintain his alliance with us, and not to yield to the tempting cajolery of the Continental Powers, who want him to make common cause with them against us. Such is their madness and their passion, and such the necessity, real or fancied, in which they are placed by the revolutionary fire which is still smouldering everywhere, and their own detestable misgovernment (at least that of Austria, which the others abet), that they are ready to cooperate with France in coercing and weakening us, and to sacrifice all the great and traditional policy of Europe, in order to wage war against the stronghold and only asylum of constitutional principles and government.

Flahault said that the Emperor has had an opportunity of placing himself in the first year of his reign in a situation which was the great object of his uncle's life, and which he never could attain. He might have been at the head of a European league against us, for these powers have signified to him their willingness to follow him in such a crusade, the Emperor of Russia and he being on the best terms, and a cordial interchange of letters having taken place between them. But Napoleon has had the wisdom and the magnanimity to resist the bait, to decline these overtures, and to resolve on adherence to England. Flahault said that he had had an audience, at which he frankly and freely told the Emperor his own opinion, not being without apprehension that it would be unpalateable to him, and not coincident with his own views. While he was talking to him, he saw him smile, which he interpreted into a sentiment that he (Flahault) was too English for him in his language and opinions, and he said so. The Emperor said, 'I smiled because you so exactly expressed my own opinions,' and then he told him that he took exactly the same view of what his true policy was that Flahault himself did. Flahault suggested to him that, in spite of the civilities shown him by the Northern Powers, they did not, and never would, consider him as one of themselves, and they only wanted to make him the instrument of their policy or their vengeance; and he reminded him that while England had at once recognised him, they were not only in no hurry to do so, but if England had not recognised him as she did, he would not have been recognised by any one of those Powers to this day, all which he acknowledged to be true.

The prevailing feeling against England which Flahault found at Paris has been proved on innumerable occasions. Clarendon is well aware of it, and does his best, but with very little success, to bring the foreign Ministers and others to reason. Madame de Lieven writes to me in this strain, and even liberal and intelligent foreigners like Alfred Potocki, who has been accused of being a rebel in Austria, writes that we ought to expel the refugees. At Vienna the people are persuaded that there is some indirect and undefinable participation on the part of the British Government in the insurrectionary and homicidal acts of Milan and Vienna, and they have got a story that the assassin Libeny had a letter of Palmerston's in his shoe. Unreasonable as all this is, we ought to make great allowance for their excited feelings, for they have a case against us of a cumulative character. It goes back a long way, and embraces many objects and details, and is principally attributable to Palmerston, partly to his doings, and perhaps more to his sayings. They cannot forget that he has long been the implacable enemy of Austria, that he advised her renunciation of her Italian dominions, and that he and his agents have always sympathised with, and sometimes aided and abetted most of the revolutionary movements that have taken place. Then there was the Haynau affair, and the lukewarmness and indifference which the Government of that day, and Palmerston particularly, exhibited about it; then the reception of Kossuth, the public meetings and his speeches, together with the speeches at them of Cobden and others of which no notice was ever taken, and finally the transaction about Palmerston's receiving Kossuth and his famous answer to the addresses presented to him from Finsbury and Islington. All these things satisfy the foreign Governments that we are not only politically but nationally their enemies, and that we harbour their rebellious subjects out of hatred to them, and that we regard with sympathy and a secret satisfaction the plots which they concoct in safety here and go forth to execute abroad. And when they are told that our laws afford these people an asylum, which no Government has the power to deny them, and that Parliament and public opinion will not consent to arm the Government with the powers of restraint or coercion they do not possess, they only explode the more loudly in denunciations against that free and constitutional system which is not only a perpetual reproach, but, as they think, a source of continual danger to their own. So much for foreign affairs.

At home, while the political sky is still serene enough, there are some rocks ahead, and I think the Government in peril from more than one cause. First and foremost there is the Indian question. There is something ominous in the conjunction between a Coalition Government and an India Bill, and if they don't take care, they will get into a scrape.[1] The Opposition is broken and disorganised, and at present there is no disposition on the part of the extreme Liberals to join in any strong measures against the Government; but this is a question on which all the scattered fractions might be made easily to combine, and there are already symptoms of a possible combination ad hoc in the Indian Committee of the House of Commons. Lowe is very much dissatisfied with Charles Wood, and with the intentions of Government, and even talks of resigning; and the 'Times' is going into furious opposition on the Indian question, and is already attacking the Government for their supposed intentions. This, therefore, is assuming a serious aspect. There is besides the Budget and the difficulty of the Income Tax, and these two questions are enough to put them in great perplexity.

March 19th.—The question of Indian government and the renewal of the Charter is every day increasing in importance and attracting more and more of public attention. It is a matter of great difficulty for the Government to deal with. They are threatened by enemies, and pressed by friends and half friends, who want them to postpone any measure for another year or two years. They, on the contrary, stand pledged, and think they ought to propose something this year. It presents a field on which the various fractions of hostility and semi-hostility to the Government may meet and combine, and perhaps place them in great difficulty. The Committees are going on taking evidence with the knowledge that the Government will probably not wait for their several reports before proceeding to legislation. Granville has got the management of the Government measures in the House of Lords, and is working very hard at Indian affairs. Yesterday I met at dinner at Ellice's two able men just arrived from India for the purpose of giving evidence, a Mr. Halliday and a Mr. Marchmont. They are for maintaining the present system, but with many reforms and alterations; they spoke highly of Lord Dalhousie as a man of business.

March 24th.—As I never see Clarendon now, who is entirely absorbed in the duties of his office, he engaged me to go and dine with him alone yesterday, that we might have a talk about all that is going on, and he told me a great deal of one sort or another. I learnt the state of our relations with France and Russia in reference to the Turkish business, and he gave me to read a very curious and interesting despatch (addressed to John Russell) from Seymour, giving an account of a long conversation he had had with the Emperor Nicholas about Turkey and her prospects and condition, and his own intentions and opinions, which were amicable towards us, and very wise and moderate in themselves, contemplating the dissolution of the Turkish Empire, disclaiming in the strongest terms any design of occupying Constantinople—more than that, declaring that he would not do it—but supposing the event to happen, not thinking the solution of the problem so difficult as it is generally regarded. He threw out that he should have no objection, if a partition was ever to take place, that we should appropriate Egypt and Candia to ourselves. He seems to have talked very frankly, and he said one curious thing, which was that Russia was not without a revolutionary substratum, which was only less apparent and less menacing than in other parts because he possessed greater means of repression, but nevertheless that the seeds were there. It is lucky Dundas is a prudent man, and refused to carry his fleet up to the vicinity of the Dardanelles at Rose's invitation, or mischief might have ensued. As it is, we disapprove of Rose's proceedings and have approved Dundas's, at the same time ordering him not to move without express orders from home, and moreover Clarendon refused to give Stratford Canning any discretionary authority to send for the fleet (though it was afterwards given), which he had asked to be entrusted with. Clarendon is much dissatisfied with the conduct of the French Government, who were in a great hurry to send off their fleet, and they sent orders to sail on the mere report of what Rose had done, and without waiting to learn the result of his application to the Admiral; and they did this, although they knew the despatches were on the road, and that a very few hours would put them in possession of the actual state of the case. Moreover, Cowley moved heaven and earth to induce Drouyn de Lhuys to withdraw the order to sail, but without effect. They persisted in it, after they knew we were not going to stir, and Cowley could not see the Emperor, who he says was evidently avoiding any communication with him. Still very friendly language continues to pass between us, and our Government are inclined to attribute this unwise proceeding to the vanity of the French, their passion for doing something, and above all the inexperience and want of savoir faire in high matters of diplomacy of the Emperor and his ministers. There is not one amongst them who is fit to handle such delicate and important questions, the Emperor, who governs everything by his own will, less than any; and Drouyn de Lhuys, who has been for many years engaged more or less in the Foreign Office, is a very poor and inefficient minister.