January 30th.—Yesterday Lord Wharncliffe told me he had a secret to tell me. This was Gladstone's resignation, which has been in agitation nearly a year, ever since Peel gave notice that he would do a great deal more for Irish education and improve Maynooth. Nor does Gladstone really object to these measures; but he thinks that he has so deeply and publicly committed himself by his books to the opposite principle that he cannot without a great appearance of inconsistency be a party to them.89 His resignation, just after Stanley's removal to the House of Lords, is a serious loss to the Government, and they have endeavoured to repair it by means which appear very inadequate. Sidney Herbert and Lord Lincoln come into the Cabinet, and Dalhousie becomes President of the Board of Trade, not in the Cabinet. They proposed to Sandon to be President of the Board; but he declined, I suppose not thinking it worth while to vacate his seat at Lord Harrowby's age. Sidney Herbert is a smart young fellow, but I remember no instance of two men who had distinguished themselves so little in Parliament being made Cabinet Ministers.90 Herbert has done very neatly the little he has done; Lincoln is a sensible man enough, but rather priggish and solemn, with very little elasticity in him, and it appears a great absurdity that the Commissioner of Woods should be in the Cabinet and the President of the Board of Trade not, especially when there are no reasons of personal distinction to account for such an incongruity. But they mean to get Knatchbull out as soon as they can, and then to bring in Dalhousie; meanwhile no Government ever was weaker in point of speakers in the House of Commons, nor was there ever a Cabinet in my recollection so staffed with mediocrity. They have lost Stanley, Gladstone, and Follett, and the whole weight will fall on Peel and Graham. It remains to be seen what Sidney Herbert and Cardwell can do. In the Cabinet there are fifteen men (much too numerous), of whom four able, Peel, Graham, Stanley, and the Chancellor. The Duke must be considered as a man by himself, always great, clarum et venerabile nomen; and then comes a mass of mediocrity and rubbish—some men fair, sensible, and competent for the routine of business, not brilliant, but respectable; and some very ordinary, and admitted Heaven knows why into the Cabinet.91 Buccleuch, Knatchbull, and Lincoln92 are more than useless; Wharncliffe, Aberdeen, Haddington, and Goulburn respectable, the latter a very good man of business; Granville Somerset, hard-headed, narrow-minded, and better adapted to the second rank than the first; Ripon always inefficient when wanted. The reason assigned for putting Lincoln in the Cabinet was that they could not put in Sidney Herbert without putting him in also, which seems a very bad one.

It was this impending resignation of Gladstone, and the reason for it, which made them wish to suppress my book. They foresaw it would make a stir, as no doubt it will, and they dreaded any fresh ingredient being cast into the cauldron. Wharncliffe asked me to let him see it now; but I told him he had better not, as it would be better (in case Peel did not like it) that he should be able to say he had not seen it, and he acquiesced in this. I saw John Russell yesterday, who likes the book, all but the compliment to Peel at the end. But he dislikes Peel, and is hardly fair to him.

Guizot is again tossed up in the air to come down heads or tails. I doubted his being safe, from the conversation Dedel told me he had with the King before he left Paris, when His Majesty told him that he hoped Guizot would be able to maintain himself, and if a crise ministérielle came he would prolong it as much as he could, but that at all events he might tell his friends in England that no change that could occur would make the least difference in the relations of the two countries.

February 4th.—I attended yesterday the Council for the Queen's Speech; the new Cabinet Ministers were there, Sidney Herbert and Lincoln. There is general disapprobation of the arrangements, the Ministers wondering how the information of Gladstone's resignation reached the 'Times' and became known,93 and all suspecting and accusing each other. It appears, however, that Gladstone wrote word of it to his brother-in-law, who read his letter out to sixteen people, and that is enough to explain it.

At the Council Graham and I had some talk about my book. He said he had heard it was very strong, and after some hesitation gave Charles Buller as the person he had heard had said so; he said Peel and the Duke would dislike any allusion to the whole history; let it be done as it might, it must be unpalateable to them.

My brother came from Paris yesterday charged by Madame de Lieven to entreat that nothing might be said in the Queen's Speech or in Parliament to injure Guizot, whose fate depends materially on this. All they fear is that Peel may say something; and all they want is that we should not claim anything like a triumph over them, but that we should acknowledge a perfect equality. I went to Aberdeen and told him. He said Peel would say all he could, but could not do the impossible; he had seen St. Aulaire; that nobody in England was so anxious as himself to keep Guizot in, more so than Peel; but that if they were so anxious about what we said they should be more cautious what they said themselves, and when Guizot said that we had recalled Pritchard at their desire we must deny this to be true. However, he thought that Peel would be able (even if attacked by Palmerston) to explain the matter with safety to Guizot. Both Governments are aware of the intrigues of Thiers and Palmerston, and that they have coalesced to do all the injury they can to both. Thiers, indeed, cannot do much towards helping Palmerston into office again, but Palmerston may do a great deal towards helping Thiers. Madame de Lieven wanted Guizot to resign, and for two days he was himself inclined to do so. She thought if he did that he would come back very soon, and stronger than ever.

February 6th.—On Tuesday night, for the first time for some years, I went to the House of Commons, principally to hear Gladstone's explanation. John Russell called on me in the morning and told me that he and Palmerston had talked over French politics, and were both of one mind, and both disposed to say nothing offensive or hostile to France or to Guizot. Lord John spoke, but not at all well, in a bad spirit, taunting and raking up all subjects of bitterness, accusing the Government of inconsistency, without much reason, and not very wisely or fairly, and casting in their teeth expressions which he had culled out of old files of the 'Times.' His speech disappointed me, but it afforded Peel an opportunity of which he availed himself remarkably well, and his retort gave him all the advantage of the night. What he said of France was perfect, excellent in tone and manner, all that Guizot could require, without being at all servile or even accommodating. Gladstone's explanation was ludicrous. Everybody said that he had only succeeded in showing that his resignation was quite uncalled for.

Peel put an end to any mystery about his measures, and stated in general terms all he intended to do. The Government, however, expect a good deal of opposition and excitement from the religious part of the community, Dissenters and Scotch. Ashley has put himself at the head of the Low Church party, and will make a great clatter. Sandon did not dare accept the Board of Trade and seat in the Cabinet, for fear of disgusting the Liverpool Protestants. Such is the fear that men have of avowing their real sentiments on these delicate questions. Neither Gladstone nor Sandon have really any objection to the Government measures; were they unfettered and uncompromised they would support and defend them. As it is, they do not dare do so, and thus they mislead others. They overlook the undoubted fact that inferences will be drawn by others as to their opinions the reverse of the truth, and that those inferences have a material influence upon the conduct of those who draw them. Peel told Gladstone beforehand that his explanation would be considered quite insufficient to account for his conduct. However, in his speech he lavished praise and regrets upon him in a tone quite affectionate. He was in a very laudatory vein, for he complimented the mover and seconder (Frank Charteris and Tom Baring) with unusual warmth.

Hatchford, February 25th.—Here I am come to recruit my strength after being confined for a fortnight with gout and fever, more than usually severe. While I was laid up, the Parliamentary campaign proceeded very briskly: first, with Peel's financial statement in a very able speech, more than three hours long, which was much admired for its clearness and force. His financial reforms are considered very bold and skilful, but the Tories hail them with anything but satisfaction, though they are too crestfallen to resist, or even to murmur, except an odd agriculturist here and there. Everybody regards this measure as a great wedge thrust in, and as the forerunner of still more extensive changes, and above all that the income tax is to be permanent. After this came Tom Duncombe94 and his attack on the Post Office, three nights' debate, some clever speeches, a very good one from Sidney Herbert, which was a capital thing for the Government, and very promising for his future success. The whole Opposition rallied round an amendment of Howick's, and fought a pitched battle on the question of a fresh Committee to enquire into the supposed opening of Tommy's letters in 1842. My Whig friends behaved as ill as they could, and all out of spite to Graham, and because they could not resist seizing the opportunity of flinging dirt upon the Government.

All this they did, well knowing, and not pretending to deny, that Graham had done nothing but what every other Secretary of State without exception had done, and though the Committee had fully absolved him of any blame in the execution of his office; still they endeavoured to pick holes, and by dint of insinuations and imputations, and torturing any circumstance they could find into something like a charge, to excite prejudice and raise or prolong clamour. The Whig members of the Post Office Committee bore their testimony fairly, and Ward, the Radical member for Sheffield, had the honesty and candour to denounce the scandalous set that was made at Graham, and to speak out in the language of truth and justice. Both John Russell and Howick behaved very shabbily, but Palmerston took no part in the debate. I don't think the question was fully argued on the Government side, and the most simple and obvious answer given and pressed with all the force it might have been.

Yesterday we heard of the death of Sydney Smith, which took place on Sunday. His case had for some time been hopeless, and it was merely a question how long he could be kept alive by the remedies applied to stop the water on his chest. It is the extinction of a great luminary, such as we shall hardly see the like of again, and who has reigned without a rival in wit and humour for a great length of time. It is almost impossible to overrate his wit, humour, and drollery, or their effect in society. Innumerable comical sayings and jokes of his are or have been current, but their repetition gives but an imperfect idea of the flavour and zest of the original. His appearance, voice, and manner added immensely to the effect, and the bursting and uproarious merriment with which he poured forth his good things, never failed to communicate itself to his audience, who were always in fits of laughter. If there was a fault in it, it was that it was too amusing. People so entirely expected to be made to die of laughing, and he was so aware of this, that there never seemed to be any question of conversation when he was of the party, or at least no more than just to afford Sydney pegs to hang his jokes on. This is the misfortune of all great professed wits, and I have very little doubt that Sydney often felt oppressed with the weight of his comical obligations, and came on the stage like a great actor, forced to exert himself, but not always in the vein to play his part. It is well known that he was subject at home to frequent fits of depression, but I believe in his own house in the country he could often be a very agreeable companion, on a lower and less ambitious level, for his talk never could be otherwise than seasoned with his rich vein of humour and wit, as the current, though it did not always flow with the same force, was never dry. He was full of varied information, and a liberal, kind-hearted, charitable man. The favourite objects of his jokes were the men of his own cloth, especially the bishops, among whom he once probably aspired to sit. I do not suppose he had any dogmatic and doctrinal opinions in respect to religion, and that in his heart of hearts he despised and derided all that the world wrangles and squabbles about; but he had the true religion of benevolence and charity, of peace and goodwill to mankind, which, let us hope (as I firmly believe) to be all-sufficient, be the truth of the great mystery what it may.

March 15th.—At last I have settled my difficulties, and my book is coming out. Finding the Government measures could not be introduced before Easter, I wrote to Graham to ask if they wanted it kept back any longer. His answer determined me to seek an interview with him. I saw him, talked the matter over, and found that they would not much object, if I did not put my name to the work. I agreed to this at once, and without the least hesitation. He then said, 'Oh, then I see no reason why you should not publish as soon as you please, and the sooner the better. Don't quote me, or say you have authority from me; but as your friend I tell you, I advise you now to publish it.' He gave me to understand that the Duke of Wellington was one of the persons who would have most resented the publication with my name; but he considered its appearance without my name as a very different matter, which removed all objections. So now it will come out, and I must abide the result, criticisms and resentments. It has bothered and perplexed me much, and I am glad to be delivered of the burthen.

A few days only after Sydney Smith's death, Bobus Smith died also, two remarkable brothers. Bobus was perhaps more agreeable and more cultivated than Sydney, though without his exuberant wit and drollery; still he had great finesse d'esprit, and was very amusing, but in a quieter and less ambitious style. He was a fine scholar and great reader, latterly reading seldom modern books, but living with his old favourites. He was a year older than Sydney.

The day before yesterday Miss Fox died, a most amiable woman, with excellent abilities; but she really died six months ago, when she was attacked by paralysis at Bowood. Thus are dropping off the yellow leaves of that great tree which adorned Holland House, and so long afforded shelter to the crowd of all that was eminent and attractive in political, literary, and social life which gathered under its branches. What an interesting biography would the life of Holland House be for half a century; but hardly anybody is now left alive who could write it; and Macaulay, whose genius is alone capable of illustrating the subject, came too late into the circle to have sufficient personal knowledge of those who shone at the earliest part of the period.

March 29th.—I went on Monday to Althorp, and was very well amused among the pictures and books, though as there are 50,000 volumes of the latter, it was only possible to look at the outside of them, and here and there examine some remarkable book or fine edition. They are kept in admirable condition, and the present Lord, without being a bibliomaniac like his father, keeps the collection up, and buys from time to time anything in the market that may be necessary to complete it. The portraits are numerous, curious, and interesting. While there I received a letter from Graham, in which he told me that he had read the greater part of my book, and could find nothing to which anybody could take any just exception. This was a great relief to my mind, and now I don't care who likes or dislikes it. I continue to receive from my Whig friends many expressions of approbation, very obliging and gratifying; yesterday from Macaulay. I told him I was afraid of his reading it, for fear of his detecting blunders in it; but he said not at all, and that he was in fact more ignorant of Irish history than he ought to be, and had got information from it.

March 30th.—The effect which my book has produced is now beginning to appear, and, as far as it has gone, it amounts to this. With the Whigs of all descriptions its success is complete; I receive compliments and felicitations on all sides; I could not have desired, and certainly I did not expect, such complete success; so far from it, that all the time I was writing it I was doubting if it ever would be worth publishing. With the Tories, as far as I can ascertain, it is far different; they are to the last degree angry and indignant; and as these little details and records of personal opinions become curious and interesting by the lapse of time and the change of circumstances and opinions, I will note down what I hear. Then moderate men, not belonging to any party, and men of sense and capacity have approved, which is, of course, very satisfactory to me; in this category Stephen, his brother-in-law Mr. Dicey, Senior (though he is a Whig), George Lewis, Amyot. Lord Clare, a Conservative and Irishman, has written me a letter, in which he thanks me for the good he thinks the book will do. Alvanley, on the other hand, has written me a criticism full of disapprobation, but not a good or clever letter, nor, critically, worth anything. I should have expected a better written letter, and objections more acutely raised and more ably put from him, but he only affords a proof that men who may be brimful of drollery, and able to keep the table in a roar from morning to night, may be utterly unfit to handle serious subjects when their reasoning faculties bear no proportion to their imaginative. I had expected greater concurrence of opinion in Alvanley, who a little while ago wrote a pamphlet on the same subject and with the same object. When he takes the objection that he does, it is no wonder that the foolish Tory mob fall on me tooth and nail. Accordingly I heard yesterday that Lady Jersey refused to read 'such a blackguard book.' She said so to Bessborough, who told me, and Cecil Forester would not read it, because Lady Jersey told him it was 'abominable.'

April 5th.—Peel brought on his Maynooth Bill on Thursday night.95 Strong symptoms had already appeared of opposition brewing in different parts of the country, and there was a good deal of ill-humour here. He made an excellent and judicious speech, and had a majority of 102, but a queer one, for above 100 of his own people voted against him, and above 100 of the Whigs with him. Without them the division would have been nearly even. The Carlton Club was in a state of insurrection afterwards and full of sound and fury. Sandon made a strong bold speech; with him in the minority were Inglis, and the zealots, of course—Hastie and some of the Scotch, Tom Duncombe, Disraeli—a motley combination. It is a very odd state of things, and may be productive of great events before long. The disgust of the Conservatives and their hatred of Peel keep swelling every day, and what the Ministers expect is, that on some occasion or other they will play Peel a trick, stay away, and leave him to be beaten on some trumpery question. Indeed it is not impossible that they may become reckless, and grow to think that it does not signify to them whether he is in power or the Whigs, and that they have as much to fear from the one as from the other. Some people in office did not vote on this occasion—for instance, Granby and Meynell.96

April 6th.—Everybody is talking of the great stir that is making in the country against the Maynooth grant and the large increase to Peel's unpopularity which it has produced. Some even fancy that he will have difficulty in carrying the measure through, but I incline to think the difficulty indoors and the excitement without are both overrated, and certainly will not be enough to arrest the progress of the measure; but that it disgusts the Tory party and creates fresh sources of dislike and disunion between the great body of the Conservatives and the Government is indubitable, and Peel and his colleagues are so well aware of this, that they think something must, before long, occur to break up the Government. Wharncliffe told me Peel was quite sensible of this danger, and that he himself had for above a year been likewise sensible of it, and he showed me a paper which he drew up last year on the situation and prospects of the Government, which is very sensible and very true. It was to the effect that they could not possibly go on much longer, as they clearly had not the confidence of the mass of those who were called their supporters; that they were placed in a false position, and that their measures appeared to be more suitable to the principles of their opponents than to those of their own party; that in all the great questions—agricultural, fiscal, educational, and Irish—this was evidently the case, and that on all of them the Tories or Conservatives were years behind their leaders. The truth is that the Government is Peel, that Peel is a reformer and more of a Whig than a Tory, and that the mass of his followers are prejudiced, ignorant, obstinate, and selfish. In his speech the other night he certainly said nothing calculated to coax or soothe his angry people, and still less did he utter a word about finality, or give out that this was to be the limit of concession; and everybody is now beginning to see that this beginning of endowment must lead to still larger measures, and eventually to the complete establishment of the Roman Catholic Church; in short (as I hope and believe) to the measures which my book contemplates and recommends.

A meeting has just taken place at Paris between Guizot and Thiers, of a very amicable nature. It was Thiers who sought it. He called on Madame de Lieven (whom he had latterly left off visiting) before the time he knew Guizot always came, and then said, 'I suppose I had better go away now.' She said, 'Oh no, why should you?' So he stayed. Guizot arrived, and the conversation very appropriately began about Thiers's History, which Guizot praised very highly; and then they got upon politics, and had a conversation of two hours. Thiers said his book would occupy him for a year or more, and he did not want to come into office, besides he was ten years younger than Guizot, and could afford to wait. He ridiculed the idea of Molé, who, it seems, is gone into the country, having retired from the field. This is a very curious scene between these two rival chiefs, and, at all events, will probably serve to keep Guizot on his legs for some time longer. Lady Clanricarde told me yesterday that there was no premeditation in this interview, and that Thiers came at an hour when he thought Guizot would not be there. There was surprise and embarrassment at first, then Madame de Lieven laughed, so did the rival statesmen, and they got soon into talk on politics. Guizot told Thiers, in clever phraseology, that he (Thiers) had thrown Molé between his (Guizot's) legs, but that he, Guizot, had done Thiers better service, for he had disembarrassed him of Molé, and now nobody but Thiers himself could succeed him (Guizot).

April 22nd.—I was at Newmarket all last week, while the Maynooth debate was going on. The steam had been getting up in the country, and the table of the House of Commons was loaded with petitions against the Bill from all parts. The 'Times' newspaper kept pegging away at Peel in a series of articles as mischievous as malignity could make them, and by far the most disgraceful that ever appeared on a political subject in any public journal; the ultra-Tories grew more and more rabid, and Disraeli made one of his bitterest attacks on Peel, which was loudly cheered in the House, and well bepraised out of it by Whig and Tory papers and all the haters of Peel, who now compose a large majority of the world. Then came the speech of Macaulay, which was very fine, and ended also with a severe, but grave and dignified philippic against Peel. This too was hailed with much satisfaction by the same persons, but it was reprobated and deplored by moderate men, who thought this was not the time nor the occasion for throwing stones at Peel, nor for reproaching him, even though the reproaches might be justifiable and true. Such was the opinion of Lord Spencer and of the Duke of Bedford, with the former of whom I had much conversation last week at Newmarket. He highly disapproved of Macaulay's speech. On the last night John Russell and Peel spoke. The former made a speech which has excited universal admiration and applause. It was perfect, not for its eloquence or any remarkable display of ability, but for its tone, temper, discretion, and propriety. It was exactly what it ought to have been, neither more nor less; it was calculated to do good, and it has raised him immensely in public estimation. Peel's speech, which was looked for with great curiosity and expectation, disappointed most people, and by the generality was considered low in tone, and imprudent in its admissions. But there was much in it that was judicious. He declined noticing any of the attacks on himself, and with much gravity and seriousness urged the necessity of passing the measure; but he alluded to America as if a quarrel was really to be apprehended, and he spoke of the disposition of Ireland, in reference to such a contingency in a tone which everybody said was a recognition of the truth of what O'Connell had so recently said in his very clever and ingenious speech at Dublin. Peel's speech too was considered as clearly indicative of a consciousness that his party was broken up, and the termination of his tenure of office approaching. The division gave him a better majority than was expected (147). I came to town on Friday, and on Saturday morning I saw Wharncliffe, and asked him what he thought of it. He said it was a large majority, and so far well, but that it made no difference in their position, and he did not think they should be in office a month hence. There is in fact all the excitement and expectation which usually precede events and changes, and certainly the state of affairs never was more curious and extraordinary than at present, nor more calculated to baffle and perplex all speculation and conjecture. Everybody knows that the Tory party has ceased to exist as a party; that Peel's unpopularity is at this moment so great and so general that there is no knowing where to find any interest friendly to him, scarcely any individual. On the other hand, his disgust at the position in which he finds himself, and at being thus made the object of so much obloquy and reproach, is equally strong, and no one doubts that he really contemplates, and anxiously desires resignation. But then what is to come next? The Tories wish Peel out, the Whigs wish themselves in; but when people, whatever their persuasion or desires, look at the condition of affairs, no practicable arrangement, no safe alternative present themselves. If Peel resigns, everybody asks who is to come in, and how is the government to be carried on by the Whigs, if they return to power? To this question nobody can give an answer, and the extreme difficulty makes many think that there will be no change, and that Peel, partly out of regard to the difficulty into which the country would be plunged, and partly from consideration to those persons (of both sides) who have placed themselves in great danger by supporting him, will consent to remain. Then it is not impossible that when this question is settled as it will be, and as no other question of equal importance will probably arise, the malcontent Tories may again be induced to support him, and their ill-humour and resentment may in some degree subside. But the prospect of a change is sufficiently near and probable to induce the persons principally concerned to begin to arrange their thoughts, and mature their plans of action.

I asked Wharncliffe what they contemplated. He said, if Peel resigned, the Queen would probably in the first instance consult Melbourne, but he thought she would send for Lord Spencer. I told him I was sure nothing would induce Lord Spencer to take office; but from a conversation I have since had with the Duke of Bedford, I think this is by no means so certain. He told me that Lord John wrote him word last week, that if any change occurred, and he was applied to, he should want him and Lord Spencer to come up to town to talk matters over with him. And the Duke had accordingly a great deal of conversation with Lord Spencer, who said that nothing but a sense of duty so strong and imperative as to amount to a religious obligation, as well as a political necessity,97 could induce him to take office. This, however, was enough to prove that he might be induced to do so, if the pressure was sufficiently strong. Lord Spencer, however, looks to the possibility of a coalition, which the Duke of Bedford does not, because he knows how difficult, if not impossible, this would be, with Lord John's sentiments towards Peel. The Duke's notion is, that the Whigs could not coalesce with Peel, but could not go on without his support; and that before they attempted to form a Government, they should make up their minds what they would do on the great questions in agitation, lay their intentions before Peel, and ask him if he would support them. This certainly presents the most eligible course, but there is this difficulty in it: first, whether Peel would act with sufficient candour and cordiality with them, and if he should be so disposed, whether he could carry with him sufficient strength to make them safe. I doubt whether the Whig leaders would ever feel complete confidence in him.

April 25th.—Macaulay made another magnificent speech the night before last—a slashing attack on and exposure of the Irish Church—very fine. Graham and Peel spoke, but both poorly. Ward's motion was defeated by a large majority last night, and the Bill will go more smoothly on; but the feeling grows stronger that great changes are at hand, a breaking up of parties with changes of measures. Nobody ventures to predict what will happen, or how it will happen, but all are agreed that whether for good or evil, a good deal will happen out of the ordinary course. The condemnation of Peel's speech last week is general. His colleagues admit the imprudence and unbecomingness of his allusion to Ireland and America. Lyndhurst told Clarendon the paper dropped from his hands when he read it, and he could hardly believe what he read.

May 10th.—These are my holidays—exclusively devoted to the turf, passed in complete idleness, without ever looking into a book, or doing one useful or profitable thing. I was at Newmarket all last week, and I have been at Horton for Chester all this. One day I did give up the races, and Stradbroke and I went over to Birkenhead, meaning to see that place and then cross over to Liverpool, and make a day of sight-seeing, but we found enough at Birkenhead to occupy the whole day. A very obliging person, a Mr. Jackson, one of two brothers, who are great men there, and the principal agents in promoting the greatness and prosperity of this rising town, did us the honours and took us all about. It certainly is a very astonishing creation, and most interesting to see the growing and youthful state of a town, which in a few years will probably be a vast city. The present managers of this thriving concern are projecting establishments and expending vast sums of money on various works, with an undoubting confidence that the town will go on in an increase corresponding to the magnitude of their plans. Not many years ago the ground was an unprofitable marsh. They showed us a small white house, which was the first that was built, and which stood alone for some time. The property belonged to a Mr. Price, and when first the notion of speculating in building there occurred to the late Mr. Laird (I think it was), and a negotiation took place for the purchase of land, 50,000l. was the sum offered Mr. Price for his property. Not long after he was offered 100,000l., and this time a bargain was nearly completed, and the only difference between the parties was whether it should be pounds or guineas. Luckily for Mr. Price it went off upon this, and such was the rapid increase in the value of the land, that he has since sold it for considerably above a million. We went to see the pier and the place where the docks are to be; then to Mr. Laird's ship-building establishment, and saw the iron steam frigate they are building; then to the park, and then to the new market-place. Everything is well done, and no expense spared. The present population is 16,000, but they are building in every direction. I know little or nothing about politics for some time past. The last divisions on Maynooth in the Commons, and on the Welsh Bishoprics in the Lords, have been serviceable to the Government. There is a sort of lull for the present after so much excitement, and no immediate danger of any change.

Ghent, June 16th.—More than a month and not a line. The truth is, that I was so absorbed with the Derby and the speculations I was concerned in so deeply, that I could not think of or look at politics at all, and now I must leave everything a blank, for I can't go backwards and write about the current events of the last month. All London was engaged for some weeks with the Queen's ball, and could think of nothing else, all the elderly folks of both sexes dressing themselves up and learning to dance minuets.98 There was nothing but practising going on at one house after another. At last the eventful night arrived, and everybody said it was a very brilliant and amusing sight. Brougham was not asked, and was furious. He flared up in the House of Lords and twitted Prince Albert à propos of Barry and the Houses of Parliament, so they shortly after asked him to dinner to appease him. The Government seems gradually to have got itself firmly seated in the saddle again; all notion of change has vanished. With all Peel's unpopularity and the abuse that is showered on him from various quarters, there is an admission, tacit or express, that he is the fittest and the only man to be Minister. I met him at Ascot, and he was very civil and cordial; it was the first time since my book came out. His newspaper (the 'Morning Herald') attacked me in very bitter terms; the 'Morning Post' more civilly; the 'Times' was very complimentary, but made a feint attack on me for the sake of making a real one on Peel.

I have had terrible misfortunes on the turf and sad disappointment. 'Alarm'99 was jumped upon at the post by 'Libel;' Nat dragged off the saddle and tumbled off the horse; the horse ran away, fell head over heels over the chains, cut and bruised himself dreadfully. After running away half a mile, the horse was caught, and in this state—cut, battered, frightened, and blown, and jockey with only one hand—he ran, and ran very well. I believe he would have won if this had not happened, and I should have won 20,000l. Misfortunes never come singly, and the Oaks, in a smaller way, was nearly as bad as the Derby. 'Lady Wildair' ought to have won.

At last I escaped from racing and politics, and, on Saturday evening, left London by the mail train, arrived at Dover at half-past twelve, crossed at four, and reached Ostend at a quarter-past nine, came on to Bruges at twelve, passed the day there, and this day up to a quarter to four, when I came by rail to this place; spent yesterday and to-day in seeing Bruges and Ghent, and whatever is best worth visiting in both, and a good deal there is of one sort or another; but I am too sleepy now to go on with the subject.

Wiesbaden, June 22nd.—Bruges and Ghent are both fine old towns, particularly the latter, containing many ancient and curious buildings, and Ghent some very fine modern ones, particularly the new Palais de Justice and the theatre, which, with its saloons, is the most magnificent salle de spectacle I ever saw. But the most remarkable objects are the pictures of Van Eyck and Memling, the merit of which nobody knows who does not go there to look at them. The finest are those by the former master in the hospital of St. John, but there are a great many of both masters at both places. From Ghent I came to Cologne, thence to Coblentz, and then here on Thursday last, this being Sunday. The Rhine, which disappointed me the first time, appeared to the last degree tiresome, and a more languid and uninteresting journey I never made. There is nobody here I know, and I am bored to death. If I were not ashamed, I would throw myself into the steamboat and go home directly. In my whole life I never felt such a painful sensation of solitariness as here, from morning to night having nobody to speak to, and nothing on earth to do. It weighs on my spirits intolerably; the books I read—and I can do nothing else—only half amuse and instruct me; I breathe an atmosphere of languor and sadness. It is only a case of great necessity which can compel one to go through this. I did not know what it was, or I never would have come here, and I am in a hundred minds whether I shall not cut it at once.

London, August 7th.—From the last date at Wiesbaden I never could bring myself to take up my pen to the present moment. The task of writing in this book has become intolerably irksome. At Wiesbaden I had nothing whatever to record; one day told another; no society, no events, and I have an invincible repugnance to converse with myself on paper. Still, though reluctant to go on with this MS. (for journal it is not, and memoirs still less), I am likewise reluctant entirely to abandon a habit of so many years' standing, and thus from time to time I force myself to resume my entries, though languidly, dully, and with a conviction that the pages I write never can be worth reading. This acknowledgement, fully and sincerely made, must be taken once for all as an excuse by any one who may hereafter look into this book; and to the observation they will not fail to make, 'What vapid, useless stuff all this is,' they may consider my voice as replying from the grave, 'I know it is.'

After this exordium I resume where I left off. I was in great disgust at Wiesbaden the first days of my abode there, but I soon fell into the way of life, and made up my mind to it more easily and more completely than I ever expected to do. This was, in fact, rendered more easy by the growing disinclination which is creeping over me for society, and the almost dread and dislike I feel more and more every day for conversation—in fact, I feel utterly incompetent to sustain a part in conversation, and a sense of this inability, and a conviction that it must be as apparent to others as it is to myself, weighs me down, destroys my animal spirits, and turns into reality that which might possibly at first be in great measure the result of a morbid fancy. Be it, however, caused by the one or the other, it is now with me a disease, and one which must and will in the end incapacitate me for social intercourse.100 One great cause is undoubtedly my deafness, which prevents my hearing what passes around me, makes me slow of apprehension, and is productive of both melancholy and embarrassment. However, to return to my history.

I remained at Wiesbaden till the latter end of July, making no acquaintance, and doing nothing but read such books as I got from Frankfort, going nowhere. The only excursion that I made was to the Château de Herrenheim, near Worms, where I found the Duchesse Dalberg, Lady Leveson, the Mariscalchis, and the D'Arcos. A comfortable house in a wretched country. I went to see Worms, a decayed old town, full of historical recollections, and I gazed at the great tree under which, according to tradition, Luther took shelter on his way to the Diet. From Wiesbaden I went to Ems for two nights, which was as full as Wiesbaden was empty. There I saw the old Elector of Hesse gambling on a great scale, and was presented to the Princess of Orange,101 an intelligent woman. At Ems I met Francis and my sister,102 who entered the place like pilgrims rather than like millionary aristocrats. They came over the mountains from Coblentz, she mounted on a sorry jade of a horse, the two girls on donkeys, Francis stoutly walking by their side, and all dressed in rough and inelegant habiliments, suited to work and not to show. From Ems I came on to Malines, when I diverged to Antwerp, and spent half a day there looking at the pictures, and was well repaid. The fine works of Rubens in the Cathedral are in such a bad light that it is difficult to see them satisfactorily, but the pictures in the Museum are very grand; crossed the water in one of the old boats, eight hours, and arrived in town on Tuesday morning, July 22.

The Monday after I went to Goodwood, where we had the usual party, with the addition of the King of the Netherlands, who was in high glee, and full of enjoyment with his old friends, his cordial reception here, and the gaieties with which he has been saluted on all sides. On coming back to town I found Madame de Lieven arrived, and had a talk with her about politics and what not. She gave me the real account of the interview between Thiers and Guizot at her house, which was not exactly as I had heard it. She sent for Thiers, to speak to him about some mention he had made of the Empress Dowager of Russia in his history, which was unfair and inexact. He came, and then she ordered her doors to be closed to everybody while he was there. He asked why she did so, and why Guizot, who was always let in, should be excluded. She said it was on his account. He repeated, 'Why, as he did not object.' After some talk, she said, 'If you really wish it, I will withdraw my order.' He said he saw no reason why she should retain it. She then desired him to ring the bell, and said, 'I am at home to nobody but M. Guizot.' Presently Guizot came, not knowing Thiers was there. He started with amazement; she burst out laughing; Thiers laughed; Guizot laughed too. This hilarity ended, she told Guizot for what object she had sent for Thiers, and then they talked over the book, and the subject of the meeting. This ended, there was a pause, when she said to Thiers, 'I have had a message to carry to you from M. Guizot. He says he has behaved better to you than you have done to him, for you threw M. Molé between his legs, and he has disembarrassed you of M. Molé, and now there are only two political possibilities left, You and Himself.' Guizot said, 'Yes, it is true; I begged the Princess to say so.' They then began to talk politics, and discussed persons and things, external and internal policy, peace and war, all contingencies and probabilities. Thiers asked Guizot, 'Are you determined to remain Minister?' He said, 'Decidedly yes.' Then they discussed everything, and on every point were agreed, except on that of peace and war; Guizot maintaining that peace might be preserved, and Thiers insisting that in the long run it could not, and that difference of opinion was what alone made them the representatives of opposite principles, and influenced their conduct accordingly. She says they talked over everything, very frankly, very civilly, and that it was impossible for anything to be more interesting and more curious than such a conversation between two such men, or more worth writing down, if there had been a possibility of reporting it. She told me Thiers' book was not thought much of in France, that the style was criticised, and it was such a continual panegyric of Napoleon, as to be rather an apology than a history.

Broadlands, August 21st.—I went last Saturday week to the Grove; very pleasant party. Palmerstons, Lady Morley, Lady Holland, Macaulay, Bessborough, Luttrell, Henry Bulwer. Macaulay subdued in talk, but still talking more and better than anybody else. Came here on Monday, Lady Holland, Clanricardes, Luttrell, Melbourne, Beauvales. Melbourne by way of being very well, but there are only gleams left of his former self. He seems to bear on his face a perpetual consciousness of his glory obscured, and looks grave and stern, while he sits for hours in silence. At times he talks in the way he used, but though in the same strain, more feebly; always candid as usual. In talking over the Post Office affairs of this and last year, and the attacks on Graham, he said that he remembered having signed warrants for opening O'Connell's letters, and Freeling bringing him the warrants back, and saying he thought the best thing to do with them was to thrust them into the fire, which was done. He said they never found anything in them; he then said that he had urged Normanby to open the King of Hanover's letters, but that he never could get him to do it; he was afraid. A curious avowal to make. I believe if anybody could pass some time with him, so as to put him quite at his ease, and then tap him on one subject after another, they might get almost anything out of him, and he would supply a fund of matter, historical and anecdotic, which would be of the greatest value and interest.

I received yesterday a very gracious and obliging letter from Guizot about my book. I sent it him when it came out, and he apologised for not acknowledging and reading it before, on account of his illness and his affairs. It is remarkable that every one of the Ministers has preserved the same silence and reserve to me upon the subject. The few of them I have occasionally seen have not said a word. Peel I fell in with one day in the Park, and walked by his horse some time, but he did not allude to it. Graham has avoided seeing me, but I have never heard that any fault has been found, or any complaint made in any quarter.

The Session of Parliament has ended, leaving Peel quite as powerful, or more so, than he was at the beginning of it. Everybody says affairs are in a strange state, but nobody foresees, and few seem to desire any change. The world seems weary of what are called politics, there is not a spark of party spirit visible. The Whigs see no prospect of coming into office, or making a Government that would be able to stand, and people will not make exertions and spend money without a reasonable expectation of some tangible result. On the other hand, everything like enthusiasm for Peel is extinguished; the Tories hate, fear, but do not dare oppose him. If the Whigs cannot see any alternative, the Tories can see still less: and odious as Peel's conduct is to them, and alarming as his principles are, they still think they are better off, and on the whole in less danger with him than with any other Ministry that could be formed. He has completely succeeded in getting the Court on his side, so that between the support he gets from one side on account of his liberality, and that which he continues to receive from the other on account of a combination of motives, habit, fear, hope and patronage, he is in fact, though very unpopular, still very powerful. Everybody expects that he means to go on, and in the end to knock the Corn Laws on the head,103 and endow the Roman Catholic Church; but nobody knows how or when he will do these things. He in the meantime proceeds with extreme caution and reserve, and to some his conduct appears the height of prudence, and the exercise of a sound discretion; while others regard it as pusillanimous and impolitic, and that in holding back so long as he does, he is committing the old error of delaying till the moment passes away when concession can be beneficial and effectual. It is clear that his object is to do everything gradually, if possible to reconcile his own reluctant friends to his changes, and draw them along with him, partly by reason and partly by influence, so that he may still find himself at the end of each successive stage with his party unbroken, and his power unshaken. He probably believes sincerely that great good will ensue from his measures, and that if he can avoid a quarrel and a break-up, the manifestation, clear and indubitable, of the good effects he has produced will reconcile those whom no reasoning can reconcile or propitiate beforehand. He therefore endeavours to combine his two objects, and it is certainly by a profound calculation, be it wise or not, that he is acting and temporising as he does. Nobody perhaps represents so correctly the state of public opinion, which is itself unsettled, and in a state of transition.