THE WHIGS AND THE PEELITES.
Yesterday morning John Russell sent for me, and asked me to go to Graham and speak to him about the 'Godless' Colleges, and the payment of professors, giving me a letter of Clarendon's about it, which I was to show Graham with Clarendon's scheme, and ask if it was in accordance with their Bill, and if he and Peel would approve of it. Graham said he did approve, and would support the scheme, but he advised a different mode of paying the professors (by a vote in the estimates instead of paying them out of the 7,000l.a year given by the Act), which Lord John agreed to adopt. We had much talk about the House of Commons and the state of things. Graham thought the appearance of the House very alarming, said Lord John spoke well in a very difficult position, rather defended him, found fault with some of the details of the estimates, and thought they might have adjusted their taxation differently. Neither he nor Peel said a word on Friday. Peel went away after Lord John's speech. I can see that the Whigs are in a state of continual uneasiness about Peel and Graham and the Peelites. They hear it constantly repeated that Peel will not take office, and has announced that he will be no leader of a party, but they look with great apprehension towards Lincoln, who is certainly ambitious of playing a great part, and preparing to do so; and they suspect Peel is secretly aiding and encouraging him. The 'Morning Chronicle' is believed by the Government people to have been boughtby Lincoln.36It is certain that its tone is quite altered. Old Delane (father of the 'Times' editor) has got the management of it, and a Mr. Cook, who was employed for two years under Lincoln in the Duchy of Cornwall, is editor. When Easthope sold it, he tried to bargain for its continued support of Palmerston, which was flatly refused. Young Delane told me the paper meant to support the Government, but it has begun by an attack on Grey, and has evinced no very friendly feeling to Lord John himself. The state of affairs is to the last degree extraordinary and perplexing.
DIFFICULTIES OF THE GOVERNMENT.
Delane came to me yesterday morning to talk over the ministerialexposéand its effects. He said nothing could be worse, that it wasfatal, that there was no use in attempting to defend them. He found people in the City all against the plan, that it could not pass; and he talked of nothing but defeat and resignation, without being able to suggest any possible alternative. He says, however, that people don't care for this, that they are reckless, that the Government must not look to be carried through,for fear they should resign, and because there is nobody to take their places; that nobody will be frightened by this, but that their measure will be opposed, let what may come of it. Others think differently, and Tom Baring told me last night that he thought, notwithstanding the discontent, they would find support enough for their purpose. It is difficult, however, as yet, in the midst of the uncertainty, excitement, and discontent that prevail, to form any plausible conclusion as to their prospect. There can be no doubt that, as a Government, their position is very unenviable; they are not strong in numbers—that is, they have not an absolute majority of the House of Commons—and they are in a minority in the House of Lords. They enjoy no confidence, and no favour;neither collectively nor individually are they strong in public confidence and attachment. There is no enmity to them, and they have a sort of negative support, as being well-intentioned, honest, tolerably capable, and, from the state of parties, the only possible Government. But they are surrounded with cavilling, discontented people, and fragments of parties, all animated with particular objects and designs of their own, which are not yet ripe—people biding their time, and looking for their overthrow. There are the Protectionists, without any leader, and absolutely unable to find one; the Peelite staff, with a dozen men fit to lead, and most of them willing, but still kept asunder by the old film of political repulsion, the ever-burning hatred of Peel and Peelites on one side, and the honour and feeling which forbids any desertion of, or disrespect to, Peel on the other; and these feelings will still keep the two Conservative sections in this antagonistic state, till events and common interests, Heaven knows how or when, bring them together. There are, however, enormous difficulties, inherent in such a state of things, and aggravated by their continuance, and among them none greater than Stanley's position, and the egregious folly of his conduct. This is, in truth, the great security which the present Government has for keeping in office. If they are defeated, and offer to resign, no other Government will be found possible, and they will be forced to stay in; but I doubt much, even in such a contingency, if they would be able to do so entirely on their own terms, and they would never dare to make public opinion, if unmistakeably expressed, surrender at discretion.
February 23rd.—On Monday night Wood came suddenly down to the House of Commons, and proposed to refer the Army and Navy Estimates to a secret Committee, and then the miscellaneous estimates. This scheme was violently attacked, particularly the secrecy. Disraeli spoke forcibly against it. Peel came to the rescue. The effect was very bad: a confession of weakness and perplexity, and the Government lost credit. Last night Wood again proposed theCommittees, owned he was wrong about their beingsecret, and asked for 'select.' Disraeli attacked him very severely; Peel came forward handsomely, spoke for the Committees, but defended the estimates, and talked very sensibly about them and defences, ridiculing Ellesmere's letter very much. Delane had a long interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer the day before yesterday, who told him he had been driven to his present expedient by the deplorable effect of Lord John's speech, which appears to have inflictedtortureson his colleagues all the time he was delivering it. He not only (Wood said) said all that he ought not to have done, and made great mistakes in his way of dealing with the subject, but he omitted a great part of what he was to have said, two points especially: Ireland, and what had been done there, and the Spanish marriage question,which it had been his intention to throw over! It certainly is remarkable that he showed none of the tact and dexterity which usually pre-eminently distinguish him; he had not been well, and was oppressed with the subject. The effect was very bad, and, as usual, his meaning ridiculously distorted and misrepresented. All the friends of the Government are exceedingly alarmed, and we do certainly appear to be very near a deadlock.
LORD WILLIAM HERVEY.
In reference to the Spanish marriage question, I have had some concern in stopping what would have been a very mischievous publication. William Hervey, who is mad on it, has written an elaboratepolémiquein the shape of a pamphlet, or rather book. He sent this over last summer to Clarendon, who, not having time to read it, asked George Lewis to prepare it for, and correct, the press; but first it was sent to Palmerston. He kept it some months, and about Christmas sent it to Lewis, with his imprimatur; Lewis, by accident, mentioned it to me just as he was correcting the last sheets. I thought it so objectionable that I begged him not to let it be published without John Russell's knowledge and approval. Lord John said he would not let it appear, for such a publication, at the moment when the Duchesse de Montpensier'sgrossesseis announced, would beirritating to the last degree, and nothing could be more indiscreet.37
The Revolution in France—Princess Lieven's Narrative—Lamartine's Position—M. Guizot in London—Proposed Addition to the Income Tax—Sir Robert Peel spoken of—The State of Paris—The King's Narrative to Lady Granville—The State of France—The Convulsion in Europe—State of Ireland—Lord Palmerston invites Guizot to Dinner—M. Delessert on the State of France—The Revolution in Vienna—Fall of Metternich—State of England and Ireland—Lamartine's Reply to the Irish—The Duke's Preparations—Contemplated Measures of Repression—Lord John Russell's Coldness—Defence of the Public Offices—Failure of the Chartist Demonstration—Scene on April 10th—Effect of April 10th abroad—Measures of the Government—Measures of Relief for Ireland—Louis Philippe's Defence of the Spanish Marriages—Lord Palmerston's Conduct in Spain—Lord Clarendon on Ireland—Lord Palmerston's Affront in Spain—The West India Interest—Conversation with Sir James Graham.
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
London, February 28th, 1848.—The French Revolution has driven for the time every other subject out of thought, and so astounding has the event been, so awful and surprising from its inconceivable rapidity and the immensity of the operation, that every mind has been kept in a restless whirl and tumult incompatible with calm reflexion; while from the quick succession of events crowding on each other, all dashed with lies, false reports, exaggerations, and errors, it has been almost impossible to sit down and give a clear, connected, and true account of what has happened; to jot down from hour to hour all that one hears would only have been to say one moment what must have been unsaid the next. By degrees the facts develope themselves and the fictions are cast aside; but the time is not yet arrived for completing this historical process. There are people alive who remember the whole of the first Revolution, and we of middle age are all familiar with the second; but this, the third, transcends them both, and all other events whichhistory records, in the astonishing political phenomena which it displays. The first Revolution was a long and gradual act, extending over years, in which the mind traces an elaborate concatenation of causes and effects. The second was not unexpected; the causes were working openly and ominously; and at last the great stroke so rashly attempted, and by which the contest was provoked, was only the concluding scene of a drama which for a long preceding time had been in a state of representation before the world. In 1789 everybody saw that a revolution was inevitable; in 1830 everybody thought that it was probable; but in 1848, up to the very moment at which the explosion took place, and even for a considerable time after it (that is, considerable in reference to the period which embraced the whole thing from first to last), no human being dreamt of a revolution and of the dethronement of the King. The power of the Government appeared to be immense and unimpaired. The King was still considered one of the wisest and boldest of men, with a thorough knowledge of the country and the people he ruled; and though his prudence and that of his Ministers had been greatly impugned by their mode of dealing with the question of Parliamentary reform, the worst that anybody anticipated was the fall of Guizot's Cabinet, and that reform of some sort it would be found necessary to concede. But no one imagined that the King, defended by an army of 100,000 men and the fortifications of Paris (which it was always said he had cunningly devised to give himself full power over the capital), was exposed to any personal risk and danger. There was a strong reforming and, it might be, a strong republican or revolutionary spirit abroad, but the principal leaders of Opposition were understood to have no designs against the monarchy, and it was believed by those who had good opportunities of knowing that thebourgeoisieof Paris were comparatively indifferent to political questions, averse to revolutionary movements, and the determined advocates of order and tranquillity. For some time before the day appointed for the Reform banquet, much anxiety prevailed for the peace of the capital; butwhen it was announced that the Government did not mean to interfere, and that the question of the legality of the meeting was to be referred to a judicial decision, all apprehension subsided; and when the proclamation of Odilon Barrot and the chiefs of the Banquet appeared, it was regarded as a false and imprudent step, which by putting the Ministers in the right would only seem to strengthen their authority and avert their downfall, which otherwise had been probable. Duchâtel made a very good speech in the Chamber of Deputies, and proved that this last act was so clearly illegal and mischievous that the Ministers were bound to take the course they did; and as the banqueters showed a disposition to obey the Government, nobody doubted that the whole affair would end quietly.
When therefore this great and sudden insurrection took place, sweeping everything before it with the irresistible speed and violence of a hurricane, everybody here stood aghast; but for the first two days no one anticipated the final catastrophe. At Paris, from the King downwards, all seem to have lost their presence of mind and judgement. The state of things proved the fallacy of their former calculations and expectations, and their minds seemed incapable of keeping up with the march of events, of embracing the magnitude of the danger, and of discerning the means by which it could be met. Everything was involved in perplexity and confusion; the roar of insurrectionary Paris affrighted the ears and bewildered the senses of the inmates of the Tuileries. At the moment I am writing we are still ignorant of the minute details of all that passed, of what the King said and did, and how others played their several parts. We know that Guizot resigned, that Molé was appointed—a capital fault, for Molé was another Guizot, and the selection only proved how unconscious the King was of the precipice on the brink of which he was standing. Some precious hours were lost in Molé's abortive attempt. Then came Thiers and Odilon Barrot, Ministers of a few hours, who, seduced by the deceptive applause of the rabble, fancied they could command and restrain the people of Paris, andwho persuaded the King to withdraw the troops, telling him they would answer for the people. This fatal advice cost him the Crown, which, perhaps, he could not have kept on his head. The tide swept on; a host of people, and among them Emile Girardin, rushed to the Tuileries, told the King his life was menaced, and advised him to abdicate; he refused. The people about him, and his own son amongst them (Duc de Montpensier), pressed him, and he signed the act of abdication. Still the crowd pressed on, and the palace was unprotected. He resolved, or was persuaded, to fly; and with the Queen and such of his family as were with him he quitted the palace with such precipitation that they had no time to take anything, and they had scarcely any money amongst them. They proceeded to Dreux, where they separated, and as yet no one knows where the King is, or where those of his family are who are not yet arrived in England.
FALL OF LOUIS PHILIPPE.
The Duchesse d'Orléans, after the terrible scene in the Chamber of Deputies, was taken to some house in or near Paris, where she now lies concealed. All these events passed with the velocity of an express train; hardly an interval was placed between circumstances and conditions of the most opposite description. No monarchy or monarch ever fell with such superhuman rapidity. There is something awful and full of fear and pity in the contemplation of such a tremendous vicissitude: of a great King and a numerous and prosperous family, not many hours before reposing in the security of an apparently impregnable power, suddenly toppled down from this magnificent eminence and laid prostrate in the dust, covered with ignominy and reproach, and pursued by terror and grief. All at once the whole edifice of grandeur and happiness fell to the ground; it dissolved, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, left not a rack behind. The flight was undignified. It would be hard to accuse Louis Philippe of want of courage, of which he has given on various occasions many signal proofs; but he certainly displayed no resolution on this occasion. It is very doubtful whether his person would have been injured;the people have evinced no thirst for blood. It was then, indeed, too late for resistance, for the means had been withdrawn; but it may fairly be asked if it would not have been the more becoming and the wiser course to affront the danger of popular rage, and to have tried what might have been done by firmness, by reason, and by concession at the same time. All this is speculation. It may be that his life and that of his Queen would have been sacrificed; but on a more terrible occasion, when the same palace was invaded by a more formidable mob, a King still more unpopular and a detested Queen were left uninjured; and it is far more probable that the abdication of Louis Philippe would have satisfied and disarmed the wrath and fury of the people. At all events it is certain that he descended from the throne in a manner which, if it is cruel to call it ignominious, was not rendered captivating or affecting by any of those touching or striking circumstances which often environ and decorate the sacrifice of fallen majesty.
There is a strong impression that if they had unsparingly used the military means at their disposal while it was still time, the monarchy would have been saved and the tumult suppressed. The recollection of the 13th Vendémiaire and the Place St. Roch, when the troops of the Convention defeated the Sections of Paris, produces this notion. But when the time was given to theémeuteto grow and expand, and when the National Guards took part in it, all was over; for the troops of the line, who would have repressed the mob, would not fight against the National Guards. Between blunders, bad advice, and delay, the insurrection sprang at once into gigantic proportions, and the world has seen with amazement a King who was considered so astute and courageous, with sons full of spirit and intelligence, sink without striking a blow for their kingdom, perishing without a struggle, and consequently falling dishonoured and unregretted. The end of Charles X. was far more dignified than that of his cousin, and the survivors of that shipwreck may see with a melancholy satisfaction their successful competitor 'whelmed in deeper gulfs' than themselves. LouisPhilippe has been seventeen years on the throne; in many respects a very amiable man, and, though crafty and unscrupulous as a politician, and neither beloved nor respected, he has never done anything to make himself an object of the excessive hatred and bitter feelings which have been exhibited against him and his family. The mob, though, on the whole, moderate and good-humoured, have been violent against his person, and they plundered the Palais Royal, invaded the Tuileries, and burnt Neuilly to show their abhorrence of him. This manifestation is a cruel commentary on his reign and his character as King.
ARRIVAL OF THE FUGITIVES.
London, March 5th.—The fugitives have all arrived here day by day with the exception of the Duchesse d'Orléans and her children, who are supposed to be in Germany. The King and Queen came yesterday from Newhaven, where they landed; Madame de Lieven and Guizot the day before, the one from Paris, the other through Belgium; they were in the same train (leaving Paris at seven o'clock on Thursday night), but neither knew the other was there. The King, as soon as he reached England, wrote a letter to the Queen, in which he gave her to understand that he considered all as over with him, and he said that it was theComte de Neuillywho thanked her for all her past and present kindness to himself and his family. It was a very good letter (Lord Lansdowne tells me), and the Queen was much moved by it. Her personal resentment had long ceased; Aberdeen told me last night that she had told him so not long ago, and that though the political question was another thing, her personal feelings towards the French Royal Family were what they had ever been.
Yesterday I saw Madame de Lieven, and heard her narrative, both personal and historical. With the sufferers, as with the spectators, the predominant feeling is one of intense astonishment amounting to a sort of incredulity; every one repeats (as well they may) that nothing that history has recorded, or fiction invented, ever approached this wonderful reality, wonderful in every way, in its whole and in all its parts, There is nothing in it that is not contraryto every antecedent probability, to all preconceived notions of the characters of the principal actors, and to the way in which almost everybody concerned might have been expected to act. The beginning, the middle, and the end of the contest have been equally wonderful: the conduct of the old Government and the conduct of the new; the events of months or years crammed into a few days or hours; the whole change so vast and complete, made as at the stroke of an enchanter's wand. France, on Monday, February 22nd, a powerful, peaceful, and apparently impregnable Monarchy; on Wednesday, 24th of the same month, the whole of her Royalty scattered over the face of the earth, and France become a Republic no less powerful and peaceful; the authority of the latter form of government as generally acknowledged as that of the former was a week before; and an able, vigorous, and despotic Government established in the name of the people, which was, with universal consent and approbation, and the admiration even of those whom it had displaced, discharging every legislative as well as executive function.
PRINCESS LIEVEN ON THE REVOLUTION.
Madame de Lieven's story runs thus. On Sunday—that is, this day fortnight—she had a reception as usual. No alarm prevailed, but she was a little struck by Delessert telling her that there was a good deal of agitation amongst some of the lower orders of workmen, and those who were known to the Government as Communists; still he did not appear to attach much importance to it. On Monday evening Guizot told her that it was possible there might be some rioting and disturbance in the streets the following day, and he advised her to go out of her house for a few hours in the morning, which she did, ordering her dinner and meaning to return. That same day the commotions began, but still the Ministers were unterrified; and though the affair began to be serious, they never doubted that they should be able to suppress the tumult and restore order. Everything went on, as is well known, up to Wednesday morning, when Guizot saw the King, told him all would go right, and went to the Chamber. While there Duchâtel called him out, and toldhim the King wanted him directly at the Tuileries. He was surprised, asked for what, and proposed they should go together, which they did. When they got there they found the King much disturbed; he said the Commandant of a Legion of the National Guard had been to him and told him they must have reform, and he was afraid the rest of the National Guard would follow the example. 'Well,' said Guizot, 'if they do, we shall have no difficulty in putting down such a demonstration.' 'Oh, but,' said the King, 'that will produce bloodshed, and may lead to lamentable events;' and then, after beating about the bush a good deal, and with many expressions of personal attachment to Guizot, he said, 'Perhaps a change of Ministers might settle everything, and relieve him from his embarrassment.' Guizot at once said that the mere suggestion of such a thing made it 'une affaire résolue,' and if His Majesty thought that by taking any other Ministers he could improve the state of his affairs, he, of course, ought to do so. The King then talked of his regrets, and that he would rather abdicate than part with him. Guizot said abdication was not to be thought of. The King then talked of sending for Molé, and Guizot assured him of his readiness to support Molé, or any other man who would maintain Conservative principles. He then returned to the Chamber, and announced that the Ministers were out. The Conservatives were struck with astonishment and alarm; crowded round Guizot, and asked him if he had resigned. He said 'No; that he had been dismissed.' Molé was sent for, and said he would try and form a Government. The King said he had only one exclusion to insist on: that Bugeaud should not command the troops. Molé said it was the very first appointment he should propose to His Majesty. The King wanted to keep the command in the hands of his sons. Molé went away to try his hand. Meanwhile the agitation of Paris increased. At night, hearing nothing of Molé, the King sent Pasquier to him; he found him alone. 'Well, is your Government formed?' 'No, not yet; but I expect to see Passy to-morrow morning.' He was told this would not do, and while he had been thus wasting time, the movementwas swelling and advancing. So Molé went to the Palace at ten at night, and threw the thing up. Then the King sent for Thiers and Odilon Barrot. Thiers made it a condition that the troops should not act for twelve hours, and said he would meanwhile answer for the people. The King consented, and he and Odilon Barrot went out into the streets on horseback to harangue the mob, announce their Ministry, and send them home satisfied; they were received with menaces and shots, and sent about their business. They went back to the Tuileries and said all was over, and they could do nothing. Early in the morning (Thursday morning) the state of affairs having become more and more formidable, a host of people came to the Tuileries (Emile Girardin amongst them), and all urged the King to abdicate. He asked Thiers what he advised. Thiers had lost his head, and said he was not his Minister, and could give no advice; all the rest (none more urgently than the Duc de Montpensier) pressed the King to abdicate. The King was reluctant, and Piscatory alone entreated him not to do so. 'Il ne faut jamais abdiquer, Sire,' he said to him; 'voilà le moment de monter à cheval et de vous montrer.' The Queen behaved like a heroine. She who was so mild and religious, and who never took any part in public affairs, alone showed firmness and resolution; she thanked Piscatory for his advice to the King, and said, 'Mon ami, il ne faut pas abdiquer; plutôt mourez en Roi.' But the more disgraceful counsel prevailed. He abdicated, and hurried off, as we know. Piscatory was with him to the last, and the Queen, on parting from him, told him to tell Guizot that she owed to him all she had enjoyed of happiness for the last six years. Thus fell the Orleans dynasty,pitoyablement, honteusement, without respect or sympathy. 'Where,' I asked, 'were the sons, and what did they do?' Madame de Lieven only shook her head. She herself had taken refuge at St. Aulaire's, then at Apponyi's, then at an Austrian attaché's; then Pierre d'Aremberg took her under his care, and hid her at Mr. Roberts', the English painter, who brought her to England as Mrs. Roberts, with gold and jewels secreted in her dress. Guizotwas concealed one day at Piscatory's, the other at the Duc de Broglie's.
GREATNESS OF LAMARTINE.
In all this great drama Lamartine stands forth pre-eminently as the principal character; how long it may last God only knows, but such a fortnight of greatness the world has hardly ever seen; for fame and glory with posterity it were well for him to die now. His position is something superhumanat this moment; the eyes of the universe are upon him, and he is not only the theme of general admiration and praise, but on him almost alone the hopes of the world are placed. He is the principal author of this Revolution; they say that his book has been a prime cause of it;38and that which he has had the glory of directing, moderating, restraining. His labour has been stupendous, his eloquence wonderful. When the new Government was surrounded by thousands of armed rabble, bellowing and raging for they knew not what, Lamartine contrived to appease their rage, to soften, control, and eventually master them; so great a trial of eloquence was hardly ever heard of. Then from the beginning he has exhibited undaunted courage and consummate skill, proclaiming order, peace, humanity, respect for persons and property. This improvised Cabinet, strangely composed, has evinced most curious vigour, activity, and wisdom; they have forced everybody to respect them; but Lamartine towers above them all, and is the presiding genius of the new creation. He has acted like a man of honour and of feeling too. He offered the King an escort; he wrote to Madame Guizot and told her her son was safe in England, and caused the report of this to be spread abroad that he might not be sought for; and, moreover, he sent to Guizot to say if he was not in safety where he was he might come to his house. When he first proposed the abolition of the punishment of death he was overruled; but the next day he proposed it again, and declared if his colleagues would not consent he would throw up his office, quit the concern, and they might make him if they pleased the first victim of thelaw they would not abolish. All this is very great in the man who the Duc de Broglie told me was so bad, 'un mauvais livre par un mauvais homme,' and consequently all France is praying for the continuation of the life and power of Lamartine; and the exiles whom he has been principally instrumental in driving from their country are all loud in praise and admiration of his humanity and his capacity.
Aberdeen saw Guizot yesterday; he is in good health and spirits, and wants for nothing. He told Aberdeen that for the last two years he thought there was a considerable alteration in the King's mind; that he wasoccasionallyas vigorous as ever, but on the whole that he was changed for the worse. This makes Guizot's conduct during these two years only the more inexcusable. He thinks (as everybody else does) that this fine fabric which has risen like an exhalation will not last long, and he said, 'You English bet about everything; if I was compelled to bet, I should for choice take the Duchesse d'Orléans and her sons as the most probable eventuality where everything is so uncertain.'
M. GUIZOT'S NARRATIVE.
March 6th.—I called on Guizot yesterday; found several people there, and Delessert, who was telling his story and all that had happened to him. Then Guizot told us his, which, though it is essentially the same as what Madame de Lieven told me, as it is more circumstantial and in some respects different I will not pass over. He began with the morning of Wednesday, when he went to the Tuileries and transacted business with the King as usual; thence to the Chambers. Duchâtel called him out, and they went to the Tuileries together. In the way there Duchâtel told him that the King was very uneasy and alarmed at the reform petitions which had been presented to him by the National Guards, and had been talking of changing the Government and sending for Molé. When they arrived the King addressed Guizot in this sense, said that he had received petitions from this and that officer of the Garde Nationale, and that all the rest would follow their example; that they all asked for Reform, and for the dismissal of the Ministers. Guizot said he was quite ready to face the difficulty, having the support of the Chambers;but that he must have that of the King also. The King then sent for the Queen and the two Dukes of Nemours and Montpensier, and they all joined with the King in urging on Guizot the necessity of a change of Ministers to appease the clamour that had been raised. Guizot said that from the moment the King and the Royal Family signified such an opinion and such a desire to him, it was 'une affaire résolue,' and it was his duty to submit to their pleasure. The King asked him if he thought Molé could form a Government. He said, 'Yes, he might;' and that he should certainly have his best support if he made the attempt. The King appears not to have been quite decided; but while they were still conversing some one arrived from the Chamber and informed Guizot that he must return there directly, as aninterpellationwas going to be made to him. He said to the King that he must return and tell the Chamber what the state of things was, and on what His Majesty thought fit finally to decide. The King said that he might announce that he had sent for Molé to form a Government. Guizot returned to the Chamber and made the announcement, which was received with astonishment and indignation by the Conservative deputies, who crowded round him and enquired if he had resigned, crying out, 'Nous sommes abandonnés.' He replied that he had not resigned, but had been dismissed. From the Chamber he returned to the Tuileries, and told the King what had passed there. The King said he had sent for Molé who had undertaken to try and form a Government. Meanwhile affairs were getting worse in the town, and the concession of the King had of course encouraged the factious. Guizot, who could not return home, went to the Duc de Broglie and went to bed. Not long after, at one in the morning, he was called up by a message desiring him to come to the Tuileries forthwith; he went, when the King told him he had just heard from Molé that he had tried Passy, Dufaure, and Billault, who had all refused, and consequently that he could not form a Government. His Majesty said that he was now disposed to give the command of the troops to MarshalBugeaud, and that of the National Guard to Lamoricière, and let them put down theémeute. Guizot said it was the best thing he could do, and he would sign the decree if he would make it. This was immediately done. Meanwhile the King had sent for Thiers, who came, accepted the office of forming a Government, but desired that Odilon Barrot might be joined with him, to which the King agreed. Thiers and Barrot then insisted that for some hours the military should not be allowed to act, and they undertook to pacify the people and put an end to theémeute. The King having consented to this, they mounted on horseback and went off in different directions to harangue the people and announce their Ministry. They were severally received with hisses, uproar, and in some instances shots, and returned to the palace and announced their failure. By this time there was an affluence of people at the Tuileries; the storm without increased and approached; the military, who were without orders, did nothing, and all was over. I asked Delessert whether the troops were well disposed. He said, 'Perfectly.' Guizot said, 'My entire conviction is, that if Bugeaud had acted the moment he took the command, everything would have been over before nine o'clock.' When the King was pressed to resign, Piscatory said to him, 'Sire, si vous signez votre abdication, vous n'aurez pas régné.' Guizot told me that the Government had long been aware of the secret societies, but never could ascertain who were their chiefs; that their intention had been to delay their republican attempt till the death of the King, but that they had changed this plan on the Tuesday night, and resolved to seize the present occasion. I told him we had always supposed thebourgeoisieof Paris, composing the bulk of the National Guard, to be disposed to order, and that they would have maintained it. He said the great majority of them were so, but that the well-disposed had not come forth, while the factious minority had. Moreover, 'you English cannot conceive what our lowest class is: your own is a mere mob without courage or organisation, and not given to politics; ours on the contrary, the lowest class, is eager about politicsand with a perfect military organisation, and therefore most formidable.' I said Lamartine had done very well. He said yes, and praised him, though not very cordially; and he added that he was a man who had always wanted to be in the first place, and had never been able to accomplish it. He had tried it in the Legitimist party, and had found Berryer; in the Conservatives, and had found him (Guizot); and in the Opposition, where he was met by Thiers. On the present occasion (he might have added) he had found Odilon Barrot, but he managed to give him the go-by. He and Odilon Barrot were at the meeting on Tuesday when the attempt was determined on, and Odilon Barrot wanted to try the intermediate measure of the Regency and the Duchess of Orleans; but Lamartine flung himself at once into the Republic, and thus crushed his colleague and placed himself without a rival at the head of the movement. Guizot said all this could not last; that France had no desire for a Republic; everybody had adhered from fear or prudence. He expected, however, that there would be a great battle in the streets of Paris within a few days between the Republicans and the Communists, in which the former would prevail, because the National Guard would support the former.39
M. GUIZOT'S ESCAPE.
He gave us an account of his own personal adventures, which were very simple. He left the Ministry of the Interior with Madame Duchâtel, Duc de Broglie, and two other people; and he was first taken to a house where he was told he would be safe, and conducted by theportière au cinquième. She entered the room after him and said, 'You are M. Guizot.' He said, 'I am.' 'Fear nothing,' she said; 'you are safe here. You have always defended honest people, and I will take care nobody comes near you.' In the evening he went to the Duc de Broglie's; he was one day at Piscatory's; and on Wednesday night he left Paris as somebody's servant. He said he was never in danger, as the Government would have been sorry to apprehend him.
March 7th.—The French Revolution has been so absorbingas well as exciting that I have never found time to write about domestic affairs, so what I have now to say must be put in narrative form instead of that of journal. I have been in continual communication with Graham for some time past, especially during Charles Wood's income tax agony. Graham, who is by way of being very friendly to the Government (but is evidently not sorry to see their mismanagement and unpopularity), said so much of the difficulty they would have in carrying the two per cent. that I went to Charles Wood and told him what I had heard. I found him very uneasy, and he owned to me that he had received similar opinions from many other quarters. The same night (a Saturday) I met him at Lady Palmerston's, when he asked me to find out from Graham what substitute he would propose. I saw Graham on Sunday, when he more strongly urged the necessity of abandoning the addition, saying nothing would enable them to carry it; and he said, in answer to my enquiry, that he should take the money the Chancellor wanted from the reserve in hand—in short, just what the Government eventually did. I saw Charles Wood the same night, and told him what Graham recommended, and this advice they took.
POSITION OF SIR ROBERT PEEL.
After this, and indeed before it too, Graham and I had many conversations about the Government, its state and prospects, John Russell and his health, Peel and political probabilities and possibilities. We agreed that the Government was much damaged, weak and unpopular, and would have difficulty in going on, especially if, as seemed most likely, Lord John's health gave way, and he should be forced to retire. I said nothing would then be possible but Peel. On this he made me a speech, declaring Peel was impossible. He was, in the first place, determined not to take office; Lady Peel, who has great influence with him, doing her best to dissuade him; but, besides personal reluctance and objections, his position puts him out of the question. The Protectionists hate him as much as ever, and he hates them with equal intensity; he abhors what he considers their ingratitude as well as their folly, and nothing would inducehim to have anything to do with them, even if they would with him; therefore he has no party. In the House of Lords he has not ten followers: how then, in a country which can only be governed by party, can he become Minister? That to think of putting himself at the head of a Whig party would be absurd: at sixty years old to begin such a strange career would be ridiculous. He said a great deal more in the same strain, all very plausible and not easy to answer; and the conclusion from which was that, for various reasons, Peel would not under any circumstances be Minister again. But in the meantime the reports of Lord John's declining health gained ground; the weakness of the Government became more apparent; the Radicals declared war against them; and one person after another began to turn his eyes towards Peel. There was some talk about sending for Clarendon, which I wrote to him; and in reply he entreated me to extinguish any such idea if I met with it; and he then demonstrated that Peel was a necessity and the only alternative. So many people in different ways said the same thing to me, that I told Graham. He was (or affected to be) still impressed with all the insuperable obstacles to Peel's return, amongst which he himself and Aberdeen were considerable, as Peel would never return without both of them, and they were particularly odious to the Whigs. I saidhewas not popular with them, but neither was he so odious; and they knew very well that if Peel returned, he must and would return with him. As to Aberdeen it was different, because he had behaved so ill ever since he left office, and opposed the Government in the most unfair and ungenerous manner. He said Peel never would have Palmerston at the Foreign Office, and would want Aberdeen there, in whom all his confidence was placed: not but what Aberdeen would be very ready to make any sacrifice. I told him that it was evident there was but one way by which Peel could return to office, and that was the arrival of a state of things which at once rendered him a great public necessity, and the urgency of which would make his refusal impossible; that he must be invited by the whole Whig party, not as a favour due tohim but as a sacrifice exacted from him; and that this must be done heartily, sincerely, and in a spirit of unselfishness, and on public and patriotic grounds. Since this Lord John Russell has taken himself off to Hastings to try and get well. As Graham tells Peel everything I say, the latter now knows well what is thought and expected, and he has only so to conduct himself as to make the adhesion and overtures of the Whig party possible and not difficult when the time and occasion are ripe. The matter is replete with difficulties, and nothing but a great exigency can smooth them away. At present there are too many jealousies and animosities afloat; there is too much of suspicion, distrust, and old dislike lingering in men's minds to admit of the desired amalgamation; and unhappily the characters of the principal actors, both of John Russell and Peel, are extremely ill suited to deal with such a delicate and difficult state of affairs.
STATE OF PARIS.
March 10th.—Lord John Russell is better, and writes word confidently from Hastings that he shall return convalescent. Yesterday I saw Southern and Mrs. Austin, both just arrived from Paris. They have each been writing letters the last two or three days in the 'Times,' which are excellent descriptions of the state of affairs in France. Nothing can be more deplorable than it all is, and daily getting worse: no confidence, no work, and everything threatening frightful financial and commercial difficulties, and a general expectation of confusion, violence, and bloodshed. Southern told me that the dissensions in the Provisional Government were great, and the discussions violent; Lamartine often in a minority; no regular parties formed, but a continual dividing and crossing on different subjects. Lamartine wanted to omit what he said in his Circular about the Treaties of 1815, but was overruled. Southern thinks the Provisional Government will quarrel and break up before the Chambers can meet. They both agree that all France abhors this Revolution, but notwithstanding the bitter and universal regret that it has occasioned, and will still more hereafter, that nobody thinks of endeavouring to restore the monarchyin any way or under any head. The King was not so unpopular as Guizot, and they confirm all previous impressions, that not only he might have been saved, but that nothing but a series of fatal and inconceivable blunders and the most deplorable weakness could have upset him. The causes of this prodigious effect were ludicrously small. Southern declares there were not above 4,000 armed men of the populace actually employed; but the troops were everywhere paralysed, boys carried off the cannon from the midst of them without resistance. No one has the slightest conception what turn matters will take, but all seem to be of opinion they will have nothing to do with the Bonapartes. The Orleanses are now detested, and even the Legitimists do not look to the Duc de Bordeaux, because he is a poor creature, has no children, and they believe is not likely to have any; therefore it would not be worth while to restore a dynasty which would end with him.
March 11th.—Guizot received a letter from the Duc de Broglie yesterday, in which he said that Paris was quiet on the day he wrote, but such was the state of things that any day it might be the scene of confusion and rapine. I asked Madame de Lieven what the policy of the Government had been about Reform. She said, King, Duchâtel, and Guizot had all been determined against Reform; the latter willing to concede a very little, but always resolved to keep the Conservative majority, with which Reform was incompatible. I asked why, after having allowed the banquets in the provinces, they would not suffer that in the capital? The reply was very insufficient: because they did not like to stop the expression of public opinions in the country generally; but at Paris, when and where the Chambers were assembled, those opinions might have been expressed in them. I met Guizot at dinner at the Hollands'; he goes about everywhere, is very cheerful, and puts a good face on it; everybody is very civil to him, and he feels the kindness of his reception, especially as he knows he has been personally obnoxious since the Spanish marriages. He said last night, that he considered the payment of the members of the Convention fatalto the composition of that Assembly. The old revolutionary Assemblies never paid their members. Napoleon was the first who introduced that custom: his Senators were paid 30,000 fr.; his Deputies 10,000 fr. Guizot went to see the King and Queen two days ago: the interview was very affecting; both threw themselves on his neck; the King is the mostabattuof the two; he has no money.