MEDIATION IN ITALY.
August 20th.—On Wednesday night Disraeli made a very brilliant speech on foreign affairs in the House of Commons, and Palmerston a very able reply which was received with great applause and admiration. It was, however, only a simulated contest between them; for Dizzy, while pretending to attack Palmerston with much fire and fury, did not in reality touch him on difficult points. In reference to the mediation, Palmerston had with his usual good luck received on the morning of the debate a communication from the Austrian Minister stating the desire of his Court to avail itself of our mediation, which he employed with great effect. His speech was certainly very dexterous, and all the more so because he contrived to glide undetected over the weak points, and to satisfy the House of Commons without giving them any information whatever.
All the people who come from Paris represent the state of affairs there and in France in a curious light. The tranquillityis complete, the submission general, and there is little probability of any fresh outbreak, none of a successful one. The Republic is universally despised, detested, and ridiculed, but no other form of Government and no Pretender is in much favour or demanded by public feeling or inclination. They hate the Republic because they are conscious that the Revolution which turned France into one has inflicted enormous evils upon them. The best chance at the present moment seems to me to be that of the Duc de Bordeaux, Henry V., not because anybody cares abouthim, for he is almost unknown in France, and what is known of him does not make him an object of interest to Frenchmen, nor (what is by no means unimportant) to Frenchwomen; but he represents a principle, and there still lingers in many parts of France, and reigns in some, a sentiment of attachment and loyalty to the elder branch and the legitimate cause. This gives him a chance, but nobody seems to have any idea what sort of monarchy could be restored, if to a monarchy the French eventually recur. But I was told last night by Bulwer, who is just come from Paris, a fact which if it be true is of great importance, namely, that there has sprung up in France a great respect for station and position, a sentiment that did not exist before, indicating a revolution in the minds of men of a very reactionary and beneficial character.
IRISH DISAFFECTION AND REMEDIES.
Bessborough, who is just come back from Ireland, brings a very bad account of the state of the country, and Clarendon seems to have talked to him very openly upon all matters connected with Irish administration, and the views and conduct of the Government here. Though the rebellion is put down, the whole animus of the people is as bad as ever; they brood over their defeats, and only long for revenge and action at some future time. The outbreak was within an ace of taking place, and seems to have been prevented by an accident and by the pusillanimity or prudence of the clubs. They had established a very perfect club organisation and were in a state of great preparation, but had resolved not to rise till September. When the suspension of the HabeasCorpus was proposed, Smith O'Brien and the other leaders saw that they must proceed to action instantly or that they should be taken up, and they proceeded to Carrick, addressed the people, and asked them if they were ready; they said they were, but the clubs must be consulted; he sent to the clubs, but a small body of troops having marched into Carrick the same day, the clubs were intimidated and refused their consent to the rising. This put an extinguisher on the whole thing; if the clubs had consented many thousands would have poured down from the hills, and the country would everywhere have been up. He says Clarendon does everything in Ireland himself, and directs judges, law-officers, commander-in-chief, stipendiary magistrates, police constables—his work enormous. He wants to come over here that he may see the Cabinet collectively and explain his own views and opinions; he is evidently disgusted to the greatest degree at the impossibility of getting them to move out of the beaten track, and face the difficulties of the case by measures of a decisive character.
September 5th.—On Saturday to the Grange, where Charles Buller showed me a paper he has drawn up with suggestions of measures for Ireland, which are very sound and good on the whole, though I do not know that I should agree as to all the details. He proposes strong government, abolition of jury unanimity in criminal cases, emigration on a large scale—particularly to the Cape of Good Hope, and the constitution of a Board of employment and cultivation, who are to borrow money and invest it just as an individual capitalist might do. He adds to this, payment of the Catholic clergy by funds to be raised in Ireland, not asking imperial aid nor touching the Protestant Church; he only allots to this purpose 350,000l., not enough. He very justly says, however, that unless Government do something bold, new, comprehensive, and on a great scale, they will incur disgrace and ultimately ruin.
We had a Council yesterday for the parting Speech, and to-day this long session, the longest and most tedious ever known, closes. On Wednesday last, Disraeli with a greatflourish of trumpets and note of preparation delivered an orationà laLyndhurst, of three hours long, to which John Russell made a pretty good reply. Dizzy's speech was very sparkling and clever, but it was, after all, nothing but a theatrical display, without object or meaning but to show off his own powers. It was prefaced by a sort of advertisement that the great actor would take his benefit that morning on the stage of St. Stephen's; an audience was collected, and he sent word to Delane that he was going to speak in order that he might have one of his best reporters there. He quizzed Charles Wood unmercifully, and showed up a good many of the blunders and really stupid things which the Government did in the course of the session.
September 22nd.—No sooner was Parliament up than every creature took flight, and London became more empty and deserted than ever I saw it.
DEATH OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.
September 28th.—I was about to record my own proceedings and such other scraps as occurred to me, when my mind was diverted from all other topics by the intelligence of the death of George Bentinck.69This event was so strange and sudden, that it could not fail to make a very great sensation in the world, and so it did. It would be false and hypocritical were I to pretend that it affected me personally with any feeling of affliction, but I can say with truth that I was much shocked, and that I was sincerely sorry for it. I was sorry for the heavy blow thus inflicted on his father and his family, and it was impossible not to regard with compassion and something of regret the sudden termination of a career which promised to be one of no small prosperity and success. He was in truth a very remarkable man, of very singular character and disposition, and his history is one very much out of the common way. I am in one respect better, and in another worse, fitted to describe him than any other person, for nobody knew him so intimately and so well as Ionce did, nobody is so well acquainted with his most private thoughts and feelings as well as with his most secret practices; but, on the other hand, I should never be deemed an impartial biographer of a man from whom I had been so long and completely estranged, and between whom and myself there existed such strong feelings of alienation and dislike. Nevertheless, I will try to describe him as I think he really was, nothing extenuating, and nothing setting down in malice. The world will and must form a very incorrect estimate of his character; more of what was good than of what was bad in it was known to the public; he had the credit of virtues which he did not possess, or which were so mixed with vices that if all had been known he would have been most severely reproached in reference to the matters in which he has been the most loudly and generally bepraised; but his was one of those composite characters, in which opposite qualities, motives, and feelings were so strangely intermingled that nothing but a nice analysis, a very close and impartial inspection of it, can do him justice. His memory has been kindly and generously dealt with; he was on the whole high in favour with the world; he had been recently rising in public estimation; and his sudden and untimely end has stifled all feelings but those of sympathy and regret, and silenced all voices but those of eulogy and lamentation. He has long been held up as the type and model of all that is most honourable and high-minded; 'iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,' indeed, but the lofty and incorruptible scorner of everything mean and dishonourable, and the stern exposer and scourger of every species of delinquency and fraud, public or private. Oh for the inconsistency of human nature, the strange compound and medley of human motives and impulses, when the same man who crusaded against the tricks and villanies of others did not scruple to do things quite as bad as the worst of the misdeeds which he so vigorously and unrelentingly attacked! But it is only possible to make his character intelligible by a reference to certain passages of his life, especially to his transactions and connexions with myself.
He was brought up at home under a private tutor, was not studious in early life, and very soon entered the army. I do not remember whether he went to a public school. He soon distinguished himself in the army by his great spirit and courage, and by that arrogance which was his peculiar characteristic, and which never deserted him in any situation or circumstance in which he was placed. I well remember his getting into a quarrel which would have led to a duel, if his father had not got me to go to the Duke of York, by whose interposition the hostile collision was prevented.70I have, however, forgotten both the name of his antagonist and the merits of the case. He very soon quitted the army, and when Mr. Canning became Prime Minister he made George his private secretary. It has been said that Canning predicted great things of him if he would apply himself seriously to politics, but I do not know whether this is true. It is certain that after Canning's death, although by no means indifferent to public affairs, he took no active or prominent part in them, and the first development of his great natural energy took place in a very different field. He fell desperately in love, and he addicted himself with extraordinary vivacity to the turf. At this time and for a great many years we were most intimate friends, and I was the depositary of his most secret thoughts and feelings. This passion, the only one he ever felt for any woman, betrayed him into great imprudence of manner and behaviour, so much so, that I ventured to put him on his guard. I cannot now say when this occurred, it is so long ago, but I well recollect that as I was leaving——after the races I took him aside, told him it was not possible to be blind to his sentiments, that he was exposing himself and her likewise; that I did not mean to thrust myself into his confidence in so delicate a matter, but besought him to remember that all eyes were on him, all tongues ready to talk, and that it behoved him to be more guarded and reserved for her sake as well as his own. He made no reply, and Ideparted, I think I repeated the same thing to him in a letter; but whether I did or no, I received from him a very long one in which he confessed his sentiments without disguise, went at great length into his own case, declared his inability to sacrifice feelings which made the whole interest of his existence, but affirmed with the utmost solemnity that he had no reason to believe his feelings were reciprocated by her, and that not only did he not aspire tosuccess, but that if it were in his power to obtain it (which he knew it was not), he would not purchase his own gratification at the expense of her honour and happiness; in short, his letter amounted to this—
'Let me but visit her, I'll ask no more;Guiltless I'll gaze, and innocent adore.'
'Let me but visit her, I'll ask no more;Guiltless I'll gaze, and innocent adore.'
I allude to this to show the terms of intimacy on which he and I were, and likewise to do justice to the purity and unselfishness of his devotion, for I am certain that all he said to me was true. He was, however, not of a very warm temperament, and this may perhaps materially diminish the virtue and the value of his high-flown and self-immolating sentiments; but let them pass for what they are worth.
CHARACTER OF LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.
The first time I ever knew him much occupied with politics was during the great Reform battles in 1831 and 1832, when he was member for Lynn. He took much the same views that I did, and was very anxious to modify the Reform Bill and render it a less Radical measure. The people of Lynn wanted a member and commissioned him to find one, and he exerted himself greatly for that purpose. By his desire I applied to Kindersley, then a man of some eminence at the Chancery bar, but he declined. I remember that he and his father did not coincide in their opinions. The Duke was frightened out of his wits, dreaded the loss of his vast property, and thought that the only safe policy was unconditional submission to the roar for Reform. Hating the measure in his heart, he was against any endeavour to arrest its progress; and he was not at all pleased with George for the part which he took. The latter, however, todo him justice, was never afraid of anybody or anything; and he sturdily but deferentially adhered to his own opinion in opposition to the Duke's. Meanwhile, he constantly attended Newmarket, and it was not long before he began to have horses of his own, running them, however, in my name. The first good racehorse he possessed was 'Preserve,' which I bought for him in 1833, and she, alas! was the cause of our first quarrel, that which was made up in appearance, but in reality never. Of course in this quarrel (which took place in August 1835) we both thought ourselves in the right. Till then not an unkind word had ever passed between us, nor had a single cloud darkened our habitual intercourse; but on this occasion I opposed and thwarted him, and his resentment broke out against me with a vehemence and ferocity that perfectly astounded me, and displayed in perfection the domineering insolence of his character. I knew he was out of humour, but had no idea that he meant to quarrel with me, and thought his serenity would speedily return. I wrote to him as usual, and to my astonishment received one of his most elaborate epistles, couched in terms so savage and so virulently abusive, imputing to me conduct the most selfish and dishonourable, that I knew not on reading it whether I stood on my head or my heels. I was conscious that his charges and insinuations were utterly groundless, but what was I to do? I could not tamely endure such gross and unwarrantable insults, and I could not challenge my uncle's son. In this dilemma I consulted a friend, and placed the letter in his hands; he went to him, and (not I believe without great difficulty) he persuaded him toaskto withdraw it. It was agreed that the letter should be destroyed, and that there should be no ostensible quarrel between us; but it was evident that our turf connexion could no longer subsist, and accordingly it was instantly dissolved, and other arrangements were made for his stud.
RACING RECOLLECTIONS.
Then commenced his astounding career of success on the turf; he soon enlarged the sphere of his speculations, increased his establishment, and ultimately transferred it all to John Day at Danebury, where he trained under all sortsof different names, it being a great object with him to keep his father in ignorance of his proceedings.71He and I met upon civil but cool terms, according to the agreement; but in about two years we began to jumble into intimacy again, and at length an incident happened which in great measure replaced our relations on their former footing. My horse Mango was in the St. Leger, and I wanted to try him. John Day told me he was sure Lord George would gladly try him for me. I proposed it to him, and he instantly assented. We went down together and tried the horse. Mango won his trial, won the St. Leger, and George won 14,000l.on the race. All this contributed to efface the recollection of past differences, and we became mutually cordial again.72With me the reconciliation was sincere. I had forgiven his behaviour to me, and desired no better than to live in amity with him for the rest of my life; whether it was equally sincere on his part he alone knew, but I very much doubt it. We continued, however, to live very well together up to the time when he brought out the famous 'Crucifix,' when, without any fresh quarrel, our intimacy became somewhat less close in consequence of my perceiving a manifest intention on his part to keep all the advantage of her merits to himself withoutallowing me to participate in them. Still we went on, till the occurrence of the notorious 'Gurney affair,' on which he and I took opposite sides, and in which he played a very conspicuous and violent part. While this was going on we were brought into personal collision at Newmarket in a matter relating to the revision of the rules of the Jockey Club, when his arrogance and personal animosity to me broke out with extraordinary asperity. There was still no regular and avowed quarrel till the spring following, when at a meeting of the Jockey Club I made a speech in opposition to him which he chose to construe into an intentional insult, and the next time he met me he cut me dead. I made several attempts, as did our mutual friends, to do away with this impression and to effect a reconciliation, but he refused to listen to any explanation or overture, and announced his resolution not to make it up with me at all. From that time our estrangement was complete and irreparable. He was now become the leviathan of the turf; his success had been brilliant, his stud was enormous, and his authority and reputation were prodigiously great.
In 1844 he became still more famous by his exertions in detecting the 'Running Rein' fraud, and in conducting the 'Orlando' trial. There can be no doubt that the success of that affair was in great measure attributable to his indefatigable activity, ingenuity, and perseverance. The attorney in the cause was amazed at the ability and dexterity he displayed, and said there was no sum he would not give to secure the professional assistance of such a coadjutor. He gained the greatest credit in all quarters by his conduct throughout this affair, which was afterwards increased by his manner of receiving a valuable testimonial, subscribed for the purpose of honouring and rewarding his exertions: he refused to accept anything for himself, but desired the money might be applied towards the establishment of a fund to reward decayed and distressed servants of the turf, which was eventually denominated 'The Bentinck Fund.'73He wasexceedingly self-willed and arrogant, and never could endure contradiction; and whatever he undertook he entered into with an ardour and determination which amounted to a passion. As he plunged into gaming on the turf, he desired to win money, not so much for the money, as because it was the test and the trophy of success; he counted the thousands he won after a great race as a general would count his prisoners and his cannon after a great victory; and his tricks and stratagems he regarded as the tactics and manœuvres by which the success was achieved. Not probably that the money itself was altogether a matter of indifference to him: he had the blood of General Scott in his veins, who won half a million at hazard, and the grandson most likelychassait un peu de sa race. But to do him justice, if he was 'alieni appetens,' he was 'sui profusus.' Nobody was more liberal to all his people, nor more generous and obliging in money matters to his friends, and I am inclined to think that while he was taking to himself the mission of purifying the turf, and punishing or expelling wrongdoers of all sorts, his own mind became purified, and (though I do not know it) I should not wonder if he looked back with shame and contrition to all the schemes, plots, and machinations to which, in the ardour of his racing pursuit, he had been a party. What makes me think that it was less the base desire of pecuniary gain than the passionate eagerness of immense success which urged him on, is the alacrity with which he cast away his whole stud, at a moment when it promised him the most brilliant results and most considerable profits, as soon as another passion and another pursuit had taken possession of his mind; one in which there was not only no pecuniary benefit in view, but the occupation of which obliged him to neglect his turf concerns so entirely that he lost a great deal of money in consequence.
LORD GEORGE SELLS HIS STUD.
This brings me to his very extraordinary political career. I well remember, in the winter of 1845, when Peel's intentions began to be known or suspected, what indignationhe expressed and what violent language he used about him. As soon as Parliament met he began to take an active part amongst the Protectionist malcontents, and he devoted much time to getting up theproCorn Law case. He had never studied political economy, and knew very little on the subject, but he was imbued with the notions common to his party that the repeal of the Corn Laws would be the ruin of the landed interest; he therefore hated the Anti-Corn Law League, and—considering that the first and most paramount of duties was to keep up the value of the estates of the order to which he belonged, and that Peel had been made Minister and held office mainly for this purpose—he considered Peel's abandonment of Protection, and adoption, or rather extension, of Free Trade, as not only an act of treachery, but of treason to the party which claimed his allegiance, and he accordingly flung himself into opposition to him with all his characteristic vehemence and rancour. Still neither he himself nor any one else anticipated the part he was about to play, and the figure he was destined to make. One of the men whom he was in the habit of talking to, was Martin, Q.C.,74and he told him that he had a great mind to speak on the Corn Law debate, but that he did not think he could; he had had no experience and could not trust himself.75Martin told me this.I said I thought he could; that I had been much struck with a speech he had made at the Jockey Club, when he had spoken for two hours, and in a way which satisfied me he hadspeaking in him. Martin went and told him this, which struck him very much, and it decided him (so Martin told me) to make the attempt. Hisdébutin the House of Commons was a remarkable exhibition, and made a great impression at the time: not that it was a very good, still less an agreeable speech; quite the reverse. He chose the worst moment he possibly could have done to rise; the House was exhausted by several nights of debate and had no mind to hear more. He rose very late on the last night, and he spoke for above three hours; his speech was ill-delivered, marked with all those peculiar faults which he never got rid of; it was very tiresome; it contained much that was in very bad taste; but in spite of all defects it was listened to, and it was considered a very extraordinary performance, giving indications of great ability and powers which nobody had any idea that he possessed.
LORD GEORGE'S POLITICAL CAREER.
The rest of his career is well known. He brought into politics the same ardour, activity, industry, and cleverness which he had displayed on the turf, and some of the same cunning and contrivances too. He never was and never would have been anything like a statesman; he was utterly devoid of large and comprehensive views, and he was no pursuer and worshipper of truth. He brought the mind, the habits, and the arts of an attorney to the discussion of political questions; having once espoused a cause, and embraced a party, from whatever motive, he worked with all the force of his intellect and a superhuman power of application in what he conceived to be the interest of that party and that cause. No scruples, moral or personal, stood for a moment in his way; he went into evidence, historical or statistical, not to inform himself and to accept with a candid and unbiassed mind the conclusions to which reason and testimony, facts and figures, might conduct him, but to pick out whatever might fortify his foregone conclusions, casting aside everything inimical to the cause he was advocating,and seizing all that could be turned to account by any amount of misrepresentation and suppression he might find it convenient to employ. It was thus he acted in the West India Committee; his labour and application were something miraculous; he conducted the enquiry very ably, but anything but impartially; having had no political education, and being therefore unimbued with sound principles on fiscal and commercial questions, he had everything to learn; and having flung himself headlong into the Protectionist cause, he got up their case just as he did that of 'Orlando' or 'Running Rein,' and ran amuck against everything and everybody on the opposite side.
Against Peel he soon broke out with indescribable fury and rancour. Such was the attack he made upon him about his conduct to Canning, which has been since ascribed to his attachment to the latter, and a long cherished but suppressed resentment at Peel's behaviour to him. Nothing could be more ridiculously untrue; he did not care one straw for Canning, alive or dead, and he did not himself believe one word of the accusations he brought against Peel; but he thought he had found materials for a damaging attack on the man he detested, and he availed himself of it with all the virulence of the most vindictive hatred. It was a total failure, and he only afforded Peel an opportunity of vindicating himself once for all from an imputation which had been very generally circulated and believed, but which he proved to be altogether false. The House of Commons gave Peel a complete triumph, and George Bentinck was generally condemned; nevertheless, with more courage and bull-dog perseverance than good taste and judgement, he returned to the charge, and instead of withdrawing his accusations, renewed and insisted on them in his reply. This was just like him; but though his conduct was very ill advised, I well remember thinking his reply (made too against the sense and feeling of the House) was very clever.
LORD GEORGE'S POPULARITY.
I have always thought that his conduct in selling his stud all at one swoop, and at once giving up the turf, to which he had just before seemed so devoted, was neversufficiently appreciated and praised. It was a great sacrifice both of pleasure and profit, and it was made to what he had persuaded himself was a great public duty. It is true that he had taken up his new vocation with an ardour and a zeal which absorbed his old one, but still it was a very fine act, and excessively creditable to him. He never did anything by halves, and having accepted the responsible post of leader of his party, he resolved to devote himself to their service, and he did so without stint or reserve; and when he had ceased to be nominally their leader, a transaction in which his behaviour was honourable and manly, he still voluntarily and gratuitously imposed upon himself an amount of labour and anxiety on particular questions, which beyond all doubt contributed to the accident which terminated his life. Notwithstanding his arrogance and his violence, his constant quarrels and the intolerable language he indulged in, he was popular in the House of Commons, and was liked more or less wherever he went. He was extremely good-looking and particularly distinguished and high-bred; then he was gay, agreeable, obliging, and good-natured, charming with those he liked, and by whom he was not thwarted and opposed. His undaunted courage and the confident and haughty audacity with which he attacked or stood up against all opponents, being afraid of no man, inspired a general sentiment of admiration and respect, and his lofty assumption of superior integrity and his resolute determination to expose and punish every breach of public honour and morality were quietly acquiesced in, and treated with great deference by the multitude who knew no better, and were imposed on by his specious pretensions. The sensation caused by his death, the encomiums pronounced on his character, and the honours paid to his memory, have been unexampled in a man whose career has been so short, and who did not do greater things than he had it in his power to accomplish. He had become, however, the advocate of powerful interests, and of vast numbers of people whose united voices make a great noise in the world, and there is something in the appalling suddenness of the catastrophewhich excites general sympathy and pity, and makes people more inclined to think of his virtues, his powers, and his promise, than of his defects. Of the latter perhaps the greatest was his constant disposition to ascribe the worst motives to all those to whom he found himself opposed;
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
and when he invariably fancied that he saw intentional fraud and the utmost baseness in the conduct of his antagonists, it is impossible not to ascribe such false and erroneous views of human nature to the moral consciousness which was the result of his own former courses, constantly suspecting others of the same sort of practices with which he was once so familiar. I have not the least doubt that, for his own reputation and celebrity, he died at the most opportune period; his fame had probably reached its zenith, and credit was given him for greater abilities than he possessed, and for a futurity of fame, influence, and power which it is not probable he ever would have realised. As it is, the world will never know anything of those serious blemishes which could not fail to dim the lustre of his character; he will long be remembered and regretted as a very remarkable man, and will occupy a conspicuous place in the history of his own time.
STATE OF FRANCE.
Louis Blanc on France—The Catholic Priesthood—Failure of Scheme for Ireland—Evils of Total Repeal of Duties—Reaction in Prussia—A Message from M. Thiers—Conversation of Louis Philippe with Lord Clarendon—Dinner at Mr. Reeve's—Death of Lord Melbourne—Death of Charles Buller—Their Characters—Plans for Ireland—A Dinner of Historians—Election of Louis Napoleon as President of the French Republic—Death of Lord Auckland—The Saturnalia of 1848—The Admiralty offered to Sir James Graham—Graham declines—Lord Palmerston's Attacks on Austria—Grounds of Sir J. Graham's Refusal—Opening of Parliament—Debate in the Lords—Debate in the Commons—Mr. Disraeli the Leader of the Tories—The Irish Policy of the Government—Lord John Russell limits the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act to Six Months—The Irish Grant—Dreadful State of Ireland—Admiral Cécille Ambassador in London—The Ceylon Committee—Affair of the Sicilian Stores—The Fall of Hudson, the Railway King—Sir Charles Napier's Appointment to command in India—The Sicilian Arms.
London, October 20th, 1848.—One day the week before last, I dined with D'Orsay to meet Louis Blanc. Nobody there but he and I. We had a great deal of talk. He is very gay, animated, and full of information, takes in very good part anything that is said to him, and any criticisms on his Revolution and the Provisional Government. After that, a week at Newmarket, and last week at the Grange with a large party, agreeable enough. M. Dumon76was there, and we asked him to explain why the Government of which he was a member had so obstinately refused to concede any reform. He gave an explanation and apology for their conduct, which was not very satisfactory, and amounted to little more than the old story of the necessity of keeping together the Conservative majority. Louis Blanc told me the Revolution had not ruined France; that the ruin wasalready consummated, and the Revolution only tore away the veil which concealed it.
November 7th.—While I was at Newmarket, Lord Clarendon came over here, but I never succeeded in seeing him till yesterday. He is to have the Garter, the Duke of Leinster and Lord Fitzwilliam having both refused it, and he wished to refuse it also, but Lord John made a point of his taking it. A Committee of Cabinet is appointed to consider Irish measures, but I see very clearly that no attempt will be made to pay the priests; and though I have not changed my opinion as to the measure itself, I am disposed to think that at this time it could not be attempted with any chance of success. While everything else is in a constant state of change, Protestant bigotry and anti-Catholic rancour continue to flourish with undiminished intensity, and all the more from being founded on nothing but prejudice and ignorance, without a particle of sense and reason.
November 11th.—George Bentinck's servant called on me the other morning, and told me that he had a strong impression his Lord would have soon thrown up politics and taken to racing again as suddenly as he took to the former; that his interest in the turf continued to be very great; and that his disappointment at the failure of the West Indian attempt had been excessive, having been confident of success, and of turning out the Government upon it. This man gave me many details of his labours and exertions, all corresponding with what I had heard before. He often sat up all night, never got any air or exercise, and passed his whole time between his own house and the House of Commons, writing, reading, and seeing people, often as many as twenty or thirty in a day.
Just after writing the above I saw the correspondence which took place between George Bentinck and Bankes on his giving up the leadership, from which it was evident that the labour and anxiety had already begun to make no inconsiderable inroad on his constitution, and that he was quite conscious of the risk he incurred by continuing his parliamentary and political career with the same intensity.
RAISING MONEY FOR IRELAND.
The Irish scheme propounded by Charles Buller, and so readily taken up by the Government (at first), seems now likely to vanish into smoke. It was soon evident that the payment of the priests would not be attempted. Clarendon has been always against it, and he showed me two days ago a letter from Redington (who had undertaken during his absence to sound the Catholic prelates), with an account of his conversation with Archbishop Murray, from which it was clear that it would be useless to attempt it, and so Redington himself said, he being the man (so Clarendon told me) above all others most strongly feeling the degradation of his Church; so that this matter will be leftin statu quo. Last night I met Charles Wood, and soon found from his conversation that there is not much greater probability of the financial part of the scheme being carried out. He, at all events, is dead against it, against raising money and expending capitalby the Government. I said something about this part of the plan, when he said, very contemptuously, 'What, you are in favour of that scheme, are you? I am surprised that with your sense you should think it practicable.' He then went off upon the inexpediency of any government interference. He admitted the evils that existed, the ruin that would overtake a great many people, but nevertheless was for letting matters take their course. He said: 'You are in too great a hurry. I admit that capital is required for improvement, but it must come in the regular way and by private investment. There is great depreciation, and there will be more, and in the end this will attract capital, and people who have money to lay out will have recourse to this as a profitable investment.' It is needless to detail our several arguments, and sufficient to say that with the Chancellor of the Exchequer of this mind it is not likely that anything will be done. I told Charles Buller in the evening what had passed, and he said it was only what he expected, as from the moment aCommitteeof Cabinet was appointed he was sure nothing would be done.
Charles Wood lamented to me very bitterly the fatal effects of the mistake Peel had made in abolishing all Cornduty whatever (prospectively) and the Timber duties. He said George Bentinck was quite right in his preference for low duties instead of abolition, and that if we could now have the above duties they would relieve the revenue from almost all its difficulties, and be felt by nobody; and the unhappy thing is that this mistake is irretrievable, forrevocare gradumis totally impossible. Peel acknowledged his error about timber, and probably he might also about corn. He was, in fact, misled and carried away by his flourishing revenue, and acted without consideration.
November 15th.—The scheme for improving Ireland seems likely to fall to the ground altogether. Everybody affirms or admits that the time is so unpropitious for 'endowment' that it is useless to think of it, and Charles Wood and George Grey have convinced themselves that Parliament and the country will not be disposed to advance money in any shape for Irish purposes. I had a long conversation with Clarendon on the subject yesterday, and laboured to persuade him that this was an error, and that if Government can show that the money will be judiciously employed, and in all probability that there will be no ultimate loss to the State, there will be no difficulty in gaining the assent of Parliament to the fiscal part of the proposed plan.
THE FRENCH ROYAL FAMILY.
In the morning I met Bunsen, who said the King of Prussia was going on well, and he augured success to his present measures. It is a great thing to see reaction anywhere, and the revolutionary and democratic tide rolled back which has been deluging all Europe; but this is a very doubtful contest, and the King inspires no confidence. The Prussian affair points a great moral, and reads an important lesson. It shows at once the danger of resistance to just demands and reasonable desires, and the dangers and evils of full democratic sway, sweeping everything before it. If the King of Prussia had long ago fulfilled his promises, and given a constitution to his country while he could have done so gracefully and safely, the new institutions would have had time to develope and consolidate themselves, and would in all probability have proved the security of theCrown when the flood of revolution broke over Europe. He refused, and fought it off so long that at last his people grew discontented and angry, and when the French Revolution set all Germany on fire, the work was so far from being perfected that the Crown was left to battle with the democratic fury that broke forth, and its own weakness and vacillation rendered the power irresistible which might have been coerced and restrained. Whether it is still time to retrace his steps remains to be seen. The success of Louis Napoleon in France now seems beyond all doubt. Thiers has sent a message to Guizot, through a friend of both, to say that he is resolved to take no part in his Government, and Normanby informs me that Odilon Barrot is to be his Minister. This will make the whole thing perfect, Odilon Barrot being of all men the most unpractical, and having failed ridiculously in everything he ever undertook.
November 25th.—I met Guizot at dinner twice last week. He told me Thiers had sent a man over to him,and to the King, to make to him the assurance above stated. Rather curious his keeping up this communication with the exiled Sovereign and Minister—the two men, too, whom he most detests. I asked him if he believed what he said, when he intimated that it might or might not be true. They have never sent the Royal Family any money up to this time, though the Chamber long ago voted back their property; but the Government have promised to send the King 20,000l., and the Duc d'Aumale 10,000l.; the latter has 50,000l.a year and no debts. From what Guizot's daughter said to me, it is clear they by no means give up the idea of returning to France and of his taking a part in public affairs, but not yet.
Lord Clarendon went to see the King a few days ago, and was with him two hours, when he told him the whole history of his flight and all his adventures. He said, he should not know which to vote for, Cavaignac or Louis Napoleon, if he had a vote to give. Guizot, however, is all for the latter, I can very well see. He told me it would be the first step towards a monarchy, but he did not say what monarchyhe meant. The King told Clarendon we need not fear a war; that the army knew its strength, and meant to exercise it, and would insist on deciding on the political futurity of France; that it detested the Republic, but had no desire to go to war, and moreover it could not, for it wasdénuée de tout. He said nobody knew how ill provided the French army was, and that this was alone a security against war. Clarendon told him he did not consider it as such, as a country like France could always provide everything very quickly, but that he thought there were other causes operating in the direction of peace. He found him very well and in very good spirits; he has been greatly pleased at the visits of the National Guards to him (who went in great numbers); but it drives him wild when they say to him, 'Sire, pourquoi nous avez-vous quittés?' He knows he threw everything away, and constantly tries to persuade himself and others that the army would not have supported him. Flahault said to him the other day that he had no right to cast such an imputation on the army, which had proved its fidelity in all circumstances and to all Governments, even in July, and that the army would have saved him if it had been allowed to act. Everybody now knows that if he had done anything but run away, if he had gone to St. Cloud only, or anywhere, and called the troops about him, all would have been saved. He threw his cards on the table, and the game was stupidly and disgracefully lost.
I met Guizot at a dinner at Reeve's on Thursday, with M. Lemoinne, one of therédacteursof the 'Journal des Débats,' and the man who wrote the excellent articles on England and our politics and condition, showing great knowledge of this country. There were besides, Woodham, who writes in the 'Times,' a clever man; Longman, Lord Clarendon, and Mr. Wheaton, the author of a well-known work on the 'Law of Nations.'
November 29th.—Lord Melbourne died on Friday night at Brocket, without suffering pain, but having had a succession of epileptic fits the whole day, most painful and distressing to his family collected about him.
DEATH OF LORD MELBOURNE.
This morning has occurred the death, after a short illness, of another remarkable man, Charles Buller. He had an operation successfully performed about ten days ago, but he was afterwards attacked by typhus fever and diarrhoea. The case became hopeless, and be expired at half-past five this morning in the forty-first year of his age. The career of Melbourne was over; that of Charles Buller for great and useful purposes may be said to have been only just beginning. His friends are deeply annoyed and angry at a biographical article on Melbourne which appeared in the 'Times' the morning after his death; and it certainly was coarse, vulgar, and to a great degree unjust. It was a mere daub and caricature, and very discreditable to the paper.
But it is a difficult thing to write a good article upon Melbourne, one which shall delineate his character with impartiality and discrimination, and describe fairly and truly his political career. I have known a great deal of him in the course of my life, but I never lived in real intimacy with him; and as he at no time seemed to have much inclination for my company, though we were always very good friends, I saw but little of him; but every now and then we had something to say to each other, and at rare intervals we met on intimate and confidential terms. He was certainly a very singular man, resembling in character and manner, as he did remarkably in feature, his father, the late Lord Egremont.77He was exceedingly handsome, when first I knew him, which was in 1815 or thereabouts. It was at this period that the irregularities of his wife had partly estranged him from her, though they were not yet separated, and he was occasionally amused by her into condonation of heramours, and into a sort of half-laughing, half-resentful reconciliation. They lived in this queer way. He, good-natured, eccentric, and not nice; she, profligate, romantic, and comical. Both were kept together, as they had been brought together, by the influence and management of their common relations and connexions; but it was during this period that he devoted himself with ardour to study, and that he acquired the vast fund of miscellaneous knowledge with which his conversation was always replete, and which, mixed up with his characteristic peculiarities, gave an extraordinary zest and pungency to his society. His taste for reading and information, which was confirmed into a habit by the circumstances of these years, continued to the end of his life, unbroken, though unavoidably interrupted by his political avocations. He lived surrounded by books, and nothing prevented him, even when Prime Minister, and with all the calls on his time to which he was compelled to attend, from reading every new publication of interest or merit, as well as frequently revelling amongst the favourite authors of his early studies. His memory was extremely retentive, and amply stored with choice passages of every imaginable variety, so that he could converse learnedly upon almost all subjects, and was never at a loss for copious illustrations, amusing anecdotes, and happy quotations. This richness of talk was rendered more piquant by the quaintness and oddity of his manner, and an ease and naturalness proceeding in no small degree from habits of self-indulgence and freedom, a license for which was conceded to him by common consent, even by the Queen herself, who, partly from regard for him, and partly from being amused at his ways, permitted him to say and do whatever he pleased in her presence. He was often paradoxical, and often coarse, terse, epigrammatic, acute, droll, with fits of silence and abstraction, from which he would suddenly break out with a vehemence and vigour which amused those who were accustomed to him, and filled with indescribable astonishment those who were not. His mother-in-law, Lady Bessborough, told me that high office was tendered to him many years before he began to play anypolitical part, but at that time he preferred a life of lettered and social idleness, and he would not accept it. He never was really well fitted for political life, for he had a great deal too much candour, and was too fastidious to be a good party man. It may be said of him, at least in his earlier days, that he was